That very day, I received oh say, 12 DM’s from a very dear friend, Megan (Undomestic Diva) basically telling me that in no way was she accepting my no as an answer and it was obvious to her that I wanted to go, so I just was going to make it happen. The end. She’s demanding, that girl. But I love that about her. She was also very right.

The next day I was given an extraordinary gift, by one of my best friends, Jenna. She’d bought a BlogHer ticket and wasn’t going to be able to go and had tried unsuccessfully to sell it to someone. She gifted it to me. I tried to argue, to say I’d pay her over time. Have you ever tried to argue with a stubborn best friend? I don’t recommend it. She won, I gave up. I have thanked her so many times, I’m afraid this time, she may really throw a shoe at me, all the way from Oregon. However….thank you friend. You are the reason I am going. Without you, I wouldn’t have made the rest of it happen. Love you.

When my mom asked me what I wanted for my 30th birthday in April, I said, um…how about a plane ticket to NYC in August. She said, okay, I can do that on one condition. Her condition was getting to keep my kids for two weeks. Ha. A DOUBLE birthday present. I love my mommy. She is showing up today, to take them to the land of, Grandma is cooler than your mommy. It’s a very important and amazing place.

I found some amazing roommates. Stacey and Kari are two of my very favorite people in the world. The rest is kind of history. I’m going. I’ll be there. Megan was right, I wanted to go. I’m so thrilled that it all worked out. I can’t even tell you all how much of a break from my life I need right now.

So now, some weird things to know about me before hand:

-First of all, hi, I’m Issa. *waves* I know you all know that, but what people always ask is, how do I pronounce Issa? Well see my name is actually Melissa. Which I will totally answer too. Issa is a nick name for Melissa. The best way I can explain it, is this: Issa is Melissa without the Mel or Lissa without the L. (Try and call me Mel and you die. Am not kidding. I don’t find it funny and I DESPISE it. Try it more than once and I will most likely not speak to you any more.) There is no E sound in Issa. Got it? Please, don’t worry about screwing it up. Because honestly, I am probably going to look at you and go, and your Twitter/Blog Name is what again? Just ask, I promise I don’t bite and I’ll say Issa for you.

-I won’t be wearing much black, so I’ll be easy to spot in a crowd, in my colorful ass shirts. It’s not that I don’t like black, it’s that it makes me look too washed out. I am Polish Pasty. It’s a genetic condition.

-I don’t drink. Or if for some reason I do, it’s one drink. That is all. I don’t mind being around drunkards. It’s just not my thing.

-I once accidentally drank a wine cooler. I was ten years old. I had no concept of what it was, nor that it wasn’t just a kids drink, because it sure as hell tasted like one. It made me super sick. I can’t really drink sweet fruity drinks because of it.

-I will be the one wearing flip-flops the entire time. I did buy one new pair though. I luff them.

-I am a neurotic gum chewer. I have shitty teeth and I’m not really  supposed to chew it, so I chew a piece, spit it out after five minute and then get a new piece another 30 minutes later.

-I will confuse you by using my kids real names. Because in person there is no way I will say their fake names. I can type it without thinking, but I just can’t keep it up in conversation.

-I will try really hard to be outgoing. Please to be knowing, it’s not the way I am naturally….so it may seem forced at times.

-I am not now, nor have I ever been cool. I have one new shirt. Because that is all I can afford to purchase at this time. I am likely to wear the same clothes as last year. Same flip-flops too. I have an anxiety disorder. I’ve been through a lot this year and I’m prone to crying. Shrug.

-Unless your Twitter avatar is posted on your forehead, I may not remember your name. Even if we met last year. Please remind me your name. I do want to meet you. I’m just bad with names.

-Last year there were people I wanted to meet and didn’t. A few I never saw (Maggie Dammit) a few I did and chickened the fuck out (Mom 101 & Motherhood Uncensored). I regretted that. The seeing and chickening out. I mean what if that had been my only chance ever? It isn’t, it won’t be, I’ve promised both Liz and Kristen that I WILL MEET THEM THIS YEAR. But still. It could have been, you know? If you want to meet me and you see me, please come say hi. I don’t bite. Promise. No matter how I appear, I am just as socially awkward as the next person.

