you don't truly know how small four walls of your house can be until you're stuck inside of it with sick littles. add in negative {as in below zero} wind chills, and two babies under two? yeah, not happening.
we have had the influenza twice. TWICE. add colds, snot, coughs, and lingering fevers on top of that. to say we're going stir crazy is a bit of an understatement.
nothing makes you want a space of your own like being trapped in a tiny apartment with two snotty, hacking, whiney babies. i know i have talked about my dream for a house on here before, but the want has become severe. as in, always-on-my-mind-obsessed, severe. and to top it off, the housing market around here SUCKS. there is just not a lot for sale. and what's worse? we're not quite ready to buy. so it's my heart against my head. my head knows better than to scour craigslist and property sites. but my heart yearns for a place to decorate. to call mine.
aaron tells me soon.
soon. what the hell does that mean?? that's something people say to avoid confrontation. it's like being pregnant and giving a due date, even though everybody knows that actual date is crap.
soon. psh.
that's what aaron told me when i asked him to marry me every day for two months straight. really? you know how impatient this girl is. why make me wait? soon, my ass. to put it in perspective, he made me wait eight years to get married. granted, we started dating at 15, but still. you would think that he'd know me well enough that patience is most definitely not a strong trait of mine.
{sigh.} we will get there. just as we will all start feeling better. and i hate to wish the time away, as these two littles need me present, and i promised myself i would be. but that doesn't stop my heart for wanting more. knowing that its right within reach, i just need the word from aaron and my pinterest boards will light up with decorating ideas. {insert images of clark griswald's house and his excitement. totally that girl.}
one day. i just need my heart and mind to get in sync with each other and get me through to that day.
one day soon.
Friday, January 18, 2013
Friday, December 28, 2012
bittersweet.
i miss him. a lot.
as aaron, the boys, and i drove back home from letting our paper latern with two small handprints go to heaven to him, i told aaron that it honestly feels like it happened last year. partially because i don't feel as if i'm 28. but mostly because i can still see his smile, hear his laugh, and i'm in denial that its been nine years since those things actually happened.
they say time heals all things. it doesn't.
however, time does have a way of making you remember the good things. it overshadows the not-so-good things. but honestly, time doesn't heal a damn thing. the ache is always there. it's even worse when there is a day to remind you that its there.
and to twist the heartache even more, is that you know the ache is there, but the whole world doesn't. the world doesn't stop turning. people don't stop living their normal lives. and as much as you want everyone to stop what they're doing and remember, they don't. they either don't know, or they forget. but it's a very present thing in my life. a dull ache in my heart that is usually full of joy, love, and hope most days.
you never know when it's going to hit, either, those triggers. you know the ones...the ones that make you laugh so hard you cry. the ones where your heart swells from the happy memories. and even the ones that make you stop you in your tracks, where you look for that peice of him, that memory.
and the dreams? oh, so bittersweet. seeing his face again. but a harsh reminder of reality. God knows right when i need that reminder, though. when i tend to think that i'm forgetting, He knows how to remind me. and i am eternally thankful for that.
a.a. milne had great insight:
'how lucky am i to have had something {so special} that makes saying goodbye to hard.'
so true.
as aaron, the boys, and i drove back home from letting our paper latern with two small handprints go to heaven to him, i told aaron that it honestly feels like it happened last year. partially because i don't feel as if i'm 28. but mostly because i can still see his smile, hear his laugh, and i'm in denial that its been nine years since those things actually happened.
they say time heals all things. it doesn't.
however, time does have a way of making you remember the good things. it overshadows the not-so-good things. but honestly, time doesn't heal a damn thing. the ache is always there. it's even worse when there is a day to remind you that its there.
and to twist the heartache even more, is that you know the ache is there, but the whole world doesn't. the world doesn't stop turning. people don't stop living their normal lives. and as much as you want everyone to stop what they're doing and remember, they don't. they either don't know, or they forget. but it's a very present thing in my life. a dull ache in my heart that is usually full of joy, love, and hope most days.
you never know when it's going to hit, either, those triggers. you know the ones...the ones that make you laugh so hard you cry. the ones where your heart swells from the happy memories. and even the ones that make you stop you in your tracks, where you look for that peice of him, that memory.
and the dreams? oh, so bittersweet. seeing his face again. but a harsh reminder of reality. God knows right when i need that reminder, though. when i tend to think that i'm forgetting, He knows how to remind me. and i am eternally thankful for that.
a.a. milne had great insight:
'how lucky am i to have had something {so special} that makes saying goodbye to hard.'
so true.
Monday, December 17, 2012
whispers & love
at the end of the day, all that is left is love.
my heart is broken. the events that transpired friday in connecticut, in sandy hook elementary, those precious lives.
i, like so many others, clung so dearly to my boys all weekend. wept tears for the families who got that unbearable news. tears for those mamas and daddys who are trying to make sense of this brutal act. tears for those siblings who are trying to comprehend why a peice of them is missing. because believe me, i've been that sibling.
i shut off the news friday. i refused to watch or listen or comprehend anything that was going on. not because i didn't care. but because i was reeling as a mama myself. i whispered all of their names over and over, because young or old, each of them have a mama. and as a mama, i would want someone to continually whisper my boys' names, too.
at the end of the day, all that is left is love. even through the tragedy, i know CT and everyone affected can feel the love that the nation is pouring. primarily because we are just as numb as them, because we don't know what else to do besides love.
as we move forward with our week, may we remember that 26 families' worlds are at a standstill. they are going through the motions, but not living. and they may not for awhile.
continue to whisper their names. each mama will hear and feel it. they will know their baby was so incredibly loved, even if we had never met them.
at the end of the day, all that is left is love.
my heart is broken. the events that transpired friday in connecticut, in sandy hook elementary, those precious lives.
i, like so many others, clung so dearly to my boys all weekend. wept tears for the families who got that unbearable news. tears for those mamas and daddys who are trying to make sense of this brutal act. tears for those siblings who are trying to comprehend why a peice of them is missing. because believe me, i've been that sibling.
i shut off the news friday. i refused to watch or listen or comprehend anything that was going on. not because i didn't care. but because i was reeling as a mama myself. i whispered all of their names over and over, because young or old, each of them have a mama. and as a mama, i would want someone to continually whisper my boys' names, too.
at the end of the day, all that is left is love. even through the tragedy, i know CT and everyone affected can feel the love that the nation is pouring. primarily because we are just as numb as them, because we don't know what else to do besides love.
as we move forward with our week, may we remember that 26 families' worlds are at a standstill. they are going through the motions, but not living. and they may not for awhile.
continue to whisper their names. each mama will hear and feel it. they will know their baby was so incredibly loved, even if we had never met them.
at the end of the day, all that is left is love.
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