tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16755559859880865002024-03-12T20:56:22.809-07:00Mommy Needs a MimosaAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16161746734690798049noreply@blogger.comBlogger194125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1675555985988086500.post-17656052382551292632016-03-06T15:32:00.000-08:002016-03-06T15:59:41.940-08:00Red Flags & BaconWhat happens when you go on a date with yourself?<br />
<br />
It's weird. Things get weird.<br />
Just kidding. I'm not to that point yet. But I have been taking myself to dinner a lot lately. I'm a really good gentle-woman. I always open the door, and I always pick up the tab.<br />
<br />
Ok seriously, a couple weeks ago I went on one of the most interesting dates of my Tinder experiences yet.<br />
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I had been talking to a guy that I had matched with on several sites. He had a beard and some pictures with trees in it, AND he passed the clearance of my male friend approval, so I felt pretty confident in my selection of this guy. He read my blog and openly admitted to Facebook and Instagram stalking me. I liked him already.<br />
<br />
We met at a coffee shop. He was much taller and much cuter in person. Both a bonus. I had a zit between my eyes and I'm sure he was staring at it the whole time.<br />
<br />
And then began this weird/awesome/unorthodox date where we went from being strangers to discussing our ex-marital issues, sexual endeavors, hobbies and interests, that one sibling we all seem to have, and <strike>yes or no on anal and threesomes</strike> other things that most people wait till at least the 17th date to discuss. The people sitting at the table next to us kept leaving.<br />
<br />
I usually sit through dates calculating how many drinks I need to make this shit interesting but still be able to play it off like I'm not a total lush. I had actually never been on a coffee date, or a sober date, for that matter. I was unusually comfortable sitting here, stone cold sober, discussing the innerworkings of my seriously fucked up brain, and discovering that he was as equally insane as I was. I was soaking up everything he was saying, and all the while these red lights kept going off in my brain. We call them red-flags. This guy was a blaring red flag. He was the light you didn't notice while your friend riding shotgun is screaming, "RED LIGHT!"<br />
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Only I didn't slam my brakes on. I didn't think to myself... well here's a guy who clearly has some issues and I should excuse myself and make a run for it. I sat there with this guy at the coffee shop for something like 5 or 6 more hours until we decided it was weird that we were still there and we moved next door to the bar. I watched him drink a couple beers while I drooled jealously with my water. He mentioned that his shock factor had no effect on me and he thought it was weird. I wasn't phased. The only thing that would have made me fidget was if he had told me he murdered someone. Even then, I would have stayed. I was planted in that seat waiting to uncover more fucked up mysteries.<br />
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A good friend of mine and I have been discussing red flags fairly frequently. Mostly about how we ignored them with our previous spouses, and how blatant they were. I vowed to never ignore red flags again and yet here I was, trying to keep track of all the red flags being thrown... completely unphased by them.<br />
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Every single red flag that went off in my brain, I quickly talked down because I realized I was on a hot date with myself.<br />
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Holy shit, I thought. I am a walking red flag.<br />
<br />
Is this what it's like when I date people? Are these guys just sitting there like 'holy shit this girl is nuts. I need to get out of here.' How could I judge someone when I had behaved the same way? How could I think less of this person for being so open about their wrong-doings in life? I couldn't. I had been and sometimes still am the same lost person trying to figure it out.<br />
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All I could think about was my own behavior; how I felt when I was in his place, going through this phase in life, doing some of these things we were discussing. How much I disliked myself, how I had lost track of the person I had worked so hard to become, forgetting about any repercussions to my actions, my total disregard for anyone else's emotions or well being. I couldn't help but feel that I would be going backwards by continuing anything with this guy but there I sat, still unmoved. The kindred spirit connection was stronger than what little common sense I contain when it comes to the opposite gender. </div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818;"><br /></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818;">“But the reality is we often become our kindest, most ethical selves only by seeing what it feels like to be a selfish jackass first.”</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818;"> </span></i></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818;"></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><i>― <a class="authorOrTitle" href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/155717.Cheryl_Strayed" style="background-color: transparent; color: #333333; text-decoration: none;">Cheryl Strayed</a>, <span id="quote_book_link_13152194" style="background-color: transparent;"><a class="authorOrTitle" href="http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/18330294" style="color: #333333; text-decoration: none;">Tiny Beautiful Things: Advice on Love and Life from Dear Sug</a>ar</span></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="background-color: transparent;"><br /></span></i></span></div>
</span>Here's what I liked about this guy: He was honest, genuine, insanely sarcastic, and interesting. And attractive. The beard. The height. The Patagonia Snap-T fleece.<br />
<br />
I have dated about 107 men since my split from my husband and I have only come across a few guys that are willing to open up on a first date in general- usually after a few beers, and even fewer (none, actually) to lay it all out there like that. Take it or leave it. I was picking it up. Being able to be this honest and raw was so attractive. My mind was so turned on. Ok, so was my body a little bit.<br />
<br />
I like these people. We're like mind-ed. They're part of my tribe or something like that.<br />
<div style="text-align: start;">
<span style="text-align: center;">This kind of brutal honesty and open conversation was so hot to me. It says to me, I know I'm a seriously messed up human, I don't know what the f*ck I'm doing but here I am, trying to make sense of it. They're not afraid of themselves. I've never been attracted to the idea of perfection, or to people that don't ever get out and live. It took me 25ish years to figure out that I don't want to be surrounded by perfect people or people that pretend to be. I want to be surrounded by loving, genuine people. People who get out there and do what feels right in that moment are my favorite kind of people. Our intuition is not always right. Sometimes we just fuck up. </span>F*cking up builds character. It makes you smarter as you learn through your mistakes. Unless, you're me... then it just gives you lots and lots of character.</div>
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I just finished reading Cheryl Strayed's, Wild and I couldnt help but love this part of her book: </div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif;">“What if I forgave myself? I thought. What if I forgave myself even though I'd done something I shouldn't have? What if I was a liar and a cheat and <b>there was no excuse for what I'd done other than because it was what I wanted and needed to do? </b>What if I was sorry, but if I could go back in time I wouldn't do anything differently than I had done? What if I'd actually wanted to fuck every one of those men? What if heroin taught me something? What if yes was the right answer instead of no? What if what made me do all those things everyone thought I shouldn't have done was what also had got me here? <b>What if I was never redeemed? What if I already was?”</b></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif;"><b> </b></span></span></i></div>
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Life is full of lessons, if you're willing to learn. Mistakes are meant to be made. It's how my kids have learned that I am right about absolutely everything. You don't want to wear a coat in the pouring rain? Suit yourself. </div>
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So what did I do? I went home with him. He said he had bacon.<br />
<br />
You know that feeling you get when you like someone? That's your common sense leaving your body.<br />
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#redflags<br />
#thereforareason<br />
#putyourhandontheburneryouregonnagetburned<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16161746734690798049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1675555985988086500.post-46202262516052349292016-02-25T21:09:00.002-08:002016-02-25T21:09:20.806-08:00Hello, Tinder... it's ME, again.<br />
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<br />
<br />
So yeah. I re-activated my Tinder.<br />
<br />
What can I say? I love meeting strangers in <strike>dark alleys</strike> coffee shops.<br />
<br />
My friends have been giving me crap since 2014 about playing the Tinder game- saying they can't keep up with who's who and all the guys., blah blah blah. I admit- sometimes I've gone a little overboard and I can't decipher between Chris Tinder and Chris 2 Tinder, and I've had to add emoji's or pictures to their names so I can remember who's who or change their last name from Tinder to Kentucky so I can remember where they're from. There are a lot of Chris, Matt, and Cody's out there, it's not my fault.<br />
<br />
Their second complaint is that it's trash and like, do I REALLY have to date? And god, I have awful taste in men. Why Tinder?<br />
<br />
The answer: YES I HAVE TO DATE. It gives me something to look forward to, and something to do on the weekends while my kids are gone and my friends are busy canoodling with their boyfriends and planning their weddings and babies and whatnot.<br />
<br />
Also, sex. and I'm not getting any younger. So there. Shut up about it.<br />
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And YES TINDER. Because I tried a few other dating sites and they were too formal, too pushy, and felt like harassment. Tinder is great because we've already agreed that we have a mutually shallow attraction to each other. Plus I've got the swiping down to a science. Left, right, left, left, left, left.<br />
<br />
So yes there are a lot of guys, and there are a lot of dates, and a LOT of ups and downs... but in my defense, it's not like I'm stringing along several guys. I mean, ok I am- but I'm also genuinely interested in some aspect of each guy. I wouldn't waste my time or energy conversing with someone that I didn't have at least an inkling of an interest in. I'M NOT A GUY. Ok, that was a low blow but seriously guys- WTF?<br />
<br />
SIDENOTE: It's like men think that because their egos are so fragile that ours are too. <b>Newsflash</b>- they're not. I think I speak for several women when I say we will be okay if you just flat out say "I'm not that interested in you." In fact, we will be grateful and we'll delete your number from our phone and never think about you again. Really, its the truth.<br />
<br />
So with this being like my 7 billionth round of 'delete app, fuck guys * 2 weeks pass* get bored, re-add app' I finally realized... I keep doing it. I'M ADDICTED TO TINDER. So why? Is Tinder the definition of insanity? Maybe.<br />
<br />
For you Tinder haters out there- we'll have to agree to disagree. Because I've decided to give Tinder another go for the 27th time and while yeah, my friends are right- I have <i>awful</i> taste in men... I'm going to keep dating.<br />
<br />
Remember that one time I said I'd talk about the 5 people you meet on Tinder? I had to abandon that idea because I realized there's not five different people you meet. They're all the same. WE are all kind of the same. When it comes to dating, we're all in the same boat. Trying to figure out the rules, trying not to get hurt, not break too many hearts. And occasionally get laid somewhere in there. We're all kind of assholes. So I gave those guys a break. I forgave them. Because somewhere inside of me, I can be a fuckboy too.<br />
<br />
<div>
You see, after my divorce I wasn't ready to date but I thought I was. I was (am) a hot mess, and I kept picking guys that weren't right for me, possibly subconsciously. I picked guys that looked good and had several red solo cups in their pictures because I was looking for a good time. Over the last couple years, I've gotten better at screening my dates. And like, mellowing out. Sorta. We're working on it. </div>
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But I don't regret any of that. Dating guys that essentially were a good time but meant nothing to me, helped me-- it helped me get through the loneliness, and the transition period where I didn't even know what my own name was, the awkward phase of learning how to date-- like how do I eat this burger without getting it all over my face while still attempting to look semi attractive and how to not give away that I'm a total psycho on the first date, and most importantly it f*cking helped me get laid-- and that is important post divorce, no matter what anyone tells you. But hell, 2 1/2 years later I'm STILL learning. I'm learning what I want and what I don't want. </div>
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<br /></div>
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And even though, I'm a rare breed-- a single, (almost) divorced Mom with two kids-- I'm not really much different, and I'm certainly not alone. It's not like I'm entering this playing field years out of practice and everyone else knows what the f*ck they're doing. Everyone else is just as confused as me. And that's because my generation never dated. We threw parties with red cups and joints in our parents glass houses while they were out of town, snuck off to corners and closets to make out <strike>and other things,</strike> and the only date any of us ever went on was Homecoming or Tolo, and even that was a group thing.</div>
<br />
Maybe this is why we are all ASSHOLES? Because our parents never taught us any manners, or how to ask a girl on a proper date, or how to tell a guy no, or which freaking fork to use for our salad. No that's not it. We were told. Maybe our generation is just f*cking lazy. We think taking a girl out for drinks suffices as a good first date, and that as a woman we should accept this if he's cute enough. (No, we shouldn't) and no, that's not it either. We've all heard Grandpa's story about how hard he had to try to win Grandma's heart after she told him to stick it where the sun don't shine, we've seen the movies where people did actually go on dates and where men and women had to ask each other out in person instead of through an app. I'm not really sure why we are all assholes or why we suck so bad at dating but the only way to figure this all out is to do it. Date, that is.<br />
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The way I see it, I just keep getting better. (HA) And not in a conceited way. In an experience kind of way. Even my friends have started saying things like, "You're picking better guys! He wasn't a complete douchebag, just a little bit douchey" Occasionally there's a totally off the wall "WTF" kind of date-- you know, the one where they look nothing like their picture and the conversation isn't even remotely interesting and then you spend the rest of the date texting your friends SOS BITCHES- SAVE ME. Or calling them to slur "I love you" while you're sitting next to your own puke on the sidwalk.<br />
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I never said I was perfect.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16161746734690798049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1675555985988086500.post-69226668700981465682016-01-02T14:30:00.000-08:002016-01-02T14:34:45.474-08:00YOLO (Yes, you can smack me)<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">[You only live once, but if you do it right- once is enough]</span></div>
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<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">In 2015...</span><br />
<br />
I ran my first Bloomsday/12k, two 10k's, and seven 5k's. Only forgot my running shoes on one occasion and managed to not puke or pee my pants once. Outside of that, in training I ran 170 miles. <br />
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Tristan and Ryan both completed their first 5k ever! Tristan participated in 4 kids runs and Ryan did 3. We agreed to disagree on who beat who.<br />
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I hiked over 72 miles and checked 9 different viewpoints off my list. Mastered the fine art of peeing in the woods without peeing all over myself-- took a few tries. Oh yeah, finally learned to pack some TP. <br />
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My boys did their first ever hike up to Poo Poo Point. We only had one kid totally eat shit in the mud, pee his pants on purpose and complain the whole way up. We don't even have to hint which one that is.<br />
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I jumped out of a plane! For the first and hopefully the last time. <br />
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I traveled outside of the state twice. Traveled to the beach 4 separate times. Managed to not run away for good. <br />
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I attended my FIRST Sounders game, got to catch a Mariner's game for the first time since Ryan was born, a Rainier's game, five concerts, including FINALLY seeing Taylor Swift. <br />
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I only posted about Taylor Swift on Facebook 19 times this year. <br />
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I saw my Grandparents for the first time in 3 years and stayed at their place for the first time since I was a little girl. Channeled all of my self control and didn't TP the neighborhood. <br />