-I am a self proclaimed baby whisperer. If you’d like to test that theory out, I’d love it. I have serious baby wants in this moment.

-I am blind as a bat. I will run into walls; trip over absolutely nothing and look at my nose when I get too tired.

-I am addicted to Starbucks. I will likely be easy to find each morning, as there is a SB in our hotel lobby.

-I am really going to NYC to eat. Seriously. My list of things to eat is getting out of hand.

-My three best friends are not going to be there. Please ignore me being permanently attached to my cell phone. I text and email them often. I am a multi-tasker. I will try to keep it to a minimum. However, they are my life line. I make no promises.

-I am going to be helping out in the Serenity Suite a few times.  I will post when, next week, so if you’d like to come visit me then you can.

That’s all I know.

Last year I tried to ignore it. I fretted before hand that I’d fall apart, like the years prior. I didn’t though. I didn’t fall apart. I also didn’t not remember. A lot of you saw me on this day last year. Twenty or so of us even had dinner on this date last year. See, last year I was at BlogHer, so it was easy to shove it to the back of my head. I cried a bit in a bathroom, but I didn’t say anything. Save for the four amazing people at my table that night who let me cry in public for a minute, and the one person who already knew, who squeezed my hand each time she saw me, I kept it quiet.

It made it easy to not think about the What-If’s all day.

It feels wrong though to not say something. To not remember. She was my baby after all. For 14 weeks, three years ago she was my baby. Until she wasn’t.

I have spent all day wondering. Wondering what she’d look like. What she’d be like. If she’d be girly, or more tom boy-ish. If she’d be a mama’s girl, or a daddy’s girl. Wondering if we still would have had Harrison. Wondering if we’d still be together if I hadn’t lost my shit. None of that is her fault, it just is.

They don’t prepare you for that, you know? Loss. Heartache. There is no rule book. No, how to, for dummies.

I have to remember. Till the day I die, I will always remember her, even when I one day, learn to stop mentioning it out loud. Because even though, she was never more than a few little plastic sticks with two lines and one ultrasound picture, she was still my daughter. My Piper.

I’m angry at my situation. At my life. At my ex. I’m so angry with him. I had this idea of what my life was like, what my life was going to continue to be like. He changed that forever. I didn’t know forever was only until he got bored. He broke my heart. Some days I do okay with it. Some days I don’t.

Right now I am angry and it’s threatening to eat me up

I can’t talk about it in this space. I wish I could. But I just can’t. It’s not fair to him. It’s not fair to you all.

I’m going to be quiet for a few days. Here, in this space. Online. I’ll be back when I’m not wanting to physically beat someone up. I thought yesterday I could be online, but I just can’t. I am wanting to rant about things that I’m seeing, things that I’m reading, that maybe wouldn’t bother me in a week. Just can’t seem to distinguish if it’s things that are bothering me really, or if I’m just angry and stupid Internet drama is easier to be angry at then just deal with why I’m really angry.

To make sure I don’t step into shit I can’t handle dealing with right now, I’m just going to be quiet.

I made it two years. Without quitting. Or quitting and shutting down for good as someone so nicely reminded me yesterday. (I’d of quit like five times over, but I have a best friend clause, which prevents me from shutting down without written consent…anyway, it’s pretty convenient. That whole think it over for two days first thing is a good idea.) Truly though? I adore that each and every single day that I have best friends who will tell it to me like it is. Who will say things like, “you mean, not quit permanently.” Because she was right. Because she and my other best friends won’t let me get away with living in my own little world. They make me be real, with them, with myself.

Best friends who will send me an email after my post yesterday that basically says, in the nicest way possible, you need to suck it up and make him CIO. And? She too is right. As always.

Best friends that I wouldn’t have without this space. Had I not re-started a blog one morning two years ago, I wouldn’t know them. I wouldn’t know any of you. That? I just can’t imagine.

I never thought I’d meet the most amazing people in the world, through my words here, but I have.

In two years, I have done a lot. More than I even knew possible when I started writing here that day.

