Untitled

I was making dinner.
Pancakes.
The kids were playing loudly, and watching cartoons.

The phone rang.

I almost didn't answer because it was Grandma.
She always calls at dinner.
But I did, because it was Grandma.

Their are now two times in my life:

Before that Call and

After.

I can almost vividly remember my heart stopping.
I don't remember breathing.

I remember retreating to the basement stairs, to try and shield the children.
I remember yelling the words "Narcan", "overdose" and "you have to tell them the truth".

I heard the front door open on the other end, and many heavy work boots on her hardwood floors.
I remember hearing my grandma say, "My granddaughter says to tell you it's an Overdose. But, that can't be true"

I know that house well, so much so that I knew when they had reached the bedroom just by listening to their boots over the silence on the other end of the line.

The bedroom door opened.

Screaming.

I took in air again.
She's pissed.
This isn't good, but we can survive this.
She needs rehab, she's pissed Grandma called the ambulance.

We will get her help.
We will be so proud of her.
We will cheer her on every time she adds a coin to her collection.
She's done it once before.

The boots moved.....
but slower now, after they'd been in the bedroom.

I hear radio chatter.

Some boots stayed on the wood floors, some sounded to move outside.....so did the screaming.

Boom.

Someone dropped me, and I was left holding my phone while it's counterpart laid on the floor at the other house.
I waited.

I waited for someone to pick me up and talk, or to hang up on me so I could call back.

I couldn't do anything until then.

I sat down on the floor, on our dirty-web-infested basement stairs.
I never go to our basement.

But.....

I couldn't leave.

The kids couldn't see this.
I listened to the heavy boots.
I began to let the reality sink in.
It was not her that had been screaming, but rather screaming for her.
She wasn't mad the paramedics were there.

And they weren't running.
Their steps were steady, even.
I listened to the boots.
It was slow.

No rush.

I waited.

No one had told me what I knew was true.
The moment of Schrödingers Cat.
I knew what was reality, but until someone said it it wasn't real.

A moment where she was still both alive, and very much gone.
A moment where I was a big sister, and very much alone.
A moment where my children had an Aunt, and one where they had gained an Angel.
A moment with a future, and a moment of grief.

I waited.

I listened.

I live in that moment.
I've taken up residency here.
Part of me never left that cobweb filled stairwell.

Part of me felt so safe there.
Because it's ugly and dirty and scary, but she might be okay.

In purgatory.

And I'm scared to leave. 

It's Just Veggies People

When I looked over at the pregnancy test I took on that June day, when I found out we were surprised pregnant with Edison...everything changed.

I did not want a baby. We were not trying for a baby. Sean will tell you, I'm not the crying type...but, I cried myself to sleep in his arms more than once those first 3 months. 

I questioned my faith, and thought about terminating the pregnancy. 

We announced early, because it scared me that I had contemplated such a thing. I needed positivity to surround me. I needed people to tell me how wonderful it was, and how excited they were.

Then began the journey of "fake it til you make it". And, when he finally kicked within me....I was no longer acting... I was for sure in love. 

But, I don't like when things don't go as planned. I need a plan. His surprise existence made me question everything. 

What's my parenting style?
Why?
How will I feed him?
Why?
How do my children get educated?
Why?
How do I approach my babies milestones?
Why?
How do I get medicated?
Why?

I researched cloth diapering, breastfeeding, cosleeping, essential oils, homeschooling, babywearing, e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g.

Over time, the more you educate youraelf, the more you want to know. 

Most recently.... I've taken a dive into cruelty free research.

Sean and I went vegetarian several years ago, for about 10 months. But, I was a stay at home Mom and he was not yet medicated...so, income did not allow us to continue. 

This time around I had several helpful tools on my side: Pintrest, Instagram, and Facebook (much better than Myspace for things such as finding support and encouragement) and several IRL vegetarians/vegans. 

I watched documentaries, did research, and timing just aligned.

My younger sister is finally healthy and happy, after a long battle with heroine addiction. And, I didn't realize it until she got clean...but, I think I was punishing myself all these years for not being able to protect her. For carrying on with my life, and being happy...while she was stuck in Hell. I realized while she had her addiction, it fyelled my own. With food. 

I met a wonderful chick who happened to be vegan ( I'm talking about you, Brianne!), and I had recently discovered Lularoe. And, before you get all crazy telling me I'm crazy.... this clothing line literally changed my life. It took a post partum Mama with low self esteem, and gave me my confidence back. 

With a renewed sense of  self, and a desire to change my life and get healthy for my kids.... I adventured simultaneously on a journey to detox off topical steroids for my eczema, and to get our family on the path to being cruelty free.

It was the start of,
How do we get our nutrition?
Why?

I noticed a change immediately. 

I had more energy, I felt so much more positive. 

My skin is still shitty, but it's to be expected at this stage of TSW. But, it feels better than it looks most days. Which, in and of itself is HUGE. Typically during a flare the depression and pain are so intense.... well, I wouldn't wish it on anyone. 

For the first time in my life: I'm eating veggies at every meal, I'm eating proper portion sizes, and I'm living my morals. I've lost 27 lbs in 6 wks, which...again, UNHEARD of for me. I've never lost weight consistently, and for my BMI I started at a solid 55-70 lbs overweight. (And thats with minimal exercise, due to sweat being painful on my ever flaring eczema at the moment)

I eat to live now, I don't live to eat. 

I still love being in the kitchen, and I can cook anything and everything that we used to eat and love.... just meat free :0)

I find it funny, how many people have negative things to say. We aren't hurting anyone. I mean.... LITERALLY. ((lol))

Yes. 

I've gone hard at this. 

It's my LIFE, that I'm changing. 

My husbands LIFE.

My kids LIVES.

Worth the effort....no?

In addition to being vegetarian, I've also gone gluten and dairy free.... primarily for my skins sake. And, I still eat 3 meals and 2 snacks a day

Trust me. 

I don't go hungry. 

If you're interested in how or why or...whatever, about our process, whether because you don't understand it or because you are curious to take the plunge yourself.... PLEASE just ask. :0)

In the mean time I will leave you with two truths:

1) I was an avid lover of a juicy, red centered beef burger.