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Tristan turned 5, Ryan turned 4, and Mommy turned 21 again!<br />
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One of my best friends got married!<br />
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And another best friend got engaged! <br />
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I went on a lot of dates... Me and the wine aisle got a whole lot closer.<br />
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Tristan entered KINDERGARTEN. We all cried. Except him. He ran as fast as he could to get there and didn't even say bye to me. <br />
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Tristan played on his first rec soccer team-- Ryan happily cheered from the sidelines making friends with all the snack Mom (s) -- free from rules, exercise, and discipline. <br />
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We MOVED! One whole mile away -- But this Mama got herself a bedroom. I don't officially have doors yet but I'm not sleeping in the living room and that's something to celebrate.<br />
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I started the long, treacherous journey to Nursing school- 3 quarters down and so many more left, I haven't counted. I began a serious relationship with my coffee pot and learned to be thankful that my barista's pretend not to notice when I roll through for the third time that day.<br />
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I forgave my parents for not being perfect because one day I heard myself say "Die quietly" & "I'd lose my head if it wasn't attached" and I realized those apples didn't even roll when they fell from the tree.<br />
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I BOUGHT A HAMMOCK. I created my happy place. I mastered the art of parenting without having to get out of the hammock, tricked my kids into cuddling with me, taught them how to bring me <strike>beer</strike> from the fridge. <br />
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I fell even more in love with all the people in my life. <br />
<br />
2015 was so amazing-- although far from perfect-- I cried a lot, had my heart broken, didn't win the lottery again, and fell on my ass a few times, BUT-- I lived and I had a hell of a time doing it. <br />
<br />
In 2016<br />
<br />
I have no specific goals except to keep kicking ass and loving life. I plan to take all the risks my heart tells me to, soak up all the snuggles I can get from my boys, and never miss an opportunity to tell all the people I love that I think they're rad AF and I'm glad they're in my life.<br />
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Onward & upward my friends! <br />
Happy New Year!!<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16161746734690798049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1675555985988086500.post-77161325488475154502015-11-23T15:14:00.001-08:002015-11-23T15:14:43.115-08:00How to be found<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><u>Lost & Found</u></span></div>
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<u><i><br /></i></u></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>How I got through some seriously tough shit without ever seeing a therapist</i></div>
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<br />
For someone so open, vocal and outspoken, this might come as a shock-- BUT I have this really bad habit of keeping certain aspects of my life to myself. And not in a healthy, privacy kind of way. In like, a "I don't want to hear what other people think because I know I'm wrong" kind of way. Or if I really need help I won't ask for it. If things get too hard, I tend to internalize it until I just can't take it anymore and then it all comes out in some really insane way, like throwing my keys at my ex-boyfriend while he was on duty as a police officer.<br />
<br />
I'd like to say that was years ago, and wow I've learned so much since then, but that isn't all true. It happened last spring and it's a night I replay in my head frequently. Not only did I absolutely lose my shit, but I did it in front of a lot of people. Coworkers, strangers, people who I had been interacting with on a regular basis for a year and a half. Do you ever want to disappear?<br />
<br />
Rock bottom? Maybe.<br />
<br />
While it wasn't years ago, I can say that I HAVE learned a lot since then. <br />
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I had to re-find myself. Again. I get lost every now and then. <br />
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LOST:<br />
About 10 years ago, something happened to me that changed my life. Up until this point in my life, I had never thought that "it would happen to me". I had that teenage invincible cloak on and I definitely thought I could do whatever I wanted and things would still be okay. I had also never kept a secret from anyone. Two things happened: I learned how to keep a secret, and I realized that it DID just happen to me.<br />
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FOUND: Ok, so I cried and I moved on. (This isn't really called being found... this is called stumbling through life.)<br />
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LOST: 2 years later, that whole "it won't ever happen to me" happened again. I'm sitting in my car at 7 AM with a bloody nose, a black eye, and a broken cheekbone. The right side of my face had swollen so much my face was borderline unrecognizable. I was as shell shocked as if this had been the first time he had ever hit me. I found a pair of sunglasses in the glovebox, put my hood on and went inside. I cleaned the blood off, and then I did the craziest thing I've ever done. I called into work and then I went to bed. I stayed in that relationship and I kept that secret too. <br />
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FOUND: Met the loves of my life. Two tiny humans made their way into my heart and tore down all my walls. It's funny because people always think that when you become strong, you become hard. But I found my strength in them, and my heart got a little softer.<br />
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LOST: Things start getting tough in my marriage. I also had a lot of extra baby weight and it was making me hate myself. A lot of self-loathing. I joined a gym and I started working out. That helped with the weight and got me out of the house, but it didn't change me.<br />
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FOUND: What really changed me was when I started running. I'm a terrible runner. I run slow and if I have to run over 5 miles it turns into a stop and go situation. It's hard to believe now, but there was a time that I was actually WORSE than I am now. The first time I went out for a run, all I could think was surely I've gone half a mile by now, wtf I can't breathe. Nike plus said .25 miles. I went home. <br />
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I'm not entirely sure why, but I kept doing it. There was something about the idea that if I just kept putting one foot in front of the other I could keep going. I started running away from my house as far as I could in order to force myself to run the distance instead of face the shame of having to walk back. It wasn't just the physical challenge, it was the music, the alone time... it was all of it. It felt good. I felt good. It felt like the therapy I couldn't afford. So I just kept on going. I laced up whenever I could and I got lost in it. Or rather, I got found in it...<br />
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LOST: Fast forward a couple years and my life is completely falling apart for the 17th time in my life. The stress of being a single mom has kicked in, working 2-3 jobs and I still can't afford all my bills, my on and off again "relationship" is hitting an all time low and causing a lot of depression and anxiety, and my jeans don't fit.<br />
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FOUND: And then my best friend returns from her travels abroad/out of state move. You never realize how much you miss/love someone until you haven't seen them in months and you finally see each other again and realize you're still 14 years old-- crying over boys, laughing at cat memes, taking double chin selfies, but mostly understanding each other in silence. Dare I say, my soulmate. We have surely had our ups and downs, even months of fights where we swore we'd never be friends ever again. I think through the years, we have learned a couple things but mostly that life is too short to fight over boys and other trivial shit. So we were both a little broken, but still insanely weird and nobody else gets us. Some things had changed but the best things hadn't. We both needed some extra exercise and less booze and thought some fresh air would do us some good. We set out for our first hike together to see what the hype was all about and I swear, it was one of those days I'll never forget. I can't remember what we talked about. All I remember is sitting on top of a mountain with this person who just fucking got it. You know when you say, "You know what I mean?" and the other person says "Yeah, man" and you know that they do. That's how I felt. I finally felt like none of the shit below me mattered. Who cares?<br />
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We didn't. We drank our coffee and sat on top of the world and gave zero fucks to anyone else that day. We were just happy in the company of each other, free from judgement and free from the trivial things that won't matter in a year.<br />
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<i>(Those who matter don't mind, and those who mind don't matter- Dr. Seuss )</i><br />
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<b>How to get found:</b><br />
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Accept that we are only human. We don't always make the best decisions or know the right thing to do. Sometimes we do things because they feel right, and then it doesn't work out. You can have every good intention in the world, and still somehow end up off the trail because of outside forces. Maybe the trail was closed, or unexpected winds came. Maybe you just didn't use your map because you're a rebel like that. Or the road less traveled looked really appeasing and now you don't know where the fuck you are. Sometimes we get lost and we have to go in search of finding ourselves again, and through the years I've learned that it's totally okay... as long as you keep coming back. It's taken me years to re-find myself, and I've had a hell of a good time doing it. I mean, I jumped out of a plane this year. I ran a lot and I wandered through the woods a lot. I made a couple giant mistakes, I made an ass out of myself, I lost a couple friends along the way, and I gained a few. I accomplished a lot, and I was humbled to the floor. I just lived. And you know what, I'll probably get lost again and I'll have to start all over again. And it'll be another chapter in my adventurous story.<br />
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I've learned that sometimes you get a little lost and you can use your own sense of direction to get you back. You'll be back by dinner and nobody will have noticed. Sometimes though, we travel a little farther off the trail and we might miss dinner and those we eat with might be concerned. And other times we'll get really lost and we won't be able to find our way back on our own. We'll need a search and rescue team.<br />
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But here's the thing: you have to want to be found. People that want to be lost don't send smoke signals for rescue teams.<br />
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So go for a hike. Get a little lost. But send the smoke signals. Call your best friend, or your mom. If you don't ask for help, you won't ever get it.<br />
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Always be prepared. There's a reason hikers and climbers bring bags-- emergency kits, flares, extra jackets, water, food, etc. Because it <i>can happen to you</i>.<br />
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When you get to the top, the view is so worth the struggle. I've never met a person that huffed and puffed up a mountain only to say, "Well this sucks".<br />
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And last but not least, bring a beer or something. Cake. Bring cake. Celebrate your victories. Afterall, you did just make it to the top of a mountain and the view is so good.<br />
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Here's the best part: I finally got myself a therapist. Maybe this time, I won't get so lost.<br />
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I can't ever say it enough-- but in the spirit of being thankful this month... I am beyond thankful for my search and rescue team. Thanks for finding me and bringing me back.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16161746734690798049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1675555985988086500.post-85481068477798113582015-09-15T13:14:00.000-07:002015-09-15T13:41:15.951-07:00Sappy Kindergarten Mom Post<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>Gosh, I can't believe this day that I've looked forward to has finally come! <br>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTX8A_T5vmmh0NgUFtk343zI-cctzOeaLE0k-elJ96JkqEev2Ss8SKfc0Zmk6adrJKR8e4bo-VhX3eGGWq61axQxSDKQjLQOCA24R5ssOvZKqLI4Ho3xVkSwK0IZoIfpwFw3eB6_1pI6o/s640/blogger-image--176025880.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTX8A_T5vmmh0NgUFtk343zI-cctzOeaLE0k-elJ96JkqEev2Ss8SKfc0Zmk6adrJKR8e4bo-VhX3eGGWq61axQxSDKQjLQOCA24R5ssOvZKqLI4Ho3xVkSwK0IZoIfpwFw3eB6_1pI6o/s640/blogger-image--176025880.jpg"></a></div><br>
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Yeah, you read that right. I HAVE BEEN LOOKING FORWARD TO THIS FOR FOREVER. <div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguB3YlOEV9YCYLcu_BfGQjA-FQHp5VKFcOLWFrdTUpms63UYeL76j_KBOKGiitaobx7tb7d7y-yXbMgQl2cFIG9pyz2FwXkacv_wvzdkA5oLV2mdtQpOf8Wh9BeQe7B7LV56NdfIuaERo/s640/blogger-image-1857801125.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguB3YlOEV9YCYLcu_BfGQjA-FQHp5VKFcOLWFrdTUpms63UYeL76j_KBOKGiitaobx7tb7d7y-yXbMgQl2cFIG9pyz2FwXkacv_wvzdkA5oLV2mdtQpOf8Wh9BeQe7B7LV56NdfIuaERo/s640/blogger-image-1857801125.jpg"></a></div><br><div><br></div><div>My child woke up and immediately asked if he was taller. We measured him and all hell broke loose. He was FREAKING out because he wasn't tall enough to start Kindergarten. Oh boy, off to a great start.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE27itCKliJSTKbec-jOtDRpNLke_37stQuy72LMUQp0ivgkSl6NhOuaQhEcShM_8wyfDkyCpOgp5DtTSeaI0gxYfjbQoqo18f42k-5Eq5297RQdrlhg2WKXc1ubA1TWGA0W_nwXs6kZU/s640/blogger-image--1883655377.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE27itCKliJSTKbec-jOtDRpNLke_37stQuy72LMUQp0ivgkSl6NhOuaQhEcShM_8wyfDkyCpOgp5DtTSeaI0gxYfjbQoqo18f42k-5Eq5297RQdrlhg2WKXc1ubA1TWGA0W_nwXs6kZU/s640/blogger-image--1883655377.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>I insisted that he was old enough, and tall enough and that he HAD to start Kindergarten.<br><div>
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I've never been a helicopter Mom. In fact, I apologize to my Mom-Friends that ARE helicopter Moms but seriously, sit down, you're irritating me. Don't be offended. My parenting style makes some people irritated with me too, so I understand. I'm mostly non-judgemental, I actually feel bad for you. I know it's just natural for you to worry and maybe you genuinely believe that hovering over your children will benefit them. I prefer the hands off approach and I genuinely believe in my approach as well. I'm a relaxed parent and some people think this means I don't care. I have an inappropriate sense of humor and I have found it physically impossible to help my kids do something they surely can figure out on their own. But don't be mistaken, I definitely care. I have high expectations of my kids: I require please and thank you's and I expect them to pick up after themselves and tell me they love me. I want them to be self-sufficient human beings. I also want to carry on with my independent life. I love my children fiercely but I also really love naps. <br>
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Kindergarten = Mommy naptime<br>
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Seriously, in my wildest dreams, I have envisioned a day where I would be able to take a nap and wake up to find my home exactly the way I left it when I fell asleep. My kids have been known to "take naps" in their room that lead to complete and total chaos. Apparently it's necessary to take every single toy out and throw it on the floor in order to fall asleep. <br>
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I've also dreamt of going to the grocery store in peace. One kid = peace. Two kids = war. Its far easier to bribe one child than it is to convince both children of the same bribery. <br>
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To say I was far more disappointed with the first day of Kindergarten would be an understatement. Ryan was so bored with me that he never left my side. "Will you play with me?" "I'm hungry" "I'm still hungry" "I want a sandwich with nothing on it" "Will you build my Batman legos for me?". He kept retrieving snacks from the cupboard for Tristan, you know... for when he gets home from Kindergarten. Because he will clearly need 7 packs of fruit snacks, a banana and 2 applesauces. I guess they don't feed them when they go to school jail. I tried to take a nap but you know how that works. Everyone and their mom finally decides to text and call me the minute my head hits the pillow. When my body is vertical and I'm fully caffeinated...nobody ever calls me! <br>
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The most disappointing thing happened when I dropped Tristan off. HE DIDN'T EVEN SAY BYE TO ME! I was distracted by this adorable little girl in a Maxi skirt and blazer who REALLY didn't want to go to Kindergarten. She hadn't even set foot on that magic circle rug but she HATED Kindergarten. I helped Tristan hang up his backpack in his locker, put his lunch box away and was standing there watching the scene play out when I realized my kid disappeared. I peeked my head inside the classroom to find him sitting on the rug fist pounding a little boy he just met. To disturb... or not to disturb. That was the question. AHH. I thought I could handle this! I kind of expected him to be shy and want to hug me and you know, maybe not want me to leave. He IS my sensitive one after all. But he didn't even care. I cried a little inside, but held it together. <br>
