your wonderwall.

& afterall, you’re my wonderwall.

Months upon months ago, we played wonderwall, by oasis, on repeat as we drove in the darkness to a friend’s house. We pulled up and sat, hand in hand, just listening to the song. He smiled, said he liked the song, that it just might be, at that moment, his favorite.

Days later, long after we should have both been tucked into bed, fast asleep, we were texting each other.
“Maybe it’s like the song says. You’re my wonderwall. You’re supposed to save me,” he said, with a smiley face. We were talking about all the hard things we’ve both been through. The decisions we’ve made, and kept making.
I thought, at the time, maybe he was just trying to make me feel better, about things.
But, he’s right. Loving someone is all about helping them. Saving them, in a way.
It’s like this; he loves me. The love he gives me, even in the randomest of ways, makes me strong. I’m here, not giving up, because of him.
And, because I’m here, he’s making choices he wouldn’t otherwise make. Hand in hand, we’re changing each other. Or rather, growing with each other.

I think, in a way, this is my first real relationship. Relationships that consist of lies, yelling, and absolute hate aren’t real.
This, being a wonderwall, being the person the other wants around most… that’s real.

I was so in love with the idea of being in love, I forgot the most important thing: it’s not being in love that matters. It’s the smile, the laughter, the looks you give each other, the way a simple hand on your shoulder or around your waist can make you feel. It’s the sound of his voice, a simple good morning babe text message.

It’s like the song says; I don’t believe that anybody feels the way I do, about him now.

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mom blogs.

I’m trying to work on some super awesome post that describes just how wonderfully smooth my life has been. It’d be a pretty nifty read, right? Right.
But, it‘s not happening. Not because nothing super awesome has happened. And not because my life hasn’t been wonderfully smooth (although wonderfully smooth doesn’t quite describe it.)
Mostly because, well, I can’t even begin to put into words how things have been. Some examples, you ask? Sure!:
For starters, the new semester started last week. This equals book buying, lots of introductions, driving [as I live a thirty minute drive--on a good day--from campus], less working, which in reality means more [school]work.
And then there’s the fact that well, the new semester means I have less time with the kid. Less time with the kid is never a fun thing, I promise. I miss her like crazy. She’s my world, and now I get some random hours of awake fun time with her. Random hours. It sucks. A lot.
I have to tell myself on a daily basis that I’m doing this not just for the fun of it, but because I want to make our lives better. I’m doing this to get us out of here. So that we can maybe get where we need to be. And so, I do it. Day in, day out.
The amazing thing is…she doesn’t love me any less.
She still kisses me good morning, and goodnight. We still have our nightly bed time story (which is never really one story, more like fifteen, or so) We pack our lunches together, and occasionally, even get to sit together and eat (all while I listen to her and her little friends talk and giggle about string cheese, monkeys, and whether spiderman or Cinderella wins--usually, for the record, spiderman wins, even among the girls) It’s fun. I love it.

Mostly, I love every second of my day with her. It makes the long classes, the crazy hectic nights, the homework…every bit is worth it, because I have her.

And now, upon re-reading this particular post, I‘ve realized this is exactly what I said it wasn‘t gonna be--it‘s a mom blog. I write about my kid.
I‘m okay with that though, because really, that‘s what I am. A mom.

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summer.

Sunshine filled days leave me with a sense of accomplishment. Like maybe, something about the day is really going my way. I smile a little more, and even my laugh is less forced.
School ended a couple weeks ago, so more of my free time has been spent entertaining Hailey. My nights no longer involve homework and textbooks, instead I'm enveloped in the boy's arms once the kid's in bed. As a result, I'm in an overall better, happier mood--all the paper writing and test studying isn't overloading me with stress.

Summer promises are keeping me on my toes- there is a lot already happening and we're intending on even more to take place.

It's some kind of make believe family- mornings are spent with strawberry flavored and cartoons. our afternoons involve picnics, the park, and sunshine warmed water. the evenings bring us cookouts, walks, and lots of sleepy cuddles.

