It's been a while since I've felt inspired to blog.  I'm not sure when I lost my passion for writing, but it feels good to want to get some stuff out of my head and into a blog.
I'm a mom to two wonderful little people.  They are growing and maturing and I'm so proud to be their mom.  Having kids is hard, it's honestly the hardest thing I've ever done.  Knowing I'm responsible for raising two men in today's world is a huge responsibility that I don't take lightly.  I work very hard to make sure they feel loved, they feel heard, they feel like they have a voice in their own lives, and to make sure I'm sending good people out into the world.
Sometimes I come across people who try to reduce my children to being bad or being good at any given time.  In other words, they want to label who my kids are based on their behavior on a minute to minute basis.  If my son gets frustrated and yells at his brother, he's bad.  If my son is excited for ice cream and forgets to say "thank you", he's bad. 
Adults aren't labeled as good or bad for how they react when they're frustrated, tired, hungry, upset, etc, so why do we do this to children?
It seems these same people want to put me in a box for being a fat mom.  No matter what I do or how hard I work to be the best mom I can be, I'm still just a fat mom to some people.  It's unfortunate that I sometimes let that get into my head.  I wonder sometimes if my kids are going to be ashamed of me because I don't look like the other moms.  I start letting negative ideas take over and if I'm not careful, those negative ideas get really comfortable and the voice in my head starts getting really nasty.  Why is it so easy for others (and sometimes myself) to forget about all of the things I do right?  Why is it so easy to overlook all I do to make my kids healthy, happy people because of my size?
Everything I do in life is for my children.  Even my self-care days are for the benefit of my kids (and frankly anyone who has to deal with me on a regular basis).   I do my best to be the best I can be for my kids.  I work hard to be the kind of mom I had; the kind of mom who listens, who shows up, who keeps her word, and who shows her love in millions of ways.  Every book I read, every song I sing, every game I play, every "I love you" I shout to my kids is dripping with my love for them. 
I'm a good mom.  I say it to remind myself and to help keep the voice in my head in check: I'M A GOOD MOM.

It's been a while

It's been a while!  I think I need to admit to myself that I don't really know how to blog.  What am I supposed to write about?  I really don't think I'm that interesting or that I really have anything of value to add to the millions of conversations already taking place online, but here I am.  I think I need to just admit that I like to write.  I like sharing my thoughts with people who are willing to listen, and I like feeling like maybe there are others out there feeling like me.  I guess, if you've found your way into my little corner of the internet, I'd like to say thanks for reading and I hope in all of my foolishness you find a place where you can say, "Hey, me too!". 
At the end of the day we just all want to feel like we're not alone, right?  Not alone in life, or in our opinions or experiences.  We want to know that what we're thinking/feeling/doing is ok and that others get it.  That's where I come in.  I get it!  I get that sometimes life is great and perfect and beautiful. I also get that sometimes life sucks. 
Anyway, the reason I was moved to dust off this blog and write again is my mom.  I've written about my mom before, and I imagine I will be writing about her often.  She was a very special woman.  She was smart, funny, sarcastic, fiercely loyal, and she had the biggest heart.  Thanksgiving is next week and it is one of my favorite days of the year.  I remember my mom would make a big feast every year and having people over to share food and laughs with was her favorite part.  My mom welcomed everyone into her home (unless you crossed her, then you were dead to her LOL). 
One year she invited a co-worker and her kids to join us.  Strangers.  That's who my mom was though.  "No one should be alone, especially on Thanksgiving!", she would say.  So this stranger and her two kids showed up on our doorstep and were welcomed with open arms.  That day, these three people started as strangers, quickly became friends, and then left as new members of our family.  There was no getting rid of them after that.  :)  It's amazing how much you can bond over food and football.
I strive every day to be like my mom, to hold myself to that standard and try to be a good woman in this world.  Sometimes I come up short and that's ok.  I dust myself off, remind myself whose daughter I am, and press on.  All I can do is try.  I won't be perfect, but I will be good enough.

Happy Thanksgiving, Friends!  <3

Angry

I currently live in a country where women aren’t believed when they say they were raped.  Everything from their clothing to their life choices come into question and everyone tries to find a reason why it was her fault.  Why it was just a bad choice and not actually rape. 
Recently, a man was convicted of rape and given a sentence of 6 months in jail.  Let me say that again.  A man forced himself on an unconscious woman behind a dirty dumpster and was given a sentence of 6 months in jail.   Are you disgusted?  I am.  What the fuck.
Do you know why he was even convicted in the first place?  Not because anyone believed that the woman didn’t consent, are you kidding?  Who the fuck would believe that?  It was because two other men, heroes really, happened to be passing by and noticed something was very wrong.  Are you hearing me?  He was convicted because he was caught IN THE ACT.  There is no question what was going on.  Those two men saw her unconscious, they saw that animal RAPING her, and when that animal tried to flee like the fucking coward that he is, they chased him and waited for him to be arrested.  Which he was, believe you me, he was arrested and charged and tried because thankfully someone saw this happening.  Do you know what would have happened had they not been riding their bikes that night?  He would have raped her and left her there like garbage.  He would have gone home and not thought any more about it. He would never, ever second guess what happened.  In his mind, he drank too much and hooked up with a girl.  That is exactly what he thinks happened.  He thinks he drank too much and made some bad choices.  I am seeing red just typing these disgusting words. 
He is a rapist.  No matter how he tries to change it or minimize it, he is a rapist and he deserves to be punished.  He needs to understand what he did and why it has nothing to do with alcohol, his or hers.    There is no gray area here, unconscious people can’t give consent.  Again, for the idiots in the back, UNCONCIUOUS PEOPLE CAN’T GIVE CONSENT.
I can’t believe this is still a topic of discussion.  Stop blaming the victim, stop excusing rapists because it was their first rape (maybe first reported rape?)/they are rich/they are an athlete/they are white/they go to your alma mater, and maybe pretend to actually care when someone says they’ve been hurt. 
Also, to anyone trying to excuse this piece of shit:  FUCK YOU.