I’ve had a baby.

I lost a pregnancy.

I’ve written things that I wish I could take back. I’ve written things that make me weep, because it’s just so real. I’ve written things that threatened to sink me. I’ve written things that make me smile.

I’ve been to a blogging conference. In a few weeks, I’ll be attending my second one.

I spoke at a keynote in front of 1,000 people, something I never would have thought possible.

I’ve gone on vacations just to meet people I met through this blog. Haven’t met a single ax murderer yet.

I’ve sat at lunches and dinners with people I didn’t know two years ago and not wanted the meal to end. Meals one on one, meals in large groups. Mostly filled with more laughter than I knew possible. Occasionally some tears. But mostly, laughter.

You all have supported me through everything. Through things that I can’t imagine I could have made it through two years ago. Through depression, heartache, divorce. You all have been there, listening and I love you for it. From the bottom of my heart, I love you for it. Here, I made you all some cupcakes. No worries, there are enough to go around.

382 posts. 5,449 comments. Words. So many words. More friends than I could count.

Two years.

Fast forward about nine months and he stopped being a pleasant bed baby. We transitioned him into sleeping in the crib. Which worked out okay. However? He’s not a great sleeper. At nearly two years old (Sigh. When did that happen?) he still wakes up and cries out for me a couple times a night. He’s lost his bink. He’s gotten caught up in his blankie in a way he doesn’t like. He…well whatever, he just doesn’t sleep through the night. Or he won’t and he screams, which isn’t pleasant for me or his sleeping sisters. However? In January when Logan moved out, I started going to get him when he woke up. Bringing him into bed with me. Partially because listening to him cry, made me weep. Partially because I already wasn’t sleeping, so what did it matter.

Also, Bailey has pretty much slept with me non-stop since January. I put her to bed in her bed. Most nights at least. However, as soon as I leave the room, she gets up, takes her blankies and goes and gets in my bed. Two or three hours later, when I go to bed, I’m not willing to move her, so I generally leave her.

I don’t mind her in my bed. She’s like the perfect sleep buddy. She rarely moves. She barely makes a peep. She’s cuddly. I do mind Harrison in my bed though. Yet, I don’t seem to be able to stop it.

Reality is, it’s hard to say no at 2am. I know he wants me. He knows he wants me. I am weak. It’s hard, this single parent gig. Some people do it non-stop. I don’t. We share custody. But still, there are three of them and one of me. at night, when I’m tired? I loose the will power to be strong.

I am also very, very tired. He’s rolly. He’s like a baby steam roller. He’s a blanket thief. I don’t even think I can explain to you what happens to the sheets. He’s insane. He’s a toddler blanket dictator. Bailey and I wake up shivering. He kicks too. Some mornings, I play, where are my children. It’s a fun game. Where fun equals weird.

This is a night/morning example from a few days ago: (I copied it out of a chat with Liz from last week.)
At midnight maybe, Bailey came into bed with me. At 1am Harrison woke up.

I brought him into bed with me. At 3am  I know Bailey got up and went to the bathroom, at 6:45am I woke up, I was alone. Went to see where my children all were, can only assume Bailey got tired of Harrison kicking and left. She was on the couch. Maybe Harrison went to sleep with Morgan for some ungodly reason, because that’s where he was. He Probably kicked her too many times she got up and slept in Bailey ’s bed? Is insane. No fucking wonder I am so tired today.

Yeah. That was a few days ago. Last night? I slept with the little two in my bed. I woke up on the edge, with Bailey basically huddled right next to me…probably for warmth, since Harrison had stolen all of the covers.

Is it a wonder that I’m tired all the freaking time? I should know how to do this. But I don’t. It’s hard to break a habit that I started. I never started it with the girls. The reason Bailey sleeps with me, is solely because she was just too sad when her dad and I separated and needed me. She may still, which is why I’m not willing to kick her out of my bed yet.

I feel bad that I’m okay with her in my bed, but not him.

He’s gotta go. I just don’t know how to be a hard ass at night. I’m great at it during the day. At night though? I’m a big ole wuss and he knows it.