There's twice as much to be thankful for these days--and I'm loving it.

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three.

Three years ago, I tossed and turned in the hospital bed. Sleeping was a necessity at that moment, but an impossibility, all the same. Eventually, a small amount of sleep was had, and even sooner, the morning sunshine came. The day was spent in prelabor pain. Walking barely helped, but sprite, ice chips, and eventually, the birthing ball were of some great assistance.
After much puking, it was dinner time. I was hungry, tired, and felt as though I could just fall over, dead, any second.
Most of the actual labor/pushing is gone from my memory; I was so exhausted the hours all run together. Nineteen minutes after five in the evening, I gave one last push, and a beautiful bundle of all hair was born.

There’s something to be said about the way a baby changes a mommy’s life. Not in a bad way, at all. Just, different. My whole life is different because one measly little pill didn’t take effect. Because, somewhere along the path, something clicked and, boom. I stood in a doctor’s office, while a nurse bit her lip and announced that birth control wouldn’t be necessary.
Or the next week, as I laid back on the exam table, and lifted my shirt as the lab tech used the ultrasound wand to snap pictures of my very own jellybean.

It’s different when the baby’s actually, physically, in your arms. You count the fingers and toes, over and over, smile as she looks up at you, whisper something about how beautiful she is, or how much you love her. It all changes then, really.

Everything’s different with a baby. And then, that baby grows up. And suddenly, you’ve got yourself a toddler, or in my case, a terrible two. And holy cow, talk about different.

Sometimes, change is good.

And other times, it’s the best thing, ever.

Happy birthday, little one.

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summer!

I am counting down the days, of so much.
Days til finals:
Days til work's summer schedule starts:

So, much of my life lately has been spent going in circles. It's finals time, schoolwise, so I've spent hour after hour of my "free time" trying to tie loose ends, in an attempt to ensure I pass all my classes.
On top of that, it's spring. And with spring comes tons of warm weather, which means the monkey wants to be outside, now please! It's nonstop go go go with this [almost!] three year old, I swear. If she's not playing in the background, she's wanting to go to the park, or take a walk, or ride her bike, or go do this, or that, or... really, it never ends.

In the midst of being mommy to that not so little bundle of beauty and attending classes I'd really rather not being attending, I'm also working, five days a week.

And, then, throw in the fact that, randomly, recently, I started "dating" somebody. [the term 'dating' is used loosely, because really, I'm not quite positive what we are doing..] It's a slow process, mostly because I'm so swamped with end of the semester school stuff. But, we've got feelings for each other and in the midst of conversations about such feelings, we've discovered, well, we're the definition of each others' "something different." Because of him, I smile a little more.

So, yes, when I'm asked if I'm ready for summer, my answer is most definitely a yes, complete with an exclamation point. Because, really, who wouldn't be ready to replace their schoolwork time with boyfriend time?

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mommy, wow, i'm a big kid now!

With barely a month until the little one's birthday, I find myself more amazed everyday. I find it quite hard to believe that somehow I played such a big part in creating her, in bringing her into this very world. How such a thing could happen, I'm still not sure.

She's growing like a weed. I know that's something everybody says about every kid, but it's true. She spends every other weekend with her father and when I pick her up on Sundays, I can't believe how grown up she looks, and sounds. She's so full of energy, and on top of that, she talks, a lot. She's a very inquisitive girl; her favorite word is most definitely 'why?' She's a smart little cookie [which I'm also aware every parent says about their child, but really, I'm amazed that somehow I helped make this little girl so smart!] She's learning how to spell her name, and not just that, but she can write as well. She knows how to make an H, and can muster up an a as well. She's nailed down the i [a line and dot, mommy!] and the l is pretty easy. The y's a tough one, but y'know, she's getting there.

