Writer's Block cont'd

So to continue on my claim of having writer's block...

After I had Dylan I went through the usual emotional roller coaster that having a new baby, no sleep, and imbalanced hormones inevitably induce.  I had the same with Emma, with her it was more about being overwhelmed and coming to terms with my life never being the same again.  But with Dylan, I was filled with so much guilt.  Guilt I had changed my daughter's life forever, she was no longer the sole center of our universe.  Guilt that she was so bored that summer and I had very little time, energy, and much less patience to find things for her to do.  Guilt for that same lack of time, energy, and patience to give this new baby as much attention as we had with Emma.  But mostly I had guilt for feeling guilty.  How dare I?  I had no right to feel such emotions.

There are mothers out there who were enduring far worse situations than me.  The mama with an autistic child.  The mama whose baby is sick with a horrible disease.  The mama who looses her baby at just 17 months.  The mama who looses her baby before it's even born.  The mama (and military wife) who found out she was pregnant with baby #3 just mere weeks before her husband deployed.  The mama who adopts foster children.  The heartbreaking stories of the lives these children came from and the physical and emotional scars they carried that had to be dealt with.

These are mamas who had every right to spew blog post after blog post of the very real struggles they were enduring.  And here I was writing about my toddler having a temper tantrum after not getting what she wanted at the Dollar Store.  Boohoo, poor me and my horrible struggles.

So I was ready to ditch it all.  Ditch the blog, delete the whole thing. Remove my ramblings from all the white noise out in internet land...



I often think of that scene in Forest Gump.  When Lt. Dan was fearless in that horrible storm at sea, challenging God to hit'em with all he's got.  And then the storm passes and Lt. Dan seems resolved and reconciled.  Tom Hanks delivers my favorite line, "I guess he made his peace with God."

At the end of the day, are we not all just trying to make our peace?  Life throws us curve balls and hard balls and, hell, beams us right the jaw.  We struggle and we fight and we give it all we got.  And eventually, when all is said and done, we make our peace with it.

So what was my grand epiphany that returned me to my glorious blogging?  I had this thought:  struggles cannot be quantified.  Struggles are hard, and are real, and are unique.  While there are such brave souls out there who've been dealt some pretty tough hands, each of us have our own struggles.  And we should not be ashamed of them or feel they are not worthy.  They are there, nevertheless.  They will beat and break us until we surrender.  Until we pick up our cross and brave on.  Until we make our peace with God.

I went back and reread the infamous Dollar Store tantrum post.  I had remembered it as only being a pity party over some trivial matter.  But then I reread the ending.  Where I brought it back around and spoke of lessons learned.  And I remembered while I enjoyed blogging.  Writing of things I realized and sharing them so maybe someone could relate, heck, maybe even find some peace over a current struggle of their own.

And so I am back.  I offer up no grand scheme here.  It is what it is.  Take it or leave it.  I doubt this blog with travel very far, but I put it out there nonetheless.  It's therapeutic for me and maybe it's helpful for you.

And so, dear friends, that is the Simple Reflection that has taken me 18 months to construct.  It is my sincere hope that the next one will not take so long.

Writer's Block

So it's been 19 months since the last time I've written.  I know that, because my second child is now 18 months old and, ironically, the last time I posted it was a month before he was born.  Coincidence?

 

Perhaps it's the difference between girls and boys (because this little wild man is non stop), perhaps it's just having two instead of one, all I know is, it's all I can do to keep up.

You might notice the new title, the new layout.  It was time for a fresh start.  While I can play the "I'm so busy" card all I want, the truth is, I've had a bit of writer's block.  (Blogger's block?)

Hopefully I just inundated you with enough adorable kid pictures that you have forgiven me for my time away.  But it has been a bit of a struggle to figure out what I wanted to blog about.  I don't know what having a second child did to me, all I know is, my old blog just didn't feel right anymore.  So I decided to just pare it down.  Simple Reflections, nothing more.  I can't promise I'll be posting regularly.  I leave you with no expectations and no promises.  (Not really selling this thing, am I?)  But here it is, none the less.  Here's one last kid picture to, hopefully, win over a few more brownie points.

