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I joke to my husband that I am made of marshmallow. 
You can lay your head on my ample bosom, my soft swell of belly or my round ass
and be comfortably lulled to sleep.
I am a stacked 5'9, 168 lbs
 36/26/37 
and when I look in the mirror I know with certainty that I am sexy 
and I don't care if that offends the masses.
I know what people mean when they tell me that I am a beautiful person, 
they want me to know that there is more in life than physical beauty, 
but they don't even know they are blind.
I am beautiful in every sense of the word.
I don't conform to traditional standards of beauty.
I love my body in it's current state and you might think that means I have given up, 
thrown in the towel and decided to attempt to accept this milky, white, 
imperfect fat suit of a body because I just don't care about myself enough,
or can't control myself
or don't feel like I deserve to be what you think I should be.
But I am the picture of health and vitality and
I am a Goddess in a size 12.

That is love

There are days when everything around me seems like it is

sparkling

and if I reach out my arm and stretch my fingers open wide

I can grab hold of the atmosphere and 

fold it over us like a blanket 

and forever be kept

warm and safe and happy.

That is love.

Family matters

My mom titles all her emails to us "Family matters". I know that she is referring to matters, as in "issues", but I like to think that it's more like "Family MATTERS". It means something.

My family is huge, and with huge families comes a lot of crazy. There's always a few people who are not speaking, who have waged some kind of war on each other over some words that were said and probably not meant. But words are just words and my family is big on forgiveness and even bigger on love.

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I think all parents & kids have issues that strain their relationship, especially when the kids are in their teens & 20's. Somehow all problems seem larger than they really are when you're still young and have yet to really experience the way that life can cut you in two.
When you get a few more years under your belt, you start to realize that life is bigger than you. Other people have feelings and the things you say & do have a real, lasting effect on the ones you love.
You also find yourself making some of the same choices as your parents and finally get a glimpse of understanding just what the hell the people who raised you were thinking.

And, when you are a parent and you hit a rough patch with your own children, it is really, quite humbling.
You will want to call your mom (and your dad & grandpa & grandma & aunts & uncles & even maybe some of your old teachers) and apologize for having been a complete and total mess of a human being in your younger years.

But when you do call your parents and ask them how they got through those days with you and they answer that they had no idea what they were doing, either, it's like the biggest weight being lifted off your shoulders.
There's nothing more encouraging than knowing that the people you respect and look to for guidance & support are just fumbling through life doing the best they can, too.

They never had the answers, either, and somehow you all made it out alive.

This Christmas

If you've been reading for awhile, then you know this is going to be our first Christmas in the new house.

This is the first year that we've had room for our tree and haven't had to stash furniture away in storage while it's up. It's also the first year that we have a porch on which we could hang lights. 

And, this is the first Christmas that we've ever had a mantle to hang our stockings on. 

It seems like such a small thing, but the kids have never experienced a decorated home.

We've always made do with what we had, and in some years past that meant 6 people in a tiny 2 bedroom house with no heat and a roof literally caving in on us. 

Those years, it was all we could do to put up a tiny tin foil tree and hope it was enough to quell the overwhelming feeling that they were lacking something.
Luckily, the kids just didn't seem to know any better back then.
But now they see the things that they missed out on in Christmas' past, and they look at every detail with honest amazement. 

Each small thing is a surprise, from the twinkling lights to the fact that we actually have stockings for everyone this year.

They don't even remember the year we had no heat, or the year the roof gave way around our picture window and the rain fell in sheets on our dining room table.

The year Daddy sold some of his instruments to preserve what little we could of Christmas is non-existent in their minds, and I'm glad for that.

I would never purposely put my kids through hardship, but the lessons we all take with us from having done so are priceless, because the one thing we have all learned from this is to not take things for granted, and to appreciate the things we have and cherish even more the things that are given to us.

Not only do we all have our health and our loved ones near, but this year we will also have joy, and because of that, this Christmas is going to be epic.

Flashback Friday: 1,2,3 Happy Birthday to my Baby

Shrinky, age 5 months

I wrote this little poem for all of my children, but just for today I dedicate it to my daughter.
Happy 3rd birthday, my sweet girl.

Before you

There were nights to sleep in uninterrupted bliss
And no boogey-men to dispel of
No wet sheets to change hurriedly
or emergency midnight baths
I had no crayon drawings for my fridge
Or paper bag puppets
No sand in my shoes
Or snot on my sleeve
I had friends and fun
and you were not there
to ask me questions and interrupt
private conversations with silly dances
and made up jokes that nobody understood
there was no “Mama, can I?”
there was no mama at all
before you.

My goofy, smart, sweet, crazy, beautiful, amazing girl, age 3