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I yelled to him and said, "Hey bud. I'm gonna leave, ok?" and he said "Bye Mom!"<br>
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As I walked back to my apartment (Hey, we live across the street, this is so cool!)... I really felt like man, I should put this kid in his place. I felt like the whole I BIRTHED YOU WITH NO DRUGS card could really come in handy right now. <br>
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When I picked him up, I asked him how his day was. "Awesome, of course." I asked what he did, what he learned, if he remembered his teachers name, if he made any new friends. I was HOVERING. I HAD TO. He told me "I have a lot of work to do, Ok Mom." I said, "Ok, yeah. Well I can help you if you need. What kind of work do you have to do?" and he told me "Just a lot of stuff but I don't need to tell you about it ok?" WOAH. Why so many secrets little child? So I had to set him straight. We worked it out. I explained that I'm the mother and that my job is to help him and I need and want to know what's going on at school and like the good child that he is (can't take credit for this, he was literally just born this way) said, "Ok Mom, you can help me". <br>
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So it's official. My little tiny human just entered the big scary world. It wasn't until the moment it was happening that I really didn't want it to happen. The realization that the baby phase is leaving my life just hit me. Nobody needs my help anymore? Are you sure you don't want me to come with? I'll just sit quietly, I won't bother you. I can't just take you wherever I want, whenever I want? My little buddy who has HAD to come with me everywhere is going to start his own independent life. My heart was breaking a little bit at the thought of not knowing all the details of his day, but I couldn't help it. I'm so excited for him. This is where it all begins. The fun. I had to be a little excited for him, remembering my own mischief I got into at the ripe elementary status. Some of my best memories came from elementary school. Some of my best friends came from Elementary school. <br>
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I mean, at least I didn't cry. <br>
<br>
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<br>
<br>
<br>
</div></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16161746734690798049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1675555985988086500.post-7333509143597640302015-09-13T15:06:00.000-07:002015-09-13T15:06:52.515-07:00I'M WRITING A BOOK!So, as some of you know... <br />
<br />
I've been writing a book. <br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
I know right? Like, for real? Is she serious? Who does she think she is? <br />
<br />
I think I'm Ashley Thompson and I have a GREAT story. <br />
Some people are probably going to end up hating me WHEN the book comes out (not if), but that's okay. I just felt like this is it. This is my story. I've been waiting my whole life for my story. <br />
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I've wanted to write a book my entire life. For as long as I can remember. Some kids say, I'm going to be an astronaut! My 5 year old wants to be a racecar driver and my 4 year old wants to be a Police Officer some days and a Firefighter on others, but mostly he wants to be Batman. But I, I wanted to be an author. Not a writer. I've been that for as long as I've been left handed. But an author. I wanted to write a book. <br />
<br />
I never knew what I was going to write about. I mean, there are SO MANY THINGS I can talk about. I'm sure all of my Facebook friends can agree. They probably scroll through their feed and think, GOOD GOD LADY GIVE IT A REST. But that's what happens when you live with Toddlers and all your friends are getting married.<br />
<br />
Even after I decided that I was going to write a book, I tried to narrow it down. Literally, my life should have been a book. I do a lot of really weird things and people tell me on a regular basis that I should write a book. I don't see things in black and white, and therefore I end up losing in the game "I have never" consistently. But I couldn't write about most things in my life because well, I have parents. And they're still alive. <br />
<br />
But I have been given a gift. It's a gift of being able to talk a lot. Some of you might not think it's a gift. But I've come to accept that I'm just not for everyone. I once had a guy tell me I post too much on Facebook and that's why he didn't want to date me. HA. What I really wanted to tell him was that if he thinks I post a lot, you should just meet me in person. I can dominate a conversation like nobody's business. It's why my best friend and I have been friends for so long; because she's quiet and shy and I just talk talk talk and pry things out of her. She doesn't even have to ask me what's going on in my life because I volunteer that in the first 20 minutes. I realized way too late in life that these are the type of people I should stick with-- the people that just like me, that accept me and have the balls to tell me to shut up so they can talk ( I have friends like that too, I LOVE YOU GUYS). <br />
<br />
My favorite boyfriend (yes, I have favorites) told me once a couple years after we broke up. "It was so awesome dating you. I'd just sit there and nod and smile and play my video games and you'd just go on for hours and you never ran out of things to talk about". That's why he's my favorite. God damnit, the ones that get away. (I was an asshole)<br />
<br />
So anyway, it finally hit me. THIS IS IT. This is what I am supposed to write about. <br />
<br />
This book is gonna be good. And not like how my blog is good. I don't even proofread this shit. I just type away, close my eyes, and click publish. But I've got a story to tell, and it's important and I hope it changes a few lives. <br />
<br />
So yeah, that's it. That was the only reason I called you all here to read my blog; to tell you that. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16161746734690798049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1675555985988086500.post-54734376844303746472015-08-28T18:33:00.005-07:002015-08-28T22:36:13.460-07:00All my friends are getting married.All my friends are getting married and I'm just stocking up on self-help books, dating Mr. Right Now and getting so drunk I can't find my phone. Oh and a divorce. I'm getting a divorce!<br />
<br />
... I feel like the plague. <br />
<br />
My divorce was the best thing that happened to me (besides my kids) and my marriage was the second, (besides my kids). So, in order that makes the minions to be the best thing, the divorce second and the marriage 3rd. I have no bitterness or sadness about that, and it doesn't make me any less happy for my friends that are getting married. None of their engagements weren't all THAT surprising...You know how people say you just know. So do us friends. It has all felt very natural, like the next thing to happen for them. I could not imagine them with anyone else and I am beyond thrilled for them. Do I still worry about them? Yes. Maybe it's the motherly nature I've developed, or maybe its my experience. But either way, I am worried. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi61R9fflXeR6fztTCEh2TRolgxl_R6Hw6H1gkRJz5ohM4tDmn-HSk174QvCconC1NEt-d2DN3MYzDCfGs5Z7DvSJOc8TD5Fdz-MOxsBknuj3YW5GnLnxTP0GfEm5fD9G7yZmydRkLl5Ac/s1600/IMG_1890.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi61R9fflXeR6fztTCEh2TRolgxl_R6Hw6H1gkRJz5ohM4tDmn-HSk174QvCconC1NEt-d2DN3MYzDCfGs5Z7DvSJOc8TD5Fdz-MOxsBknuj3YW5GnLnxTP0GfEm5fD9G7yZmydRkLl5Ac/s320/IMG_1890.JPG" width="213" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikE0gBy1smvfnzAGk0bHmRcULEcV6k4U7tZgbgnitnOO7cJUmrEcJTcxuq1ZcndgnapuYMBqwiMmAROytwZ7WXpKSiHhSAi_5xsBxEAv4EHh-eIYFQQnpof6q5CWip3bO2ka3xdVanshw/s1600/IMG_3769.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikE0gBy1smvfnzAGk0bHmRcULEcV6k4U7tZgbgnitnOO7cJUmrEcJTcxuq1ZcndgnapuYMBqwiMmAROytwZ7WXpKSiHhSAi_5xsBxEAv4EHh-eIYFQQnpof6q5CWip3bO2ka3xdVanshw/s320/IMG_3769.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I married the right guy and I still got divorced. <br />
<br />
It's been a tradition amongst me and my friends for a long time for me to be the one that dives in head first only to realize it's a pond, not a lake and I come up with a bloody head and a concussion. They learn from my mistakes. So for tradition sake, and because I love these people more than words could ever express... as well, as kinda like standing on a soap box every now and then... here's some marriage advice from a soon-to-be divorce'...<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidlcxi4dpklfMCoUZ-w7Awmgai_3sbKaLmZWCRdonpt7lXNSM8pz9ImkLbi5hRsBnKvVsXVvLHxlwokTgk0xt7T7xq0Xu0NE4GXJL570R3kxMoOiAXAinzxsLNOlhiI_eKmBYxIsixxUI/s1600/IMG_4890.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidlcxi4dpklfMCoUZ-w7Awmgai_3sbKaLmZWCRdonpt7lXNSM8pz9ImkLbi5hRsBnKvVsXVvLHxlwokTgk0xt7T7xq0Xu0NE4GXJL570R3kxMoOiAXAinzxsLNOlhiI_eKmBYxIsixxUI/s320/IMG_4890.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">To my knowledge, my divorce had nothing to do with my lack of baking skills...although one can never be too sure. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It is no secret that I openly tell people that I love my husband. Err...soon to be ex-husband. You know, the one that I am divorcing, have lived a separate life from for over 2 years now, and the same one that I refuse to work things out with. The way I describe it now is "unconditional love". Nobody pisses me off more and there's not any other soul I would go to the end of the world for. But if you ask me to live in the same house again, I'll politely say I have other plans. (I'm also in love with a different man some days, so don't get this all twisted.)<br />
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<br />
<br />
Aw, aren't we cute! So, like... Why did we get divorced?<br />
<br />
Well, that's none of your business. But the real reason we got divorced is this:<br />
<ul>
<li>While we had a great relationship, we were the best of friends and I believe he may just have been "the one"... we didn't have the tools we needed to learn how to function when we didn't agree. And we didn't agree on a lot of things.</li>
<li>
While we were busy baby-making, producing those babies, and tending to their every need, we forgot about taking care of each other. </li>
<li>The little things became the big things. </li>
</ul>
Of course, I didn't know any of this WHILE I was married. <br />
<br />
So first, let me preface this: Marriage a balancing act, so don't be surprised when some of this contradicts the other And if you've heard it a million times, I'm sorry for that too but it just means I'm as wise now as the rest of the world tried to make me 5 years, so read this and take it to heart because I'm not getting paid for this.<br />
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& FINALLY: <br />
<br />
1. Go to bed mad sometimes if you must. If it's 4am and you have to work at 6, call it a night and vow to come back to it. Don't sweep it under the rug, but a fresh head might help. THE COUCH IS OFF LIMITS. You wanna go to bed mad, that's your choice but you get to share the bed with that infuriating human being because you actually love them and they just really make you mad sometimes. Also, you might wake up to find that the other person is cuddling you in their sleep :)<br />
<br />
2. The little things become the big things, both good and bad. Don't forget all the little things that made your heart race. Don't ALWAYS overlook the little annoyances. If it's a big deal to your spouse, but it's not to you...take that to heart, and make an effort. <br />
<br />
3. PICK YOUR BATTLES. Express your feelings, but realize that sometimes it's best to let it go. Like, say if he always puts his boxers just outside of the hamper, instead of in it. Let that one go and focus on getting to places on time. <br />
<br />
3. Date night: you HAVE to do it. Even if you're tired and you don't want to get dressed. Redbox & your couch do not qualify as date night. Neither does the restaurant you take your (future) kids to. <br />
<br />
4. Learn to say you're sorry and what that word means. Sorry means you won't do it again (this is what I tell my 3 &5 year olds, but it's the truth. Sorry means nothing if you keep doing it and use the word only for forgiveness).<br />
<br />
5. The marriage comes before the kids. Can.Not.Stress.This.Enough.<br />
<br />
6. Don't let sweatpants get the best of you. Yeah, I'm talking to you.<br />
<br />
7. Learn how to argue. Without yelling. without name calling. Read all the books, see all the therapists. Do whatever you can to learn how to have a healthy argument. This is so important. There will be stressful times. You will argue. <br />
<br />
8. Develop interests together. Don't get boring. Getting comfortable is awesome! It's the best part of marriage, but getting lazy and boring is not good for anyone. This also doesn't include family activities when the kids come. This is strictly for the two of you to do just the two of you, or with another couple occasionally if you choose. <br />
<br />
9. Have your own interests. This doesn't mean liking your own show. This means find something that makes you happy. That you can go and do when you need some space. <br />
<br />
10. This one is tricky so here's the best advice I can offer on this subject: Choose wisely who AND WHAT you vent to/about. It's not healthy to bottle everything in but venting to your Mom or all of your friends about EVERYTHING isn't good either. Venting to coworkers is a no go, and that random new friend that is attractive is a no go as well. You cant vent to me and I'll nod and smile and pretend to listen and I'm really good at not taking sides. You'll get it out of your system, I'll get free wine. It's a win win. That's what I'm here for. <br />
<br />
11. If you never stop doing what you did to win this person over, you'll never lose them. <br />
<br />
12. Love is like your favorite comfy sweatshirt. You have to take really good care of it to make it last so long. (you also can't get fat. Don't do that anyway, unless there's a baby in you.)<br />
<br />
13. Don't forget about your friends. Ok, this one had a slightly ulterior motive. But don't forget about me!!! <br />
<br />
And last but not least....<br />
<br />
Sometimes... the worse, comes before the better. <br />
<br />
Hindsight is 20/20 and if I had known what I know now, I would have done things differently. I would have listened to the advice that was given, I would have backed down a few times, and I would have tried a little harder. But I didn't and now I'm here and maybe this is why... so that I can help my friends determine what is and isn't worth it, and share my insight. I'm not nearly as expensive as a professional counselor, I only want your company and free wine.<br />
<br />
xoxo, <br />
Best wishes, congrats, good luck, break a leg, etc etc to all of my soon to be wed friends!!<br />
<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16161746734690798049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1675555985988086500.post-84725098162843993722015-08-24T10:17:00.000-07:002015-08-24T10:17:48.745-07:00Self Help: Get the F*ck Over It<div>
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I spend a lot of time thinking about my "About Me" section on various dating sites that I don't really use for any reason other than its nice to get messages from guys that think I'm attractive. Who cares if they haven't seen the inside of a gym, or a shower in years. Oh hey 48 year old man with a beer belly 3 times the size of my ass... I'm super glad you like my hammock. I mean it's great that you would like to get to know me and have dropped your unique pick up line that you created strictly for this site. Really, it is. I'm flattered and I'm also never going to respond. <br />
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<span id="goog_873305078"></span><span id="goog_873305079"></span><br />
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Anyway, I frequently contemplate what to write. Is it too crazy to just flat out write "I'M A F*CKING PSCYHO" or should I be somewhat more nonchalant about it "All good things are wild & free"-- which is code for I'm a crazy ass b*tch. I've noticed, the less you write...the more messages you get. They all say the same thing "You're so mysterious." "I'm so curious about you" blah blah blah. So I like to lay it all out there, like really let them know what they're getting into. Less messages to sift through. </div>
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<br />
"Hi, my name is Ashley. If we go on a date and you treat me like crap, I will blog about it and blame my single status on the sole basis that all men are the same, therefore you will single handedly be responsible for men sucking everywhere."<br />
<br />
Anyway.<br />
<br />
Did you know what I'm a self-help book lover? I bet you didn't. You probably just think I have all this wisdom from my extensive life experience full of 27 years of bad judgement. Nope. Everything I learned, I learned in the self-help aisle. (also known as the wine aisle)<br />
<br />
But seriously. Whenever I have been in the depths of emotions, despair...when I CANT EVEN.. I head to Barnes and Noble and stock up on a load of self-help books. <br />
<br />
CLEARLY THEY'RE NOT DOING THEIR JOB. <br />
<br />
So as I'm browsing Amazon for help on getting over my latest love affair. OH WAIT, you mean the one I wrote about 6 months ago? Yeah, that one... I realize that while I've been putting books into my cart, I've also just written the best About Me I can think of, via book titles: <br />
<br />
"Don't worry, it gets worse"<br />
"My boyfriend wrote a book about me"<br />
"Psychos"<br />
"White Girl Problems"<br />
"I was told there'd be cake"<br />
"Life as I Blow it"<br />
"Bitter is the new black"<br />
"You can't drink all day if you don't start in the morning"<br />
<br />
If this doesn't accurately depict my life... then I don't know what does.<br />
<br />
I scanned past all of the titles <br />
"Rebuilding" <br />
"Getting past your breakup"<br />
<br />
aka how to suffocate. <br />
<br />
I wish I could find my answers in a book like that. But I can't. <br />
<br />
I'm looking for a book that is going to slap me in the face and tell me to "Get the F*ck over it" <br />