Well, the big kid is off the school bus and the little kid is waking from nap, so that means my time is up.  Until next time, my friends.

Stick to the Plan

I'm a definite planner.  Always have been.  As a teen, I loved the question "what do you want to be when you grow up?"  I had a plan for that.  I could rattle off almost a year-by-year timeline of what I had planned.  Job interviewers, they love the question, "where do you see yourself in five years?"  No sweat, I had a great answer for that.

Look at me, so proud of myself and my plans.  A problem arises?  No big deal, here's a step-by-step plan for how to fix it.

I'm almost convinced that God/karma/whatever-your-persuasion likes to laugh at me when I make plans.  I think life just loves the challenge of seeing how many roadblocks it can throw up to ruin my infamous plans.


Everyone has a plan - until they get punched in the face. - Mike Tyson

Long story short, if I had told my teenage self that I would be where I'm at today, I would probably never believe it.

Most folks know, Cody just started a new job, we moved to a new town, and Baby Combs #2 is due in like a month.  Me and my planning self is basically freaking out.  There are so many unknown variables (where will Emma go to school, what doctor should I see, will this new baby be colicy like Emma?) that just trying to formulate a plan is impossible.  Facing an unknown future is something I'm sooo not good with...

If there is a life lesson that I have GOT to learn, it's that life never goes according to plan.  Look at me, complaining because my husband just landed an awesome job.  We just bought a beautiful home, and we have another precious miracle about to enter our lives.  Such blessings!

Plans are worthless.  Planning is essential. - Dwight D. Eisenhower


With Easter just passing, there's been lots of talk about being tested.  While my need for a well thought out plan is being tested, I simply pray that I stop and smell the roses and realize I have so much to be thankful for.  And that I have the strength (and sanity) to survive make the best of the upcoming weeks.

Crap, that kinda sounds like a plan doesn't it..

And last but not least, because I'm a Mom and I get these ridiculous songs stuck in my head all day, here's one that will surely drive you insane for the better part of a day:

Goodbye 20's, hello 30's

On this wintery snow day (sleet day?) the stars have aligned so that I may take some time to write.  Because of the weather I'm off work, not to mention Emma is actually napping.  A rarity indeed.

Today is a reflective kind-of day anyways, I have roughly 72 hours left of my 20's.  On Monday I'm turning the big 3-0.  I think it's ironic it should fall on a Monday.  A 20-something birthday on a Monday would've been total downer.  Who wants to celebrate on a Monday?  But my 30th, I'm too damn old and too damn pregnant to really care.

I'm not going to be one of those who freaks out about turning 30.  Age is just a number, right?  And what have I accomplished in my 30 years on this earth?  A wonderful husband, beautiful daughter, darling son on the way.  Blessings, so many blessings...

Some might think a career is of some importance, mine is almost a laughing matter, but I've never really cared about that anyways.  I'll get to it eventually, maybe when "Mommy" and "Baby Maker" isn't taking up so much of my time.

I guess what I'm reflecting on the most is how I've celebrated my birthdays through the years.  They always involved family, so many warm memories, homemade cakes, and treasured gifts received.  And let's not forget the parties with my school friends.  Slumber parties, parties at the Bowling Ally, all themed with horses or Barbies, no doubt.  Throw in the inevitable girl fight resulting in someone calling their mom to go home early, and you've got yourself a perfect 'tweeny party. Then there were the milestone birthdays, 13, 16, 18 being the highlights.  I remember them all and they were all very special.

Then there were the 20-something birthdays.  All these involved booze to an extent, probably to a very excessive extent.  (Oops.)  But they were fun nonetheless, after all, isn't that what being 20-something is all about?  I hope ye few readers I have remember helping me celebrate a birthday or two.  They were all a blast, even if the next day's hangover wasn't as much fun.

So what will I be doing on my 30th birthday?  I will be doing some things with my family (both extended and immediate) and have a special weekend planned with two of my closest friends & their families.  On my actual birthday (on Monday, blah) I might pop the top on an O'Doul's for old time's sake.  Actually, I might get more enjoyment out of a bottle of Tums, but that's just the pregnancy talking.  (My 20-something self would be so ashamed.)  Either way, no big blow-out for this one, and that's fine by me.


