Letter to My Best Friend (For those time she forgets me)

Hey there!

I use an informal greeting because we have an informal relationship.  And I'm writing this because I see you every day (literally, every day) but we rarely get a chance to talk.  I mean TALK talk.  You stop by to brush your teeth and hair, sometimes you spend a little more time on that than we're used to - which is always an adventure to say the least.  But even with this day to day interaction, we don't talk!

I realize why this is - what with a 9-year-old, a 6-year-old and a baby... not to mention the husband, and a dog... you're definitely busy.  Plus the job, and the writing, and what you refer to as "attempts to be everything and anything," you've got a lot going on.  That's good though, right? It keeps us busy and it keeps us sane despite the chaos.  I know you love it - I love it - so it's a good thing.

But I noticed recently when you stopped by - and this isn't a new occurrence - that you sighed a little heavier.  You seemed more out of breath, or exasperated.  Your eyes were watery a few times, and there were times you just stared back at me, and I back at you, and neither of us knew what to do with each other - or what to say to each other.

But as your best friend, I can read a lot in those blue eyes of yours.

You feel tired, you feel exasperated.
Sometimes in a room full of people you feel lonely.
You feel simultaneously proud of yourself and like an immense failure.

There are days when we look at each other and I can tell that you hate something you've done, or sometimes you hate something that you are.

You didn't clean the house, or do the laundry.
You tried *really* hard to write something personal and engaging, and at the end of all the typing all you could think was "this sucks."
You feel like you suck at writing, at dancing, at engaging people...
You feel like you'll never finish that book you've been working on, and even if you did, who would want to read it?
You feel like a failure.
You think you suck as a human being.
You're flaky and forget things and it makes you a bad person.

Sometimes this irritation gets turned away from "accomplishments" and gets personal.
You're disgusted that you can't seem to drop weight.
You hate your shoulders, and your arms... your skin, hair, chin, cheekbones.
Your nose is crooked - look at how crooked it is!
You thank God that we're not staring into a full-length mirror - let we see the whole package in one shot.  Some people would go blind after that.

There are days when you really don't like yourself, and in the end, you don't like me much either.

And I realize you're probably thinking "yes, you  know all this so why are we talking about it?"
No reason really; but I wanted to know that I forgive you, and that I believe in you.

I think that someday your ideas will even out in your head, and you will finish that story.
And even if it's not a bestseller, someone will will read it... and someone will like it - because you're a lot cleverer than you give yourself credit for.

I want you to remember that you don't have to be perfect at writing, or dancing, or engaging people - because you engage me everyday with just the 5-10 minutes we look at each other.
I want you to know that it's totally okay that you don't - or didn't ever - drop baby weight 30 minutes or 1 year after giving birth.
It's okay that you don't lose weight while nursing, because what you're doing is harder than losing 25 pounds anyway.
I think that the days you feel like a terrible parent because you didn't do the laundry or the dishes are probably the days you're a better parent.  You went outside instead, or played Candyland - or you were just there instead of the basement or at the sink.
And I think a messy house isn't such a terrible thing.  And I think that if anyone were to suggest otherwise, you can invite them over to clean for you.

Because you are busy.
You're busy being a mom who three kids adore.
And you're busy being a wife who your husband still finds beautiful enough that he makes inappropriate advances and suggestive comments too.  You know him well enough to realize now that he wouldn't say it if he didn't mean it.

And I say to Hell with your crooked nose and those hairs that never lay flat.  They give you character, and you look different than everyone else so people will remember you better.

Because that's what matters, right?  What people remember you for?
I know that you would rather be remembered for making someone else feel better about themselves than for writing some really witty and engaging blog post.  I know that it's more important to be kind and caring than put together and pretty all the time.

And even more than all of this, I see you at your silliest and most honest.  I see you when you look at yourself and can't help but laugh because of how chaotic everything is.

And I think that's a good thing - being able to laugh no matter what.

In fact, since we're talking so honestly, I think you're amazing.  I think you're fantastic.  And I love you - I always have.

So next time you're feeling all the emotions above, and all you want is for someone to tell you that you're an okay human being, and that everything is going to be all right... don't go searching out in the world for it.  That's not where you need it from.

You need it from the kids.
You need it from your husband.
But more than that, you need it from me.
And I promise, even when it seems like I'm far away, I'm always right here when you really need me.

So let's talk more, all right?
Love, Me (or really, love, yourself)

Are You Not Entertained? AKA: The Assault of Ser Jaime Lannister

*That would be BOOK spoilers.
Book Spoilers AHOY!  You have been warned.
ALSO*

My Thoughts on F*&^ing Curse Words

So, so, SO many of my blog posts are done in the wee hours of the morning when I can't sleep and I've just finished nursing a baby.  This is one of them.  I like to think myself an eloquent writer with well thought out grammar and sentence structure... and perhaps I am... but blogging?  Blogging, or at least my blog, is not full of those times.  There are times when it's an imperfect collection of word vomit that has been sitting in my brain for far too long.

This is one of those times.

Hi, I'm Staci and I have a lot of feelings...

I have to be really careful with what I watch/read/or listen to... lest I might break down in tears.

Push for Change - Support Midwives

At the risk of sounding like Jigsaw, I want to play a game. I’m going to give you a list of scenarios and at the end I want you to identify the common denominator among them all. Ready…

PPD - no not paid per direct, or pumpkin pie delight... the other PPD

Is kind of in a swearing mood so I apologize for that before hand - and if you're offended by any swearing you can kindly leave and go elsewhere rather than criticize my language since I warned you before hand.

So... despite my best efforts, if there are such things when it comes to this, I think I'm ready to admit that I have a bit of PPD this time around.  Not extensive, but I've just had a lot of feelings of guilt/inadequacy, a lot of confusion, and a lot of anger about feeling this way in general.

Why the anger?  Well, for starters, the "normal" me would be telling myself "It's okay, everything will be fine.  Go see a counselor, take care of yourself and things will get better."  This was my reaction the first time I had depression, whenever my anxiety has flared up, and the first time I had PPD after Chance.  I'm usually more than willing to admit I need help, and more than willing to ask for it.

But this time around, that sensation has been met with a lot guilt and anxiety.

A Successful Disappointment - AKA: My birth story and dealing with mommy guilt.

There is a Mr. Man asleep next to me right now, who in my not-so-humble opinion is one of the most perfect Mr. Mans in all the world.  He’s got soft dark hair, cute baby smiles at six weeks old, and behaves pretty much like a textbook baby.  In fact, almost everything about him and his arrival was text book in some ways.

In other ways, there have been many changes to my life, to my home, to myself that it almost feels like a whole new experience.  I suppose the birth of every child feels that way, whether you've had one or fifty.  Which is why I'm frustrated that no one has published a book aimed at third, fourth or fifth time mothers just to assuage the guilt or confusion that comes with having another child.