Halp? Any ideas? Tell me I’m not alone. Please someone. Anyone?

Today you are six years old. If you want to be honest though, you aren’t really six yet. Not until 11:47pm. It’s about 9pm. I tried to tell you this multiple times today, but you just didn’t want to believe me. No MOM, I am six. Okay fine. Bossy. It’s okay, I remember saying the same thing to your grandma when she would tell me, you aren’t really this old until 2:26pm. One of those joys of being a mama, we get to harass our children. Trust me, you’ll do it one day. Maybe by the time you read this, you already will be. Who knows?

I am writing this for you, for your thirtieth birthday, because I am thirty. Welcome to thirty baby girl. Guess what? It’s not as scary as you believe. Or as scary as some of those around you would have you believe. I’m thirty. I have very little figured out. It’s okay. Hopefully by the time you read this, I will have figured out what I’m doing with my life. One could only hope you will have as well. If not though? It’s okay. You have time.

I figure by the time you read this, you will have lived enough of life to understand the things I am going to tell you. You will hopefully have forgiven me for my faults by then, or at least come to understand them a little more. I hope by the time you read this, you have a baby, or two. Hey even three is nice. Somehow I bet I’ll make a great grandmother. No pressure though.

Today was your birthday. Today you turned six. I wish I could bottle you up at this age. You are so entertaining. You are sweet and kind. You are extremely loving. You are a totally cuddle bug. In all honestly though, you were born that way, so it may never change. I hope it doesn’t. I hope at thirty you will still being willing to hug your mom in public, hold my hand often and cuddle on the couch while we watch movies. (Hey, a mom can dream right?)

Two weeks ago you asked me for a birthday gift that I wasn’t sure I could give you. Not the puppy you’ve been asking for months to have. (Sorry love, but no.) Not the new bike you are convinced you need. (You don’t.) Not a toy you saw on a commercial. (Mommy can you get me that? What is it? I don’t know, but it looks fun. Um, I don’t think so. Not now. Okay how about one day? Sure, when you can tell me what it is and why you need it.) Not even the iTouch your daddy gave to you from us today. No, you asked to go to an amusement park. With me, your sister and your daddy.

I’ll be honest, this gave me pause. I think it did your daddy too. We had to think about it and discuss it a few times. We decided we could both do this for you.

I’ll be honest with you my love, this was not an easy request to fill. I had to think about if my heart could take it. This year has been tough. Your daddy and I are in the process of getting divorced right now. I know that at 30, this is old news to you. But honey? It’s still new for us. For all of us. I understand why you asked. You love nothing more than to have your whole family with you at all times. You miss us together. Truth is, I do too. You wanted one adult per kid for rides. Logistically it made sense. Like I said though, it was a hard thing to do.

We did it. We had fun. You and your sister had an absolute blast. I had fun. It was hard though, I won’t lie to you. It was hard for me; it is hard for me, each time I do something like this. Something that involves a day spent with your dad. It won’t stop me from doing it though.

I fear you won’t remember us together. (It isn’t lost on me, that you were the exact same age as I was, when your grandma and grandpa got divorced.) Maybe it’s better that way. Maybe all you will remember are days like today. That is okay too. I don’t have memories of my parents like this. I want this for you. I promise you more days like today. Days filled with light hearted conversation between your dad and I. I promise you more day adventures with your family. All of us. I promise you more days filled with face paintings, funnel cakes and rides. I promise you this, because you deserve it. I promise you this because I adore you enough to make it a reality. Because I never want you to look at a picture of us from before and say to me, I just can’t picture us together. I never want you to wonder what we all looked like in the same room.

I can’t give you back what we used to have. That, is just not possible. I can however swear to you, that your dad and I will continue to put aside our own feelings for each other, for the good of you and your siblings.

Today is your birthday. Sixth and thirtieth…because I am printing this out and saving it for you. It will go in the box for you for someday. Filled with letters, pictures, strange mementos from over the years and the outfit you came home from the hospital in. One day, it will be yours.

