Marriage - one year in

This last year has been anything but calm.
We moved - twice. We planned and had a wedding.We dealt with Lyla's terrible 2's. We survived pregnancy. We traveled. And we went from a family of 3 to a family of 4 with little commotion. Despite all the changes and chaos that was thrown our way, somehow, Eric and I made it out alive - and with very few arguments. If they say the first year it the hardest, then bring on the next 50.

I'm actually always surprised at our ability to overcome conflicts, because Eric and I both tend to be very stubborn people. You figure: you get two headstrong individuals in an argument, and neither of them will back down. This had been the case in a few spats prior to our wedding, but somehow marriage changed that. We vowed to spend our lives together, and it's not worth losing each other over such tiny speed bumps - I'm sure hills and mountains will be in store for us sometime in the road ahead. I've previously blogged about our love and our honesty, which definitely help make up the glue that keeps us together. But I think the thing I respect the most in our marriage is our ability to be vulnerable, to back down, and to apologize.

Everyone argues. It's inevitable. The thing that sets us aside from everyone else is our willingness to overcome whatever it is we're arguing about. We recognize quickly that we don't want to be fighting, and take quick steps to work it out. We both express ourselves on the situation, and then proceed to both apologize. I think this is the key. One of us may apologize for upsetting the other, and the other may apologize for reacting the way they did. When we both apologize, we both feel heard and healed, and can move on. I really respect Eric's ability to back down, because for the typical testosterone-driven male, this is difficult. And I'm sure he respects this of me, knowing how set in my ways I can be. It's give and take. It's sacrifice. It's what needs to be done. We have a lifetime together and need to choose our battles wisely. Our vulnerability to each other is, I think, what keeps us strong, happy, and so in love.

When Hannah arrived, I thought we would get in endless fights; between the lack of sleep and the added stress, I figured we'd have a serious rough patch. I'd need help when he got home from work but he'd be tired, too. We'd go back and forth over who worked harder, who was up more during the night, who cooked, who cleaned, and we would be done for. What really happened was a total shock. We got along even better. We became selfless. He helped more with the household chores knowing how tired I was, and I put any extra energy I had into giving my husband a well deserved back or foot rub to show my appreciation. Since our time was split between the girls, any time we did get together we cherished and had a deeper appreciation for. Looking at Hannah and knowing she is ours, "made in Mexico" on our honeymoon, out of love - this just bonded the two of us in a way I didn't know was possible. I'm still waiting for the storm to come, because it feels unreal for things to be going this smoothly being newly weds with a toddler and newborn.

All in all, this last year has been long, but amazing nonetheless. I feel so lucky to have married someone who loves me for who I am, and respects me enough to work through any problem we will face. We've got a good thing going here :)

Money = Good Father?

Something I always find strange when I talk to Lyla's father is how little he asks about her. He'll call for one legal reason or another, and then shoot the shit about his life plans as if we're best friends who need catching up. But not one question about Lyla. At most, I'll get a "tell Lyla I said hi" at the end of our conversation, but nothing more. No interest in what she's doing, how she's growing, or her in general whatsoever. It's one thing to go 15 months without seeing her, but to act like she doesn't exist bothers me more than ever.

As annoying as it may have been when he was constantly texting to ask for pictures or asking to talk to her, to be honest in some way I preferred it, because despite my care-less feelings towards him, at least it showed that he still cared about Lyla. However, now that it has been so long since they've spoken and he is merely a vague memory to Lyla, it's better that he doesn't all of a sudden want to pick up where he left off; I think that would be confusing and traumatic for my 3 year old sensitive girl. Still, the thought lingers that he can choose to come back whenever he wishes, but despite the fact that it's been over a year since he's last seen her, I actually believe he thinks of himself as a good father.

