RSS Feed

Migraine again

Laying in bed I put the pillow over my head, my whole body pulsing on beat with my head. It’s easy to say I have another migraine and to leave it at that. Someone sympathetic may even mention that they are sorry, they get headaches too. But that doesn’t really give you a glimpse into what it’s like. 

I woke up with a headache. Got my kids packed up and to school. Even double checked that my oldest had his library book and knew his number. When I got home, I fumbled around trying to get coffee and medication. I gave up and ended up drinking my coffee cold and no medicines. My husband had today off, so we tried to enjoy an episode of ncis. Half way through I felt sick. Made it to the bathroom in time to throw up. My head pounding worse than any college hang over I’ve seen. I laid on the bed to make sure I was done throwing up before trying to enjoy my time with my husband.
By the time I got downstairs I was in tears. Not the feel bad for me kind. The I don’t even realize I’m crying I’m in so much pain kind. I looked at the clock and apologized for him having to pick up the kids yet again on his day off. Tucked myself into bed and shoved my head under a pillow to block the light.
I wish I could say I slept it off. I spent an hour in and out of consciousness, wondering what I could have possibly done in a past life to deserve that kind of pain. My trusty pup cuddles up next me me, watching my every move. When I finally did sleep, I didn’t wake back up until three thirty. All of the kids home and my husband doing the laundry. I’m telling you, I wouldn’t survive without him. 
I managed to turn on the kettle enough times there was no water in the bottom, before finally managing to get a drink. We ate leftovers and my husband left to take our oldest to wrestling. 

Felt like a zombie, but I gave the younger two a bowl of mini marshmellows and let them watch cartoons. Thank god they were tame tonight and going to bed wasn’t a challenge. 

Here I sit. Torn between throwing up and crying. Wondering what I did to deserve this. Wondering how many more times my body is going to betray me, and why o can’t get my house clean. I want to be a good mom. I want to be a good wife. It’s so hard when I know tomorrow will be pure exhaustion from fighting the pain. I’ll get up and take kids to school. Drink ridiculous amounts of coffee just to be able to get the dishes done. My oldest has his first field trip. I didn’t volunteer. I never know when I’m going to have a migraine and it’s not fair to his teacher to have to back out last minute. I didn’t make the cookies I’d planned for his lunch, or even get the dishes done. My husband did those.
Here I sit, feeling guilty for the things I wanted to do and didn’t. Feeling guilty for giving into the pain. Feeling betrayed by my body once again. We have a date and a babysitter tomorrow. My house is in shambles. I’m embarrassed for anyone to see it. I’m afraid I’ll be to tired to put in the effort to look nice, even though my husband deserves it. He deserves more than this. He shouldn’t have to do my job for me. He shouldn’t have to clean the house. 
I think that’s the hardest part of migraines. Feeling guilty for all of the things you miss. And for all the slack everyone in your life has to deal with because you can’t.
Here’s to tomorrow. May it be better than today.

Keep on

Dear mom with young kids and a deployed husband,

You can do it. I know right now it seems impossible. Your tired from waking up six times a night. The countless hours spent fighting to get your house clean, only to turn around and see the kids have gone behind you and destroyed it. The exhaustion of splitting up fighting kids, or wiping away tears when one child has a bite mark on their back. 

I know your lonely, spending hours by yourself and not taking a break from the happy little faces around you. When you spouse is deployed you don’t even get the small evening interaction. Meals turn into chicken nuggets, peanut butter and jelly, or waffles. Why? Because your already so exhausted from fighting that food is the last fight you want. 

You feel tired and alone and like it will never end. But it will, I promise. When I started writing blue eyes was a newborn. Now five is around the corner. His brain is amazing in the way it works. He wants to know how everything moves and functions. Snow White is in preschool! She loves to draw and sing. And ninja turtles and pizza. And my little bug is a real person now. He’s walking and climbing and trying to draw on the walls. 