You are currently laying in bed asleep next to me. This was something that started when your dad moved out, something I’m not sure I’m ready to stop yet. You are so beautiful. I can still see a bit of glitter on your face, from the butterfly you insisted you needed pained on you today. You are so full of life and love. You care about people and animals more than anyone I know. You are one of the most empathetic children I’ve ever met in my life. You are also the funniest child I’ve ever met in my life. Each day, I am blessed to have you in my life. I’d give you the world if I could baby girl. I’d hand it to you right now on a nice pink glittery platter next to a huge stack of Silly Bandz. I know that it’s not possible though.

What I can give you is my promise. My promise to try to do this right for you, Morgan and Harrison. My promise that I’ll keep putting my feelings aside from time to time, to make sure you have memories of your family together. For you.

I love you to the moon and back. I love you more than all the stars in the sky. Happy birthday Bailey.

Love, mama

1. In three weeks exactly, I will be sitting at the airport, ready to board a plane to NYC for BlogHer10. I am super freaking excited. I can’t wait to see and hug all of my friends. To stay up late with my amazing roomies. To make some mischief with Undomestic Diva…or well to watch her and photograph it. To meet new people and to FINALLY see NYC.

2. I ordered two sets of business cards. Because I am that nerdy.

3. I either pulled a muscle in my boob last night, or had an asthma attack in my sleep. Am actually leaning toward the asthma attack theory. To counteract this, I got an extra shot in my coffee this morning. Bouncing will commence in 3…2…1

4. Last night I watched a new show called Covert Affairs. Not sure which night it actually comes on though, I DVR everything. I actually really liked it. I mean it’s not Alias, but nothing is going to match up to Alias.

5. Last night Morgan convinced me I needed this app for the iPad called Fruit Ninja. Basically you slice fruit as is flies past you. It’s so dumb…yet so dang addicting. We all took turns playing it last night. Hi, time wasters.

6. The girls want to see the Sorcerer’s Apprentice this weekend. I am considering getting a sitter for Harrison on Friday night and taking them out to dinner and to a movie. A girls date night of sorts.

Well I think that is all I’ve got. At least in this moment.

Years ago, I believe in 1999, Logan and I were on vacation in Colorado when one of his cousins had extra tickets to the Lilith Fair. We were thrilled to get to go, since we’d tried to get tickets to see it in Los Angeles and weren’t able too. It was an all afternoon/evening outdoor concert at Fiddler’s Green. We had grass seats, which was totally fine. There were about twelve of us who went. We got there around 2pm and hung out on the grass. A few people we were with had real seats but they were still allowed to sit on the grass with us during the day. We spread out blankets and played cards. We bought food and drinks and took them back to our little area in the grass. We could hear the bands that were playing on the smaller stages, even though no one played on the main stage until say 5pm.

There was a huge area that was filled with different food booths. You could buy t-shirts, get hemp tattoos, see weird art. Whatever. It was an experience. The smaller stages were filled with lesser known women bands, but I remember knowing some of them.

When the concerts started on the main stage it was amazing. We, in one night, saw Sarah McLaughlin, Sheryl Crow, Indigo Girls, Shawn Colvin, Lisa Loeb and my all time favorites, the Dixie Chicks. It was five or six hours of non-stop concerts. Sheryl Crow came out in the middle of an Indigo Girls song and jumped up on their piano. Lisa Loeb ran across the stage while someone was singing with a kite. Sheryl Crow told jokes before she sang. The Dixie Chicks were freaking amazing.  At the end they all did a few songs together. It was huge and it was fun and it still goes down in history as one of my all time favorite concert events ever.

Fast forward to this spring.

I heard Sarah McLaughlin was re-doing the Lilith Fair. I waited. I watched for signs that it was true. She announced her line up. It was highly impressive. You can see it here if you’d like. I signed up to be notified early, so I could buy tickets when they came out. They finally went on sale. When I saw that Sheryl Crow, Sarah McLaughlin, Sugarland, Court Yard Hounds and Miranda Lambert were all going to come to the Denver show, I bought two tickets. Pricey. Expensive. $135 a piece tickets. I figured maybe I’d get my mom to come out and we’d go. In the end though, I decided to give the second ticket to my friend, for her birthday. Which was today. Figured a concert on her birthday was a good present. She was thrilled.