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So instead of drowning myself in boring advice that may actually help me, I indulge in hilarious novels that make me feel better about myself. I get to read about inappropriate things that don't have my name stamped across it, laugh my ass off at someone else's misfortune, and get my self-help by the gaining the knowledge that I'm not the only seriously f*cked up person out there, because someone had to write that and tons of people are reading it. Solidarity, my crazy friends.<br />
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<br /></div>
<div>
<br />
But seriously, can someone write a book for me so I can reference back to it every other hour when I need to be reminded to get the f*ck over it. He's just a boy. <br />
<br />
Please & thank you. <br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16161746734690798049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1675555985988086500.post-19698300844112285232015-08-06T22:22:00.001-07:002015-08-07T15:54:17.397-07:002 Year Celebration!<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">2 years!!!!!</span></div>
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Since my little life got flip turned upside down. </div>
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Kind crazy to think about-- It feels like yesterday and an entire lifetime ago all at the same time. <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
I will never stop celebrating. I will never stop feeling grateful for each and every moment I spend in this "new life". I will forever be grateful for all the stones in the road. I am building a castle. (Didn't you hear stones are expensive these days?) <br />
<br />
They say you don't find your strength without the struggle. Well, the struggle over here has been realer than real. But it's said for a reason. It isn't until you're 11 hours deep into a shift after pulling an all nighter from doing homework, or trying to find childcare 25 minutes before you have to be at work, selling baby items for gas money that you realize... I'm going to be okay. No matter what.<br />
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I'm going to be okay because this is what I want. I chose this. The weight that was lifted, and the security and confidence that came with my choices is worth all the long days, the seriously endless pile of laundry, and the missing picket fence. <br />
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<br />
My transition from Stay-at-Home Mom and Housewife to Single Mother has been less than easy. <br />
<br />
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<br />
I survived because of endless living room dance parties to "Shake it Off", because of great friends who just asked "What do you need? How can I help". Because of Mimosa's and brunch in the same clothes as last night. I survived because of little baby feet in my face, goodnight texts, hammocks, porch parties, and great neighbors. People I just met believing in me, my PIMA family. I survived because I hit my feet to the pavement over and over, found my passion, found myself. Because of all the people that wanted to see me fail. I saw their faces in the back of my mind each and every time I wanted to give up. <br />
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So for that, I celebrate! I try to be grateful each and every day, and I try to remember. My journey won't be easy, but there is a reason behind it and that reason gives me the strength I need when I want to chuck plates at the wall.<br />
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Home is anywhere I make it. <br />
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Things will never be perfect. I will always have to explain why I can't go with them to Daddy's house. I will always have to explain why we take separate trips. And some day I'm going to have to explain why Mommy and Daddy decided to live apart. <br />
<br />
BUT GUESS WHAT!!<br />
<br />
My parents did it. Some of my friends parents did it. <br />
I think we're all okay. <br />
<br />
"A little messed up, but we're all okay"<br />
<br />
& guess what else...<br />
<br />
There is life. There is love. There is hot sex. There is laughter. There is peace. There is family. <br />
<br />
....after divorce.<br />
<br />
Marriage is glamorized. Being a hard working single mother is glamorized.<br />
<br />
Nobody talks about, blogs about, photographs the late nights where they're crying and arguing with a spouse, crying because they know they're only going to get 4 hours of sleep, they don't reveal the loneliness that can occur in and out of marriages, the financial and emotional strain that comes with children. Who wants to post about their long DSHS call while their single, childless friends post about how some guy at the gas station was using their tax dollars to buy food, who wants to take a picture of the baby puke that just flew all over them in the middle of the night, the moments that make you question your ability to parent all at the same time, because somebody might call CPS. Nobody posts the thoughts that make them wonder if they're cut out for motherhood. Or the thoughts that make you think you should've just been a stripper....(not my thoughts, I swear.....#ihatemath)...<br />
<br />
& that's okay. Because who wants to dwell in that? <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Let's celebrate!</span> <br />
<br />
#HAPPYTWOYEARS! <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16161746734690798049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1675555985988086500.post-61964825615969500302015-02-19T18:53:00.000-08:002015-02-19T18:53:57.778-08:00Less House More Home<br />
Something I've been working on since the big separation/move is grasping and accepting the idea that I do not need everything. I don't need a big fancy house or a big fancy car. I don't need to have all the things.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I have everything I need.</span></div>
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(this does not change me from wanting all of the things)<br />
<br />
I'm trying to create my life from the inside out. It doesn't look like much... but it is.<br />
<br />
You may remember my post about my very first <a href="http://www.aethompson.blogspot.com/2013/08/apartment-in-city.html">Single Mama Apartment</a>-- when I moved out here, I had a couple twin mattresses and nothing on my walls.<br />
<br />
Things have changed.<br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I've created a home.</span></div>
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With our upcoming move... I couldn't help but feel nostalgic about this place I lovingly refer to as the ghetto.<br />
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<i>My babies turned into little boys in this place; Tristan learned to ride his bike in this driveway (and we didn't get shot), Ryan learned the fine art of dragging the chair into the kitchen to get what you want, I completed my first ever educational program (for those that don't know--didn't graduate high school, college dropout), and got my first big kid job...and then we all survived my commute, (and each other) for several months. Tristan learned to pee in the potty, and dress himself. I blinked and he learned to zip his coat up and put his own shoes on. I blinked and Ryan ate the whole tub of peanut butter. He went from barely being able to say 2, to never shutting up. Mommy learned that Champagne has calories. </i></div>
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I love this place. From the outside, it's nothing special. It's a crap neighborhood and a crap building, but we've done just fine here and I have cherished every moment inside this little apartment.</div>
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<i>But there is no feeling in the world like going home. </i></div>
<br />
You know when you're little and you pack your bag and announce that you're "running away!" and your Mom says, "Well, I will miss you." and helps you pack your bag. You sit on the driveway for 20 whole minutes before you finally give up and go in. But not without thinking "Well, I showed her. Next time, I'll actually leave!"<br />
<br />
You want to run away so somebody notices, or something like that. You're young, you're dumb. Your Mom just doesn't get it, clearly. But you know she loves you and it will break her heart if you leave.<br />
<br />
That's what it was like for me. Except I didn't sit on the driveway. Actually I did a few times, and then one day I just never went home. It wasn't a big plan, it was a split second decision and I went with it. I went with it every day until it was too late to go home.<br />
<br />
I just ran away.<br />
<br />
And then I had to start over. And I had to cope with what I did. And my God, it sucked.<br />
<br />
I am not a crier...(unless you give me some alcohol and then I'll cry because you looked at me funny or because Chloe isn't allowed to sleep on the bed and I simply can't understand why we made that rule, it's so mean). Instead I lay on the floor with my headphones and I turn the volume up until I drown out my thoughts... I go through several headphones yearly.<br />
<br />
So when I finally got the job offer, I did a little happy dance and then sat on the floor and cried.<br />
<br />
Happy tears. I finally realized that this empty feeling I've been carrying around felt a lot like being homesick. And moving to my hometown will be the closest thing to home I have been in almost 2 years. And then I cried some more. Like, had to re-do my makeup, ugly cry.<br />
<br />
I am relieved, to say the least. I feel like I'm closing a chapter. We'll call it the 'Lost Years' so that I have a name for the shit show my life has been.<br />
<br />
Of course, it hasn't been a total loss. Somewhere in this big mess that I made, I began to find things. I found my old self. The one that didn't have to go to play dates, or story time or keep up with Jones'. I found a boy that taught me that being paid attention to is nice, and I quite enjoy it. I found that my friends <strike>can be</strike> are the family I lost. I found that I can still be myself, and be a Mom.<br />
<br />
I'm not totally there yet, but I'm on my way.<br />
<br />
So with all that sappy sh*t, I thought I'd share my happy place.<br />
<br />
This place, with these kids, brought me such joy in some of the darkest times of my life.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Enjoy :)</span><br />
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It was a good day when I got a bed. </div>
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You don't even want to know how I transported it in my little 2 door Honda. </div>
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It's safe to say that my bed is the favorite. </div>
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Most nights I am joined by at least one little body, and occasionally two. Sometimes I laugh when I wake up to find that one of them has sprawled out at the foot of the bed and one is upside down. One morning I woke up to find that even Chloe had joined us (which she is not allowed to do) and I wasn't even mad. I didn't want to get out of bed. It's cozy this way. </div>
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Of course, just because certain things in my life have changed, doesn't mean I've completely changed. I still love a good trip to Ikea, a day full of Pinterest projects, and of course overspending at Target. </div>
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I have put my heart into making this place my own, and I love the way it's turned out. </div>
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Granted, I am still working on convincing the landlord to rip the carpet up...</div>
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But I like it here. It's home.</div>
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And just for fun, I made this video last summer and never posted it. An official home tour! :<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">We are happy here. </span></div>
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We are kind of bursting at the seams, but it just reminds us that we do not need all the things. </div>
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background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 218px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 8926px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="" style="background-color: transparent; background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="" style="background-color: transparent; background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16161746734690798049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1675555985988086500.post-17861629306296777222015-02-12T13:10:00.000-08:002015-02-12T13:10:39.164-08:00Let them be little; let them be wild<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Let them be a little wild </span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">On Hiking with Toddlers:</span></div>
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A little bit about my history with this great state, hiking and the PNW:</div>
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I've spent my life in Washington; a true Seattlelite and PNW-er by nature. I like my Starbucks and I grew up wearing socks with my sandals. I grew up in the Issaquah area, and spent some time in the city after high school. Born in Seattle, lived in Spokane for a few years as a toddler, moved back in the middle of Kindergarden. My grandpa built this gorgeous home (where my mother, an Issaquah High Alumni was raised) on Lake McDonald in Renton, and my grandparents were currently renting it out so they let my mom and her two rambunctious kids live there while she searched for a home. After about a year, my mom bought a nice big house in North Bend with a 1/2 acre yard, just about a mile from Rattlesnake Lake/Ridge. If you stood in my backyard and looked up, there was Mt. Si. </div>
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Being a true Issaquah native, my mother could imagine nothing but the best for her children and therefore she commuted us from North Bend to Issaquah for school so we could get an education and do something with our lives. (Someday, she will get over the disappointment)</div>
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Eventually I think the commute was wearing on her, and she gave in and moved us to the city of Issaquah when I was in 6th grade. </div>
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My mom is more of a mall going kind of woman-- she used to wear boots with heels to our soccer games; you know... a grassy field full of mud puddles and potholes. (We love her anyway) So had it not been for one of my best friends mother... I may never have seen anything but the inside of a mall. </div>
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Anyway, I spent a fair amount of time with my friend and her mother hiking (and swimming at) Rattlesnake, Little Si, playing down by the river with lots of tanning oil, and endless hours on the trails on Tiger Mountain and the Poo Poo Point trails, and probably plenty others that I don't remember... but eventually grew out of these things and had other interests such as lip gloss, boys, Myspace, underage drinking. </div>
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So while I am not a seasoned hiker, and haven't done a lot of the hikes I feel that I should have (guilt from living here my whole life)... I am also no stranger to it. I decided last year I wanted my boys to have this same kind of opportunity presented to them. Some of my best memories are laughing so hard you realize you have to pee and you're in the middle of the woods. Life lessons 101: learning to pee in the wilderness. You don't know you like something unless you do it, right? (Hiking, not peeing in public)</div>
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I was nervous about Ryan running off the top of the mountain. No, seriously. This was a true fear. If you've met Ryan, you know exactly why. But by the time we got to the top, the kid could barely keep his eyes open and his legs could go no further. </div>
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Things I learned on the trail with two toddlers:</div>
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1. The crew is the most important part; I am lucky enough to have the most patient friend in the world, and she has met an awesome guy and the two of them are such amazing people in my kids lives. Seriously, when I count my blessings, these two are at the top of the list. They were so patient with the pace of the kids, and the little tantrums Ryan began to throw when he was just about done. I lack patience and they are serious examples to me. Plus I get annoyed with the constant stream of questions on a daily basis so it's nice to have other people for the kids to talk to. </div>
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2. You can never bring enough water. Seriously. I brought each of us a water bottle, and an extra water bottle and they were all empty by the time we got to the bottom. </div>
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3. I should have carried a bigger bag; hiking with toddlers means trips and falls. While I did pack bandaids and rubbing alcohol, I should have carried a travel emergency kit as well, and a change of clothes for both kids plus wipes (even if your kid isn't in a pullup/diaper-- for mud). I only packed a change of clothes for one, and we used it. Also, garbage bags. For the wet, muddy clothes. </div>
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4. You can never have too many snacks. Fuel while going up, not just at the top. </div>
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5. It's not about the time it takes to get up there. The whole point of taking kids is to teach them and let them take it all in. They hear new noises and they want to know what it is. This is where my crew came in. I'm not so patient with these things (honestly, sometimes I just respond with a "yeah" when my kids talk too much"). </div>
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6. Be prepared to carry one. or both. Luckily, I just had to carry Ryan. He just couldn't quite make it all the way. On the way down, he was all songs and laughter for the first 10 minutes and then I heard a little buzz in my ear and sure enough, the kid was out cold the rest of the way down. But in retrospect, had one of them gotten too tired, and one had gotten hurt... they would have both needed to be carried. So my advice is to plan for that. If there's 3 adults, you don't need 3 backpacks. </div>