She gets a kick out of being big enough to help with everything; turning on the washer, putting laundry in the dryer, helping with the dishes, setting the table at dinnertime, or her favorite, feeding the animals their meals. It's not even that she's big enough to help; she's so independent. She tries to do it all herself; the greatest adventure of independence thus far? Pottying. Talk about fun. [I can't even remember the last time I had to buy pullups. That, in my opinion, is ana amazing piece of awesomeness in itself!]
She has her girly side [tea time, dressup, and baby dolls] but loves the boy stuff, just as much [spiderman, army men, and bugs.] She's to the point where she's [slowly] learning how to share and take turns. We spent the evening with a friend and his little one recently, and I was quite surprised at how well she did with sharing. And, the please and thank yous? She's got it down.
It really is a neverending adventure with this one.

Bottom line, I guess, is my little baby isn't such a baby anymore. [She makes it known too; "Mommm, I'm a big kid, okay?"]

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struggle.

I feel as though, lately, I'm at a standstill.
I'm just passing through, the day to day. There's so much I say I want to do, but most of it just gets pushed to the back burner.
There really aren't enough hours in the day.

Being a full time student while being a mommy is hard enough. Throw in a 30 hours a week job and it's almost too much.

My days are full of busyness. If I'm not playing referee to the two year old who thinks she's the boss, I'm attempting to get ready for work, or class, or doing whatever homework I have.
I'm currently weeks behind in my math class. I have a history exam this week, and honestly, I can't even begin to tell you what it's even over.
I need to go through the monkey's closet, and toybox, as the majority of the stuff in both is no longer of use.

And, now, we're approaching warm weather. So, instead of the tv entertaining the jumping bean for an hour while I unwind and work on various projects, she's pulling on my arm, begging to go outside. So, I put the homework off, and outside we go.
I'm not complaining, honestly. I love that little girl. I'd do whatever possible to bring a smile to her face.

There are just moments where I need to stop, breathe, and get even twenty minutes to myself to catch up.

You would think every other weekend would get me caught up. But, it doesn't.

Most days, I have not even the slightest clue what I'm doing. I'm not the greatest student; I'm struggling, I'll admit it.
I'm not even the greatest mom. I pretty much suck at that as well.
And, I'm pretty sure I'm barely getting by at work, too.

I'm trying. That counts for something, right?

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twelve oh two.

Because I don't know how to say what I really want to say..

I'm twenty three, but have a mindset totally unlike most my age.
I love summer, mostly because winter's cold weather and I just don't get along.
My two year old, Hailey Michelle, is my everything.
I like all things star shaped and polka dotted.
Along with summer, I enjoy the beach, swimming, camping, and late night walks as the sun sets.
The zoo is my favorite place to be. My bed is a close second.
I hate wearing socks and would rather live in flipflop friendly weather.
I have zero artistic abilities, but try for the sake of my craft time loving daughter.
I love to read, dance, and write, but have not enough time do much of any.
I am right handed. My daughter is not.
I love pizza, especially if it's topped with pepperoni and almost a day old.
Sunkist is my beverage of choice, although lately, I have had an affair with apple juice. Yum.
I'm a simple kinda girl. A night in, cuddling under a blanket as we watch a movie is my favorite kind of date. Along with that, an ice cream run, bowling, ice skating, or anything else that involves hand holding, smiles, forehead kisses, and lots of fun memories is good in my book.
I have an insane fear of balloons [it's not funny-don't laugh], the dark, and never finding love.
My phone's on me almost all the time. I text, constantly.
I don't wear makeup, ever. And, I hate being the center of attention. I'd much rather blend in.
I love music and can almost always find a song that says just how I am feeling. Country is my favorite, although I'll listen to just about any type.
Most females like shoes and have a billion pairs. For me, it's purses. I'm constantly changing purses. I am not, however, into the fancy expensive ones. My seven dollar bag from Target suits me just fine, thankyouverymuch.

I think Marilyn Monroe is a genius, even if only for this quote "I am good, but not an angel. I do sin, but I am not the devil. I am just a small girl in a big world trying to find someone to love."

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little things make a big difference.