Ben has always been obsessed with money. He worked all hours of the day, and spent all he made instantly. He may love making money but he loved spending it more. Ever since our split in 2010, he's paid weekly child support, and before this, he opened a trust fund for Lyla which he planned to be her college fund. In one of our recent conversations, he explained how her fund has tripled since he started it in 2009, and still plans on putting it towards her future schooling. He talked about money the whole conversation, and even though it was indirectly about Lyla, he still managed not to mention her directly once. Since he's so money-driven, I truly believe that because he pays child support and has this fund in place for her, he thinks this makes him a good father.

Eric and I could care less about this trust fund. Sure, it could be beneficial to us down the road, but this is money from a man who has made zero effort to be in his daughter's life, and she's only 3. Who knows what the next 15 years will bring. To us, this money doesn't exist. But the way Ben talks about it is as if he's some sort of fatherly God. He was so excited to tell me how much he had saved up for her, and yet he doesn't even know her anymore.

Providing financially doesn't make you a father. Everything Eric is doing: playing, teaching, disciplining and loving - those are things that make you a dad - and a good one. We could be broke and homeless and it wouldn't make Eric any less of a father to Lyla. But not seeing her for this length of time, and sending a check every month does not define you as a parent, because you aren't one.

Every now and then Lyla will ask about Ben, but recently she has declared Eric as her daddy. If you ask her who "dad" is, she'll say Eric, though she still chooses to call him Eric, or most recently "Papa" - a Beauty and the Beast influence. At this point, she knows Ben exists, but that's pretty much as far as it goes. I hope that even if he does choose to reenter Lyla's life someday, that she will recognize what it means to be a real parent, and love and respect Eric for all he's done and is doing AS her dad - even if down the road she develops a relationship with her biological father.

Once again, I can't predict the future, and I have no idea whether Ben will come back, flake out completely, or continue to think he's doing alright by providing financially. But whatever happens, Lyla has Eric, and she's so unbelievably luck for that - we both are. You can't put a dollar sign on fatherhood. It's priceless.

Running

I ran my first "race" when I was 6 years old. It was once around a local park, about a half mile, and despite the fact that all the other 6 year olds ran to their mommy's or got distracted by the giant playground, I still like to basque in the glory of coming in 3rd - 1st girl ;)

Even though I didn't do much running on my own until years after my victory race, running was a part of my daily life through my parents. Both marathoners at the time, it was simply part of their routine to run daily. Breakfast, coffee, run. I loved going to their races and watching them run by as I stood among the crowd screaming "go mommy, go daddy!", and not to mention, got to eat all the fresh fruit and power bars I could get my hands on.

9th grade came along and so did the proposal of running cross country. At the time, I was dancing ballet, and had to choose between the two because of the severely different ways my muscles would be trained. I chose to run. Little did I know the injuries I would soon endure, from ligament tears in both knees to a fractured hip; it just so happens that the year I began running would be the only full season I would complete.

After high school I continued to run after recovering from 2 knee surgeries, but mainly to run off a night of drinking and 3am fast food burgers. Eventually, I took running more seriously and eased into a weekly routine while avoiding further injury, which allowed me to actually enjoy running, and the feeling I had afterwards.

Now more than ever I love and appreciate my ability to run. Pregnancy definitely aided these feelings; after a difficult 9 months of morning sickness, back pain, and the typical baby-on-the-bladder-running-prevention, I was eager to get back into the swing of it. Not to mention, the motivation of losing baby weight always got me out the door, even after a sleepless night.

Running is my everything-outlet. If I'm overwhelmed, I'll go for an extra long easy-run, focusing on it being "me time" and return home with a clear head and ready to take on the world. If I'm angry, I'll put on a good rock play list and stomp out a faster, harder run, leaving all my anger in the dust. Even when I'm happy, I'll run along to an upbeat music selection and just appreciate the world around me. I love running in any mood, any weather, anytime.