2) there is a reason why we take our kids to Apple orchards, and not slaughter houses. 

Real Talk

Lately, coparenting feels a lot more like work than it has in a long time.

Quite frankly: it fucking sucks.
I absolutely hate it.

Little decisions, feel like big ones.
Easy days, somehow turn into milestones and precedents.
I told y'all it wasn't always pretty.

It used to be fucking awful.
Then, it was very fluid.
Today....it's confusing.

I keep reminding myself, at the end of the day....we are all family. And sometimes---family blows. Sometimes, you just piss eachother off. And sometimes you can't reach an agreement.

And, agreeing to disagree is really smiles through clenched teeth.

I don't know when it won't feel so hard again. But I (hope) & know it's coming.

Every situation and every family waxes and wains.

We four are in a life long relationship, raising these boys. We all show up. We all love the fudge out of them. We all believe we are firmly planted next to the best decision for them. We are all blending, additionally, in our own homes while raising these guys. Not every day is magical when trying to navigate this. THAT I can promise you.

It's literally a cluster fuck.
I mean, really.
Look it up.
We certainly must all be pictured next to the term.

It's hard enough for one married couple to raise children under one roof, with two people who are in love and share similar ideals and values. To get them to reach an agreement on the day to day, ins and outs of parenthood.

We...well we arent doing that. We are trying to have two (realistically three) households overlap, raising a community of SIX children with SIX adults, each house with a set of adult couples who share very different views of how to turn these tiny people we are proud of, into adults we can be proud of, while making as few mistakes along the way as possible.

What.the.actual.fuck.

Right?

It's complete and utter lunacy.

But, here we stand.
We all still show up.
We all still love the ever living fudge out of these crazy babes.

So, on we trudge.
Some days, I want to cry.
Some days, I do.
Some days I swear, a LOT.
Some days, I have nothing good to say.

Because I don't know when it won't feel hard anymore.
I don't know when our books, and our pages will align again, and we will once again become fluid.

But for now I trust us.
All of us.
I trust my family.
Dysfunctional, though we may be at times.

And really, what's the alternative?

I know we are all doing our very best to hold fast to our household parenting values, while not stomping on anyone else's toes.

It's an ugly dance at times.
It's difficult not to get passionate.

But, we all keep going..... because those boys are what we are passionate about. And we will all, always....agree about that.

This Guy ♡

I cannot believe how different life looks, from a year ago.

I don't remember life without this little guy. But, I remember being horrified that he was created and on his way.

I remember all the reasons.

I was scared to lose my body again.
I was scared we couldn't afford another.
I was scared to lose the sleep, I had just regained.

I still don't love my body.
I still don't have extra money.
I still don't sleep well.

But, Lord.
Look at this boy.
Look at our family.

Did you ever see anything so perfect, or complete?

Yea, me neither.  ♡

Our (not so) Little Lady

I know she's difficult  to see, but Nola is tangled up in my arms and that blanket.

These days don't happen as frequently as they used to, or as much as I'd like them to.

She's getting so big, and she's always been very independent.

But, lately she will come to me and askeep for a snuggle,  or a kiss, or....for anything, really.

And I know she is so patient with how much attention her baby brother requires.

So when she asks.....I know she needs it. I know she has been a good girl and waited so patientlyrics and she just needs her Mommy or Daddy too.

(Because, she is till our Little Lady.....no matter how stinking tall she gets!)

She asks how my day was, she reminds us to get gas, she tells the boys to charge their phones, and makes sure Artax has food and water.

Such a nurturing sould, she has. Always making sure everyone has what they need and that they are prepared.

I love her. Her twirls. And, her beautiful heart.

They Aren't So Little Anymore

Sean and I have explained on numerous occasions to the boys why he and I are together, how we came to be. Never in much detail. It was never really asked of us.

One night this week, I had put the tiny two to bed, and the boys were finishing up a drink and brushing their teeth in the bathroom, as I readied myself for bed across the hall.

Holden walked into my room, as he normally does, but instead of hugging me and going about his travels to his own bed....he plopped down on mine. I looked at him sideways, and he grinned.

Gavin waved at me as he began to pass (you know, the cool preteen that he is, sometimes he skips the goodnight kisses.) our bedroom door....caught himself mid stride, having realized Holden didn't look like he was making any progress on getting to the third floor, and he plopped, too.

Then.....they talked. 

They talked like I've never had them speak to me before.

They asked questions about so many things. They asked about my life before I met their Daddy. They asked about Sean and Heather together. They asked why they ended up apart. They asked about marriage, and divorce. They asked about my parents. They asked about Seans parents.

So.
Many.
Questions.

But...
Then, even more unexpected than the asking...

They started to SHARE.
They shared with me about their first memories. Some happy, some sad. So many I didn't expect. They think about things, that are deeper than I realized they do.

Gavin remembered meeting me.
That....well that about killed me.
I tried to resist the crying, because it freaks him out. (Aspergers + preteen = please dont cry in front of me, I get all spastic)

But, alas. I could not. I knew it was coming. Knew I couldn't hold it for long. I held out as long as I could, in my defense.

I finally gulped the air, and it caught in a firey pocket in my throat, burning at me to shed my tears and hold him. And he shocked me by rubbing my back, and not being freaked out at all.

He let me go, I wiped my eyes...and we all just continued.

It lasted over 2 hours. Stories, memories, and me being able to explain things a little more because the age appropriate-ness has changed. They're not so little these days.

It may have been one of my top three memories with each of them. (Third only to the day I met each of them, and the separate days that I *knew* I was a Mama to each of them. The day something changed and I knew we were family).

I don't think I'll ever forget how I felt once they did finally hug and kiss me, and adventure to their room. While it was happening, I knew it was special. And once it was over, I wanted to jar the magic they had left in the room behind them. They had no idea the gift they had just given to me.

And, someday, at their graduation party, or maybe their wedding reception....maybe I'll retell the tale ♡

Rewind to December

December started with a BANG! with #Teampurcell sending Gavin off for his first surgery. {It was also, the first "big" event that four adult members of the team, gathered for one of the boys}

Not to be out done, Holden decided shortly thereafter that he too, would enjoy some medical attention. Appendicitis?  Nahh, just full of sh!t.