Somewhere along the way, we forget to appreciate the little things. We forget to stop and smell the roses, as the saying goes. (For the record, when I say "we" really, I'm just talking about myself...)
We don't look at the little, day to day things that should bring us a smile, or better yet, happiness. We don't acknowledge others like we should. Mostly, we just exist; each day passes by and really, that's it.
There are so many amazing things happening everyday and we take it all for granted. We sit idle, and let them go by.
The world's a beautiful masterpiece, if we just open our eyes and take a peek:
The way sunshine hits my face. Or, the way concrete feels beneath my bare feet on a summer day. The way the air smells on a beautiful fall afternoon. The way Hailey whispers "I love you, mommy," in such a pronounced way.
Strawberry milkshakes. Wrapping paper, stars, and polka dots. Good morning text messages just when I need them most. Finding something I absolutely love in Target's Dollar section. Toothy baby grins.
When a coworker, friend, or even stranger smiles and waves, just when I need it most. When my favorite song comes on the radio. Forehead kisses, cuddling long after the sun has set. The beach. A second glance and a smile. Random emails just to say hi.
Writing. Dancing. Music, in general. Babies. Potty training (on the good days, of course!) Art, in its own beauty.
Love.
It really is in the little things.

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change.

I want to change the world. I want to make a difference.
I know it takes one step at a time. And that, sometimes, those steps are very, very small and barely noticeable. But, that's not the point.
The point is...

one day at a time. one step at a time.
everyday, every minute, somebody out there, is doing something good. Something amazing. Something so absolutely inspiring.

And, I want to be one of those people.

Sometimes, it's more than the simple action. It's the story behind such actions. Heart-felt, life changing, mind altering stories.

the stories leave me breathless.

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love.

I'm pretty sure I say this a lot, but I really feel like I'm finding myself.
My life has been full of hard times and such, most of which stem from bad decisions I've made for myself.
I wear my heart on my sleeve; I fall easily, and usually a little harder than I should. I see the good in everybody, and sometimes take it to the next level sooner than I really should. I think, really, I've never experienced that true love feeling that all the fairy tales talk about. I'd love to, no kidding you there. The see him across the room scene that all the love stories have; the ones where you just know. No questions. Just two people, falling in love.

I want that. Really, who wouldn't want that?
Fairy tales make it sound so easy. The prince just has to rescue the princess and bam! cue the happily ever after ending. It's nothing like that here in the real world. My prince charming's recusing involves a little more than battling some wicked step mother, evil queen, or crazy wannabe octopus. It's a lot more time consuming than a two hour disney movie, really.
And, so, I slow down. And give up a little.
I settle for less than I should.
And then, I end up right were I started.

So, this time? There is no settling.
Instead, this is a search for my happily ever after.

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little & simple

There's some beauty in the simplicity that comes alongside having a two year old. You learn, with kids, that it is usually the little things that mean the most.

Barney & Friends is on tv; one of Barney's friends makes a joke. For a good thirty minutes after the joke is said, it's the funniest thing ever.

She's looking for her yellow blanket. Mommy's a hero when she finds it [right where it was, and has been for the last day or two] and gets a million "oh, thank you mommy! I love you!" kisses.

We're sitting at the table, getting lunch ready and I tell her which sandwich is my favorite. She grins her little grin and says "that's mine too!" as though sharing a favorite with mommy is the best thing to ever happen.

Something as simple as finding two matching cards during a round of the matching game makes her day.

It's amazing.
& honestly, I wouldn't change any piece of it, for anything.

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change.

Unlike much of the general population, I keep to myself. I'm not at all the talkative type, instead, I'm quiet.
I think, a lot, but usually keep my thoughts to myself. It's how I've grown to be.

A lot of it stems from the fact that I've had some relationships that resulted in me getting things I said, in confidence, thrown back in my face.
Even more of it stems in the fact that I'm just quiet. It's how I am.

Changing how a person has been, especially for such a long time, is so much easier said than done. It's a challenging process, especially when you aren't even sure where, or how, to start. And that, right there, is my problem.

I want to change, but in this case, wanting just isn't enough. Trying doesn't seem to be either, as that's left me right where I started.

Here's to hoping 2010 brings me that change, huh?

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