The feeling I have afterwards is the most rewarding. Ironically it gives me a fabulous energy boost, and I always spend the rest of the day feeling refreshed and level-headed. In my attempt to prevent injury now more than ever, running has forced me to take better care of my body by incorporating more stretching and yoga-esque strengthening techniques. Even if it's only 10 minutes before one of my kids needs me and I'm slapped back to reality, I love the me-time where I can just focus on myself, my body, my flexibility, and my health. I'm a better mom for it, I think, because if I feel good and have a good energy, I'm going to reflect that onto my children. Good vibes! They're contagious.

I feel lucky every day that I was able to overcome all of my injuries, and despite my less-than-perfect running structure, I'm still out there 4-5 times a week. I also feel lucky that Eric is so supportive of my exercise; after a long 8 hour day at work, he comes home to watch the 2 girls while I head out for my daily run, and I know that can't always be easy on him.

I hope my body allows me to run for years to come. Call me crazy, but I love it.

Religion

Quite frankly, I've always had lots of questions regarding religion. I've gone back and forth over the years, from totally unsure to reading the bible word for word. I was raised catholic, but not strictly. My family attended church occasionally, and everything religious felt very forced and unnatural. And now at 23, I'm right where I've always been - confused.

Right after I had Lyla was a time I'd consider my most religious. I thought "wow, there must be a God, this beautiful child is proof". I began to attend church weekly, reading the bible, and asking catholic friends loads of questions. But somehow, each time I spent time with a friend or family member who was less than religious, I always took two steps backwards. I would second guess my beliefs, and have more questions than ever. And I still do.

Take those who are gay, for example. People are born gay, it is not a choice. And supposedly, God creates all people, meaning that he created them, too. So, why would God create a gay man, and then teach people that it is "wrong" or "unnatural"? And on top of that, deny them their equal rights as a human to marry the person they love? Sure, they cannot have biological children together, but there are some man-woman couples who cannot either, and even others who choose not to. It's heartbreaking to hear of families who practically disown their own child because they came out as gay. As a mother, I will love my girls no matter what direction life takes them, and I will support who and what they love.

Our wedding was one of the worst experiences I have had with the church. I felt judged because I had a child out of wedlock from a previous relationship, we were looked down upon because we didn't attend church regularly, and a great deal of pressure was put on us to become confirmed - which neither Eric and I are. Shouldn't God be grateful that I brought a child into this world, and not focus on the fact that she may have not been planned or with a person I was in love with? I love her and do my best to raise her. Isn't that what's important? Isn't being spiritual and believing in God more important than how often you attend church? It's hard to commit yourself to a religion when you're constantly feeling judged or put down for decisions you've made. I find that each time I get re-involved with the catholic religion, I leave feeling poorly about myself, my past, and my beliefs.

Lyla was baptized when she was 3 months old. This was during the time I considered myself "most religious", and felt good about welcoming my daughter into the world of God. This ceremony was her entry way to heaven someday, which was a much better thought than anything else in terms of the after life. And today, we have a meeting at the church for Hannah's baptism. Although Eric and I are currently quite confused and unsure of where religion will take us, we wanted to leave the door open for our girls, and so, we're choosing to have Hannah baptized in a Catholic church - the one where we were married. I'm hoping to have a better experience, since Hannah was a product of love and marriage. I'm hoping to be able to focus on the possibilities for our baby girl, and not be frowned upon by our lack of church attendance.

Our girls can choose whatever path in life they want, and we will be 100% supportive. But as for us, we are just utterly confused on what to believe right now.

Love for Food

Since Hannah was about 2 weeks old, I have had to stop eating all dairy products, and somehow, eating less has made me have a much deeper appreciation for food. Maybe it's all the labels I'm now forced to read, or the added fruits, veggies, whole grains and lean meats I've had to add to my diet in order to consume an adequate amount of nutrition, but I'm more intrigued now than ever.