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7. TOWELS! For your car. Kicked myself for forgetting this. Especially if you bring your dog. </div>
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We had so much fun and I can't wait to plan the next hike with them!</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16161746734690798049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1675555985988086500.post-17403767320220605772015-02-10T10:00:00.000-08:002015-02-10T10:05:38.326-08:00Confessions of a TinderellaI. am. so. excited.<br />
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To talk about this:<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Dating. </span><br />
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I gotta be honest, I had never been on a real date before. I often tell people when Eric and I met that he came over one night and never left. There was no dating. I think he went home to shower and get clothes once or twice in the first week, and after that it was basically game over.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">I fed him lots of pizza, he was defenseless.</span></div>
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Our dates included Taco Time, pizza delivery, and late night Pita Pit runs. We were young and dumb and just wanted to party. We preferred to hold beer pong tournaments and endless nights of Kings Cup at our apartment. We were content and broke and dates just weren't appealing to us. After we mellowed out and our kids were born we did have a few "date nights" but it's really hard to consider going to get dinner with your own money, a date. It takes the fun out of ordering a $10 margarita.<br />
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A throwback to what we refer to as our "dating" days:<br />
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Our first Valentines Day, we were in the middle of apartment hunting and I was trying not to seem high maintenance, which of course was my first mistake. There are things I am not high maintenance in, such as my appearance (Yikes. I'm trying to be better about going in public looking homeless) and there are things I am high maintenance about, and getting attention from my man is on the top of that list. One thing I have learned about Eric in the past 7 or so years, is that HE'S NOT PRETENDING TO BE DUMB. Jk, jk. He's very smart. But men lack the ability to be mind readers and pick up on things-- such as the THE FOLDER ON THE COMPUTER THAT SAYS "ASHLEY'S CHRISTMAS WISHLIST"-- next relationship, I'll print it out and tape it to the toilet. Men always want something to read while they sit on the toilet.<br />
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Anyway... end tangeant. We spent the first half of Valentines Day with me sitting on the couch in a silent rage texting my BFF about what a jerk Eric was being, while he obliviously played video games with his friend. After he finally realized that I was dead silent, which is very rare and a sure sign that I'm secretly plotting your death in my head... he suggested we leave. I think we got half a mile before I snapped some sassy remark about WTF our plans were going to be, in which his response was "You said you didn't really care!" Ha, ha. Men.<br />
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We ended up at some fancy restaurant for $50 a plate and left pissed that we didn't just order a pizza.<br />
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So that sums up my dating experience.<br />
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Until I got this bright idea that I was going to break up with a guy that I was still completely in love with (You can read about him, <a href="http://www.aethompson.blogspot.com/2015/02/how-not-to-deal-with-breakup.html">here</a>). You think you grow out of the game playing and then you start not getting your way and here we are, back in 8th grade expecting men to understand that when we break up with you it's because you're doing something wrong and you should change it and find your way to back to us in a very romantic display of affection. Duh.<br />
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I had heard nothing about Tinder except that a coworker had met hot girls off of it.<br />
I downloaded the app at about midnight on a Friday night and within a couple hours I had something like 72 prospects. Holy hell, that was fun.<br />
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For those that don't know, Tinder is an app. Oh, I should mention a FREE app. Which means anyone with a smartphone can have one. Anyone. You pick guys (or girls, whatever) solely on their 5 pictures they're allowed and their quick bio. You swipe left which means "Nope" or right which means "Maybe" "Not sure" "He has a truck and a dog?! Future husband" "You'll do" or "You're hot, but I have nothing to say to you".<br />
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Things I've learned about the selection process:<br />
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<ul>
<li>There is no regret like accidentally swiping left on what should have been a right. </li>
<li>The guys that have shirtless selfies are the most likely to send you the "Hey, whats up?!" message...in which you will look at and not think about again until the next time they write "Hey!"</li>
<li>Group pictures: They either don't want you to know which one they are and hope you think they are the cute friend (which they're not) or they're stuck in college and want you to know what a bro they are and all the friends they have. (I have two... soooo your quantity of friends means nothing to me)</li>
<li>That guy that you have fun convo with but aren't sure because his pictures are hard to tell what he looks like.... you should date. He will be a fun date and even it doesn't work out, you might get lucky and snag a new friend out of it. (which would have upped my count to 3 if he didn't turn out to be such a douche)</li>
<li>Dont swipe left on people you know. It creates awkwardness. Like, wait... did they swipe because they know me...or because they're <i>into</i> me. I'm just going to unmatch immediately and pretend that didn't happen. </li>
<li>Tinder is used for hookups. No matter what they say. The end. (Sorry, Dad)</li>
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Once you're done with the swiping, you match with people. So people look at your 5 vainest selfies and read your short but sweet, quirky bio which hopefully gives off a vibe that you're not trying too hard but you're also not a drone and they either swipe left or right with shallow insight, just as you did. Inside their head they've already got their image of you before they've even talked to you. </div>
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Then the communication starts and that's where it gets weird. and fun. and awkward. I never had any intention of meeting anyone off of this so I was surprised when I agreed to give this guy my number. And then meet him 2 days later. After agreeing to meet him, I kinda panicked and immediately told him that I am friends with half the Tacoma Police Department and I have SWAT on speed dial. He overlooked the crazy, and ensured me he would not take me out into the woods and stuff me in a body bag. Phew. </div>
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While that guy (which some of you might remember as the "future 2nd husband") obviously didn't work out, and neither did the next 8, 9, or 15 others. .. I continued to have positive experiences, so I kept at it. It wasn't until I started to realize a pattern with these guys that I started to get frustrated with the whole dating process. And I also eventually deciphered the meaning of "I'm not looking for a hookup, but hey do you want to meet up for drinks?" which is exactly, "I'm looking for a hookup, but if the date goes well, I might call for a second one." </div>
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Ladies and gentlemen, no self respecting person that thinks you have the potential to be in their future would offer or settle for drinks. If you can't buy me an entire god damn salad, you probably can't fill up my gas tank either, and what else are boyfriends for?<br />
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Like I said, I had no prior dating experience! I had no idea what to expect, I didn't quite realize what jerks men could be and I didn't realize how bad I am at letting a guy down easy.<br />
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So after a couple months packed full of Tinder dates, I was overwhelmed and quite honestly, having a hard time keeping them straight. Nothing was feeling genuine because I couldn't remember if the guy lived in Gig Harbor or Seattle, and wait, which one is from Montana? So I took a step back and started screening my dates a little bit more cautiously. As in, I started saying no. I limited it to one guy at a time (this sounds like the obvious thing to do, but when 6 or 7 guys are messaging you daily, it's hard to pick just one). I stopped swiping all the time, and in fact, actually deleted my account off and on for several weeks at a time.<br />
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The further I got from my fairy tale relationship that was quickly turning into a nasty breakup, the more I realized what I needed to do. Dating is all about mindset. What you put out there is what you get and I wasn't putting out anything I would have wanted.<br />
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I started thinking of the places I was in when I met guys that I eventually had healthy relationships with, and I realized the key ingredient was me. So I took a break. I'm working on moving on from both my divorce and my last relationship and focusing on myself, my kids, and getting back into the gym. I haven't given up dating entirely, I'm just not putting my energy into it as much.<br />
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And that, my friends is only a sneak peak into the beginning of my dating adventures.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">(I have no idea why it didn't work out with anyone and I'm still single.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Look for my next dating post, where I introduce the </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Men you meet on Tinder" </span></div>
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<a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.blogger.com%2Fblogger.g%3FblogID%3D1675555985988086500%23editor&media=https%3A%2F%2Fimages-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com%2Fgadgets%2Fproxy%3Furl%3Dhttp%253A%252F%252F2.bp.blogspot.com%252F-13SzmfUHgqU%252FVNmyi3_1XOI%252FAAAAAAAAGc0%252FNJIBNzq6yVE%252Fs1600%252Fphoto.PNG.jpeg%26container%3Dblogger%26gadget%3Da%26rewriteMime%3Dimage%252F*&xm=h&xv=sa1.35&description=" style="background-color: transparent; background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 204px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 5275px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.blogger.com%2Fblogger.g%3FblogID%3D1675555985988086500%23editor&media=https%3A%2F%2Fimages-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com%2Fgadgets%2Fproxy%3Furl%3Dhttp%253A%252F%252F2.bp.blogspot.com%252F-13SzmfUHgqU%252FVNmyi3_1XOI%252FAAAAAAAAGc0%252FNJIBNzq6yVE%252Fs1600%252Fphoto.PNG.jpeg%26container%3Dblogger%26gadget%3Da%26rewriteMime%3Dimage%252F*&xm=h&xv=sa1.35&description=" style="background-color: transparent; background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 204px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 5275px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16161746734690798049noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1675555985988086500.post-11276971575673837832015-02-06T10:10:00.001-08:002015-08-12T18:06:37.452-07:00How Not to Deal with a BreakupA few things before I let you all laugh at me for a few minutes:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Laughter is the best medicine. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">If you can't laugh at yourself, someone else will. </span></div>
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With that being said, I wake up every day and shake my head at some of the things I do and say. I lack a filter, I'm 27 with a newly developed social anxiety, and on top of all that... I am at the core, myself. Which is someone who may briefly care what others may think, and then I snap at out of it and go back to being myself... I have always, and will always do what I want. Regardless of what anyone else thinks. So with that fiest and fire in me... I make a lot of mistakes, I do a lot of weird/stupid/crazy sh*t and sometimes I'm like 'Hell yeah! That was awesome' and other times... it's a palm to my face. So I end up laughing at myself a lot, and I love the friends that I have that laugh <i>with </i>me, not <b>at</b> me.<br />
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If you want to laugh at me, go for it. I won't know. Don't be that person. Don't bother reading this, don't bother following me on social media. Here's the great thing: I have so many Facebook friends and Instagram followers and Snapchat friends and Tinder matches that I simply won't notice. You won't hurt my feelings.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm inviting you to laugh <i>with</i> me. Choose that one. </span><br />
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So with that being said.<br />
<br />
Some of you may know that I dated this <i>guy</i> shortly after my separation from Eric. You know what is the best distraction from dealing with your recent "divorce" and family falling <a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1675555985988086500#" id="_GPLITA_0" in_rurl="http://s.srv-itx.com/click?v=VVM6ODAwMTc6MzI4NTphcGFydG1lbnQ6NjdmZDJlYzgyYWNiNjFlZDQ0OGFkZThjYTkzMGJjM2M6ei0yMjY2LTIwMDc2ODgxOnd3dy5ibG9nZ2VyLmNvbToyNDIwNDQ6MTVjM2IzZmUxZjU2YTNiOTk4NDdhOGZjZTA5ZjYxNjE6YTg3MzU2ZWExY2Y0NDc3YmEzYzIyMWExNmM0YjQzODQ6MTpkYXRhX3NzLDEwNTh4MTg2MjtkYXRhX2ZiLG5vOzo0NDAwNzYx&subid=g-20076881-13f631d0acf3430e9fe10e485303a4d3-&data_ss=1058x1862&data_fb=no&data_tagname=P" style="background-color: transparent !important; background-position: initial initial !important; background-repeat: initial initial !important; border: none !important; display: inline-block !important; float: none !important; font-weight: bold !important; height: auto !important; margin: 0px !important; min-height: 0px !important; min-width: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important; text-decoration: underline !important; text-indent: 0px !important; text-transform: uppercase !important; vertical-align: baseline !important; width: auto !important;" title="Click to Continue > by u1506">apart<img src="https://cdncache-a.akamaihd.net/items/it/img/arrow-10x10.png" style="background-color: transparent !important; background-position: initial initial !important; background-repeat: initial initial !important; border: none !important; display: inline-block !important; float: none !important; font-weight: bold !important; height: 10px !important; margin: 0px 0px 0px 3px !important; min-height: 0px !important; min-width: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important; text-decoration: underline !important; text-indent: 0px !important; text-transform: uppercase !important; vertical-align: super !important; width: 10px !important;" /></a>? A handsome blue eyed man that is crazy about you.<br />
<br />
<i>Polar opposites; the calm to my wild. This law abiding, (enforcing )citizen fell for this crazy mess of a girl who has issues with authority. I tried to omit how many times I've been arrested, but he looked it up. The type of guy that doesn't call you 'Dude'. . He played hookey from work to bring me donuts and <strike>watch movies</strike> all day. I made him cookies, frequently-- for Valentines Day, when he made the team, when he took a big test-- I made him a birthday cake out of donuts...even though he was on a diet. Something about being in love gets me all domestic. Caught myself drawing hearts on my planner on every day that we spent together. We emailed daily, in between the constant stream of texting and the nightly phone calls I stayed up late to receive. He made me want to get my shit together. I was lovesick. You would be too if someone called you a "hot little fox" on the regular. (Ahh... the fox obsession, explained)</i><br />
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Do you want to puke yet?<br />
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Sigh. I could go on and on about our crazy/weird/quirky romance that probably only I think is romantic. But I'll leave it at that. In the end, nothing is ever good enough for me and I ended it. Just kidding, there were a million little reasons and a few big reasons why we needed to move on.<br />
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& then I changed my mind and was like 'What, you're not going to <a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1675555985988086500#" id="_GPLITA_1" in_rurl="http://s.srv-itx.com/click?v=VVM6ODAwMTc6MzI4NTpjaGFzZToxYzYzNTU3OGQ5NzU3NDA5YjIwM2ViN2JjYjU5NGMxNTp6LTIyNjYtMjAwNzY4ODE6d3d3LmJsb2dnZXIuY29tOjI0MjA0NDoxNWMzYjNmZTFmNTZhM2I5OTg0N2E4ZmNlMDlmNjE2MTozZDQwMmJlNTNkNjE0YzZkOWI3ZWQzZDQ5OTRiOGZhYjoxOmRhdGFfc3MsMTA1OHgxODYyO2RhdGFfZmIsbm87OjQ0MjEzMzY&subid=g-20076881-13f631d0acf3430e9fe10e485303a4d3-&data_ss=1058x1862&data_fb=no&data_tagname=P" style="background-color: transparent !important; background-position: initial initial !important; background-repeat: initial initial !important; border: none !important; display: inline-block !important; float: none !important; font-weight: bold !important; height: auto !important; margin: 0px !important; min-height: 0px !important; min-width: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important; text-decoration: underline !important; text-indent: 0px !important; text-transform: uppercase !important; vertical-align: baseline !important; width: auto !important;" title="Click to Continue > by u1506">chase<img src="https://cdncache-a.akamaihd.net/items/it/img/arrow-10x10.png" style="background-color: transparent !important; background-position: initial initial !important; background-repeat: initial initial !important; border: none !important; display: inline-block !important; float: none !important; font-weight: bold !important; height: 10px !important; margin: 0px 0px 0px 3px !important; min-height: 0px !important; min-width: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important; text-decoration: underline !important; text-indent: 0px !important; text-transform: uppercase !important; vertical-align: super !important; width: 10px !important;" /></a> me?' and thus began this back and forth tug of war of who can pretend to care less. I'm the one blogging about it so I guess he wins.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Breakups suck. </span><br />
