i rock.

I just mowed the lawn. I have blisters on my hands, my shoes are stained, my knees are stained, and I have dirt from head to toe. It's my first time ever mowing a lawn :)

Completely silly triumph for most people, I'm sure. But big for me. I am officially dependent on myself.

never better.

Every day I make it because tomorrow will be better. Because next week will be better. Next month. Next year. But it's never better. It's an unending struggle to clean up the mess I've made. An incessent search for the right fix.

And so Alex's fear of animals hiding in his curtains and Mya's need to poop anywhere except in a diaper will force me to carry on. What other option do any of us have anyway? People call it strength...What choice is there? There are babies here who need love and ravioli and tickles and "pankin's." A house that needs more attention than a toddler. A degree that won't earn itself (and seriously, with what I'm paying for it, it SHOULD).


On a side note, I love that Alex is not ashamed of his love for me yet. We were at Sertoma Park/Japanese Gardens for Mother's day and he scraped his ankle on the playground. There were several beautiful little Hispanic girls playing around him and a couple boys who were fivish, and he fell to the ground sobbing for me. I ran to him and tried to comfort him and he begged in front of everyone, "Please kiss it. KISS IT!"

carry on.

I don't want him for myself. As a matter of fact, I have hoped that he would move on.

But the fact that another woman is pregnant with his child -- six weeks pregnant when I only filed for divorce one week ago -- is killing me. My feelings are ridiculous and unfounded but it is what it is. I'm hurt.

There. I said it.

Carry on.

most days.

Most days I can handle this mess that is my life.

Today I can't.

man up already.

I so desperately want to believe in him. I want to believe that regardless of his failure as a husband and a man, he can still fulfill my hopes for him as a father.

Is it really so much to ask? He has Alex for one week -- which is thus far been the hardest 24 hours of my life, six days left -- and his life doesn't change at all. I can't fathom it. I'm deeply disappointed really...He continually talks about is how devastated he is to lose his children in the way he has, but I finally grant him an entire week with his son and he drags him along on his own excursions and calls it bonding.

How many chances am I required to give this man -- and I use that term loosely. How long do I wait for him to man up, hoping he doesn't hurt my children along the way? Where do I draw the line between protecting them and preventing them from knowing their father?

another day.

Mya is sleeping and I am away from Alex for the first extended period of time ever. He went home with Daddy and my heart is aching for him. Perhaps it's my controlling nature, but I'm here and uneasy because I wonder if his teeth are brushed, if he's warm enough, if he got a chance to say his prayers and talk about his day, if he got to set his favorite toy up to "wait for him" till morning, if his cold water is on the nightstand, if Daddy reminded him that his angels are with him...

I've been thinking alot lately. My motto is normally one day at a time, but at some point I need to think about our future. How will I incorporate the events of our lives into the story of our lives?

I will teach them that there are no excuses. That our struggles are no excuse for treating others poorly or not achieving what we expect of ourselves. That pointing fingers at those who have hurt us only further inhibits us in the long run. That we have no control over those around us, only control over our own attitude. That we only have each other and we need to love and forgive and enjoy each other daily.

I think people believe that situations like this MUST affect children negatively, but I don't necessarily believe that. This is merely an opportunity to display faith, strength, and self confidence.

PS Jesse is expecting a child with his girlfriend. But that's for another day.