I love Abandon Kansas loves me

Kevin and I had a date last night. We went to see a band. The last time we did that, it was 2008, we went to see Liam Finn, I posted about it before we went, someone read that info, showed up at the show, harassed us, and we had to go get a restraining order.

Good times, good times.

Last night's date was no less weird, but far more pleasant. And look! I'm not telling you about it until AFTER the fact. I'm so smart.

There is this band that I love. Really love. They are called Abandon Kansas.

These days, it's hard for me to find new music that reaches my heart. That's a cheesy way to put it, but it's true. There are a lot of bands and musicians that I hear and like, but very few that draw up the intense desire to listen and absorb the music.

I'm talking about a feeling I got a lot in college and right afterwards - a time when I woke, ate, slept, dreamed, breathed, lived music. I was majoring in music. I was working in a CD store. I was playing in a band. I was the pianist at a church. It was nothing but music, and I was constantly finding music that resonated so deeply with me that it became part of how I would identify myself.

Anyway, back to present day. I found this band, Abandon Kansas, on Amazon when they released a free mp3 of "O Come All Ye Faithful." It is the most beautiful arrangement I've ever heard. I barely breathed through the entire first listening.

I immediately searched for more of their music and found an EP which was also stinking amazing. Flat out fabulous.

Soon after that, they released a new full length CD. I went over to their tour page to see if they were playing anywhere near us, and to my complete surprise, they were opening their tour - wait for it - - - in a church.

WHA?

If I hadn't rambled on so long already, I would enter into a diatribe about the disdain I hold for Christian music and the industry that drives it. I could go on a bit about the fact that the word Christian isn't a very good adjective, and how there are plenty of musicians who are Christians, but who make good music that doesn't isolate itself by using bone tired imagery of being on your knees and writing lyrics that make it sound like Jesus is your boyfriend. Not to mention the times I've been told my music wasn't "Christian enough."

Oh, sorry. Did I just make that personal? Hmph.

Here's the funny thing though. It's not the first time that a band or artist has hooked me with their music before I realized they were "Christian artists." Buddy and Julie Miller. Sixpence None the Richer. Just to name a couple.

When the only date in North Carolina on Abandon Kansas' tour was at a Baptist church in Pittsboro, I was skeptical. I have to admit, I was worried there would be a love offering and an alter call. Hand raising, swaying, and lots of people pretending to look at the ceiling but whose eyes were really closed.

The whole idea made me shudder.

But we went anyway. That's how amazing this band is.

And we were not disappointed.

There were four bands playing in a tiny sanctuary complete with lights, a really really crappy PA, and a fog machine. The first band, a local group, moshed about, did that growly scream thing that is supposed to be metal, and generally played too damn loud. The second band was in the middle of the most annoyingly long sound check I have ever endured, so we left and went to get a bite to eat. Third band was actually pretty good. They claimed to be from Tupelo, MS, but I think they are actually from Booneville, not that it matters.

FINALLY, Abandon Kansas went on, and the entire experience became worth all of the weirdness. Even playing through a PA that was shot early on in the evening, they sounded amazing. They were tight. Really tight. And they played in sync with their own videos, which were being shown on monitors behind them during the show. If you aren't a musician, you might not know how hard that is - but let me tell you - it's really damn hard. And the result is very cool.

In the midst of all of that, we got to hang out with the bass player a good bit. He is adorable and was great fun to talk to.

So, yeah. Weird. Hanging out in a small Baptist church with about 20 teenagers to hear a great band.

Not your typical date, but can I just say how much I love my husband for putting up with my bizarre plans and outings? Because I do.

Little monster in the closet

I thought I had outgrown the need to look under my bed and check the closet before getting into bed. 

Apparently not.

Kevin was working from home, and both boys were taking an unusual morning nap. We decided to take a break from what we were each working on and head upstairs.

*insert Barry White music here*

We knew that time was not on our side, so we both began discarding clothing before we even got the door closed. It was broad daylight, and we felt a little naughty for sneaking in a quickie before noon. 

Being a conscientious eco-minded kind of a gal, I flipped off the light in the closet as I headed into the bedroom, wondering why I had left it on in the first place. It's not something I typically forget.

