I look for any excuse to get friends together. I like to entertain. I like to party. I guess that makes me a perfect Pure Romance Consultant, doesn’t it? So when it comes to birthday parties I always strive to make it something memorable for the special someone. Sometimes that means it’s a Surprise Party, or a small get together with close friends, or a huge ta-da with the whole town being invited.
The past year and a half has been a strange one for me internally. I have had very little desire to do these birthday bashes. And working from a tight budget means I have to be a bit more creative and crafty. (Thank you person who created Pinterest.)
The moment I found out about you, I was filled with fear. For me, for you, for the broken ideas that I had for our lives.
January 26, 2008
Then you turned one and you started spending nights with your dad. When you were home, I would watch you sleeping in your crib. And I would sob. And pray. And trace your perfectly round face with my fingertips. Our future looked bleak at that time. I saw myself going nowhere fast. And as for your future, well, I couldn’t see that either.
This baby has always been part of the family plan. Before getting married, Mr. Sexy and I decided we wanted to have two kids together, and then adopt, and then call our family complete. Our plan couldn’t be more perfect, and so, Denai was conceived right on schedule. Literally. Her birth was very well planned.
However, when Mr. Sexy and I made our family plans, I didn’t anticipate our family dynamics to turn out so complicated. It makes sense that they would. As I like to say, “We are a very well blended family.” We share custody of Michael, Marie has Down syndrome and is also from Mr. Sexy’ previous marriage, then there is Denai who rounds it all out by being absolutely abnoxious. Then again, I take credit for that.
I don’t think it’s a secret the Sexy Family hasn’t been much of the church going crowd the past two years. We have our reasons. We give our excuses. The truth is, Mr. Sexy and I have lost sight of why we should attend church.
I don’t like being treated like a non-believer – especially by fellow believers. Yet it happens. I DO NOT believe in attending church – religiously. This means I do not believe you have to go to church to be a Christian. From what I have learned from the Bible, attending church out of obligation or tradition is a sin. Yet, so many do it. I used to be one of them. I grew up like that and thus, I harbor a bit of guilt because I am not dragging my kids to church every Sunday.
First of all, the warm welcome I received with my I’m Baaaaack post was so nice and unexpected. I appreciate all the sentiments – both on and off the blog! I don’t have the biggest following but the ones I do have sure are loyal! So thanks peeps!
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Michael is and will always be my first born and eldest. Yes, he has a sister much older than he, but Michael remains my guinea pig. I was 19 when I became pregnant and barely 20 when he was born. I lived with my parents and felt more like a teenager than an adult – much less a parenting adult. So, at times, instead of parenting Michael, I simply participated. Thus as Michael went through the Terrible Twos and Thrashing Threes, followed closely by the Frightening Fours, I realized before I could teach my son how to behave, I had to learn how to behave. I do not miss those toddler years. And now, it’s happening again…
I stopped writing publicly because I wasn’t able to write without intent of hurting someone else. The lines blurred between writing about my life and writing at someone else. Or rather, at other people. When the lines blurred, I stopped writing. See, as upset as my family was with the content of my posts, I did not believe I was doing anything wrong nor was I trying to be hurtful. I have now gone back and read through those same posts that caused my family to threaten a lawsuit, go to a pastor and plead with me to stop embarrassing myself.
5-10 interrupted minutes of free writing on the topic: World
As I dive back into 5 minute Friday in an attempt to keep my writing love affair alive, I am interrupted by a toddler who is wearing skinny blonde braids for the first time. With her crazy golden locks back from her face those big blue eyes are all I see as she tells me all about the concoction she created in her tea cup. It’s only water. But to her, it’s something amazing that she MUST tell me NOW. In fact, when she can reach me, she will take her two hands, place them on my cheeks, and firmly direct my face to hers so I am able to focus. On her, of course. Because she is two. And I think most two year olds live in their own world. So Denai is no exception. She will let anyone within hearing distance know she is mad with her high pitched screams of anger or indignation. When she’s happy and excited she screams again, but this time it sounds happy – although you still don’t want to be too close to the siren. She wants to be involved in EVERYTHING happening around her. If dad is working on the car, she is getting his tools. If I’m working in the garden, she wants to pull out all the plants. While I’m eating (right after she finished her meal) she needs to be in my lap patiently – or not so patiently – waiting for her portion. Ugh. She drives me nuts.