So, here goes nothing.  I raise my O'Doul's and/or Tums to you.  To my next 30 years.  May it be as full of blessings as my last 30 years.  Cheers!

Update

Well, instead of boring you with a half-hearted apology about where I've been the last couple months, I'll just get right to the point of what's up with The Combs Family.

First up on the docket, THE HOUSE SOLD!!!!!!!!  Halle-freakin-lujah!  The buyers were about as persnickety as my three year old, but we sucked it up and jumped through the hoops and just thanked our lucky stars it was finally off our financial hands.  I will say that once we signed all the closing documents and everything was official, it did finally hit me how bittersweet it was selling that house.  We had a lot of great memories there...

Also as a side note, isn't funny how I wrote an entire post complaining about how frustrated I was waiting on it to sell, then when it finally does, like a month later all I can muster up is a short paragraph about how happy I am it sold.  *sigh*

Next up, WE'RE PREGNANT!!  That's right, Emma's getting a little brother or sister in May 2013.

Showing off her Halloween costume & baby's picture.

I don't think she quite realizes how her world is getting ready to change.  She was with us when we did the ultrasound and ever since then she's talked about the baby "swimming" in Mommy's belly.  I have noticed she's playing with her dolls more and they are all her "babies".  She carries them around like you would hold a baby and likes to lay them in her bed tucked under the covers.  I have no idea where she learned/saw this, but either way, it's adorable.

Everything's been fine with me.  I had alot of nausea during the first trimester but luckily that is starting to subside.  I'm soooo glad, especially since it's just in time for Thanksgiving.  I remember being pregnant with Emma and not being able to enjoy The Big Meal(s).  I have quite a love for food so I'm stoked I can partake this year with no worries of a nauseous aftermath.

I went in this morning for my 12-week (well, I'm actually 13 weeks) checkup.  Everything was fine and I got to hear the baby's heartbeat.  Apparently this baby is a little mover, the doctor made a comment about it.  Emma was really active in the womb too, so of course I'm starting to make assumptions that I'm going to have another "Emma".  Don't get me wrong, I love the little tike to death, but she was definitely not known for being a laid-back baby.  Atleast this time around I'll know what I'm getting myself into.

My belly quickly assumed the position, almost as if it never bounced back from baby #1... But I'm not going to lie, I busted out those maternity jeans as soon as I got a positive pregnancy test.  Oh elastic waist bands, how I've missed thee.

But I love that we're expanding our little family and I look forward to meeting this new baby and seeing what he or she will be like.  I love watching Cody be the awesome dad that he is and know that I'm so blessed to have him.  While I know the newborn stage is going to be trying and sleepless and, well, sometimes drownright miserable, from it will come another adorable little creation of our own.  So.... here goes nothing!

Buyer's remorse, toddler style

So it was a bit of a boring morning around here, I decided we'd make a quick trip over to Dollar Tree.  I had a few things I was needing and where better to get them than the dollar store?

On the drive over I made it clear to Emma she could pick out one toy, and one toy only.  I felt pretty confident she got the message, even walking into the store she was telling me how she could only get one toy.

So we make our way over to the toy isle.  First on the docket?  A bag of assorted balloons.  Ok, we've got some of those at home already, but if that's what she wants...  Then came the blue mermaid with curly hair.  She did as she was told, put the balloons back and got her mermaid.   We had a few other bait and switch maneuvers, but we she finally settled on a dinosaur hat that had a great big nose that stuck out a good foot from her head.  She went around the store roaring and giving everyone a good laugh.  She was pretty cute...

As we were walking out I contently thought about our successful excursion.  My mommy pride was bubbling over at her good behavior, while my big picture thinking was comparing it to her first lesson on living within your means.

But no sooner than when I pulled out of the parking lot, she casts the hat aside and starts asking about those balloons.  Ah crap.  I tried to remind her of the one toy rule, but she was in no mood for a lesson on minimalism.  The further we got from the store, the worse her tantrum became.  Including pulling off her flip flops and pitching each one of them at my head.  To that I had to laugh.  Damn she's got good aim, Daddy's taught her well.