In a moment, I realized that I hadn't forgotten.

A slight thud in the closet caused me to open the doors and catch little Mr. Kickypants sitting on the floor, looking up at me with his great big blue-grey eyes. He looked a slightly worried and more than a little confused.

Kevin and I grabbed our clothes and redressed even faster than we undressed. 

Needless to say, there was no quickie.

There was, however, poop in Christopher's pants. Because what else would he be doing in our closet when we thought he was in bed taking a nap?

Just add "doing a room sweep before nookie" to the ever growing list of things I didn't know I would have to do as a parent.

Day 30 - A letter to yourself - tell yourself EVERYTHING you love about yourself - 30 days of truth

I can't possibly explain how much I don't want to do this. I'm distracted. The season finale of Sons of Anarchy is on. I'm going to see my best friend soon. There's laundry, cleaning, and I've had popcorn for dinner.


It's just not the day to write this letter. 


Things that I love about myself are few and far between lately. I don't say that fishing for reinforcement. I just mean - if I'm finishing the 30 Days of Truth? It ought to be truthful.


So I wait. I'll write the letter. Just not now. Let me get back to it.


In the meantime, I leave you with quite possibly the funniest thing you might read all day with apologies to my relatives who at this point should just put their fingers in their ears and start singing, "La la la la la."


I broke my nose last night. Moving from one compromising position to another. Awesome. Nothing like some wailing and a bloody nose to kill the mood. As Kevin likes to say, I am nothing if not a dainty, petite flower.


Happy NaPoBloMe month. I'm all done. If I don't post again for weeks, don't worry about me. I'm just catching up on all of the dang laundry I haven't done this month. Aw, who am I kidding? I've got Christmas trees to talk about, y'all!


This is part of the 30 Days of Truth series. You can find the entire list here.

Day 7 - Someone who has made your life worth living - 30 days of truth

Easy.

This is part of the 30 Days of Truth series. You can find the entire list here.

The best day

So there was a break in the shamoopie fest yesterday. You see, part of previous shamoopie fests have resulted in multiple children, and sometimes, they tend to rule my days. That, and I couldn't find the cord to my old Viao anywhere, and it is the only computer I know how to edit video on. Oh, the grammar I have already destroyed in this post. Awesome.

Today is the day. Our anniversary. This time four years ago, we were packing the car and heading to Montreat, North Carolina, to have the perfect wedding. A couple of friends, a cake from Square Rabbit, a couple of pairs of Birkenstocks, and a stream in the world's most beautiful mountains. The only thing it was missing was our families.

This morning, I've gotten up early with the boys. We'll go pick up our mini wedding cake from Square Rabbit, go get our CSA vegetables, and then go to Stella's fourth birthday party. We'll do all of this together as a family. As much as a nice anniversary date with my husband sounds nice in theory, I have to admit - I'm so grateful to have Kevin as the father of my children - that I wouldn't want to spend the day any other way. There will be time for babysitters later. Right now, I'm enjoying our life as husband and wife - as parents.

Thank you for loving me, Kev. Happy Anniversary. Here's a little Buddy Miller diddy that makes me think back to our dating days. Next year, I'm fully anticipating recording something for you NOT on the Flip camera turned sideways on the piano. Heh.

He dreams big and perseveres

My husband is far too hard on himself. This house has been far too hard on him. The addition hasn't gone the way he planned for it to go, and he blames himself. There is someone far more appropriate to blame, but since we aren't actually finished dealing with him, I can't talk about it yet.

When I say that I wish the fence was up so I don't have to see the overgrown bamboo, that is really all I mean. I don't mean, "I wish the fence was up, but my husband is a lazy ass who hasn't gotten around to it." But that's what he hears.

I can understand why. This is his project. His dream for our family. This recording studio will be a place where he and I can work together on music just like we've wanted to do since we got together. When I complain, he takes it personally.

With as much nonsense as I take personally, I can certainly allow him that.

But for the record, I don't think this is his fault. I don't blame him for it not being finished, going over budget, or taking up all of our free time. What I see when I look at this behemoth of an addition is Kevin's ability to dream big and persevere.