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The breakup was anything but pretty. Now 6 months later... I'm seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Feeling hopeful that someday in the near future I will begin my cat collection. I've decided that the best way to get my head out of my ass and really move on with my life is to get through this. Laugh a little.<br />
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<b><u>Here's 10 things I learned about breakups:</u></b><br />
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1. Thou shall not create a file of photos of said ex-boyfriend and open it on a regular basis.<br />
<i> Thou <b>shall</b> create a file including all pictures, emails, and pathetic tumblr pictures that remind you of better days, put it on a disc...and smash it. </i><br />
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2. Thou shall not create a Tinder <a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1675555985988086500#" id="_GPLITA_2" in_rurl="http://s.srv-itx.com/click?v=VVM6ODE0MjY6MzI4NTphY2NvdW50OjFmM2JjNWM2MDRkMmU2MDFiMTM3ZTczMWE2ODk2OTVmOnotMjI2Ni0yMDA3Njg4MTp3d3cuYmxvZ2dlci5jb206MjQxMzU4OjcxZTcyNWZhZmJkMjZlNmQ0NmYwYzY3MjUzZjRiYjNiOjc5ZjEwODhlZTYxYTQ0Y2M4OGNmODJjYjc5YTUwMDVkOjE6ZGF0YV9zcywxMDU4eDE4NjI7ZGF0YV9mYixubzs6NDQwNTAyOQ&subid=g-20076881-13f631d0acf3430e9fe10e485303a4d3-&data_ss=1058x1862&data_fb=no&data_tagname=P" style="background-color: transparent !important; background-position: initial initial !important; background-repeat: initial initial !important; border: none !important; display: inline-block !important; float: none !important; font-weight: bold !important; height: auto !important; margin: 0px !important; min-height: 0px !important; min-width: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important; text-decoration: underline !important; text-indent: 0px !important; text-transform: uppercase !important; vertical-align: baseline !important; width: auto !important;" title="Click to Continue > by u1506">account<img src="https://cdncache-a.akamaihd.net/items/it/img/arrow-10x10.png" style="background-color: transparent !important; background-position: initial initial !important; background-repeat: initial initial !important; border: none !important; display: inline-block !important; float: none !important; font-weight: bold !important; height: 10px !important; margin: 0px 0px 0px 3px !important; min-height: 0px !important; min-width: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important; text-decoration: underline !important; text-indent: 0px !important; text-transform: uppercase !important; vertical-align: super !important; width: 10px !important;" /></a> in hopes that one of these assholes will be hotter than said ex-boyfriend. They might be, but you won't notice.<br />
<i>Thou <b>shall</b> wait until really ready to begin dating again. This goes for hookups too. Actually, I take it back. Dating is great... it's a great distraction. But you'll end up hurting the nice ones and getting hurt by others. Hurt on top of hurt equals a tub of ice cream in your sweat pants. Too many nights like this and your jeans won't fit. </i><br />
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3. Thou shall not get drunk anywhere near said ex-boyfriend. Especially where he works. Or where you work. Especially if they're the same place.<br />
<i>Thou <b>shall</b> enlist lots of girl friends for lots of girls nights packed with funny, women empowering movies and wine. Have a trustworthy friend hold your phone and keys and do not document any of this. This includes Snapchat. </i><br />
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4. Thou shall not drink wine by yourself. <i>Ever</i>. Post breakup or not.<br />
<i>Thou<b> shall t</b>ry sparkling water if you need a little kick.</i><br />
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5. Thou shall not re-read old emails for hours at a time.<br />
<i>Seriously, how many times can one girl read one email? (From what I hear, a lot)</i><br />
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6. Thou shall not try to be friends. Right away.<br />
<i> Thou <b>shall</b> give it time. Cut the cord. If the friendship is really there, it will still be there when you're done dwelling on what an asshole he is for not realizing how awesome you are. </i><br />
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7. Thou shall not spoon peanut butter out of the jar while reading old emails. It will go straight to your ass.<br />
<i> Thou <b>shall</b> get back into gym habits that were neglected for makeout sessions in parking lots.</i><br />
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8. Thou shall not dye or cut hair. You'll regret it. Making yourself uglier doesn't make him regret being a douche.<br />
<i> Thou <b>shall</b> buy some new lipstick. </i><br />
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9. Thou shall not send mixed signals and expect him to interpret them correctly. Dating other people means you're dating other people.<br />
<i> Thou <b>shall</b> be clear and concise about what you want, expect, and hope for. </i><br />
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<b>10. It's called a breakup because it's broken. </b><br />
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<a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.blogger.com%2Fblogger.g%3FblogID%3D1675555985988086500%23editor%2Ftarget%3Dpost%3BpostID%3D1127697157567383783%3BonPublishedMenu%3Dposts%3BonClosedMenu%3Dposts%3BpostNum%3D3%3Bsrc%3Dlink&media=https%3A%2F%2Fimages-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com%2Fgadgets%2Fproxy%3Furl%3Dhttp%253A%252F%252F2.bp.blogspot.com%252F-v-Lptop9KSI%252FVNaUKDUCl3I%252FAAAAAAAAGaU%252Fd6-9pfg8NTk%252Fs1600%252FIMG_0195.jpg%26container%3Dblogger%26gadget%3Da%26rewriteMime%3Dimage%252F*&xm=h&xv=sa1.35&description=" style="background-color: transparent;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.blogger.com%2Fblogger.g%3FblogID%3D1675555985988086500%23editor%2Ftarget%3Dpost%3BpostID%3D1127697157567383783%3BonPublishedMenu%3Dposts%3BonClosedMenu%3Dposts%3BpostNum%3D3%3Bsrc%3Dlink&media=https%3A%2F%2Fimages-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com%2Fgadgets%2Fproxy%3Furl%3Dhttp%253A%252F%252F2.bp.blogspot.com%252F-v-Lptop9KSI%252FVNaUKDUCl3I%252FAAAAAAAAGaU%252Fd6-9pfg8NTk%252Fs1600%252FIMG_0195.jpg%26container%3Dblogger%26gadget%3Da%26rewriteMime%3Dimage%252F*&xm=h&xv=sa1.35&description=" style="background-color: transparent;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1675555985988086500" style="background-color: transparent;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1675555985988086500" style="background-color: transparent;"></a><br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16161746734690798049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1675555985988086500.post-4966167979395847382015-01-23T12:08:00.001-08:002015-01-23T12:15:32.027-08:00Real Talk: Daily dose of HonestySo I know, I've been the worst at blogging since the big "S"-- you know, the Separation.<br />
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I can't officially use the D word because we are not divorced yet. Did you know that? Funny. We are not. It's kinda confusing sometimes because I'll be like "Oh, that's my husband... wait no, my ex-husband...wait, yes. My husband." And people just look at me. I think they want to give me a sympathetic pat on the head.<br />
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Confusing. Somewhat similar to my identity crisis.<br />
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I changed my name. I was SO EXCITED. I was going to have ONE, normal last name. Having a hyphenated name your whole life, is the worst. Parents: don't do it. I told Eric when we got married that I didn't care what happened, I was never changing my name again. First of all, it is a HUGE hassle. So when forever was not forever, but a mere 3 1/2 years... I began to freak out about what I should do. I am not Ashley Gibson-Jory anymore, nor do I ever want to be. But I felt weird being a Thompson because I am no longer included in this family. Ah, but I am. I am the mother of two little boys who will carry this name and ARE a part of this family. So I stayed. I decided that I will remain a Thompson until, or if... I ever meet anyone else whose last name is so awesome, I want to have it.<br />
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End tangeant. I have a lot of these because my mind is constantly in 100 different places and 100 different directions. If you've ever had a conversation with me, you know this. I'll be like "omg and then he said this, ok but wait, let me tell you this story so that you understand why he said this, and then... ok wait, why did I start telling this story?"<br />
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Ok, but seriously.<br />
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I haven't posted anything emotional in over a year. Not because I don't have emotions anymore, but because I have so many, they don't even make sense. Or... they didn't. So I'm officially about a year and a half into this separation, and I'm finally ready to talk about it... life, that is.<br />
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Life after marriage, life after the life you planned doesn't work out.<br />
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Ah, life goes on. It does, indeed.<br />
Sometimes you think it won't, but it does.<br />
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You know what the hardest part about breaking up is? Learning a whole new life. Making new friends, alone. Losing the friends you thought were your friends, the family you learned to love despite your differences.<br />
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Nobody ever gets married thinking they're going to get divorced, right?<br />
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So we plan; we plan a whole life. We combine our hearts, our dreams, our finances, our families, our stuff. And then one day, you're saying "Ok, you keep the dishes, I'll buy new ones. Here, have this... can I keep this?" Those conversations suck. It's just <i>stuff</i>, but it's stuff at some point you wanted that you'll have to replace, or learn to live without. I decorated an entire house of <i>our</i> stuff, and then suddenly, here I am in this tiny apartment and I don't have enough things to fill it. I have nothing on the walls, and all my frames are filled of family pictures and engagement photos and wedding photos. (Fast forward a year and a half, I have no room left in said tiny apartment)<br />
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You're literally starting over.<br />
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I was 20 when I met Eric. I grew up in the same city my whole life. I have had the same friends since 1st grade, and when I went to school out of high school... I went with one of my best friends. I never had to be completely alone. I never had to worry about not having friends.<br />
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So at 25, I set out for the first time by myself. I got a new job in a new city. I knew one person. Luckily, she is my person. But still, it has been challenging. I don't make friends as easily these days because I have nothing in common with people my age.<br />
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I'm a divorced, single mother of two. TWO. That makes a big difference. Most people my age are either 'never married/no kids', married with kids, married with no kids, or young mothers who have never been married and have ONE kid.<br />
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So I don't fit into the late 20's single scene, and I don't fit into the Mom scene. Ah, can't win em all.<br />
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(Currently in search for the purrfect cat collection. Taking furry donations.)<br />
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It's an awkward stage. It's awkward to be me these days.<br />
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I never used to feel insecure about who I am, or the choices I've made. I've always been a confident girl/woman and yet here I am at 27... afraid to tell people I'm divorced because I know the first thing they'll want to do is run for the door. Leaving out the fact that I have kids until the 2nd date because all the guys I want to date think they're too good for Single Mom's.<br />
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I get anxiety about having to be social without alcohol, and then anxiety about having to be social with alcohol because I know I'll end up drinking <i>too</i> much. Nervous to post my kids on Social Media because I know it's a turn off to guys, nervous to post <i>anything</i> on Social Media because some guy I never met told me I post too much.<br />
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Haha, who is this girl?<br />
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So with that being said, I'm trying really hard to find that woman who was proud to be a Mom, who never got embarassed that she laughs too loud, or talks too much.<br />
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Thanks for bearing with me.<br />
Thanks to those who have watched me awkwardly fumble through this phase in my life, and have not passed judgement. Thanks to those who still love me, even though I don't know what to do with my hands.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16161746734690798049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1675555985988086500.post-47363479638065106422014-11-19T10:29:00.000-08:002014-11-19T10:29:28.885-08:00Another year older...holding out on the wiser ;)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
So, if you can believe it-- the boys each had birthdays this year! Crazy, huh? I did document them but I forgot to post them on the blog so forgive me for the delay and for the lack of details-- I'm getting old, sometimes my memory fails. </div>
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Tristan turned 4? Is he 4 already? </div>
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He says he is, so we'll go with it.</div>
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This was by far the most stress free party I've EVER planned! I was REALLY busy during his birthday time-- I was finishing school and extern and ok-- kinda wrapped up in some tall, dark, handsome man (let's be honest, here) PLUS-- I had just gotten hired by my extern site, so in all honesty, I didn't have a lot of time to plan his party. Don't worry though, I didn't FORGET-- he reminded me every single day to plan his party. So eventually, I gave in and planned a party for him.</div>
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Safe to say, we parents had about as much fun as the kids. </div>
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We're really just big kids posing as parents.</div>
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Another year of keeping the kid alive! Job well done, partner in crime.</div>
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If we aren't the proudest parents you ever saw, then... I dono. </div>
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I've said it once and I'll say it again-- the PARTY PLANNING NEVER ENDS.</div>
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The minute you finish one kids birthday, the other goes into full blown "ME ME ME" mode and demands that you promptly start planning his party next. No mind to the fact that his birthday is 5 months away. Get on it, Mother! </div>
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And so, I picked a theme. That's it. That's all I did for 5 months.</div>
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Truth be told, we all knew this theme was coming from the minute this kid could crawl. We got Buzz and Woody for Tristan before Ryan could even see his own hand in front of his face, but the minute his vision cleared and his motor skills kicked in, he promptly rolled/crawled/wormed his way across the play room, grabbed Woody and sucked on his face. Never wanted anything to do with any real baby toys or anything else for that matter. He wanted his "B" and he wanted Woody. Slowly, but surely the obsession increased and now he sleeps with the whole gang every night. </div>
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End side track. </div>
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If you think we were ecstatic about our success in keeping Tristan alive for 4 years, we were THRILLED to have kept Ryan alive for 3. If this isn't success, then I don't know what is.</div>
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We picked a beautiful, sunny day to have a party at our favorite water park and the entire day was a smashing success.</div>
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JUST KIDDING.</div>
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It rained almost the entire time and everything got soaked and it was kind of miserable for a moment there. You know who didn't care? The birthday boy. </div>
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He was so elated at all his Toy Story decorations that he hardly noticed that we were all shivering and soaked. After the cake was cut and devoured, we had a much better time because we all got in the pool and the pool was warm. In my 4 1/2 years as a mother, I've learned that if you pump the kids up with sugar, anything is a good time (for them). </div>
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There's no such thing as an "unsuccessful" birthday party. </div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16161746734690798049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1675555985988086500.post-51080401156795349922014-04-13T22:21:00.000-07:002014-04-13T22:21:01.018-07:00Staycation Bliss!My first week off of school/work and extern in 11 months, and holy moly. Do you think if I ask nicely, I can have another?<br />
