Day One

Well, this is it...I'm finally jumping on board the blogging bandwagon.  Even though I teach Language Arts, I have never kept a journal or blog of any type.  This is a decision I often regret, as there are memories I wish I had recorded for safekeeping.  So here I am, ready to do this.  Though I worry that my life isn't interesting enough to share with others, I keep in mind that the point of this blog is to express myself - my frustrations, my joys, etc.  So bear with me as I attempt this blogging of life as I know it!

So, to introduce myself, I'll begin by defining how I see myself.  I'm Christian, though I don't always prescribe to contemporary Christian worship.  I still prefer traditional worship, traditional music, etc.  Growing up, I attended a lovely church; however, it was one of those bigger-than-life mega-churches.  While the pastors were genuine and kind, and the members I knew were fairly friendly, I remember feeling isolated there.  I grew up in the suburbs of Dallas, and if you know anything about the suburbs of Dallas, you will understand what I'm saying when I say that every.single.person in Dallas looks like he/she belongs in a Miss. America pageant.  If you didn't, you tended to be invisible - which I didn't mind, honestly.  However, as a "fly on the wall" so to speak, I did witness so many hypocrisies in the church that I didn't feel comfortable attending, and vowed to never put my children in a church where they did not feel welcome.  I'm grateful to say that the church I attend now is quite welcoming and open, and though I know the same hypocrisies probably exist (as they do in every place of worship), the open acceptance of others NOT based on physical attractiveness and wealth is a welcomed change.  I hope that my children will grow up here and find love and acceptance in our church home; I so badly want them to have what I did not. 

I am also a stepmother to one, eleven (K), and mother to two,  a two-year-old and a nine-month-old (E and M).  I consider myself a mother to three, really, but as any stepmom knows, you can't ever take the place of a mother.  In claiming my stepdaughter as "one of my own," it is not my intention to deny her mother's very important place in my stepdaughter's life.  In fact, I genuinely enjoy my relationship with her mother, and feel blessed to be a stepmother to such a wonderful daughter.  I find that as she grows older, our relationship becomes more strained, however.  I don't know if this is normal for any (step)mother/(step)daughter-type relationship, given her age (preteen...very scary time), or if it is "us."  It bothers me.  It nags at me.  I feel torn between appeasing her all the time to keep our relationship constantly positive, and raising her the way I intend to raise my biological kids - with rules and natural consequences.  It's such a tough place to be in, as you often feel like this child is yours...but with rules attached.  Thankfully, my husband is incredibly supportive of us both, and our foundation as a family is strong - I've known K for a number of years now, and in that time, we have been through so much together.  Our love and bond is strong, even though our feelings get tested sometimes.  I just hope that one day, when she is a woman, she keeps me close.  I love her.  I love her and my other two with every inch of my being. 

As for those other two, I have a son (E) who is two, and another (bio)daughter (M), who is nine-months.  I feel like no one is prepared for a toddler.  Period.  My mother has always said that God really knew what He was doing with toddlers - they are so incredibly cute and irresistible that one sweet moment can make the nagging, crying, screaming tantrums disappear from memory.  Case in point:  a few weeks ago, I'm driving my kids home from the library.  I have been listening to the "Yo Gabba Gabba" cd for so long that I have every.single.song memorized.  I'm tired of it, and I just want to listen to some talk radio.  I change the station, and my two year old whips into a frenzied "YO GABBA GABBA!"-themed tantrum.  I change it back, as I can't really find a reason to pick this battle to fight.  I then hear "mama? I love you."  And, of course, I try to reinforce this rare break from the Yo Gabba Gabba singing/dancing by stressing "Thank you!  I love you, too, E!" Makes every moment worth it.

My nine-month-old is stressing me out (I kid).  I'm one of "those moms" who worries when my kiddos don't reach a milestone at the prescribed time, though it seems that my kids love doing this.  E didn't crawl until 10 months, and didn't walk until 14 months.  I was reassured to learn this was fairly normal, and he did reach other milestones early, but...reason isn't always my best friend.  M has been so different from E.  E has a congenital heart defect, and as such, was transferred to our local children's hospital's NICU when he was born (they were amazing, by the way).  I say this because he was slow to take to nursing - I learned how to breastfeed off of a pump first (that's not fun), and then on to E.  With M, my nine-month-old, it was completely different - she took right to nursing, and hasn't stopped...and while I am all for extended BFing, I did worry about her seeming distate for any other food.  Now, finally, at nine-months, she is weaning on to a few table foods.  If it weren't for some baby-led-weaning blogs, I think I would have lost my mind.  Aside from those little control-issues of mine, she is the perfect completion to our family.  I absolutely love her little gummy grin and her squeals for "mama." 

I share this life with my husband, an amazing man, period.  I feel so blessed.

As for this blog, that is already rambling and fairly uninteresting (sorry!), it is intended to serve as an outlet.  I often try so hard to be both a good teacher to my middle schoolers, a present and loving mom to my kiddos, and a loving wife, that I find myself stressing and taking on more than I probably need to.  On this blog, I'll be sharing both my personal experiences with my family, AND my favorite things/activities/advice/products/etc. for working mothers.

Catie