She and I both re-arranged our schedules. We made sure our kids are covered, took time off work, both of us even found people to go walk our dogs at some point. Then we get there. We stand in line to get in. No biggie. We have to toss our sunscreen because it’s in a spray can. Which was fine, our bad. We go to the small stage area and there is no place to sit. It’s all rocks. You could only stand….I mean unless you like rocks up your butt. There are only like 6 booths and they are only giving out samples of crap. A coupon. A teeny spray deodorant. Nothing to do. Nothing to see. We’d seen it all in three minutes flat. There was no place to sit and absolutely no shade. Then we saw the sign. The bands listed sign. The, this is when people are playing sign. NONE of the people we had come to see, besides Sarah McLaughlin were listed on it. She wasn’t going to play until last. We literally only knew one other person on the list and neither of us are fans of her. We walked over to where you could buy food. There were three drink booths and two food booths. Ten bucks for beer. Six bucks for a hot dog. Those were basically the only choices. Hot dogs, cheeseburgers, crappy beer or water. You can buy better food at the Costco food stand. Heck, I can buy better food outside the Home Depot on Saturdays. That guy sells brats and churros and crazy shit. Not that we went to eat or drink, I’m just saying, it was seriously limited.

We bought five dollar bottles of water and tried to find some spare concrete to sit on. Because, hi, guess what, nothing is on the main stage till 5pm, so we aren’t seating until then. Yeah. No place to sit and they wouldn’t let us go to our seats early. More and more and more people started filling into a tiny confined space. It was hot. There was no place too move and hundreds of people wondering why we couldn’t just go sit in our seats. This one woman kept inching closer and closer to me. I told my friend, if she gets any closer, she will soon be in my lap. It wasn’t even her fault, there was just that many people there.

We started asking people around us about the other bands supposedly showing up. Oh they’re not, one woman said. Yeah, I guess it wasn’t doing so well so some of them bailed. So I paid $135 a pop, to wait around until 9pm, on a weeknight, to just see Sarah McLaughlin? Whose CD I wasn’t impressed with enough to buy? Yeah, pretty much.

We sat there for about 45 minutes fuming, before we finally decided to leave. That it wasn’t even worth the time. The money was a waste, but to waste our time and be grouchy on top of it? To see shitty bands we’d never even heard of? Not worth it.

We were not the only ones either. We walked out with six other people. The people who’d been sitting next to us had been debating it. There were six of them. We had people leaving in front of us and people leaving behind us. We were offered tickets, free tickets, by eight other people. I offered my tickets to five different people in the parking lot and each of them said, no, we’re thinking about leaving too. I came so close to handing my tickets to the homeless guy at the freeway entrance.

Sarah? You have lost my business. Forever. I will never again buy your albums. I will never again believe anything you say. I may never again go to an outdoor concert that supposedly has multiple acts. You pretty much just ruined it for me. Maybe you don’t care. Maybe you will never see this. It’s more than the money. It’s the principal of it. You sold something and what you sold was a lie. I’m upset. As much for the friend whose birthday I just ruined as for myself. The money? Well it’s gone and I’ve wasted money on stupider crap before. It was a lot of money to waste though. I’m not exactly rolling in it, you know? I’m a single mom with three kids who just lost half a day of work and $300 on top of that.

I’ve been to better free concerts than this. Heck, a few years ago….the only time I’ve even seen Sugarland in concert, it was a free outdoor concert at night in freaking Palmdale, California. I remember driving up there wondering if we were being dumb. I showed up, with my husband and my little girls and we had an absolute blast. We ate tons of great food and sat on the grass and watched a two hour free concert.

This? Didn’t even come close to a free concert at a fair. It wasn’t worth the gas to drive there, much less the money I spent. I’d of stayed tonight if ANYONE you said was going to be there had been there. Just one of them. But no, it was all a lie, so we left.

I wasted my time, my money, my energy and my faith in concerts. I’m disappointed. I’m grouchy. Mostly though? I wish I’d gotten what I paid for. That would have been cool. Shrug. I won’t make the mistake again.