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Not gonna lie, a little bittersweet. Got a little homesick for my SAHM days, but I know if you just gave me one more day... I'd be itching to get back out there and be a working woman. I just wasn't made to bake cookies. Like really...have you ever had any of my baking? It's terrible.<br />
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I need blood and guts and high blood pressure. Never thought I'd be a little anxious to put on my scrubs. Just kidding, let's be real. Scrubs take the stress out of getting dressed. I LOVE SCRUBS!<br />
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Last time I checked, I had a 15 month old and a fresh 3 year old. Somehow over the last 11 months, they got older and I'm not quite sure how that happened but I like it. We traded our sippy cups in for real cups and water bottles and even though we have no fashion sense whatsoever we apparently get ourselves dressed too. We're still peeing our pants and obsessing over Toy Story and hot wheels, and for the love of all that is holy, Ryan is still opening his peanut butter and jelly sandwiches... but like I always whisper repeatedly throughout the day to myself... "PICK YOUR BATTLES". Someday the other kids will make fun of them and they will be known as the kid who smells like pee or the messy kid that eats yogurt with his hands and then it will hit them... "Ahh, Mom had a point."<br />
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So now that I have a 2 1/2 year old and an almost 4 year old, I've also realized that with that... comes memory. It's a terrible thing. RIP to the days when lying was considered a distraction "parenting" technique. Telling them that we can go to the park tomorrow if you're a good boy doesn't work anymore. Reason # 1, they will mostly likely not be a good boy and then we will be trapped inside the house all day and reason #2, they will remember only the first part of that sentence and ask repeatedly until we've arrived at said destination.<br />
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Needless to say, we spent a lot of time at the park this week. Thanks Seattle weather for loving us this week! <span style="text-align: center;">One thing I never thought I'd say... but I kinda like Tacoma. It's growing on me. So many parks and places to explore, I discover something new every day. For example, I discovered if you leave your car unlocked...people will open it. </span><br />
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<span style="text-align: center;">Enjoy my photo dump because I'm too lazy to go through and comment about every single picture and explain what we did. I think they're pretty self explanatory? </span><br />
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<span style="text-align: center;">In case you need captions, you can mentally cut & paste this under each picture, </span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">"THESE KIDS ARE AWESOME AND WE HAD A BLAST."</span><br />
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^^ 4 year old photography. Boys got skillsssss.</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16161746734690798049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1675555985988086500.post-56313365276174635012014-04-10T08:57:00.001-07:002014-04-10T08:57:08.836-07:00I did it!I suppose I should acknowledge my complete disregard for this blog lately. It only seems fair. Sorry little Blog. I still love you.<br />
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Umm....so if you didn't hear....<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>I graduated!!!</b></span><br />
(Don't freak out Mom, the ceremony isn't until July.)<br />
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A year ago, when I decided to go to school... I never imagined the ride I was in for. I wanted to do something with my life while I had the time. I thought this would be a perfect time for school. I was bored at home and needed some stimulation. I thought that I could really take my time and do well and not be stressed about it. And then everything changed and suddenly I'm sleeping on my friends couches and getting my own place and now I'm a single Mom and I have rent and bills to pay.<br />
<br />
Change, change, change. A year of constant change.<br />
<br />
I can honestly say, that I probably would have given up about halfway through if it wasn't for my PIMA fam. These people truly became like family to me. We definitely fought like it ;) and there were definitely times I thought my teacher was ridiculous and that maybe she was extra hard on me, and maybe she was. No, she was. In retrospect, I'm so glad she was because <span style="font-size: x-large;">I did it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">PIMA FAM-- I LOVE YOU GUYS! Congrats to everyone! Thanks for putting up with me :)</span><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16161746734690798049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1675555985988086500.post-70438436423519109992014-02-23T19:59:00.000-08:002014-02-23T19:59:16.537-08:00Life lately, VIA my iPhone<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Took Tristan to see Frozen! His first movie theater experience! We had so much fun on our little date night. He was basically the cutest. He loved Elsa and the snowman...but was a little intimidated by the seats because it kept collapsing on him (so funny). He ended up on my lap, which was alright because I got to snuggle him :)</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>I finished school!!! YAY!</b></span></div>
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Testing out my AWESOME new running gear/Chirstmas gifts from my parental units. I'm one of those people that will find any excuse not to run. Now I have none...sooo I suppose I should be running daily.....<br />
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Sooo.... if you didn't hear. We kind of won the Superbowl. There were lots of "Blue Fridays" in our lives. These boys are either brainwashed or they got their football-lovin genes from Daddy. Tristan was even invited to the "Seahawks party" at daycare due to his Seahawks spirit. They made a poster with all the pictures from the party, which he is very proud to be on. He shows me the pictures every day...as if I have never seen them :)</div>
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PIMA FAM! Finally SENIORS!!</div>
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Tristan is such a good sport :)</div>
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Pre-Valentines Day Fun. Tristan asked me if I was making cookies for Santa... </div>
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I said, "No buddy, these are for Cupid." </div>
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He said, "For CUPID?"</div>
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"Yeah buddy. Mommy is trying to butter him up so that he'll shoot someone with an arrow and Mommy can have a man again"</div>
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Tristan says, "I want a man"</div>
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"Uhh... ok buddy"</div>
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"I want a cookie"</div>
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#toddlers</div>
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My cuddle buddy. Somehow this kid either manipulates his way into sleeping with me every night... or ends up in my bed by 4am. I SURRENDER kid!<br />
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We had a couple days of just hanging out at home after I finished school while I waited to start my extern... things got interesting :)</div>
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MY VALENTINES!!!! They were so stinkin cute. I got a little knock at the door and these two little midgets with their backpacks on were standing there with flowers, "Happy Valentines Day Mommy!!" </div>
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It was the best Valentines day yet. </div>
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Last day of class in Stinsonville</div>
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I tried to get a picture of our Nike lovin' fam....but I got these cute little faces instead.</div>
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Sunday funday with my Wawa (aka Laura)</div>
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This is what he wanted to wear...wouldn't take his Nike's off for 3 days. Seriously. </div>
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First day of extern!</div>
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Morning vitals <3</div>
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5 am is rough.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">First and foremost, I'm grateful to my husband (I still get to call him that, right?). For loving me when I couldn't love myself, for standing by me when everyone else was against me, for following me while I was lost and leading me back, but mostly for not giving up on me. No matter the outcome, you will always be my rock. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br /></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">For my kids who kept me going, who kept me smiling through the tears, for making me laugh when I wanted to cry, for reminding me who I am, and who I want to be.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">&</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">To those that understood my journey, thank you.</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Some might not understand me or my choices and that's okay. I've accepted that some people will just never understand, and some people just don't want to, and that's okay too. To those, well God gave us a middle finger for a reason right?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">So on to the next...</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br /></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Full of ups and downs. What a year. It was truly the hardest year yet, but here I am... I'm alive, my kids are healthy, we have a roof over our heads, a fridge full of food, a car to drive, and I'm getting an education. We are going places. I feel extremely grateful for all the hardships of this past year. I have learned so much about myself, about the people I surround myself with, about life, love... the list truly goes on. </span></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">(I realize that a few people have already seen this, but for my friends and family that do not have facebook...as well as for the sole purpose of this blog--to document my family's journey)</span></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16161746734690798049noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1675555985988086500.post-43626939278140597592013-11-28T09:13:00.000-08:002013-11-28T09:14:46.664-08:00There's always a few things to be thankful for...<div>
Ok, I'm in a bit of a hurry because I have to get these monsters dressed and out the door soon, and I haven't even showered myself yet. So let's see if I can whip this list out. I apologize if it makes no sense. Sometimes my brain doesn't work correctly.<br />
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Anywho, thought I'd spend a little bit of time expressing gratitude for my crazy beautiful life. </div>
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(See, Ke$ha & I were sisters in another life)</div>
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Ok, let's get to it. Obviously I'm thankful for my two adorable, crazy, rambunctious, slightly insane, totally hilarious, too smart for their own good children. Seriously, if you think I'm crazy now just try to imagine what my life would be like if I didn't have any responsibilities. Scary, right? I feel ya.<br />
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I'm thankful for a fantastic baby daddy. This man can drive me more mad than anyone i've ever met, but at the end of the day I realize I cannot harm him because he is my children's father and a good one at that. For real though, this man is stellar in the Daddy department. I'm a difficult woman and this guy does a pretty good job keeping up with me and my demands. So, yay! Let's hear it for Baby Daddy's! :)<br />
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My PIMA FAMILY; We laugh, we fight, we learn... We have definitely had our share of ups and downs together and it has been a wild ride, but oh so worth it. We are each other's dummies day in and day out. There's a certain level of respect and trust that goes into letting someone stab you with a needle for their first time. I don't know if I would have made it through the summer without these people, honestly. The thought of quitting crossed my mind, and then I showed up another day and I realized that these people were the ones keeping me going. I had a serious string of crap happening for awhile and these people just made me laugh, cheered me on, supported me and reminded me that it's life and we gotta keep going. They let me borrow pens and papers every single day until I could afford new school supplies after my car got broken into and the only thing they took was my backpack with all of my homework, they brainstormed with me on how to save my food when my power was out for 4 days, they've listened to all my boy problems and dealt with all of my Chive talk, cheered me on when I quit smoking, not said anything when I show up to class with no make up ;) But for real, the list goes on. So these people, I am thankful for. I love each and every one of you!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX8lRmVhhYzbKJuZMmlVTG0RHDVluO2ShouLdD1Jdw3AOJg8_ROgs9z-rfvlFHPoeMOy6SG6pmqVfe6CZYC86S5LTUXZWLnW0NlTl7pUYxq9U6HS9lpHHWGU2DP6xghD3rw6_HjWTMmjA/s1600/523523_736275856398287_609602745_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX8lRmVhhYzbKJuZMmlVTG0RHDVluO2ShouLdD1Jdw3AOJg8_ROgs9z-rfvlFHPoeMOy6SG6pmqVfe6CZYC86S5LTUXZWLnW0NlTl7pUYxq9U6HS9lpHHWGU2DP6xghD3rw6_HjWTMmjA/s400/523523_736275856398287_609602745_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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New friends. Where would I be without all the new people I met this last year? Even the people who were in my life for just a short time, or for a few months, or whatever. They all inspire me to keep going. A friendly reminder that there is not just one person out there. There are plenty of fish in the sea, right? (Goes for both dating as well as friends, I think)<br />
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MY NEW NEIGHBORS! Yay! I love these 2 :) They've made my life a whole lot more interesting and less lonely. I used to spend my Saturdays & Sundays sleeping half the day away, sometimes wandering through trails or aimlessly wandering the shops and now I have these two boys to go on adventures with so I'm pretty thankful for them. Plus they spoil me ;) They make me get out of bed, and take me to movies and new restaurants, give me their wifi password, and make me coffee when I'm out of creamer. They drive me to school when I have a flat tire and then fix my flat tire because I don't know how. They're pretty awesome. Things feel a lot less hard when you have company to join you.<br />
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Happy Thanksgiving!</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16161746734690798049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1675555985988086500.post-60736478193763894052013-11-27T16:02:00.002-08:002013-11-27T16:02:45.989-08:00ASHLEY flies SOLO. <br />
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Hey, that's me! ^^^</div>
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Cuz this entry, is about me. YES! My 2nd favorite subject. </div>
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My first, is obviously... these cuties:</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(life's tough... get a brother)</span></div>
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OK OK OK... Back on subject.<br />
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I know a lot of people are like... WHAT IN THE $#%^ IS GOING ON?!<br />
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It's okay. So are we.<br />
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So... with that being said... not to state the obvious...but Eric and I are separated. We live apart, we lead separate lives. But yet... we share these two adorable little creatures together. And so, we are friends.<br />
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THERE YOU GO! I said it. </div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">We are "<i>just friends</i>".</span></div>
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It was hard to publicly state those words. Which is why I haven't.</div>
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Neither one of us knows who decided it should be this way (we can't agree on who's to blame... and so I'm going to compromise and say it was both of us), and neither one of us knows what's going to happen.<br />
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We are just as confused as you all probably are!<br />
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And so, until that day that we either sign the papers that will legally and officially separate our lives...or we suck it up and decide that we love each other more than we hate each other... this blog will be solely about my journey, and mine alone.<br />
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Afterall, I write this thing. Seems fair, right?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikG2YwrnDVSlX3wnUk1uqnDsp_Iq4VB6elx8y3k3XBfs-GfPuisKqvMZ-DTZV-TPDzYjbKysmXT0k66_lnL1c_Ur8atodv-MbKJ-0gwpqI3gQ_169dEWu-S-nI5FmF-gPdkTWFnxUCaGg/s1600/IMG_0491.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikG2YwrnDVSlX3wnUk1uqnDsp_Iq4VB6elx8y3k3XBfs-GfPuisKqvMZ-DTZV-TPDzYjbKysmXT0k66_lnL1c_Ur8atodv-MbKJ-0gwpqI3gQ_169dEWu-S-nI5FmF-gPdkTWFnxUCaGg/s320/IMG_0491.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Don't worry, my little Eric fans... he is still a big part of my life and all my years of hard work nagging him for photos has actually paid off so he does still cooperate when I ask to snap a photo. Have no fear, he will still appear on this blog as my children's loving father and my partner in this crazy ride we call parenthood.<br />
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& YES, we will still participate in <i>family</i> events together and you know what? We might do that until the end of time. We get along, we love our kids, and it's obvious our kids like to be around both of us at the same time. Plus, we're both kind of selfish and neither one wants to be left out of all the fun stuff with the kids. Because they are cuuuute and funny.<br />
