Trust Me

When life is good, it seems like it might have always been that way. When life is joyous and goes in a direction that feels good, the dark days seem to fade away. That’s the beauty of being happy. Content.

Making change in your life can very often shake up those around you more than you yourself. When I told my family I was getting a divorce, they were flabbergasted. They all thought I was crazy and just being over dramatic. I think they really felt a sense of panic. For me. For them. I don’t blame them. Divorce is a scary word. I’m sure to them it came out of nowhere, but it never really does. Lanie and I were talking about that the other day. You see married couples and they seem so happy and put together. They seem like they have it all figured out. But the truth is, you have no idea what happens when they get home. You have no idea how they are really doing as a couple. As partners. And when you find out someone is splitting it, it’s always such a shock. But the truth is, if it’s come to that, there was probably something going wrong for a while.

The overall feeling I got when I shared my news was it felt like they thought I was giving up. I was turning my back on my marriage without even trying. They had never seen us fight or be angry at each other. They had never seen me crying because he was mean to me. Those things never happened. But it’s not always a mean spirit that breaks up a marriage. Sometimes things just fall apart on their own.

We had a good life. A beautiful home. Lots of friends. Trips, parties, celebrations. I wasn’t unhappy, in fact far from it. I was having the time of my life. But amongst all the good times, there was something was missing. And we both knew it. Passion. Chemistry. Most people think that’s not enough reason to walk away from such a perfect life. And maybe their right. But for me, all that good stuff couldn’t fill me up. There was always something missing. No matter how much I partied, drank, danced, shopped etc..there was always a something that didn’t feel quite right. When it was time to go to sleep, and I’d lay my head on the pillow, staring into the darkness. The silence was deafening and I had nothing left to distract me.

Do I just stay where I am spare the hurt feelings and shocked whispers? Or do I get truly honest with myself and brave the fall out that would surely come with my decision? I don’t think anyone understood how terrifying it is to make a decision like that. What if I’m alone for the rest of my life? What if I never find this connection that I’m yearning for? Is it better to just stay in my marriage and come to terms with the fact that not everyone has passion, chemistry and a perfect relationship? But the truth was, I wasn’t looking for perfect. I was looking for that deep connection. Something that tied my heart to someone elses. I thought time would fix it, but it didn’t. Fear of the unknown was staring me in the face.

Once the news was out, people were (as predicated) shocked. And there was fallout in the biggest way. But there was also support. My family didn’t understand and probably didn’t agree, but they were right there. They had my back, regardless of how upset they were. 95% of my friendships disappeared, but two stuck by me. No judgment. No trying to talk me out of it. Just there for me.

I think over time it became clear to everyone that I was never giving up. It’s actually the opposite. It’s about not giving up, especially on yourself, and just having the guts to start over. Finding happiness within yourself is truly difficult and something we all strive for. It was the scariest thing I’ve ever done, but it was worth it. Things I wasn’t sure I’d ever have are now all mine. A good man who I’m totally in love with, a precious baby boy who is my whole world and a drive and motivation within myself to be the best that I can be.

Pierce Street Re-Do

Last night Rob and I went out to celebrate Steve's birthday. A group of us went to Karl Strauss for dinner and then to Pierce Street for some drinks and dancing. It was so great to go out with my man and have some fun. One of my favorite place to be with Rob is on the dance floor. It just feels so good to be out there, dancing close, letting loose. I look at him and feel so much love in my heart and the smile cannot be wiped off my face.

The last time I went to Pierce Street was, well, a total disaster. It was last August for my 35 birthday and I drank way too much. I drank Long Islands and shots all night and I'm sad to say, i don't remember much of the night. When I woke up in the morning I felt extremely embarrassed and mad at myself. I was told that I had a great time but I don't remember it. I was bummed that I drank so much that I didn't dance, which I love to do. Later I saw photos, and there I was on the dance floor. I was so mad at myself. It felt like a total waste of an evening because I didn't remember anything that happened. It's almost like I wasn't there. It left such a bad taste in my mouth and I guess you could call it "my bottom." I couldn't shake the feeling of shame and disappointment in myself. Rob and I both made a deal the next day that there would be no more long islands in our future.

Since that night, I have very rarely drank. When I have, it is has been in moderation. I haven't gotten drunk by any means. Even at Lexi's wedding, I had some wine, got a little bit of a buzz and stopped there. I think there was a part of me that was scared to drink too much for fear of getting into the state I was on my birthday. The great thing is, I haven't missed out on anything. I have a couple beers or cocktails and still have a great time without the hangover or guilt the next day. There have been birthdays, weddings, bbq's, get togethers, game nights and lots of other occasions, but I have had no desire to drink more than I can handle.

Last night was so much fun and it was even more great for me because I went back to the scene of the crime (Pierce Street) but this time I remember every song I danced to, every conversation I had, every funny moment, and I still had an awesome time. I had three beers with dinner and then when we got to the club I had one beer and two cocktails (Jauger and Red Bull.) It was the perfect amount to just get a slight buzz but still be in total control. And the bonus? instead of looking like a drunk idiot in the photos, I just look happy:)

Snip Snip

Dom is a professional at getting his haircut. He has had about nine or ten since he was born so he knows the drill. we used to take him the fancy kids place with the cartoons playing and cool firetrucks to sit in. But now that he's so experienced, he now goes to Supercuts like a big boy. It's so cute how he sits in the chair and knows to move his head. Only 18 months old and acting like a big kid:)

Chompers

The past two night Dom woke up in the middle night, crying inconsolably. I brought him into our bed because the poor thing was definitely not feeling well. I was worried that his ear infections hadn’t cleared up all the way since the last time it took two rounds of the antibiotics to make it go away.