My house is a wreck from one side to another. I’m so far behind on chores I feel like I will never catch up. But someday my house will be silent. It will be spotless, and organized. And part of me will Sad. Sad that the chaos and happy noise will be gone. 

But for now. I’m hanging on. I’m getting through the day and doing what I can to keep up. lol 

One day at a time

Life changes come one day at a time. For three months now I have been working out. I didn’t say anything because I wanted to prove to myself I could do it. I haven’t lost drastic amounts of weight, and I don’t look a whole lot different, but I feel better. I have more energy. I feel stronger. The next step for me was to increase water. I went from about 60 ounces a day to 100-130 ounces. It took some getting used to, but my skin feels healthier and not so dry. I am starting to have more days between migraines. I still struggle with sugar. I love my sweets. But even so I am making choices one day at a time to kick my sugar addiction. I learned how to give myself medication injections to help control my migraines. Believe me, I cried the first time I pulled the needles out. But it gets a little easier. And I’ve made less emergency room visits. I’m not at the point of letting my kids see me with the needles yet, but I hope someday it won’t scare them and they will know it lets me live a normal life. 
It may seem like a bummer to cut out sweets and to carve time out of my day when I’d rather do something else, but I’ve only got one life. I have three beautiful kids that I want to be around for. I want them to see me fight for my health. And I want them to know I take care of myself so I can take care of them. And as a reward, I got myself some new leggings to work out in! 


It’s Time to Move


I feel like my family is entering a new phase of life. We’ve been at our new duty station for almost a year and a half now. My littlest bug is nine months, and my older two are starting to like each other. 

So what happens next? Mama gets fit. 

I have the big 3-0 looming over my head, and I want to start it off right. So I’ve been going to the gym. The goal is five days a week, but even three makes me happy. I haven’t lost amazing amounts of weight, but if you look at my side by side photos, it’s starting to be obvious. 

I take advantage of the fact that my husband loves bedtime and I go while he puts our three littles to bed. I take an hour to run or lift some weights and just sort of breathe. The doggies like that sometimes instead of the gym, we go on a long walk. It’s helped my mood, it’s given me more energy to get things done, and I genuinely like running. There’s always that feeling of accomplishment when I’m done. 

It’s also making me start to watch what I eat. I haven’t intentionally switched, but why would I do all of that work, just to eat junk and feel yucky. Even more, I’ve talked hubby into juicing again. He feels better with more veggies and it’s the one way he actually eats them. So guess who got her butt up at 530 this morning to do it for him. And since I was up, I ended up making him lunch. Going for wifey of the year award, not. But I’ve already had a serving of veggies, a glass of water and now I’m curled up in bed to hopefully get one more hour of sleep before our little monsters get up for the day. Monday’s there is no preschool, so it’s mommy and kids all day.

One more thing, life changes don’t happen overnight. I struggle daily to get the motivation to go to the gym. Take one step. The hardest part is believing you can.

Happy Birthday Blue Eyes!

My first baby (Blue Eyes) turned four a few days ago. It’s crazy to me that time has passed so quickly. It seems like yesterday I was huge, pregnant and terrified at the idea of giving birth to him. Now he’s four. This year has been crazy. We survived daddy being deployed. We dealt with the behavior regressions, and jealousy. We excitedly welcomed a baby brother and discovered that Snow White is our best friend.

We love power rangers, dinosaurs, and spiderman. Much to daddy’s dismay Star Wars is not the coolest anymore. Teddy bear puppy is no longer the favorite. We now have shuebert. The doggy who can hold the iPad. The blanket I panicked over making a replacement has been replaced by a thin red blanket that is his favorite color. Nap time is a struggle. I’ve thought about getting rid of it, but he still can’t make it through the day without one. In fact I’m sitting at the bottom of his bed making him close his eyes.

Time has changed. Snow White is now a busy two year old. She loves to sing, but we struggle with speech. She’s been in speech therapy for about six months. It’s a struggle to teach her things like potty training because of the lack of talking, but we are learning sign language and she’s starting to use some words. 