Mother's Day

Being a Mom is the hardest thing I've ever done in my life.  I question my choices and convince myself daily that I'm screwing up one way or another.  How can I be so unsure about something so important?  I do my best to balance giving my children all that they want with making sure they are good people, who appreciate all they have in life.  More than anything else, I want them to be happy, like I was as a child. 
When I think back to my own childhood, I'm filled with memories of enjoying life and spending time with my Mom.  She was an extraordinary person, and an even better mother.  She dedicated her whole life to me.  I was her reason for living.  We have a big family, she has lots of brothers and sisters who have children of their own, and I love them all dearly.  Growing up, I was always surrounded by love.  I want that for my boys.  I want them to feel the love I always felt.  I want them to have their Grandmother.
This time of the year is always hard.  As an only child to a single Mom, we always spent Mother's Day together, celebrating having each other, and giving each other gifts.  She used to tell me that since I am the reason she is a Mom, Mother's Day was for me too.  :)
I'm reminded that my Mom isn't here daily.  Every time I want to share something funny my kids do, or want to ask advice about the countless decisions I question, or when I just want to ask her how she did it.  I'm slapped in the face with the fact that she is gone, she can't help me, and she can't hold me.  I have some really amazing women in my life.  I have Aunts who are strong, selfless, and who would do anything for me and my family, but they aren't my Mom.  They aren't her and I'm not theirs.    As hard as they try to include me in their lives, this day is for them and their children. 
I'm trying.  I'm trying to do my best and be a good person.  I ache for my Mom.  There are times the wound in my heart feels fresh, although it's been almost ten years.  Today is a bad day.  Tomorrow might be a better day.  All I can do is all I can do. 

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

I absolutely love this time of year.  I love Christmas songs, houses with lights, baking goodies, and spending time with the people I love.  Christmas always touches my heart and makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. 
I think of my Mom all the time, but at Christmas she is always front and center.  She loved holidays, all holidays.  It made her happy to decorate and entertain, she loved having lots of people over and making way too much food.  She had a way of making Christmas magical and it saddens me that I don't have her touch.  I can't wrap like she wrapped, I can't cook like she cooked, and I definitely can't pick out the perfect gifts like she always could. 
She used to tell me that as great as I thought Christmas was then, as a youngster, it would be even better when I had my own children.  She tried to explain how it feels to watch your babies take in every light, and happily gobble up every treat.  She tried to put into words how much more I would get by giving my kids the perfect gift, than by getting the perfect gift myself.  To be completely honest, I thought she was exaggerating.  I knew love, I thought.  I knew how wonderful it felt to give someone I love a gift.  I was wrong.  I had no idea how great Christmas could be until I had my boys. 
Now that I have my kids, I understand what she meant.  My kids have brought new meaning to the word joy.  It's a weird feeling loving Christmas, and everything that comes with it, and also missing her so much. 
This Tuesday will mark the 9 year anniversary of her death.  That means she was not here on earth for my wedding, or even to meet my husband.  She was not here for the births of my sons, and she will never be here to share a single holiday with us.  I worry that I can't capture who she was for my kids.  I worry that they might not know how much she loved me and how much she would have adored them.  I can't do Christmas like my Mom did, I just don't have it.  I hope that somehow my boys can have some of the Christmas experience that she always made for me.  I am trying.  If I can recreate just a fraction of what she did, I just might make some magic for my babies.  <3

Feeling Blue

I’m gonna be very honest, I’m not in a good place writing this blog.  I feel like a bad mom, a bad wife, and a bad friend.  It’s hard to get up and participate in society when you feel like shit and worse, when you feel unworthy of being a part of the world.  I’m not trying to be dramatic or worry anyone, but I feel like this is something I need to talk about. 
I never really understood depression.  I guess it’s something that’s hard to imagine unless you’ve been through it.  I would hear people talk about their battles and feel sympathetic, but I couldn’t really put myself in their place.  I remember wondering what it must feel like to be “sad” all the time.  I put sad in quotation marks because it’s such a simplified way of describing depression.  I’m not going to pretend to know everything (or really anything) about depression, but I know how I feel and I know I’m not alone and I know it will get better, but getting through is much harder than I could have ever imagined.
It started for me a couple of months after my second son was born.  It hit me like a ton of bricks.  I was angry at everyone, at myself, I would cry buckets for seemingly no reason, I felt like I was a burden on the people I love; I felt so unlike myself.  I was scared.  I remember talking to my husband about it and we kind of came to the consensus that it was the hormones from having the baby and the stresses that come from growing a family.  It was also right around the time that I went back to work, and that transition was admittedly very difficult for me.  I went from being with Jason & Jon all day every day to basically just having dinner and bedtime with them.  And the alone time with my husband went from sparse to nonexistent.  I mean, we were lucky to have the 45 minutes in the car together to and from work, all while battling traffic and with very rambunctious boys in the back seat.
I went on for a couple of weeks trying to snap myself out of my bad mood.  I was short, snappy, and just very unpleasant to be around.  I didn’t recognize myself and I think that was the scariest thing of all.  Who was this weepy, mean, ugly person?
At the urging of a dear friend, I called my ob-gyn.   She was very nice on the phone, told me it was perfectly normal, and asked me if I would like a prescription for Zoloft.  I said yes and within an hour, the pharmacy was calling me to pick it up.  I’m not sure why, but the idea of taking medication to make me feel normal was really hard for me to grasp.  I think I convinced myself at that point that I was feeling better and didn’t need it.  I never picked up the prescription.
Of course, that wasn’t the end of the depression.  I continued to battle the unhappy person I was with the happy-go-lucky person I wanted to be, and the unhappy person always won.  The depression was taking its toll on my life.  My marriage was suffering, my boss had noticed a change and wanted to help, and I was afraid of the thoughts that were consuming my mind.  It is a strange feeling to not recognize the voice in your own head.  The voice that used to tell me that I was beautiful and a good person was now telling me that I was a bad Mom who was not good enough for my boys.  It was telling me that my husband was too good for me and that I should set him free to find someone better.  It was telling me that I should go away and never come back. 
At this point, I was scared enough to try anything.  For the third time in my life, I found a therapist to talk to.  She was able to see me right away and I found that talking to her helped me to sort out the thoughts in my head.  I saw her every week and after every session I felt more and more like myself.  She helped me identify the things I like about myself and the things I want to work on, not because I need to be better, but because I would like to be the best version of myself.  She stressed the importance of finding “me” time and finding time to be alone with my husband.  She is a huge believer in date nights and weekend getaways.  She helped me remember who I am and how to get back to that person. 
I’m not there yet.  This is most definitely a work in progress.  I continue to see my therapist, although it is no longer weekly.  I still have moments (like now) where I throw myself a pity party and wonder what I’m doing with my life, but overall I feel like Susie again.  Today was a hard day.  I can’t put my finger on why, but maybe I don’t need to identify the why as much as I need to recognize myself falling into that mindset so I can do things to bring myself back to happy.  My boys deserve a happy Mom.  My husband deserves a happy wife.  And I deserve to feel valid in this world. 
I struggled with writing this blog for a while.  I’ve talked about my depression with a couple of people, mostly other Moms who I felt would get me, and you know what?  They all got me.  They all understood exactly where I was coming from and shared with me that they had their own battles.  So I’m writing this for me (it is amazing what writing does to my peace of mind) and I’m writing this for them (I love you girls!) and I’m writing this for anyone who is feeling like this who needs to know he/she is not alone.  I only hope they have a support team as wonderful as mine.  <3

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

Today a good friend of mine went through her very first break-up.  Unfortunately, it wasn't her decision to end things and she's taking it a little hard.  She'll be fine, she's so strong and has gotten through much worse, but I know it hurts a lot.  It made me think back to my first breakup and all the subsequent breakups I've had since then.  I wanted to be able to give her good advice, tell her things my Mom told me and pour everything I've learned into her.  I thought long and hard and ultimately said this to her, via her Facebook wall:

 

I'm so sorry you're hurting, sweet girl. I wish there was a way to make it go away, but the reality is that sometimes life sucks.
Now that you're dating, you'll be on the giving and receiving end of break-ups, and because you are such a nice and compassionate person, they will be equally hard. My advice is to approach both with an open mind and a gentle tongue.
I know it hurts to get broken up with, but it's better than being with someone who doesn't get what a spectacular person you are. Seriously, he did you a favor.
So, use this weekend to reflect, make a mental note of what you will do differently when YOU need to break up with someone, have a delicious ice cream sundae, and then move forward with your life and on to the next adventure.

I love you!

It sounds so simple, and that's deceiving because it's not simple at all.  It's hard to go through it and process it at any age, let alone as a teenager, but it's something that unfortunately cannot be avoided. 
I've learned that one of the most important things to know how to do is communicate effectively with people.  I need to be able to say things to people in a way that they understand the message I'm conveying.  One of the most difficult and admittedly awkward things to do is to breakup with someone, and I don't just mean a mate.  Learning to "breakup" with  a friend who is no longer a good fit is also very important and it's often very similar to ending a relationship. 
I'm not sharing this because I am an expert in anything, let alone relationships.  I just know what mistakes I've made that I wish I had thought through differently, and I wanted to share with anyone who might be struggling with something similar. 

<3