December saw another year of decorating, and making holiday memories (like the annual event of Artax wearing her ugly Christmas tree sweater)

We survived the black out that literally occured jusssssst after the tree went up, and the gingerbread house was finished.

Sean and I {FINALLY} got a minivan, and depleted Allllll the Christmas  finances, just in time for Santa to feel like a schmuck.

Gav-man turned 12, and has expensive taste for anything-goes-Birthday-Dinner now. Though....I still don't  understand how..... he is still the little tyke that chased me around a park in Goshen and demanded we get ice cream after, and wouldn't let me leave the parking lot ♡ Oh...and a Star Wars thing happened, and they were all excited, and blah blah, #iloveyouiknow and stuff.

We went on our annual drive to see Christmas  lights after dinner for Gavs  birthday, because that's another perk of being born a week before Christmas. And....we all fit in a vehicle :0)

We put out cookies, we listened to music, and Santa even called! Holden deemed it the "Best Christmas Ever!" on that fact alone. 

 We wore short and dressed without tights, because Christmas Eve was in the 70's!

Santa came and even though we wished we could have done more... they were so genuinely happy. Each year I tell myself to scale back, because  we want them to remember WHY Christmas is special, and not for the gifts. And this year, they really taught me...they get it. And they are genuinely  gracious  and thankful kiddos.

 And, we took two family photos, that mean more to me than I could express. Both for very, very different reasons. 

Goodbye & Hello

This year can best be summed up by the Pins that I always find myself looking  at in moments when I need them.

Some are deep. Some real. Some just funny.

Some about lost/changed friendships. Some about new, unexpected friendships. Some about the depth of Motherhood. Some about how you have to bend and change in marriage, and constantly  get to know one another again. Some about the adventures  to come on my new, & upcoming, career  move. And sone about needing to own a minivan.

Til Death Do Us PAR{en}T

When I met Sean, I knew as soon as he started speaking about Gavin and about his "Little Sprout" on the way, that I was adventuring into a situation, not just a relationship.

Coming from a 'broken family' myself, I knew what all the possible outcomes of my involvement looked like. I knew what my life would be. I knew what I was 'getting myself into'. Or, so I thought.

I thought, back then, that Sean and I would forever sit side by side with Heather and her fiancèe across from us. Sure, we 'came to the table'. We talked.  We were raising the same boys. We discussed medical info, school issues, sport sign ups. Necessary,  unavoidable raising-the-same-kids stuff. But, we did not "coparent", as we have since learned to. We were never a Team.

Those were difficult days. Days where you prayed before entering the Galleria that you wouldnt all run into eachother. Days where you'd swear under your breath if one of the boys fell, and you had to explain a bruise. Days where anxiety was an all too common state of norm. Days where sharing the boys wasn't easy.

Ugly Days.

Then.... we found ourselves in an unexpected circumstance. An unexpected text message I recieved on the way home from CVS, just as the rain began to fall from the hurricane. A text saying Heather was now single. That she was alone with the boys. Many expected us to become 2:1. I wouldn't have it. I had worked too hard and invested too many hours crafting homemade gifts trying to create peace amongst us. For the sake of our boys. This hurricane would pass, and so would her heartache. We would figure it all out together. Her birthday arrived shortly thereafter, and Nola gave her a tiara and flowers. And that.... was Day One.

So. We were three.  We chose to bond together,  rather than create a 'two against one' situation. We had some serious stuff to hash out, Ugly Day stuff to sort through. But, somewhere between a summers day diagnosis of Aspergers for Gavin, and a pre Christmas margarita meet up between Heather & I at Chili's.....we had sorted some serious shit out. We all found Team Purcell.

Sean and I were obviously always going to be a unit, we had taken vows to support each other. We would always be on the same page, and be on the same side. So I made it my mission for Heather and I to establish something special.  I wanted her to see through me, to my heart. To see what my intentions were, in such a way that she would never have to guess if any of my actions had alterior motives. To know where my lines were drawn. And I wanted to know hers. I was sick of years of guessing if a text had a snotty attitude attached. Sick of trying to figute out if "It's fine." meant it was fine, or that we were actually fighting. I wanted her to know that I'm not in any sort of competition.  Im not here to battle for the position of Best Female Influence in The Life of Gavin and Holden. I wasnt vying for any awards. Im not trying to be their Mom.She's their Mother. Im here really and truly because I love these boys as much as I love their Daddy. And I didn't want to have limits on my love. I hoped she could see that. I know my place is behind her whenever it needs to be. When a situation doesnt have room or cater to a multiple parent family, I know she and Sean get first dibs.  But, whenever possible..... I wanted to have a front row seat too. I wanted her to know.... I WANT that. I didn't want to have important days of our sons lives told to me. I wanted to experience them as well.

Ugly days seemed a thing of the past.
People commended us,  people called us "inspirational".

We had done it.
We built something beautiful & strong.
We had something I wished so badly that my parents could have done.

Then..... summer of 2014 came.

Much newness entered.

Sean and I were {SURPRISE!} expecting, and Heather was growing in her own way.

All of a sudden we were anticipating a new little male human and she was entertained by a grown male human. A relationship. She had a Mister, and he had his own children and baggage.

It was a strange time.

Sean and I had always anticipated Heather adding another Misses to our Team. Sean never expected another male to share his boys with. And I had mentally prepared to welcome whoever the "She" in our future was to be with open arms. It may seem a trivial part of the equation.....but we were both unsure how to react to this new man being throw into the mix. This was not the future we anticipated.

You certainly can't be angry at someone for ending up in a heterosexual relationship. {though.... the irony of it is not lost on me} And we weren't/aren't.  It was just.....complicated.  It caught us off guard. I don't do well without a plan. I had NOT planned for this.

Add to that all of the factors of my pregnancy, and getting ready for Number Four...whilst my friend and Mother of my eldest sons was busy building something new..... distance.

Distance invaded our Team.

Her new Mister was not a stranger. His was a friendly face to our family. Someone we had known.

Initially,  we saw this as a note of comfort. We new he wasn't a serial killer. He wasn't going to skip town with Heather and the boys, leading us on a manhunt cross country.

But.... shit. We also knew The Former MrsMister. That complicated things in a way I did NOT anticipate.