Baby boy is mobile! Just today I put him in the living room to play. I walked over to help Snow White with lunch, only to find him crawling into the kitchen after me. 

Sadly blackjack passed before the holidays. Domino was so lonely and depressed (as was daddy and blue eyes) that we ended up getting a puppy. We named her Bones. I remember why I didn’t want a puppy, but the joy she brings to the house is undeniable. 

Yep. Time is changing and passing. And since blue eyes finally closed his eyes long enough to fall asleep, I think I shall catch up on dishes and the millions of other housework chores that have been neglected.  



This is what success looks like. It’s not pretty or polished, like some people may think. It’s day to day life. This morning my kids are fed and dressed. The livingroom may have a few items out, but it’s not dirty. My blue eyes is happily building himself a house in the corner. Snow White is potty training, and doing really well. My littlest bug is comfy in his chair enjoying a bottle. Our newest edition (a puppy) is taking a time out in the kennel, while our older dog is lying around. (Sadly blackjack passed right before the holidays.)

Lunch is cooling on the table. There is the rumble of dishes in the dishwasher and the washer is chiming that it’s done. Yesterday’s clothes are in the bathroom still and the kids desperately need a nap. But this is success. Beautiful, messy, unpolished success.

How can I say that with everything half finished? Because I gave today 100% of what I have. I took care of my beautiful babies.

It’s no secret that I’m not the best housekeeper. But that’s okay. I work the best I can and do what I can to make my home comfortable. The walls are filled with laughter, and the messes pile up. But that’s what living looks like. And that to me is success.

Picture Update

Life never goes as planned. I had such good intentions of keeping up my blog while my hubby was deployed, and I was pregnant. It’s been one heck of a ride. I have more time now though, and I can’t wait to share some of our recent experiences. For now, I just wanted to introduce you to the littlest of our bunch. I haven’t thought of a good nickname for him yet, but he’s too adorable not to share. Not to mention, I wanted to share how much Blue Eyes and Snow White have grown. 🙂

My sweet baby boy

My sweet baby boy

Blue Eyes!

Blue Eyes!

Snow White

Snow White



Snow White loves the baby

Snow White loves the baby

I was in a Cult and didn’t know it.

If you haven’t followed my blog, I write a lot of life experiences. I write a lot about being a mom and military spouse. I write about my own time in the service, and the things I’ve learned. But I also write about things I believe in. I write about breast cancer awareness, and PTSD. I write about things that matter. This by far has been one of the harder things I’ve written. Why? Because it’s personal. It’s not something that a lot of people know and some people see it as shameful. But it’s my life. It’s what I’ve been through, and what I hope I can help others to never have to experience. It’s made me a stronger person, and after almost eleven years, it’s time to share.

blog me

It’s been eleven years since I unintentionally joined a cult. Sometimes the memories are still painful. There is something about broken belief that is humbling.

Eleven years ago I was fresh-faced and eager. I figured that if God asked for 10% tithe on our money, how much more should we give him of our time. I joined a discipleship program. The first year I was so innocent, I didn’t see anything but a desire to grow closer to God. I didn’t see the propaganda and the elaborate productions that convinced you that you weren’t enough, and you would never be enough. It didn’t start out that way. My first year I really did grow closer to God, it wasn’t until I moved that I found myself face to face with the biggest cult I would ever see.

I was asked as a personal favor of the discipleship assistant director to go to one of the struggling programs and help them create their program. I’m fluent on computers, and I have a decent understanding of enrolment forms. It was understood that I would be in a leadership role, and that I would be a staff member. I was to live with the only other girl staff member and that I would continue on. And I did. I found that my job not only entailed creating computer histories and arranging their curriculum into a usable program, but that I was the nanny to their two small children. I didn’t mind. I loved those kids so much it hurt. Still hurts I should say. But that wasn’t the end of my duties. I found that I was to feed 15-20 students. I couldn’t cook. I was only 19. But I learned. The meals may not have been much, but it was the best I could do. Then I was told I would be helping teach music. I couldn’t play an instrument, but I had enough of an understanding that one of the students in the program would show me, so that I could turn around and teach a six year old. Then came the hip hop dance. I hate hip hop. I don’t like that kind of dancing, I don’t like diva girls. Yet I was forced into hours of through the night practices until I could do the dances decently enough to teach it to the little girls.