You lost two fans today.

I don’t want to clean my wreck of a house today.

I don’t want to take my do to be groomed today.

I don’t want to figure out what that smell is in my fridge each time I open it.

I don’t want to do the 12 loads of laundry that I didn’t do this weekend, because I had non-stop plans.

I don’t want to grocery shop today.

I don’t want to think about the fact that Logan has a new nickname for Harrison. One that I’m not sure I can use.

I don’t want to unload all of the chairs, wet towels, swimsuits or trash out of my car from yesterday.

I don’t want to clean my kitchen today.

I don’t want to read today, or write today, or do anything today.

I don’t want to. I just plain don’t want too.

What about you? What don’t you want to do today?

Dear 21 year old Issa,

Congrats on the marriage….he’s a keeper. At least for a first husband. What? I’m not telling anything. Just enjoy okay? Try to enjoy what you have. Stop looking for the next thing. Enjoy your time with him. Soak it up. Live it up. Don’t worry so much about stuff. Stuff, money…it comes and goes. Time is what is important.

Spend less time at work. Spend more time at home. Don’t check work email on vacations. It will still be there when you get back. Use up every second of your vacation time. Use sick days for stay at home and play days. You work too hard. 14 hour days are okay sometimes, not all the time. There will come a time when you will regret this. So try to slow it down some now. The person who dies with the most hours put in at work, does not win.

Take a cooking class. Yes you live in Los Angeles. But honey? You won’t always. Trust me, learn to cook. Learn to bake. Learn these things now and you won’t have friends making fun of you online later for you lack of whip cream making knowledge.

Congrats on the little pink stick with the two lines. I know it’s fast. Hey guess what? You are very fertile. Ahem. I know it’s scary. I also know that it will be okay. Try to stop worrying. You will make a great mother. You are right, it’s a girl. A tiny perfect, little girl. Be prepared early, because she will be early. To everything, every milestone, her entire life basically. That’s just her way. Word to the wise? When your water breaks? PUT DOWN THE PANCAKES.

Before she comes? Eat out. Go spend days at the beach. ENJOY THE SLEEP. Sleep as much as humanly possible. Know that one day? They all learn to sleep. There will be nights where you wonder later if it was the right decision. Starting so young. That’s the hormones and the lack of sleep.

She’s worth it. Every single day, she is worth it. The two that come after her are just as amazing. I promise. Enjoy them. Enjoy the smell of newborn head. Enjoy the way they sleep in the crook of your neck. Enjoy the time before they learn to speak. It comes quick with the first one. Know that once they start talking, they never stop. With the second? Know she will do everything in her own time. Not her big sisters time. It’s okay. It’s all okay. Don’t be in such a hurry for them to get bigger. It happens way too fast.

Don’t sweat the small stuff. Ice cream can be a dinner food. Late bedtimes won’t kill her. Read an extra book. Let her watch an extra show. Buy that toy. That outfit. Sometimes, let her sleep in your bed. She’ll be better off for it.

Learn to love coffee.

Friends come and go. This I know. You need to start learning that now. Look around. Enjoy the friends you have. Just know that later, when things get tough, you will find friends who truly understand you. The good, the bad and the ugly. Friends who you can show your true self too.

No matter what? Andrew’s death wasn’t your fault. You probably couldn’t have kept him from doing what he did. Let go of the guilt.

Find a therapist. Talk. Don’t stuff everything. Trust me, I know. Stop playing the what if game. It will get you nowhere.

Enjoy your grandparents. I know you will, but enjoy them as much as humanly possible.

Don’t listen to dad or his wife. They know nothing. You are beautiful. Amazing. Talented. They don’t deserve you in their lives. They won’t be in the kids lives, so don’t even bother trying. Save yourself some heartache.

Think about what you want to do with your life. When you figure it out, please write 30 year old me a letter. That’d be dam helpful right now. Snort.

Think before you type a little more. Speak your truth a little more to family and friends. Your words? Are just as important as theirs.

Mostly though? Love hard. Live. Be happy. Have fun dammit.

You are amazing. Please to be remembering.

xoxo, 30 year old me