The fact that those two were fairly recently separated and still figuring out exactly what that looks like and taking steps to be separate forever.... whoa. It's hard to watch other people go through the Ugly Days. Almost as difficult as being their yourself.

I tried my darndest to be Sweden. I wanted neutrality.  I avoided Heather,  and asked her not to tell me details about her new relationship for months. It made me a shitty friend to her, but.... I wanted no involvement.  I wanted to proudly wave a white flag. If someone asked if I knew anything,  I wanted to HONESTLY be able to look them in the eyes and say "no".  I didn't want The Former MrsMister to feel like it was her against the world. Like she was sucked in to a huge math equation that didnt account for her. One that would.leave her negative. Team Purcell is/was unconventional. It's a lot to be thrown into. Or....as it were.... have thrown at you, without a choice. And I knew balancing both friendships would be a delicate, more accurately, impossible feat at this stage in the process.

Getting divorced sucks.
Starting new relationships sucks.
Doing both simultaneously.....FKN sucks.

I remember those days watching Sean survive ut all too well.

I just wanted distance from their journey.

But... hard days inevitably occured.

And I remember being odd-chick-out during the Ugly Days. I remember loving so hard, and having no say. I remember crying alone in the shower and wishing I didnt have to share my people.  I remember rage over peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and the urge to throat punch. I couldn't just sit back,  knowing all too well the struggles Heather must have been struggling.

Then....

The Former MrsMister.

Shit.

I like her oh so much. We had never had wine night or stayed up all night chatting on a sofa, but social media makes Mamas close. You see each others days, and sometimes you just need a "you're doing great! Hang in there! " and she had always been there for that. She cheered me on when I began running, and comforted me in the most genuine way when I had to stop running, due to an unexpected pregnancy. I unleashed ugly thoughts and feelings....and she never judged. Never.

Her days were no picnic either.  Ugly Days are for everyone in the beginning.  Not just for odd-chick-out. I lent to her the insight I had procured through our years of Team Purcell.  We got each other. These days are hard. We shared many a deep sigh, and simple nod. And we both knew everything that one moment meant.

I did my best to support all parties.
I always want to fix.
I always want to friend.

But, somehow, despite my greatest efforts the rules I set for myself and my best intentions....

I find myself with no one to support.
No one to encourage.
No one to engage in discussion of these circumstances.

In betraying my initial stance on being Sweden and in lowering my white flag, in deciding to cross into the battle zone to lend a hand.... I have made myself smell of the enemy. I have made all parties leary that I am a Trojan Horse.

So, here I sit.
Exactly where I didn't want to end up.

It is amazing to me, looking back, how adding one relationship has set Team Purcell back five years. We certainly aren't back in the Ugly Days.... but, I feel as though we must rebuild from the bottom up.

Funny how it all started after a hurricane.  That a storm is where our story began. I find myself bracing against the wind these days. Waiting for the pressure to subside, and normalcy to return once more. I await the sun.

When I took vows with Sean, I made promises to his (our) sons as well. I promised to love and respect their Mother, because I love and respect them. And they are half of her. Mind, body, and soul. I cannot love them, and not also love her.

Til death due us PAR(en)T.
On the good days, and the bad.

My Dreams: Volume I

Sean is always telling me to document tge dreams {nightmares} that i have. They wake me up in a cold sweat. They stay with me. They feel so real, that my heart continues to race long after my eyes have opened. And my soul aches for whatever loss I experienced even longer.

Here was last night::::::

I woke up to the sound of people downstairs. In my house.

I turn on the bedside lamp.

*BANG* theyre in my livingroom.

I crawl to her room.

*CLANG* theyre in my kitchen.

She's sleeping.

I crawl to the hallway.

I look down the three stories that separates me and this hallway from the groundfloor. I look above. All those beautiful, stained glass spheres that dangle in a beautiful symphony of different heights, in a pattern that looks like music would, glisten in the dim lighting and seem to twinkle a hello at me.

My fingers trace the metallic button on the wall.

*SMASH*  theyre getting closer.

I presh the button.

Every sphere was strategically placed when we built this house. Each aligned with a panel of the glass ramp that leads from the first floor, to the third. We have no second floor.

The spheres dance the destructive dance they were  each created for. They shatter, as does our ramp beneath it.

I walk down the hall, back to her room. I disable the elevator as I pass it.

Safe.

Time.

I take a small breath trying to find a rhythm. I can calm down for a moment. It will take whoever is in my house a while to figure out a plan to get to is now.

But now she and I are trapped in out beautiful fortress.

I get to her bedroom, and he's there with her. Sitting on the edge of her bed. She loves him, as much as that's possible.

I trust Maxwell III with her, almost as much as i trust myself.

Maxwell and Maxwell II didnt have the delicate touch that Tree has. She has affectionately called him "Tree" ever since she first mispronounced III all those years ago.

After altering some programming and updating some software, my husband had made rge perfect companion for she and I. He was gone so often on business trips, making millions and leaving us alone that he decided he needed Tree.

Tree protects her. I know he would tonight.

I go back to the hall.

I call down to the people in my home.

A woman answers my call.

Then a man.

They come into view at the base of the cement cavern that my glass symphony created.

It's my husband and his It.

I know why they are here.

They must not get to the top floor.

He designed this house.

It won't be long.

I'll be able to hold them off, but not forever.

Tree and I fight valiantly.

He sacrifices himself, to save her...like I knew he would.

We are all in her bedroom.

She is crying.

"Why? I gave you everything you asked for. I'm accepting the divorce.  We are going to leave the house. We don't want anymore money from you than we need. Why? Why are you doing this?"

"You know why." Is the only answer I receive.

I fight.
I struggle.
I scream.
It shuts me up.
He goes after her.

She screams.
Her arms flair about, swatting at him.
"No, Daddy!"

But he doesnt care.

His hands touch her.

And her screaming stops.
Her movement stops.

I know she will never move again.

It releases me.

I run to her.

I throw myself in bed beside her and pull her to my lap. I sob.

I see his silhouette in her doorway.

A small metallic chip, shines from the hall light in his hand.

"But you never would have given me her."

Brown

Brown play dough.