Over the last 8 weeks, I've tried a few new things: rice milk, coconut milk, soy yogurts, endless seed & nut combos, quinoa...etc. Not only did I learn that I liked these things I had never tried, but that I felt better eating them. I've learned new balances of complex carbs & proteins from sources other than dairy. Most importantly - I've learned to control my energy levels through food: carbs in the morning to jump-start the day, with snacks of fruit & nuts throughout the day for a natural sugar & protein boost. Eric and I have also started to cut out all carbs after dinner, and try to be done snacking by 8pm. I feel fabulous, but I'm sure that also comes from the fact that I can't indulge in my usual frozen yogurt and chocolate desserts.

I've also realized what a food-rut we live in. I now have this vibrant list of snacks that I consume, but meals? Not so much. Marinated chicken one night, turkey burgers the next, then a "breakfast-for-dinner" night, and nights where we'll just have sandwiches or soup & salad. Healthy, yes, but the same thing every week? Also, yes. BORING! The truth is, I'm a cooking-scaredy-cat. Once I do it once, I'll be fine - but it's getting myself to try something new that's tough. And once I do, it gets added to our rut-list, like when I decided to try stir-fries: now I make the same stir-fry with pretty much the same ingredients each time. We even have a croc-pot that Eric won 2 years ago that we have never used - everyone yells at me for this, since it is supposedly the easiest way to cook and try new things. Yup. We're croc-pot virgins.

I'm hoping to turn all this around with my sudden interest in new foods. Gonna break out the croc-pot, put our new juicer to good use, and clear the cob webs off our several cooking books that have never been opened. I absolutely love to eat, and even though I don't do much, I love to cook. It's sort of part of my job expectation as a mother and wife, so I'd better get crackin'. Looking forward to continuing to try new things, and learn to break out of my cooking fear...

...even though chicken is currently marinating for dinner. I'll start tomorrow ;)

The power of food is pretty awesome. Being able to control your mood, your energy, and your health through diet is fabulous.

Social Media Judgement - quick note

Everyone uses Facebook, Twitter, and other social media sites differently - from music promotion to sharing how bad your breath was when you woke up that morning - everyone's got something to share, and even more-so, everyone's got something to say about these updates. 

I find it amusing when I see posts like "no one cares what you ate for lunch" - probably true, but these sites are for people's personal use, and they can post whatever the hell they want. I'm sure every time I post a blog about how happy I am, I have a fair-share of people who think "alright, we get it already". Or, when I post my many pictures of my girls, you may think "you're a mom, Lauren, we get the picture". Now, given, I am an open book, and will "check-in" where I go, update what I'm doing, and share my activities with the world, so I may be a bit biased to these judgements. On the other hand, I've definitely been fed up with a few girls' "I think pouty-faces are cute" or "photos-of-myself-in-the-mirror" pictures, but instead of complaining, I deleted them so I wouldn't have to see them anymore. 

You're not forced to read everyones posts, so if you don't like 'em, don't read 'em. 

:);) xo

Living in a Bubble

Ever find yourself in a place where things are so good that you're scared of any sort of change? Well, I'm here now. We've all adjusted to being a family of 4, Lyla's tantrums seem to be calming down, Hannah has settled into a more than manageable routine, and Eric and I continue to thrive as a couple. What could go wrong? Talk of a new job and buying a house sure could. 

Eric has applied to be a correction's officer, and the application, schooling and training portions can take months. I understand his career change, since as an electrician he can be laid off at any given moment, and that's not very reassuring when you have a wife and two children to support. However, it's one of those jobs where you start out low and the totem pole, working 3rd shift and weekends, and work your way up to more reasonable hours. For me, this means sleeping alone at night and tip-toeing around the house during the day while he sleeps - no easy task with little ones romping around. I've also seen way too many scary movies and SVU episodes to feel comfortable sleeping without him; the recent break in of Eric's truck doesn't make me feel any better. And for Eric, this means (more than likely) broken sleep, and a serious time-adjustment on his days off. He's worked nights - even overnights - before, and it was difficult to adjust to. We made it through then and we'll make it through now, but until it happens I'm basking in our little perfect routine where my husband is home for the day at 3:30 and snuggles in with me at night. 