Wednesday morning he woke up at 2:00am and I could tell he was in pain. He has different cries and I can tell if he’s just trying to play me or if he’s really crying. Something was wrong so I brought him into bed with Rob and I, but even that didn’t work. He laid down with me and after about 30 seconds popped up and said “hi!” I could tell he was tired because every now and then he would lay down with me and then shoot straight back up. I was thinking it must be his ears because it hurts to lay down. Rob got up at 4:00am to get ready for work so we all went into the living room and Dom figured it was a good time to play his drums and break out his blocks. By this point, I was crawling on my eyeballs and just wanted to sleep. I managed to get him to lay down with my about 5:00am and kept him there by showing him “Yo Gabba Gabba” clips from You Tube on my phone. He was totally into it and just wanted one after the other until he finally fell asleep.

The next morning he woke up at midnight and I was up with him until 2:00am. This was just not like him so I made an appointment to go back to Dr. Christianson to see what was going on. Well guess what? It wasn’t his ears. Poor Dom got his first molar!!! No wonder he was in so much pain. That’s a big tooth to rip through the gums and it defintily explains the crying and not being able to sleep. Now we knew what the problem was, I knew how to help him. Before bed he got some Motrin for the fever and pain, some teething tablets and lastly some Orajel to numb the guns. I got him into bed and prayed it worked because I was running on fumes and needed a good night’s sleep. He went to bed at 7:00pm and woke up at 6:30am, right on schedule. Phew!

Thank goodness we don’t remember these occasions. Can you imagine the pain of having a tooth rip through your gums? We still have some sleepless nights ahead of us because the tooth isn’t all the way out yet and let’s not forget the other big ones that need to make an appearance. But as long as we stay stocked up on Orajel and Motrin, it hopefully won’t be as bad as it was. You know what? It’s crazy to me that Dom is getting his molars. I remember when he had no teeth, just gums, and it seemed like he be like that forever. Then two bottom teeth sprouted and it was the cutest thing. Now all of a sudden he has a mouth full of chompers. Where is the time going?

Milestones!

Today is a day of milestones in our home. Sophie held going to the bathroom in her crate all night (10pm-7am) for the first time. This is a first for her and a big step in her crate training.

The second milestone is not as exciting. Dominic has figured out how to climb out of his pack n play. He’s only in it for about twenty minutes in the morning (while watching and dancing along to Yo Gabba Gabba) while I get ready for work. But this morning he threw one leg over and escaped. Rob and I knew It was coming…I just didn’t think it would be so soon. I’m not sure what I’m going to do now when I get ready for work. It seems he’s hitting all his milestones with stride and not looking back.

Bottle Be Gone

Dom and I made a deal a few weeks ago. Once the end of the year came, no more bottle. He wasn’t very pleased about this deal as he absolutely loves his bottle. I was kind of dreading how it was going to go, but I figured that if I gave him some warning that it was going away, it wouldn’t be too bad. I began the weaning about three weeks before D day. In the morning I would give him his milk in a sippy cup instead of his bottle and he would just throw it right on the floor. “nooooo!” Hmm, ok, this isn’t going as well as I’d hoped. In the evening he was allowed his bottle because I didn’t want it to effect his night time routine. As the weeks went by, I kept trying to give him is sippy cup at night but he was very sure of what he wanted. “Baaabaa!!!” That broke my heart. He’d run into the kitchen and point at his bottles, crying. What am I doing to my child? I’m depriving him of nutrients, healthy supplements and his God given right to a bottle! Ok, I was being a little dramatic, but you have to understand Dom’s bond to the bottle is also somewhat shared by me.

I had always planned on breast feeding. When I was pregnant, Rob and I talked about how it would cut costs but was also the best option for our baby because it’s packed with more good stuff then formula. Everyone referred to it as “liquid gold.” Ok, no problem. I got this! Then Dom was born and guess what? My boobs failed me. I tried for hours at a time trying to get more than a drop out, but nothing. The first week of Dominic’s life I tried frantically, every hour when he was hungry, to get into the right position, have the pillow in the right place, holding his little head, just trying to get him to latch on. He wasn’t having it. I tried pumping. All day. Every day. Rob even bought me a fancy electric pump that does the work for you, but there was just nothing there. Eventually, we just had to see it for what it was. Dom was going to be a bottle baby, and that was hard for me to take. I felt like I had let him down. My body couldn’t produce what he needed. My first duty as being a Mom and failed. So we put the boobs behind us and moved on. Dom loved his bottle. He would chug down his little 2 ounces of milk like he was in a beer drinking competition. Eventually, that 2 ounces per bottle grew to 4 ounces. Then 8 ounces. Then he was holding the bottle by himself. Then he would tell me “Baba” when he wanted his bottle. And now, here we are. 18 months later and no more bottle. Dom and I went through a lot with his bottle. The bottle did what I couldn’t do, and for that, I am so grateful.

It’s been a week and yesterday we made some progress. I gave him his sippy cup during dinner, with milk instead of his usual water. He actually drank some! Hallelujah! When we went out to dinner, he drank milk out of his sippie cup without a fuss. He hasn’t asked for his “baba” so that’s promising. I just can’t believe my baby boy doesn’t use a bottle anymore! He’s growing up so fast and is a toddler, not a baby. He amazes me every single day and I love him so much!