You know that feeling that you get, when you crack open a new pack of play dough?  All the colors await you, sitting nicely in their appropriate containers. There they sit. Smooth. Cylindrical,  perfectly formed to fit the tube in which they arrived to you in. 

You know it will never go back in that way. It will never be perfect again. It will never again be untouched or flawless. 

But, still....you take it out and play. 

You roll it, and slam it, cut it into bits, roll it into balls. Try to create something prettier than that perfect cylindrical product that you found just moments ago.  

It's inevitable. 

Every time.

No matter how hard you try.

No matter how much you say you won't. 

You mix the colors. 

You do it in hopes that the masterpiece you are left with will be worth it. 

Sometimes it is. Sometimes you make all the right choices, and its a wonderful day.

Sometimes,  its just poop-brown play dough. 

Sometimes, you need to try again.

Figure out where you went wrong. 

What shouldn't mix again. 

The next time,  you're more cautious. 

You stop. 

You think about the choices youre making. 

Because you don't want poop again. 

It's funny, really.

Whether we are five, twenty-five, thirty-five, or seventy-five.... the allure of play dough is always there. To mold it. Shape it. Squeeze it into something new. 

It may seem juvenile. But, maybe it's just practice. 

Play dough is just doing its job. 

Stress relieving. 

Reminding us to slow down. 

Make wise decisions.

Or, we get poop. 

And have to try again. 

Number Four

I love my husband.

I love my kids.

I love my family.

& I love babies.

But, for the first time in my life....

I had just started to love ME.

I had committed to eating clean, and to exercising.  

Something I had never been able to do.

Not in 27 years of my life. 

I had tried and failed. 

Tried and failed. 

Never being able to make any progress.

And after Nola was born, it didn't get easier. 

My body was shaped differently, and nothing went back to where it belonged. 

I struggled for three years, being bigger than I'd ever been, and fighting the mirror and the scale. 

So when I lost 30lbs, it was no small feat. It was a Big. Damn. Deal. 

It was nothing to scoff at when I wore a pencil skirt and magenta pumps to work. 

When I started running, I felt like a whole person again. 

I have struggled with finding an identity as a human for a while. 

I always have my Wife or Mama hat on. 

I love both roles.... but I forgot who Nichole was.

Somewhere running on the pavement in my Brooks.... I remembered who I was. 

During those 2 or 3 hours a week, I found myself again.

And, I started to enjoy who I was! 

I was HAPPY to just be ME.

I made a decision to get fit, and change my life. 

I equated a large part of my future with all the positive changes that my body would experience,

and the journey I had started to get there.

Then.

The shock of my life.

#4.

I know many of you mean well with your comments about fitness. 

When you say, "you can still be healthy, and pregnant. I think!"

Or "You have plenty of time to lose weight after..."

Or "How many pregnancies to your goal weight?"

Or "Well, if you keep throwing up from morning sickness....you won't need to diet."

It isn't funny. 

It's so painful.

I don't know if any of you have struggled with weight or body image. 

It is an awful battle. 

And I finally thought I'd won. 

I love my husband.

I love my kids.

I love my family.

& I love babies.

And I was devastated when that second line popped up on the Clear Blue screen. 

I mourned the loss of myself that day. 

For four days I cried uncontrollably. 

Not because I'm terrified about affording four children. 

(I am)

Not because we thought we were done with newborns.

(We did)

Not because I just got rid of the very last pieces of 'baby and maternity' items and have to start over. 

(I do)

But, because I just found myself.

(JUST!)

I feel like I need to say goodbye again.

Once more I will be cloaked in spit up. 

 I will spend days not showering, and wearing sweats.

Again I will live in a land of diapers. 

I will be knee deep in postpartum depression. 

I will feel the pain of having to leave and return to work and all the emotional anguish and guilt that comes with that necessity.

It took so much longer than I expected to recover me.

Took so much longer to WANT to go on dates.

Took so much longer for me to feel like a woman, and not a human milk machine and walking stretch mark.

To be a woman again. 

I love my husband.

I love my kids.

I love my family.

& I love babies.

I will love this new child inside of me. 

I will dote on him/her and cherish being able to tend to an infant one last (unexpected) time.

I anxiously await first steps and first words. 

I miss the sound of coo-ing in my home. 

I miss seeing an infant asleep on Sean's chest.

But, please. 

For now. 

Please understand that I have mixed emotions. 

I am happy, but I am struggling.

I don't need jokes.

I don't need you to tell me it will be okay.

I know it will be. 

Little Ones, with BIG words.

Bedtime.

Tucking in your children can sometimes lose its magic. It's something we do each and every night and, truth be told, every now and then we are more focused on the dishes waiting in the sink or the agenda we have at work the next day to really stop and enjoy what really is a magical time in our day. Putting our Little Ones to bed, tucking them in, holding them close, and kissing their little foreheads... it's something we forget to cherish from time to time.

But, today.
Today is Thanksgiving.

I took extra care tonight when tucking my Littles in and with helping them say their bed time prayers.

The boys share a bedroom, and thus take turns saying there prayers out loud.

Holden always goes first, because Gavin likes being the last one in the room to talk.

Tonight, Holden finished and Gavin began to speak.

Gavin gets stuck on things repetitively, his prayers are almost the same word for word night after night. So, this evening I prompted him to try and thank God for the things he is Thankful for. {All of his parents, Holden and Nola, his Wii, Artax, Gummi snacks....these things all made his list} Then I asked Gavin to pray for people who need blessings. People who don't have a Wii, or Gummi snacks, or maybe even lights or heat or a home.

At this, Holden stirred in his bed across the room, and responded with a puzzled look.

I asked him what was wrong, and he said, "No houses?"

"No honey, no houses. Some people don't have blankets or beds or even houses. That's why we pray for them. We pray because we want God to keep them safe and warm and to help them find a better life. We pray for those who need it."

At this, Holden burst into tears.

"That's so sad", he said.

I comforted him, told him it is sad but that we pray and we help. We can be Helpers.

I kissed my Boys, and tucked them in.
I turned on their night-time-sounds, shut off the light, and went to shut the door.

"Mama?"
I pushed the door back open, it was Holden's small five year old voice.