Get where this is going? Over time, I found that I was not only doing most of the computer work, but I was teaching classes I had no business teaching. I was going over to the school to do tutoring, even if I wasn’t qualified. The schools thought the program was a God send, me I worried what was next. Then came the elderly ministry. I like older people I really do, but I wasn’t asked if I wanted to help, or even had time to help. I was expected to drop everything and go. The lady was bitter. It didn’t matter what I did, it was wrong. And my heart broke. I would come home in tears every day, to find big pots waiting for me to cook or clean, or music practice.

The whole time I was doing this, I was told that God knew my heart. That if I was patient they would help me do the things that were in my heart. I wanted to write…. I wanted to serve, but I didn’t want to be forced to do things that hurt my heart.

It didn’t stop with ministry though. I was continually pushed aside in the name of doing other things. I would be left out from trips watching the directors children. At one point I had bronchitis to the point of pneumonia, and it was all I could do to take care of their active two year old and crying baby. My kids are that age now, I can’t believe I was taking care of those babies in such a sick state. I know one night I held onto their little boy and just cried, while his sister was asleep in the crib. I was so weak, it took all my effort to change the movie for him in the cold church.

I didn’t want to disappoint God.

Over time I was put in charge of a whole house of girls. And even though they were given the guidelines, I felt like I was constantly having to watch them. The weekends they went to one of the girl’s homes, I would borrow a car and drive. Thankfully, there was the Associate Pastor and his wife. They protected me and shielded me, like I was there own. They made it okay to be me, and their oldest son became like my brother. And then one day it hit me.

I looked in the mirror and I didn’t recognize the girl looking back.

I had always been a bit of a wild child with my clothing. As good as gold in behavior, but occasionally the streaks of red in my hair would show up. Or the large funky jewelry, or the ripped jeans and heavy eyeliner. But this girl was too pretty. Large wavy curls, loose flowy skirt, ugg wannabe boots, and an actual sweater top. My hair was one color and the eyeliner gone.

And then it dawned on me.
I hated that pretty face.

Over time I had been asked not to wear this or that. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but I felt like parts of me were slowly fading. I was complimented when I matched what they liked, and ignored when I didn’t. The Director’s wife had even taken me clothes shopping, “in thanks for watching their kids.” Yeah right, they just wanted me to fit their image a little better.

The next morning I pulled out some of my clothes from when I first got there. I put on a heavy line of eyeliner, and out came the crazy earrings. They laughed and joked about my clothes and asked if I was okay. I bit my tongue, but I wanted to say I had never felt better. I was tired of the two-faced-ness. I was tired of being told to enforce the rules only to have the other staff members go behind my back and give them permission to do things against the rules. I was tired of the directors turning their head when a staff member got caught smoking weed. So I pulled away.

I started looking at colleges I could attend. I knew it was time to go, but I didn’t know how. I set up appointment after appointment to talk to the directors, only for them to be conveniently busy when the time came. It wasn’t until a month later that the dam burst. My room-mate had gotten pregnant. I didn’t know it at the time, and I feel terrible for the situation now. She, like I was, was trapped. The people who were like second parents to her would have disowned her. And scared, she did the only thing she could think of, told them I was planning on leaving. Like I said, I completely understand what happened. She is still one of my dearest friends, and I’m glad to find that she left not long after I did. But at the time, I was blind-sided.

I was called into the office. I was blamed for not waiting on God’s will, and not having enough faith. It took all of my courage to tell them that they couldn’t possibly know what God’s plan was for me. That was between me and God. Then it got really bad. They started bringing up people I was friends with (people I was trying to introduce to God), a guy I had been talking to (he’d never even asked me on a date), and the clothes I was wearing. It took everything in me to hold my ground.