And then the house-talk. Ah, yes. Of course I would love to own a house of our own in the future, especially since paying rent for our apartment is in essence just throwing away money instead of working towards something, like a mortgage, but the thought is still scary. Right now, everything is so easy: something breaks, we call the landlord; not our problem, not our money, not our job. With a house? It's all us - or more than likely, Eric. Maybe the problem here is that I actually like spending time with my husband. And while I have no problem with him going out with friends for a drink, the thought of having to share him with a house with endless work to be done and things to be fixed just makes me realize how much less time we will have to spend together. Back off, house, he's mine. (Is it normal to be jealous of a non-existent house? Hmmm...) 

I want to capture this time we're in right now, put it in a bubble and just stay in it forever. Even though a lot about the future excites me, like watching the girls grow and seeing what new beginnings we'll encounter, it still makes me nervous to rock the boat when things are going so well. 

Ah, this thing called life. Lets see what you have in store for us. 

Comfortable Being Me

I feel like a good amount of my life has been spent comparing myself to others, and basing my decisions on those around me. Especially in high school, I would take note of what others were wearing, watching, and doing, and I would be in a constant game of follow the leader. Even after becoming a mother, I was determined to be "one of those" who would always have my hair & make-up done, be well dressed, and have my husband come home to a wife doing the dishes in 6 inch heels. All this seemed so appealing after seeing it be done in the movies and even with a few friends with kids; but I finally stopped looking around and trying to be someone else, because slowly but surely, I became more comfortable just being me.

Lesson 1: I am not a girly-girl. Day to day, you will see me in yoga pants, sports bra, racer back tank, and either flip flops or sneakers. This is a simple one: they're comfortable. Not to mention, if I'm already dressed to run, I have no excuse not to go for one when hubby gets home from work. I'll take Nike and Puma over Coach and Armani any day. Lucky for me, Eric tells me that he finds me most attractive when I'm run-ready; sure, the tight running capris play a strong roll, but taking good care of myself is a more attractive quality than someone who spends hours getting ready each day only to apply more and more make up and hair, and look less and less like the real you.

Lesson 2: It's not all or nothing. "Dressing up" to me can be anything from adding a pair of chunky earrings to my messy-bun & jeans look, to heels, dresses and curls. Fun? Yes. Daily preference? Absolutely not. I do, however, love a lil' mascara and eyeliner - even with yoga pants. But my hair? Impossible. Not only is it outrageously thick and unmanageable from having a baby 8 weeks ago, but it's too damn hot to blow dry and straighten this mop. I was not blessed with totally straight or beautifully curly hair: I've got the inbetween; waves. Good for a beachy look, perhaps, but not so much for a shower-and-go-natural one. Therefore, I live in messy buns and braids. And hey, as a mother of 2 who plans on exercising later that day, that's just fine with me. I may be no Posh, but I make a great Sporty Spice.

Truly being comfortable with yourself obviously goes a lot deeper than the clothes you wear, and here's where I go back to my over-expressed topic: happiness. Not only am I lucky to have Eric who supports me no matter what, but I am lucky to have the ability to be happy with myself - and this took years. I kissed my past goodbye, looked forward to the future, and focused on the present. I take good care of myself by eating right and exercising. I focus nearly all my energy into mothering my 2 girls to the best of my ability, and I stay truly honest and genuine in everything I do. That alone makes me feel great about myself - nothing to hide (as anyone who reads my blogs will know, I'm an open book); I love giving to others without the expectation of receiving something in return, and I try not to half-ass anything. I feel like right now in my life, I am the best person/wife/mother I can be, and I couldn't be any of those things without self acceptance and happiness.

I no longer feel like I have to compare myself to anyone - I am 100% comfortable being me, yoga pants and all.