"I know what I want to do once I'm Bigger-Bigger."
I turned on the light.
"I'm gonna build the houses. I'm gonna build them waaaaaaaaayyyyyy big, up to the sky. And Gavin(turning to his brother)....you can make the lights."

Bedtime.

Bedtime is a magical time of night.
Don't forget it.

The dishes can wait.

The Reality of Being Grown Ups

It.Sucks.

For just as many reasons as it is a wonderful time in all of our lives, its also a sucky time.

Now as awesome, and adorable, and adjusted ( if I do say so myself =P ) as my family is...it does not change the fact that I am 26 with no college education between myself or my Husband, with three small children to keep alive daily. (Little Cooties want to eat EVERY DAY!? wassatabout???)

For the first time since he and I met, Sean and I are both working in "Big Kid" jobs. I have a desk, and snazzy business cards. While he dons a suit 3 (soon to be 4) nights a week. We finally have an income that allows us to (rent and) live in a HOUSE, and *gasp* have money left over at the end of the month.

Now, as awesomely awesome as we both are at said Big Kid jobs.... I work during sunshine hours, while he earns a paycheck under the cover of night. (All the while trying to convince me that he may, in fact, really be Batman)

So, the price I am currently paying in order to live in this adorable and beautiful house and to have dollars in the bank at the end of the month....has me sleeping in bed alone 5 nights a week, and the Hubster walking in the door as I'm getting ready for work.

It.is.HELLLLLLL.

I am a strong, confident woman/wife/and Mama.
But this shit sucks.

There are no words to describe the loneliness of being married, and still going to bed alone.
I have a new found appreciation for anyone in a relationship where one of you gets deployed for MONTHS at a time. Because I am throwing major hissy fits over not seeing Sean for 5 days a week.

I am so very proud of both he and I for FINALLY getting high enough up the ladder that neither of us is in water. It was hard. REALLY hard, especially without any college degrees to boost us up the ladder. But, here we are. We made it.

The first 6 weeks were ROUGH.
But, we are finally figuring out what our new schedules mean.
It means I need to set an alarm for 2am, and wake up to say hi to him when he walks in the door.
It means he needs to do laundry during the day while he's home, in between naps.
It means we needed to get AWESOME(r) at communicating. There is no room in a schedule like this for us not to be on the same page. One small hiccup on a Thursday in communication and we don't see each other in person for more than 45 minutes until Tuesday of the next week. And that....means so much of the fighting.
(Needless to say, several hiccups lead us to finding a fix and so far so good!)

But, alas....
I miss my Man.
The kids miss Daddy at bed time.

I guess I just need to hit the Lottery, and this can all be solved ;0)

Until then, communication. Communication. Communication.

I know some of my friends out there are having marital issues.
I know it isn't easy.
But all relationships have seasons.
Some are chillier than others.
But, then you need to start a fire!

It was very easy for me to be angry (unfair anger, but anger nonetheless) when I would have to feed 3 kids dinner, bathe them, put them to bed alone, clean the house, and then get into bed alone myself. I felt like he was abandoning me. Like, here I was. Six years into this relationship. And now that we finally don't have the financial stress..... I'm in this house, in my bed alone! UGGHHHH! Why?! How the Hell is that fair?!?!?!??!

It isn't.
But Life doesn't owe us anything.

I chose to skip college, start a family, and marry my Man.

So, if this is the season I'm in right now....I'll take it.
I have the Family of my dreams.
I have a wonderful job.
I have an amazing man who works all night, somehow finds time to sleep AND put our boys on/off the bus each day AND raise our daughter all damn day, before going back to work the minute I walk in the door at 5pm each night.
((OH! And did I mention he also has a part time job, so he works SEVEN days a week?! Because he does.)) ((I married a Superhero for real))

So, here we are again.
The Crazy Purcell's, and their unconventional way of doing things.

So, if you need me.....
I'll be up from 2am-3am saying good morning to my Hubster before we climb back into bed to finishing the night sleeping TOGETHER. <3

My Husband

My Husbands hair is graying, in a salt and pepper fashion, from loving so hard and from caring so deeply. It is gray from worry, and it is gray mostly from decisions that others made in his life. He is a kind Man, one who follows lovingly and who doesn't like to fight. He has traveled on other peoples roads, and although I am loud....and stubborn....and I hate to 'lose', I always try to meet him half way because he has had his fair share of giving and not enough taking in his time.

My Husband has kind eyes. Eyes that look at me and all my flaws and still decide to stay and to Love. Eyes that watch our children grow, and eyes that cried each time one of them entered this World.

My Husband has soft lips. Lips that kiss for no reason, or kiss with passion, or kiss away tears.

My Husband has strong arms. Arms that scooped me up the first night I met him. Arms that hold me any time I'm scared. Arms that pull me back, when I push him away to see if he will leave like everyone else. Arms that never let my push be stronger than his hold.

My Husband has a gentle heart, one that beats for his Family and one that welcomes back ones who have broken it. His heart could fit the World twice over, and I am still unsure how I am so lucky to hold such a large place in it.

This Man that I married 365 days ago.....
This Man that is my everything.....
This Man that made me a Mama & a Mommy....
This Man will never be able to ask of me anything that will amount to or equal  what he has given  to me.

He has given me stability, helped me reclaim my sanity when I thought I had none, and he has given me my Family.

I, the girl who swore off marriage, have completely given this Man my Heart....my Life...my Love.

Happy Anniversary, Love. 

threesixtyfive

One year ago,
Sean and I adventured to Town Hall & to a Justice of the Peace.
I stood with my daughter in my arms in front of my Man.
Holden was at his side,
and our Best Friends witnessed as we promised to love each other all the days of our lives.

                        <3 Happy Anniversary <3

Ps--- Gavin, when you read this years from now, Mama wants you to know that you were at school when we got married. We love you very, very, very much, but we also wanted to keep it a secret, and well.... let's face it Buddy. That just isn't your strong suit.  :0)

Take My Hand

I feel conflicted any time I write about this part of my life.

I sometimes feel guilty, or just.....wrong, even simply posting a status update on FB about this.

I've heard from others in similar situations, that this is normal.

But then I realized, that this is MY life.

 These are all things I'M feeling, about this shitty situation that effects ME and MY family. And.... That's ok.