I called my dad in tears, and I can honestly say, my dad had my back. He called them and found out what was going on. They refused to help me get home, even though they never paid me. My dad bought me a ticket. And that’s when I found out I had been blacklisted. Nobody was allowed to talk to me. The leaders expected me to come to them begging for a ride to the airport. They definitely didn’t expect me to show up at church. I didn’t talk bad about them, I just said good-bye to my friends and told them it was time for me to go… I knew I had lost every friend I had made in the last two years. But I was free.

Or so I thought. I didn’t realize how long it would take me to heal. I didn’t realize it would still hurt eleven years later. I didn’t realize I would shy away from church for a long long time….

Looking back, I can see now, it had turned into a cult. I am thankful I got out when I did. I’m thankful that the scars will heal and I am a stronger person. I am thankful it pushed me to make choices that lead me to here. I am far from who I used to be, and I am grateful.

I looked up the program tonight. They’ve changed their name twice in the last eleven years. Trying to distance themselves from the terrible people they are. They don’t have an official website anymore, they only are listed in the directory of overall programs. The only people still there are the pastors who started it, and one of the people that was in leadership with me. I didn’t look to regret. I wanted to see pictures of the babies I used to watch. They are beautiful. They look happy and healthy. My heart still twinges when I remember the little boy crying for me. Or the girl who replaced me calling desperately trying to figure out what he wanted. No, he won’t remember me now, but I will always remember him.

There is no point in regretting your bad choices, they aren’t really bad choices, after all you wouldn’t be where you are or have what you have without them. Am I more cautious in my future? Sure, who wouldn’t be, but I still know who I am supposed to be, and the streaks of color still find their way into my hair from time to time. I still have the scars from the piercings to my ears and nose, and I wouldn’t mind re-doing them someday. But it’s different now. I don’t do it to stand out, I do it because it’s part of who I am. Part of who I want to be.

I’ve been taking my littles to church lately. Seeing them light up when they get there is so refreshing. Reminds me of why I believed in the first place. I want them to grow, and learn God’s plan for their life. But I will protect them from what I experienced. And heaven help the person who tries to tell MY CHILD God’s plan for THEIR life. That’s between them and God and I will walk beside them every step of the way, even if it’s not mommy’s plan for their life.

We’re having a baby… and daddy’s deployed.

I’m seven month pregnant now. It feels like it’s just flying by. I actually feel better this pregnancy than I did with my first two, and I’m pretty sure I have my first two babies to thank for that. I run after them constantly. The result is a slightly fitter mommy, and I haven’t gained a whole lot of unnecessary weight. I’m tired, but honestly, what pregnant lady isn’t tired? My kids are acting up, but once again, what kid doesn’t act up when they can sense their world is about to change yet again? My dogs are being horrible, for proof, just look at my dog shaming post. 🙂 But overall, I really can’t complain.

Blue Eyes is excited for a baby brother. He keeps telling me we are naming the baby Silver. Not exactly a name I would pick for my kiddo, but at least Blue Eyes is happy at the idea of another baby. I’m not sure he quite understands that the baby will be born as just that, a baby. I’m pretty sure he thinks the baby will be Snow White’s size, and they’ll be able to play right away. I feel a little bad for the surprise he’s about to get.

I’m pretty sure Snow White realizes something is about to happen. All she wants to do lately is snuggle with mommy. We also found out she needs some testing for her hearing, so I’m hoping to have all of that worked out before the baby gets here. They think it’s a really simple fix, like needing tubes in her ears, but as a mommy, I will feel better knowing how we can take the next steps to help my baby girl in growing.

Now that it’s obvious I’m getting close to the end, I get never ending questions. Was this baby planned? Are you going to keep going? You can’t have just three you know. Do you have a name? How are the kids handling it? How’s your hubby doing with it? Oh your husband is deployed? Will he be back in time? He won’t? Oh you poor thing… you should have planned better…

Here’s the deal, don’t tell me we should have planned better. Every baby is a blessing, and even if it’s not the “ideal” time, I’m so excited to have this baby. To hear people act like this baby is an inconvenience is offensive and rude.

