"Aloha" Also Means Goodbye

They are taking our things now. The TV stand I put together myself. The perfect couch we found on sale. The foosball table I bought Brian for his birthday or Christmas (I never know which I'm buying for. I just wrap them all up and then split them up between the days). The plasma TV he bought with Gabe because the lamp burned out on the other one in the middle of the football game.

It's bittersweet. It's time to move on, but do we have to move? I'm excited for new friends, but must I leave the old?

Next comes the cleaning. The vacuuming, window washing, toilet scrubbing and figuring out a way to get the pieces of melted leather from the back of our couch off the wall, as well as the blood splatters on the kitchen ceiling from that time I almost cut my finger off while opening a bag of brownie mix with a bread knife (I still have no feeling on the tip of my left index finger). The lawn will be mowed for the first time since we moved in.

All our memories falling away to make room for someone else's. I hope they enjoy this home as much as we have.

We are leaving Hawaii in 20 days. I am probably going to cry

The baby was born on his exact due date, just like his sister. You can read more about the birth here. Yes, his name is King Leonidas. Brian rushed the paperwork out the door before I even had a chance to protest. But I'm calling him Leo.


He is almost 3 weeks now and so perfect. He sleeps all the time, except for a few hours at night when I'm trying to sleep. But if I were smart I'd take advantage of the moments when both he and Bella are napping and get some rest myself. So I am exhausted a lot.

We are leaving Hawaii in 20 days. I am probably going to cry. I have made so many great friends here. Friends that would and have done anything for me and my family. Friends that actually are more like family. Friends that I will miss terribly. But I am so homesick right now that I can't wait to leave.

I need to be home, even if it really isn't home anymore. I need to see my family and reunite with my peeps, and hope nothing has changed even if everything is different.

beauty is in the eye of...

I thought a lot about what this pregnancy would do to my boobs, hoping the sagging wouldn't occur this time. Of course I figured I could just get them redone if it did. And while I'm at it, maybe get the rhinoplasty too. Then I can fix my slightly crooked front tooth.

And in the midst of my thoughts of imperfection, specifically while wondering if there is a way to get my ears to match, I look at Bella. I spend a lot of time just staring at her. Not in a creepy way. More like an artist examining their work. But I never see any flaws. She is my perfect masterpiece.



I think about how someday she might hate her chubby cheeks, or the little cleft in her chin. She might spot a freckle and wish it away. She might think her thighs are too big, or her lips are too thin. And I will tell her how beautiful she is, and she won't believe it (although I pray that she does).

I think about all the times my mom told me I was beautiful. "You're just saying that because you're my mom and you have to." But now I know that she meant it every time. And now I know to just accept it and believe it. Not everything needs to be changed. "You are so beautiful just the way you are."

Baby Blues

I'm in a bit of a funk again, although this time I'm pretty sure I am just homesick and it is not postpartum related. Memories keep popping up so strong that I want to destroy them so I'm no longer mourning for them. I want to rip up every mental picture. Delete every sound bite. Because for some reason I don't know how to celebrate these memories for what they were. I can only grieve because the moments are gone.

And it isn't like they haven't been replaced with even better moments. Bella yelling "mom!" and running to me with outstretched arms, then hugging me so tight I have trouble breathing. But I won't pull away because I love her hugs. "I love hugs too, mom. Mom, I love hugs too." Leo falling asleep on my belly, tiny hiccups startle me every few seconds. He doesn't speak yet, but his eyes tell me so much. And Brian's kisses and I love you's. His excitement over a good zombie movie and our babies.

But I am angry. Mad at myself for never being real. Never being comfortable with who I was. Not being honest with anyone else. Because I could have had it all at that time, and then I would never think back to what could have been. And then maybe I would be perfectly content with now. Maybe friendships would be stronger and there would be more stories to tell.

I've always had trouble living in the moment. I'm always looking too far forward or so far behind. But I can't help but ask myself "am I missing out?" Am I? I never partied. But did I ever want to? Do I want to now? Do I like having an excuse to stay home on a Friday night? Is that why I have buried myself so deep into the family life? What is it that I am always running from or chasing after? Why can't I just appreciate it all for what it is when it is? Am I the only one asking these questions?

Right now what it is is great. Happy little family traveling the world together. Everything I ever wanted and more. It just all came so fast. So yes, I am missing out on something. But it was never something I fit into before, so it shouldn't even matter. Yet somehow it does.

I am so terribly homesick. I miss you all.