I am ALLOWED to vent, and mourn, and look for an outlet. It is OK for me to NEED this.



My sister had been doing better.
I was so excited and so proud. I felt like she was graduating college. I couldn't stop talking about how wonderful she was doing, or what great progress she was making.
I felt like I had given birth again and was telling everyone about my wonderful baby eating solid foods for the first time.(You know....all that nonsense that means the World to you, but everyone else creates excuses to end the conversation? Yea. Like that)  I was beaming.

We were talking on the phone, she would tell me about her NARC-ANON meetings, and I would just soak in the sun as she radiated this new light.

I was so proud, and full of hope.....
But, I wasn't naive.

She came and borrowed the car, and Sean Lo-Jacked it. (I'm not stupid) We both knew that relapse is a part of recovery, and if we could hold her accountable IMMEDIATELY if she were falling into old ways, maybe we could prevent a complete collapse....and leave her with just a stumble.

She brought the car back.
Smiled, kissed me, and left to go back to her place.

We checked out the tracking device.

DEVASTATED.

She didn't go to a meeting.
She went to Watt's Park.

I immediately drove the 4 houses down from ours, to where she lives.
Instant accountability.
She denied it, flat out. Looked me right in the face, and denied it.
That's when I became addicted to denial.

You know those awfully over acted commercials? The ones with the single Mom leaving the house, and she walks in on her son and his friend counting pills, and she just pretends she didnt see it?
I used to laugh at how sickeningly inaccurate that was.
Who could be that dumb?

Answer: ME.

Me. I was that dumb. I left my sister that night, and drove home.
I didnt believe her lie, but I was so hopped up on Pride that I completely turned a blind eye to Truth.

Why, you ask?

I, am selfish.
I want my sister.
I want my kids to have to have an Aunt.
I don't have parents, and my Grand-Parents are aging further and further away from their time on Earth with me. And, I want FAMILY. My sister is pretty much all I have in that department.

And so selfish, blind me..... looked the other way.

A few weeks passed.

And no other incidents raised red flags.

Things were going well. She was coming to visit the kids, and saying she was attending her meetings.

She asked to watch the kids one day while Sean and I were at work. *Nervous* I was skeptical, but knew I had to give her some slack in the rope and what she did with it was her business.

She loves my babies. I know she does.

So, Sean and I agreed to let her watch them for the 3 hours that our shifts overlapped on a day that I had evening hours.

Unbeknownst to her, we set up motion activated cameras and once she left Sean watched to see what had taken place while she was here.

Sean called me so happy. She had been AWESOME, she was so involved and attentive. She was present and aware. She was the model for any Aunt/Caregiver.

So, when I had a day where I needed childcare yesterday.... I called Aunt Mi Mi.

She came on time, and we left.

But....before we left.... I had this urge. One I can't explain. One that didnt make any sense. I walked over to the fridge and opened it. I looked and looked, because I felt like I was forgetting something. But, my lunchbox for work was already in the car.

Then, I saw it.
We had a bottle of Whiskey in the back corner on the top shelf.
It was opened and the neck was gone. But, 85% of the bottle was still there. I took it out and visually made a note of where the level was, and asked Sean to come in and verify. We made a visual 'marker', one that we could without a doubt recall later that night. We left the house at 9:30am.

At 3:51pm, Sean sent me a picture message of the bottle. More than 16 oz was missing.

I was sick.

I left work early, and flew home.

My babies were safe.

*Thank Jesus*

I jumped out of the car, ran inside our house, grabbed the bottle, and sped to her house.

I knocked on her door, and when she came out my mouth burned from anger, and my eyes burned from sadness.

I spat 2 ugly sentences at her, set the bottle down, told her to keep it if it mattered to her so much, and drove back home.

Sean watched the videos, and later on....once I could bring myself to...I did too.

My children were alone in the living room for 2 hours, while she drank in my kitchen. My one year old, and my four year old.

My stomach lurched.

I wanted to vomit.

My Loves, my Life, my BABIES.

I protect them from everything.

What the Hell was I thinking?

I can't defend my choice.
I knew I didnt completely trust her, or I wouldnt have planted the GPS tracker, or the video, or measured the Whiskey.

The best way I can describe it is this::::::

Sean and I had been obsessed with the Sci-Fi (Now know as Sy-Fy.... if you watch Big Bang, you just called it "Sifee" in your head) show called "Tin Man". It was a modern take on "The Wizard of Oz" and takes place generations after Dorothy Gales journey to the yellow brick road.

DG (the Dorothy-esque main character) finds herself in the O.Z. and is bombarded with info about her life as a child.

The short version of where I'm going with this, is that ultimately DG realizes that the "Wicked Witch" is her sister. And as she travels to locations from her childhood, memories start flooding back to her. The sad truth, she realizes, is not that her sister is Wicked at all. She was taken hostage in her own body by a witch as a child, and had since given up hope of ever regaining control of her life again, and so succumbed to the Witches  control.

I don't know what made me search for this show, or why I watched it since it is at least 4 years old. But, whatever the reason.... I watched and finished this the night before shit hit the fan.

I have kept re-playing the last scene, and its symbolical relevance in my head.

The Witch had only been able to gain control over the sister, when the two sisters had let go of each others hands.

While they were joined, nothing in the World could over come them.
They were safe from anything and everything.
But, when one sister got scared and let go..........
Bad things happened.

At the end of the movie, the sisters come together and one says to the other..." I'm scared too. But, take my hand. If you take my hand nothing can hurt us."

I think about that.
I think.... 'when did I let go?' "when did I allow this Ugliness to overcome her?'

Then the tears come.
The sobs.
The pain.
The feeling like my heart will explode.
Feeling like I will never know happiness again.

And then I think.... 'when will this end?"

'when will she take my hand?'

Then the tears come.

The sobs.
The pain.
The feeling like my heart will explode.
Feeling like I will never know happiness again.

I dont know what to do next anymore.
I've run out of  next steps.

All I know is I'm adventuring to a Nar-anon meeting.
I need to cry with other people that understand this.
I need to hear success stories....and maybe even ones of ultimate failure.
I need to prepare myself, so that no matter what I dont fall apart completely, or let this rule my life.
I have Sean and my Children.
And they need me.