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Plus it's just not as funny when we have to repeat the hilarious commentary our kids say.<br />
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It's like "Ok...no? Not funny? Sorry, had to be there" (That's a ZINGER line if I ever heard one...btw. Don't ever say that to me.)<br />
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So that's that.<br />
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Moving on....<br />
Drum roll please....<br />
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I'm going to let you in on a little secret.<br />
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BEING A SINGLE MOM IS HARD. And I kind of hate it.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">If you can't tell... I'm sitting outside the door to my children's bedroom...holding it shut while tiny little bodies pull as hard as they can on the other side.</span></div>
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I'm currently taking applications for the following:<br />
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<ul>
<li>Maid; Yes, my little apartment is sometimes kind of hard to keep up in between all of my naps.</li>
<li>Driver; this position requires that you get my kids in and out of my 2 door car each and every time we need to run into the store for ONE THING. Or you could sit with my kids in the car while they scream their face off because I ran into the store by myself. That works too. (They used to do this to Eric and I. The one who had to stay in the car with the kids secretly hated the one that got to run the errand)</li>
<li>Diaper changer; Self explanatory.</li>
<li>Nap nanny; I'm not sure if this coincides with the actual term "nap nanny" (because I have no idea what a nap nanny is) but in my world, you will put them to bed and not leave until they are passed out for good.</li>
<li>Therapist; I'm in serious need of some therapy sessions. I might sleep a lot during them...possibly drool. You are not allowed to judge me when I do this or when I tell you I wanted to hang my kid outside the window upside down today. You will nod and smile and tell me I'm completely normal.</li>
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Despite the fact that I'm pretty sure my classmates think I'm a strung out crackhead (usually show up with no make up on and slightly delirious/high on caffeine and anxious from sitting in traffic for an hour) and I really only "get ready" for work these days, I'm doing A-OK. Kinda breaks my heart to say this, but the transition of being alone hasn't been hard at all. Due to Eric's work schedule, I spent a lot of time alone anyway and I always went to bed alone so those parts of being a single Mom don't bother me. </div>
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Me and the kids always have fun. We make the most of every day, even on the worst of days. As any Mom knows, there's no such thing as a bad day when you're a Mama.</div>
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When we first separated and I got my own apartment, people would ask me things like, "OMG isn't it SOOO nice to have your own space?" or "Do whatever you want"... and I just LOLed at them. Being married is kind of like living alone in some aspects; you walk around in your underwear, you put your pj's on as soon as you get home, instead of doing something about it you just state "I stink" so that the other person is aware that you know you stink, and hell... I stopped shutting the bathroom door a long time ago... is that TMI? Sorry, I have no filter. </div>
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The best part? I decorate the way I want because NO MAN lives here and I can be as girly as I please. No compromising or choosing neutrals when I'd rather choose hot pink. </div>
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Feels good to finally get that out in the open. </div>
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With that being said, I hope I cleared some things up for people.</div>
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And I hope you all know that as soon as we make a decision and decide we want to share it with the public... we will. </div>
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So for now, please keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times until we have come to a complete stop.</div>
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We hope you've enjoyed the ride.</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16161746734690798049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1675555985988086500.post-86060990688598892972013-11-26T16:14:00.000-08:002013-11-26T16:17:39.853-08:00MA LIFE<div style="text-align: center;">
Pronounced either "Muhhh Life" or </div>
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M.A. Life aka the life of a Medical Assistant (student)</div>
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So, a few of you know how I spend my time these days, but in all honesty... I don't talk about it enough.<br />
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This new phase of my life is amazing. It is CHALLENGING, interesting, disgusting, awesome, fun, hard, sometimes not so fun, and sometimes draining... but I love it. I finally found something that I love to do that keeps me on my toes. Lord knows I need change 24/7.<br />
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What I do these days:</div>
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My alarm goes off at 5 am. My brain doesn't usually work so well at this hour and I press snooze a lot some days. Eventually I get out of bed and attempt to have a smooth morning, which usually by 6am, I've failed and things are basically frantic and not so much fun. I try to get the kids out the door by 630, which usually requires some sort of bribery or else they're half awake and have no idea whats going on. In this case, it's best when I have limp bodies who refuse to wake up. Drop them off at daycare, which is a hit or miss type of deal. Sit in traffic for a little over an hour, and eventually make it to class. 4 hours of school. </div>
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I can't even beging to list the amount of things I have learned and now know how to do, but here are the fun things:</div>
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<li style="text-align: left;">I can draw your blood like a vampire, only with a needle and through a tube. </li>
<li style="text-align: left;">If you ever need some morphine in your butt... I'm your girl.</li>
<li style="text-align: left;">I can tell you what the name of every single operating utensil is called...despite whether I know how to use it or not (I will not be performing surgery...ever. But I will be assisting so apparently this is important).</li>
<li style="text-align: left;">I know how to clean up a spill like a pro. I know...you thought that as a mother, I'd already know this...but YOU'RE DOING IT ALL WRONG. There's so much more to it. (insert sarcastic drip here)</li>
<li style="text-align: left;">I can rock a yellow banana suit like nobody's business.</li>
<li style="text-align: left;">I can stitch you up, and I can take those stitches out. I can also staple you, and remove those staples. Just in case.</li>
<li style="text-align: left;">I can strategically toss sterile operating utensiles onto a tray without crossing the sterile margin. Oy. </li>
<li style="text-align: left;">I can also prep your skin for a minor surgery, like a mole removal. </li>
<li style="text-align: left;">Oh and if you ever need your temperature taken, I can do that too. As well as check your pulse to see if you're still alive.</li>
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All these things you don't realize somebody actually went to school to learn...but here we are. Learning sometimes trivial stuff that is sometimes actually a lot harder than one might think. A lot of little details that you don't think matter. Like, for real. Today I passed off on how to instruct a patient to pee in a cup. Ladies and gentlemen, apparently this is not common knowledge to everyone.</div>
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My teacher's favorite phrase is "Common Sense is not that common". </div>
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So Let's be honest... I come home and nap before I go get my kids from daycare. </div>
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In the beginning, I was overly eager to pick up my kids from daycare the minute I got out of school. I think it was that "Mom Guilt"... and then I got over it.</div>
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(Oh yeah, I also work on my off days from school-- Fri, Sat, Sun-- so I value my sleep these days)</div>
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So yeah....This is my life these days. It's my top priority. For awhile, I chose kids...then school. and then I realized, that in my heart...my kids are always # 1...but in reality, school must be first because ultimately it puts my kids first. So there it is. I'm sacrificing time spent with my kids so that my kids will eventually have a better life. I see everything as a win-win. They LOVE daycare, I LOVE school. We all have new friends, we are all busy, and we are stimulated and learning. What could be better? It's all about perspective people. </div>
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As a stay at home mom, I could hardly see this way of life as a dream come true...but now, I see it as just that. </div>
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Maybe not the way I envisioned...but I've learned to adapt.</div>
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Some mornings are a little tougher than others, and I kind of want to lay in the fetal position and cry...and then I remember... if I can get them to daycare, someone else will have to deal with their antics all day instead of me. Chant with me, "DAYCARE DAYCARE"....ok, no? Well, whatever... I love daycare.</div>
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And if you don't believe that we play just as hard as we work, here's a little preview of how crazy fun we are:</div>
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<a href="http://youtu.be/PinQxpKC9BM">HARLEM SHAKE-- M.A Style</a></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16161746734690798049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1675555985988086500.post-13817759026732072222013-08-27T19:17:00.002-07:002013-08-27T19:17:56.265-07:00Apartment in the City<div style="text-align: center;">
Apartment Living/ Single Mom status/ My new life:</div>
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My new apartment:</div>
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1 Bedroom</div>
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Downtown Tacoma</div>
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4plex</div>
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MINE.</div>
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So the apartment is a ONE bedroom. LEGALLY and because I'm like an awesome Mom, the kids have the bedroom and I have...well, the living room. It's pretty awesome actually. I can lay in bed and see the kids while they're playing without having to move a muscle, I can watch a movie from in bed, I can bark orders loud enough to be heard throughout the entire apartment... why would anyone need a bedroom?<br />
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Oh yeah, privacy? Clearly, I don't have any of that...I have a blog.<br />
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The Pros & Cons of apartment living? </div>
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No yard = No yard work. Also equals no yard to play in. However, I do have a side yard the kids can play in, but my landlord doesn't believe in lawnmowers apparently.</div>
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Neighbors... Oh neighbors. I feel like it's a love/hate relationship. It's kinda nice to know that I know all my neighbors and if I scream loudly they will probably be concerned and come to my rescue. With that being said, if you've ever heard my little <strike>girls</strike> boys scream...I'm pretty sure my neighbors hate me. </div>
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Stairs. Enough said.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>It's called "My apartment is hella old"</i></span></div>
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Things I'm lacking:</div>
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Laundry services available IN my apartment (there are shared machines downstairs though...and they're free, so I can't complain too much about this)</div>
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Food Disposal; You honestly never realize how much you use one of these things until you don't have one. And I'm like a super anal freak about smells and what goes in my garbage so this is a huge deal to me. During both pregnancies, we kept our diaper pail and garbage in the garage because I couldn't handle it. And if you ever put a banana peel in my garbage... I will find you. </div>
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Dishwasher. I hate doing dishes.</div>
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Oh the best part? I wake up Saturday morning (while Eric has the kids I have what is called FREEDOM) and I text my dear friend, "Yo... I'm out of coffee creamer" and she says, "Come over...BYOB" (Bring your own breakfast). </div>
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I love having friends for neighbors! It's been a LONG time since I've lived within 20 minutes of any of my best friends. </div>
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I also live within walking distance to 6th ave which just so happens to be a strip full of fun things to do (like shop and drink coffee and have Mimosa's and brunch) and my place of employment (which is a restaurant/bar/club)...<br />
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So that's it. My new life.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16161746734690798049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1675555985988086500.post-23669528277534775112013-08-26T06:09:00.002-07:002013-08-26T06:09:31.080-07:00It was the worst of times, it was the best of times.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b>COUCH SURFING ADVENTURES</b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b>PT. 1</b></span></div>
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Sometimes you find yourself homeless. Wait, no...not really. It's actually pretty rare and I suppose it would take a lot to get to that point. But nonetheless, I found myself in an interesting position this summer. </div>
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I found myself being forced to make a decision I had long since delayed... and hence, found myself among the pillows of my nearest and dearest friends couches. </div>
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Actually, in all reality I only slept on a couch a few times. Some of my friends homes felt like being in hotels (you know who you are, pepita) and for the first time in months, I had finally felt home. My friends were amazing to me this summer. They took me in, gave me beds to sleep in, often fed me, provided lots of entertainment (aka distraction from my so called "real life") and well, I suppose I owe them some money for the therapy sessions as well. </div>
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So to those friends, thank you. a million times :)</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16161746734690798049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1675555985988086500.post-78846501915273951812013-08-17T11:47:00.001-07:002013-08-17T11:53:12.235-07:00Maui Wowie!So yeah, we don't even need to talk about the serious neglect this blog has been experiencing.<br />
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I'm going through a drastic life change and still trying to figure out how to be normal again has been a little challenging. But eh, I was never normal to begin with...so add that to the chaos and there's my life these days.<br />
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Some day soon, I'll be back on my blogging, and hopefully my gym going too because that's a whole nother world of neglect.<br />
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Anywho-- Some people might remember my bestest/greatest/favoritest friend. This girl has been a rock for me through a lot of my life's ups and downs and changes and challenges. She's always stood by me, even when my decisions have clearly been a little questionable. I thought I could not love her more...and then she told me she planned a trip for us to Hawaii. Sealed the deal, she's stuck with me for life. We'll be old cat ladies together forever ;)<br />
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Started our trip off with a glass of champagne... almost missed our flight because of it, but oh so worth it!</div>
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Some things we did:<br />
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<ul>
<li>Laid by the pool for an entire day. Took a 4 hour nap, ended up sunburnt...oh and all on the first day.</li>
<li>Had dinner at amazing restaurants = Roys, Hula Grill, Sansei, Cool Cat</li>
<li>Went on a hike in the Bamboo Forrest + a lot of driving, but great scenery and of course, conversation.</li>
<li>Played at the beach; went tourist crazy with our camera. Had a few people staring at us.</li>
<li>Made a couple friends with some "locals"</li>
<li>Went searching for the giant Sea Turtles. Ended up laying on the beach for a few hours.</li>
<li>Explored a few bar scenes, tried to stay awake past 10pm. </li>
<li>Went to a Hawaiian Starbucks, got a couple fun souveniers.</li>
<li>Of course, a little shopping happened.</li>
<li>Kristen, of course had to feed the birds a lot. And spot every gecko. Also rescued a baby gecko from our shower.</li>
</ul>
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The rest is for us to know....</div>
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What happens in Maui, stays in Maui...</div>
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HA, just kidding. We took a lot of naps. </div>
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ALOHA</div>
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