I see his desire to provide for his family. His talent with power tools. His ability to envision a finished project. Especially that one, since I can't even envision a new paint color on the walls.

I know that before our fifth anniversary, we will be finished with the house (but probably not the landscaping - sorry, neighbors), and it will be lovely.

So for all the times I've gotten bent out of shape over this, I apologize. I love you, and I'm proud to be married to someone who can build his own dream. You are amazing.

Our song from 2009:

Still the luckiest shamoopie

Saturday will be our fourth anniversary. In four short years, my life has done a complete 180 degree turn around into a life I didn't know I wanted. Only, I didn't know I wanted it because I didn't know the possibilities.

Kevin and I are a lucky couple. We started seeing each other about five years ago. We were both recently separated, and our quick coupling caused quite the commotion. Rumors soared about the length of our relationship and our fidelity in our previous marriages. Rumors.

Sometimes badness leads to goodness though. It wasn't an easy road, but there isn't a night that goes by that I don't reach over, run my fingers through his hair, and thank God that Kevin was brought into my life.

In four short years we have

• Had five pregnancies and two beautiful baby boys
• Renovated a house
• Added on to said house
• Been laid off from work
• Found new work
• Become a SAHM
• Lost two beloved pets
• Seen a daughter through middle school
• Fought
• Made up
• Traveled
• Loved

It's been busy.

I cannot tell you how much I love this man. It was such a surprise too. I didn't expect it.

An ex-friend of mine scoffed when I told her that I had found "the one" so soon after my marriage crumbled. She told me that I might be happy then, but that the honeymoon doesn't last forever.

I guess she was right. Our house is messy, the boys are loud, we both are heavier, and well, there aren't enough hours in the day to get it on like we used to. Hours or energy.

But who wants to live in a honeymoon forever? Isn't the point to make a life together? Isn't the point to be with someone who you love even after they've made the bathroom stink? Someone who loves you even when you haven't shaved your armpits in over a week?

Kevin and I are perfect together. He completes me. He understands me. He supports me. He tolerates me. He loves me.

I don't ever forget, not ever for one split second of the day even when I might be madder than hell at him - I don't ever forget how lucky I am that he blew into my life on what I thought was the worst storm ever.

He is my rainbow.

Here's our song from 2008.

Raoul

It's a good, good man who will don the plastic gloves, mix the noxious chemicals, and comb comb comb the dye through his wife's ridiculously thick hair.

It's an even better man who knows where the random chunk of thickness known to my hairdresser as the Bermuda Triangle of hair.

And it's the best man ever who lets me call him Raoul while he does all of this.

He's such a good sport.

Washed that gray right outta my hair.

Happy Mother's Day, Kevin

I didn't think I would get to be a mother.

In my first marriage there were plans of adoption, disappointment, plans of insemination, and more disappointment. Then, there was an end to that marriage. That's the extremely short and shallow version.

Kevin is my proof of grace in this life. The reason that anyone gets to wish me, "Happy Mother's Day."

On a day where we honor our moms, I find myself wanting to shower my husband with adoration. He saw me for who I am, where I was, and loves me still even with all of my flaws. He trusted me to have his sons and provides for us so that I can stay home with them. He sees us as partners in parenting, making it only my "job" for the time that he is at his "job."

So thanks, Kevin. Thanks for knocking me up a few times. Thanks for being my support in pregnancy, birth, labor, and postpartum. Thanks for being the daddy-half. Thanks for loving me and loving your children like you do.

Happy Mother's Day to us.

Certain, I think.

Today was my last appointment for this pregnancy and birth. The six week check up. I'm officially released into the wild again.

I am sad.

The thing is, I loved going to the Birth Center. I looked forward to my appointments and now they are over. I loved this journey of learning to trust my body and my baby. I loved the whole experience. And now with the help of Zoloft, I'm loving the postpartum period too.

I'm so happy with the way everything went and how everything is, I could be pooping rainbows.

Only now it's over.

I know what people will say. Nice people will reassure me that there might be another one. You never know what the future holds. Maybe you'll have one more. They will be trying to make me feel better.