Gavin Niles Liam:::3,285 days:::Turning Nine

3,285 days ago, my littleBIGboy was born.

 I was 16, and learning to drive.

Never in a million years did I think at this moment, the little man who would make me a Mama was coming into the World.

I was getting my first kiss, and looking for my first job.

I had no idea that just one town away, my little professor was taking his first breath.

I am so thankful that Sean and Heather's paths crossed, and lead them to each other. They weren't destined to grow old together in each other's arms, but to grow old cheering their son's on together as friends.

Their song was "God Bless the Broken Road", by Rascal Flatts. I smile when I think of this. It's somehow fitting, even now that they are no longer together and even though they have both moved on. Somehow the lyrics still work in some respect....and maybe it makes sense now more than it did back then, for them. They do have a 'broken road" at times. They are the best parents ever, and really have made leaps and bounds to come together and form a friendship to best parent the kids together. But, if they spend more than an hour in a room together without a break.... you will see why they are better off as friends. (( LOL )) So, while they weren't meant to forge a road together.... their paths were meant to cross. And Gavin is what their first purpose was.

I am ever grateful that the roads they travel, briefly became an intersection and that they welcomed a son into this World together. He is the one who made all three of us parents for the first time. He is the one that brought us into adulthood, and gave us priorities. He is who made us realize the true meaning of unconditional Love. He is the reason that we are 'boring' and have chocolate milk in our glasses instead of booze. The reason we watch 'Spongebob' instead of 'Sex in The City". He is our reason....for everything.

As much as I celebrate Gavin's birth each year and pronounce my unconditional Love and Pride for him, I want to take a moment this year and really acknowledge my gratitude and the sincere feeling of being Blessed that I have for being able to be a part of his life. I am so happy that these two people brought this amazing child into this World, and that somehow I not only fell into place here with one...or two....but all three of them.

I could write forever, and cry my eyes out writing about how deep these feelings run through my sole. I could bring on the morning typing away about these amazing Loves that I have in my life. I could start and never stop about the beauty that our family has because of Sean, and Heather, and.....our Birthday Boy.

Thank you so much to the Baby Makers of My Birthday Baby <3

And a Happy, Joyous, Wonderful Birthday to my littleBIGboy ((Gavin Niles Liam))....my Little Pokemon Trainer <3

Being Thankful

Thanksgiving 

Since last year's day of Thanks, so much has happened. my family has had good days, and bad days. We have seen smiles, and we have wiped away tears. I cannot and will not ever be able to fully express in words all of the emotions that my heart feels.... but can anyone really, truly put feelings into writing? Can any of us ever describe why we fall in love, or how intuition makes us choose certain paths? I may not be able to accurately depict how our year as made me Thankful, but as always... I will certainly try. 

I am Thankful for my HUSBAND, and for my ability to finally call him that. I am Thankful that all the rest of my days.... I will be his, and he will be mine. I try every day to understand why I deserve to come home to my best friend, I suppose I may never get an answer. I don't think I am deserving. Maybe that's what a relationship is. Maybe we are all supposed to feel unworthy of such happiness, of such perfection in a partner.... maybe that is what we should all strive for, so that we may spend all the rest of our tomorrow's being Thankful and doing our best to become deserving. Only then will you not stray, will you not get complacent, and then you will find yourself being the person you always wanted to be. In being with that special person, and feeling like you've been blessed to have found such happiness.... you strive to be a better person for them, and eventually you realize that they make you a better person too. Sean is my everything. He is my reason for wanting to accomplish all the things in my life. He is the reason I have my babies, and that I get the chance every day to be a good great Mom. He is my phone call when I'm angry at the lady in front of me at Shoprite with 219874321032496421 coupons and I only have 20 minutes to get home and make it to work. He is the only who tells me it's ok, when the screen at the ATM yells at me, "YOU'RE BROKE!". He is the Man who finds his way to me in the dark when I stub my toe on the stairs trying to pee in the middle of the night. He is all my happy times, and all my hugs when I am sad. He is the source for everything in my life that has meaning. He gave me Love, my babies, a life, Hell.... he even gave me Heather. (lol) For all the joy that this Man brought to the life of a girl who thought she deserved so little.... I, am Thankful.

I am Thankful for my Babies. My Gavin. I am ever Thankful for my Little Professor, who everyday reminds me that he is GAVIN and not Aspergers, not Tourettes, nor ADHD. He is NOT a diagnosis, and he is just himself. He cracks me up with his silly-off the wall sense of humor. He confuses me with his endless knowledge of Pokemon. This Little one who eveolved himself from Thomas to Pikachu.... For this I am Thankful. My Holden. My Little Rockstar-Paleantoligist. His light shines brighter than the sun, and his curiosity has just grown as he does. He is like a sponge about facts, and he forgets NOTHING. He can tell you what each and every dinos name is in your Encyclopedia, and he will make you look like a fool. For him, I am Thankful. My Nola. Words cannot express the joy my life has, now that a Princess has joined us. She is  all the good inside of me, and my eyes fill sometimes when I look at her. She is the most beautiful thing I have ever done with my life, and she is all the music of my heart. I love that little Lady more than my voice could ever speak. For her, I am Thankful.

For Heather. We had seen our fair share of rocky roads, and somehow life brought us on to stable ground. We have found our way to a place that I never thought we could. We have become friends who can share a glass of wine, and paint our nails. We have endured 5 years of trials and tribulations, and somehow made it through to a place where we can survive a hurricane together. We have taken pictures, we have weathered storms, and we have a life time of 'sister-wife-ing' ahead of us as we raise these kids that she has graced me with.

I am Thankful for the Taskers. For Uncle Joe and Aunt Kathryn they have always been there for us and for our kids. They are my Holden's Godparents. Their daughters are my children's cousins. We are at their house for Family functions, and I consider myself at home in their home. I don't have to pretend to be anyone different while in their company, and that is hard to come by. They are beautiful, understanding, and REAL people. And for them...I am Thankful. 

My life is Blessed, and I am ever grateful for where we have ended up and for who we have here with us. I look forward to another year and all it brings, so that next year....my list can be just as beautiful. <3

Hope you all have a wonderful Holiday, and that you have much to be Thankful for.