So I just kept driving, all the while a screaming child was in my rear view mirror.  I kept hoping the "just ignore her" trick would eventually wear her down.  It never does, don't kid yourself.  In fact, at one point she yells at me, "Mommy, stop doing that!"

So whilest listening to screams and pleads for balloons, I start thinking about this stay-at-home momming gig.  Her two days per week daycare teachers act like she's the perfect kid, never cries, well mannered, always shares. (Who is this child and what did they do with my temperamental Emma?)

If she's so great at school, why don't I just go back to work full time?  Oh the money we could be raking in with my education/experience.  Plus I wouldn't have to deal with size 6 shoes flung at my head.

I remember reading an article that said kids will usually save their worst behaviors for their parents and be sweet angels for teachers/babysitters/etc.  The reason being, they "love" us enough to show us their worst side.  I get this, Lord knows my loved ones have the seen the best and worst of me.  But still, I'm a little peeved that Emma is dumping her bad behavior on me.  But who's to say I don't do the same to her?  After we get home and she's still inconsolable, my patience wanes and I have a bit of a tantrum of my own.  Stellar parenting, for sure.

 But as we finally start to calm down we have a tender moment of exchanging I love you's, hers coming between those lip-quivering sighs that follow a good cry.  (Mush goes my heart!)

Then it dawns on me, it doesn't matter what my job status is, every mom has to deal with situations like the one I just described.  There's no escaping them.  It's apart of raising a child.  But what do we get in return?  Heart melting I love you's between quivering sobs, singing her favorite song and reading her special book before naptime, tender moments that she only saves for us, her parents.

So the moral of this story?  Our children teach us way more lessons than we ever teach them.

Ding Dong, Summer's Gone! And why this depresses me...

Holy crap, it's August already!  While I know the official start of fall is not until late September, let's face it, the dog days of summer have done dogged out.

What did we do?  Well there was the beach trip, the trips to the pool, camping, grilling, paying outrageously high power bills as our A/C fought the record heat.  You know, the usual.

Most season changes I am filled with content reflection of the season gone by and with anticipation of what's to come.  I usually love having a little change in my life.  Things to look forward to that are specific to the upcoming season.  Adventures and fun to be had with my daughter, all made possible by the simple changing of a season.

Disclaimer: this is where the pity party begins...

As summer is ticking away, I'm afraid my mood is not so jolly.  Why you ask?  One simple reason, we still own a house in Roanoke.  Yes, it has been 9 months since we moved, and we are still paying monthly mortgage payments to a house we no longer live in.  Ouch.

All my previous posts about moving home and loving being here were all contingent on being able to easily break the financial ties that bound us to Roanoke.  Now don't get me wrong, I'm not regretting our move, I love being a North Carolinian again.  But what I don't love is watching our savings that was meant for future home building and dream-come-true'ing being flushed down the toilet because the economy decided to take a nose dive.

When the summer began we were thinking all positive.  SUMMER was like this illusive time when houses start selling like hot cakes.  "Oh, this is when folks buy homes", "They like to buy during the summer b/c they don't want to interrupt the kids' school years", etc, etc, etc.  And it's true, as I obsessively checked MLS listings, I would see house after house magically disappear as it went off to happy home buying land.

But yet, still no takers for ours.

Oh, we've had our fair share of almosts.  We had someone put down an offer two weeks after we first listed.  But... thanks again to the shitty economy, they couldn't get approved for a loan.  Sorry a-holes.  But we weren't too upset, if the house could catch someone's eye so quickly, surely we'd have a buyer soon?

Then we had the one that thought we had water damage in our basement, despite the fact we told her in the five years we lived there, we never had a problem.  But apparently her 10 minute inspection and uneducated opinion could not be changed.

Yes, I am bitter.  I am bitter we did not get the house sold this summer.  I am bitter we are now having to lower the price again and again, and with that watch our take home money that was supposed to replenish the savings dwindle and dwindle.  I am bitter about all of it.

So forgive me as I wallow in my bitterness.  I know it's not healthy, I know it's not right.  I know I should be thinking positive and praying to St. Joseph, the patron saint of home selling.  (No, I'm not making that up, see for yourself.)

 But yet here I am.  Waiting, waiting, waiting...

Will someone just buy it already!