The problem is, I know in my heart that we're done. It's not that we only wanted three children; truth be told, we would enjoy one or two more. There are so many things to consider though, the biggest of which is time.

Kevin and I didn't get married just so we could have kids. We got married because we love each other and because neither of us can think of another person we would rather spend time with. We got married because we love to walk together, cook together, travel together, make music together, go to concerts together, and 100 other things together. Selfishly, we would like to get back to some of those things as a couple before we turn 60. If that's going to happen (and we remain the kind of parents we want to be), we have to stop having kids.

Another issue with time is that Lovely is entering high school this year. That means in just four more years, she'll be heading to college. We want to be able to spend time with her. We want to go to the football games if she's in the marching band. We want to support her in whatever she chooses to do. A lot of what she'll be doing will take place at night, and right now, I would have to stay home with the boys. And taking a 3 year old to a piano recital? Not a good idea.

And still another time limitation is that I truly believe each child deserves some valuable one on one time with each parent during the week. Right now, and for the foreseeable future, Kevin works his hiney off. Between the amount of work he has to do and the commute, he is easily gone 50-60 hours a week and then still might have work to do from home. Add to that the never ending home addition, and you have a daddy whose time is stretched pretty thin as it is. Another child would likely mean someone's going to end up shortchanged.

I probably don't even have to mention our age. Neither of us are spring chickens, and by the time we would be ready to add another bambino to our clan, I would be 39 and Kevin would be 48. He wants to be able to keep up with his boys and be a fun, active dad. As do I (inserting "mom," of course). Watching him doing flips in the inflatable bounce house on Sunday, I marveled at his youth and called BS on his claim of being an old man. However, I respect the fact that he doesn't want to be 66 when his last kid graduates from high school. I get that.

I know I'm going to have to be talked down from the baby bug again and again. Shoot, even though we've planned on a permanent contraceptive procedure, I still brought home information on an IUD today. Just in case.

But really, I know. And really, I'm okay with it.

It says a lot about a place and the people that work there though, to have them make me want to have another baby just because they helped make the experience so wonderful. Thank you, WBWC. I love y'all more than you know.

Savoring

The silence doesn't mean much. It's just me turning inward a little, focusing on the job I have to do in the next couple of weeks. Focusing on the tangible now.

There was drama on the interwebs, and I knew that my emotional state and my big mouth needed to take a break. Step away for a little bit so that I could not waste my energy on fighting a battle that would soon dissipate into thin air as people simply moved on from it.

Besides, I have a job to do.

Week 37 presented with contraction after contraction. My face broke out, my tummy was upset, and I felt ready. So ready that I almost said "yes, come on" to my heart friend who I would love to be here for the birth. I'm glad I didn't though, because my littlest is still tucked warmly inside my belly, waiting on just the right moment to appear.

Week 38 presented with hardly any contractions and the energy to get some things clean around here. Kevin helped me with the kitchen, even cleaning off the bookcase which until now was simultaneously displaying my favorite Gail Pittman pieces, his favorite power tools, and a pound or two of dust. I am so happy to have it back to being pretty.

Week 39 is here. My littlest is a little less active; he tends to squirm most when I'm trying to sleep of course. I am peaceful. He will get here, one way or another, and within the next three weeks. I'm comfortable with all of the midwives. I have my bags packed. I have wonderful friends who are standing by to help us.

I'm into savoring.

Savoring each nursing session with Little Bird, as I don't know when it will be his last time not to have to share me. Savoring each morning that I get to roll over and lay on Kevin's chest while we snuggle and listen to the chit chat over the baby monitor. Savoring each turn and stretch that I feel inside me as I remind myself that this is what life is about now. No matter what parts of me remain - musician, arts advocate, teacher - the parts I love most are wife and mother.

The last days as a family of four are precious to me. I'm savoring them as best I can because once we become that family of five, I know that it will immediately replace these days as the best days of my life.

Microwave Smores Maker

This past holiday season, my mom asked me what I wanted for Christmas. I pointed her to my Amazon wish list. She replied, "But it's the same as last year. You haven't updated it."

Well, that's because I didn't get anything off of it. Ahem.

I retold this anecdote to Kevin, my wonderful husband who had NO time to shop this year, and voila! My Amazon wish list appeared under the tree.

Minus a Kindle. But that's because I never use the iPod he bought me two years ago. Well, not never, but rarely. He's deemed me unworthy of new technology. I can't disagree I suppose.

Anyway, along with a Tom Waits TRIPLE cd set, an immersion blender, a book called Weekend Sewing, a pastry scraper, and a digital picture frame - was THIS:

A microwave smores maker.

I married the most wonderful man in the world.
















A few essentials from the store:














Set up of the high tech machinery. The little arms hold the smore together since the marshmallows go CRAZY in the microwave.














The finished product in the microwave:














Kevin tries a bite:














Kevin declares them to be quite lacking:














The overall result was lacking. The marshmallows don't have the chance to char over an open flame, which is my favorite part of smores. Kevin was definitely not sold on them. Me? I'm headed into the kitchen to give them a second chance. After all, melty chocolate goodness can never be far from wrong.

Starting

Kevin has declared 2009 the year in which nothing was finished. My new shiny outlook gets to declare 2009 the year in which many things began.

Either way, we still have major construction going on at our house.

It's going to be lovely when it's done.

That's my mantra. I say it three times as I breath slowly and stare out the back into the mud and mess. Really, it's not that bad. It is going to be lovely, and Rob, our contractor, is an amazing miracle worker. Truly.

2010 will be the year for finishing a lot of thing though. The house will get finished. Our family will be complete. Kevin will finish up a lot of lingering projects at work. He's really looking forward to it.

I'm okay with not being finished though. I'm kind of looking forward to starting a bunch more new things in 2010. Here are a few that come to mind:

1. Becoming a mama of two boys.
2. Learning to live without the extreme highs and lows I've had.
3. Tandem nursing.
4. Writing and recording again finally.
5. Getting back in shape.

Lovely will be starting high school. Little Bird will be starting multiple days of preschool. And my littlest boy will be starting life.

So here's to never completely finishing and finding plenty of new things to start in 2010.

Happy New Year, everyone.

Labor Day

Of course, Labor Day is for laboring.

That's my husband. With power tools.

That's a giant hole in my dining room. To the outside.

Life with Kevin is never, ever boring.

The right path

I don't want to sleep there, I'm not particularly interested in peeing there, and I certainly don't want to cook there, but I do love the woods. I love mountains specifically, and I love streams.

I'm not sure why we don't do more hiking. We have the dogs for it. We have the kid for it. We have the love for it. We just don't get around to it.

Kevin is a doer. There is always a project either in full swing or in planning mode. It is one thing I love about him. He finishes what he starts, and he starts big things. His plans are not lightly made nor are they easy to finish. Right now, he is adding onto the house. Just he and the contractor. When he comes home from work , he works some more. On the weekends, he's building. I'm excited for the new spaces, but I think I am more excited for him to finish so that I have some of his time and attention back.

All this to say, I think this is why we don't hike. We do things together as much as possible, but this is a stage in our life where Kevin is determined to get things in order. I love him for that. I miss him, but I love him.

While we were in the mountains, I had him back to myself one day. He wanted to know what I wanted to do, and I chose this hike. We packed a backpack full of snacks, water, and diapers. The dogs got to tag along and tap into their inner hunters. Gibby ran out about 10 feet ahead with his tail pointed straight up. He even helped corral Little Bird when he got too far ahead of us.

We miss a turn along the way - rather, I missed a turn, and we ended up about 40 minutes off track. Luckily, we had also packed our Babyhawk, so tired Bird could ride on his daddy's back when he got tired. And after playing nekkid in the creek for awhile?

Bird was really really tired.

It was a great day with my boys, my dogs, and a trail in the mountains.

The best day

Today is our third anniversary. Three years ago today, Kevin and I jumped head first into marriage. The months preceding our impromptu nuptials were set to a Damien Rice soundtrack as we spent every moment we possibly could together. We were so surprised to find each other. So surprised to fall in love so quickly and so deeply.

One of our songs. For you, Kevin. You are truly the love of my life.

Ditto junior

At church, we pass a dignified attendance pad in which everyone on the pew writes their name, and we all pretend not to be too interested in it as it comes back down the line. If you are too interested, you are nosy, but if you don't look at all, then you are aloof.

Damn Presbyterians.

I always look. In a church with 4000+ members, I want to know if I'm sitting next to visitors or not so that I can speak to them appropriately. I would hate for someone to visit and not be spoken to at all, even if I'm not currently the most active member. I can still say "hello."

This past Sunday, two men sat down to our right. When the attendance pad came back down the pew, I peeked at it and noticed that the man on the end had entered ditto marks for his name, followed by, "Jr." I laughed out loud, which was incredibly inappropriate, but whatever. It was funny.

It immediately made me think of Little Bird.

As his mama, I have the extraordinarily difficult task of caring for him day to day. I have to make sure that he is learning as much as he can learn, being nourished, resting, developing social skills, and that he stays safe. A mama's job is a hard one and is the most responsibility I have ever borne.

However.

Bird wants to be exactly like his father.

Bird wants to be the ditto marks that follow his daddy around. When Kevin was installing the baby gate at the top of the stairs yesterday, Bird sat mesmerized by him. He picked up a screwdriver and began trying to "help" Kevin put the screws into the wall. He mimicked Kevin using the drill, and he tried his very best to pick up the exact same screws that Kevin picked up.

I think that Kevin has the much more difficult task when it comes to parenting. If he trips and yells, "shit!" then the next word that Bird will learn is, well, you know. It is not unlike the unrelenting paparazzi where if you do that one very uncouth thing? They are going to catch it on film. That is what Kevin's life with Bird is like now.

It is a huge responsibility, and I can tell that it is already weighing heavily on his mind. Kevin wants to be the kind of man that his son can model. He wants to be someone that Bird can learn from and imitate to become a good man.

What he doesn't realize is that I have always known that he was. It is one of the many reasons I fell in love with him in the first place.

If my son can learn to be half the man my husband is? I will be so very proud.

Love and attention

It's been an awesome day. Not only did both of my boys go to church with me this morning, but Kevin even watched Little Bird so that I could take my time getting ready. That meant a date with the flat iron and complete eye makeup. That meant moisturizer, Avon Magix, AND foundation. That meant painted toenails. I felt like an actual woman.

After church, Kevin made brunch, including hollandaise sauce. From. Scratch. He even fashioned a double boiler our of one of my stainless steel bowls and a pan. Aside: I guess I could unpack that box of kitchen stuff now that we aren't moving. Bird was being particularly grumpy today, and had refused his nap, so he joined us for brunch and had an English muffin with peanut butter. After brunch, he went down like a champ.

I came back downstairs to find Kevin sitting on the floor - which I had cleaned yesterday - scrubbing the fronts of our kitchen cabinets. He had already finished the dishes, so why not, right? Sweetheart.

For the rest of Bird's nap, Kevin and I lay on the couch and watched The Business of Being Born, which I think was a good Mother's Day selection. Bird woke up in the middle, but we brought him downstiars and finished it anyway. He loved looking at the babies, and when they would nurse, he would point at the TV and say "nuh-nuh," which is what he says for "nurse."

After that we went to North Hills, which is a fabulous outdoor mall less than a mile from our house, and had some Ben & Jerry's before we hit the Target for some baby forks and some other random stuff.

Following our outing, we came home, Bird rode in his new car and I planted some Hybiscus, some parsley, and tarragon. It's a good day that ends with dirt under Mama's nails and a baby with dirty knees.

There was a card, and a hand soap & lotion set for my kitchen sink - just what I asked for - and as much as I appreciate them both, the day would have been complete with just the company of my boys. Their love and attention is all it takes to make for a fabulous day.

What I can tell you

I can't tell you a thing about last night, because I'm a member of the BlogHer ad network. Even though they only send me about $20 every six months, I still like being a part. It's not about the money, it's about belonging to the most amazing group of women bloggers online. They do have their rules though, and one of them is that I'm not supposed to blog about anything that I receive in which the value is over $40.

So I can't talk about last night, but I can talk about today after 11:00 AM, because we totally paid for that ourselves.

We are at the new Great Wolf Lodge in Concord, NC. Their amazing marketing team blitzed the Triangle region a couple of months ago, and I was hooked. Granted, I am a marketing person's wet dream (remember the Cindy Crawford skincare? Totally bought it and love it), but just in general, their marketing is great.

It's so good, that before I had been here or knew I was coming, I recommended it to a friend. She checked out the website and brought her family. Boom. Marketing circle complete.

I tried to book us a trip for when Lovely was tracked out, but Kevin's work . . . blah blah blah. He hasn't had a moment to take off before April 23, so we were stuck at home for track out, but here we are now.

Really though, it's not like me to want to go to the theme park and "join in." I'm a lapsed rock star, remember? I'm not really a "mommy" in so many words, and I'm far too cool to follow the masses to a waterpark.

Insert large amounts of laughter here.

I'm totally buying the whole kit and kaboodle. Why? Because my kids are having a blast. While my husband and I sit up on our dueling laptops, our kids are Passed Out Cold. Lovely and her daddy rode water slides all afternoon while Little Bird and I hung out in the wave pool and kiddie splash area. We would meet up, smile a lot, and get back to business. If Little Bird watched the giant bucket fill up with water and tump over on people once? He watched it a million times. Loved it.

Yeah, it's a little cliche. Yeah, it's a little cheesy. But only if you are too cool for your own good.

Past the cheese and cliche is a really nice place to bring your family. I mean super incredibly nice. Like worth every penny nice. I know this because of the people I met and the attention to detail they have shown. But getting into that part won't happen here; it will happen at Triangle Mamas after I'm home and have a moment to do them justice.

This trip though, this little weekend getaway, has proven once again that I am Mama first. Bring on the family entertainment. I love nothing more than to watch my kids have a great time. There will be time for trips to Sonoma and Napa after they are grown.

Except that typing that last sentence just broke a tiny corner of my heart. . .

Commence the commenting about balance please. Meanwhile, I'll be stopping at Ikea on the way back to Raleigh. And truly, like I Twittered earlier, "Wish you were here."

The coda and cadence

This blog is where I became who I am.

My marriage began during this blog.

My first baby lives only in these pages now.

I became a mother here in these words. First a stepmother. Then the mother of a baby that would never be held. Then Little Bird's mother.

It's where I have made too many friends to link to, but you know who you all are.

My words will stay here. They won't be taken down. But they won't be added to either.



This will be my last post.



I have been of the belief that it was perfectly fine to write about personal things here. To talk openly about my son and my husband. To give whoever wanted it a glimpse into our lives. Internet privacy wasn't a huge concern for me. I knew that whatever I posted was fair game and that if I didn't want something known, that I shouldn't put it on the internet.

However.

I had only considered the consequences of nasty crazy strangers who don't know my last name, where I live, or how to find me.

I never considered the consequences of people that know who we are and where we live.

By posting about going to the Liam Finn concert, I opened the door to let someone show up to that event and harass us. I also gave them a completely open window of time when they knew that my son would be home without me. Thank God they chose to come to the club and not our home.

That was the most irresponsible thing I have ever done in my entire life.

I will not repeat that mistake.

And to make sure, I will not be using this space any longer.

Maybe there will be another space someday. Something private with passwords. Something that the people I have grown to love here can still share with me.

For now though, I need to put the keyboard down. Stop feeding them. Stop giving them access into our lives. Stop pretending that they are inconsequential in our lives. We don't know that, and because of that unknown, the safest thing for me to do it to stop.

I feel like I have just ripped my fingers off and thrown them on the ground. My heart feels like I punched myself in the chest a dozen times. My gut is turning and begging me not to be bullied. Not to give in.

But it's not about that.

It's not a situation of "being beaten" or "giving in."

It's a situation of I love my son and my husband more than the air that I breathe and the life that I have.

And I should have been protecting them all along from someone who wishes them nothing but harm and ill will.

I am so very sorry, Darling.

You all know how to find me. Email will remain the same. At least for awhile. I hope you will stay in touch, and let me know if you would like to be informed of a new safe space in the future.

V7 and I.

We're done.