And it’s not poor me. I signed up for the military life when I signed papers to enlist. I didn’t expect to marry a military man, but I knew what I was getting into, unlike a lot of wives, I knew what it would look like. I count it lucky that he’s been gone as little as he has. Since having kids, he has rarely been gone. He was gone for two months right after Blue Eyes was born, and since then only little periods here and there. He’s made it to two of our kids births, and every birthday so far. That’s rare for a military family. I count my blessings.

Yes, I’m afraid.

Who wouldn’t be? I don’t want to be alone when I have this baby, and God willing my mom will be here in time. But I’m not so worried about me being here alone as I’m worried about my kids. Thankfully I have made some great friends here, that I know will take care of my babies until a family member or myself can be home.

Yes, I’m sad my husband won’t be here.

But tears won’t help me. What I need is to be as organized as possible. To find out if there is a chance of being able to FaceTime the birth, or if I can have someone available to send him pictures through email as soon as possible. Finding ways to let my husband be here, even if he can’t physically be here. After all, it’s his baby and he’s got more to adjust to when he comes home than people realize. He was gone most of the pregnancy. He didn’t get to see the ultrasounds. He didn’t get to see my belly grow, or feel the kicks. His gender reveal was a picture I set up with the kids so he had something cute to see. He hasn’t gotten to buy the baby clothes, or put sheets on our well loved crib. He hasn’t had the time to prepare that I have. He left with two kids and he’s coming home to three. Talk about scary!

No, I’m not strong.

I do this because I have to. I’m not strong. I break down, and cry. Blue Eyes has become very sensitive to mommy’s crying, and tries to take care of me. But it doesn’t make me weak either. It shows my babies that I’m human, that I miss daddy as much as they do. And that’s okay.

Would I do it again?

Yes! A million times yes. This is my baby and I can’t wait to meet him. This is our last baby as far as we have planned, but that makes this pregnancy all the more important. Hopefully people can understand that. And maybe it will help someone else who is giving birth alone.

Dog Shaming… I had hoped to never have to do this.

Dog Shaming at it's finest

Dog Shaming at it’s finest

As you know by now, I have one incredibly smart blacklab/weimaraner. This is Blackjack, and since daddy has been deployed, he has been a royal plain. People always laugh when they see the dog shaming posts, heck I’m guilty of laughing too. Until its your dog. Blackjack has always been a handful. We can’t put him in a kennel because it takes less than a half an hour to escape every type of kennel there is. I can’t leave him unsupervised in the back yard because he will open the latch and take himself for a walk…. actually I can’t leave him unsupervised anywhere. He’s opened more doors (including firedoors) than any dog should ever be able to. Whenever we have company they are always amazed when he pops the back door open in two seconds flat, and just lets himself out. They think it’s the greatest trick ever, I know better.

When my husband was in bootcamp (before I met him), he left this dear sweet dog with his aunt. That poor aunt has had to replace most of her furniture and do a little bit of redecorating because of this guy here. By the time I married my husband, Blackjack was three years old, and way way to smart for his own good. The first deployment started okay, until he figured out how to open the fridge. I chalked it up as a fluke and cleaned up the mess. A month or two later, I had tried every child lock available for kids and dogs. Then I started barricading the fridge. Just to leave the house I would put all of the kitchen chairs in front of it. It worked well enough to get through deployment.

Over the years he’s just gotten worse. He’s eight years old and the only thing we have found that works is a muzzle. I’m not a huge fan of muzzles. I always associated them with dogs who are aggressive, or who might bite you. I didn’t realize it would be the only that kept my dog from eating the trash, or opening the fridge and trampling all of my eggs!!! Most dogs calm down when they hit eight…. not ours. He has just become more stubborn and determined.

You know what? I should have put this dog in the movies. We would have made enough to be comfortable, that’s for sure.

Shame on, dog owners!

I feel your pain.

%d bloggers like this: