4 Apps That Are Helping Me Live A Happier Life

So I’ve been doing a lot to try and make my life better these days and I wanted to share with you four apps that have helped me in my journey towards happiness. They are in no particular order. I’d love to hear what apps you’re using to rock your life in the comments section.

1) The Walmart Grocery App: Seriously? Seems like a stretch when I say it makes my life happier right? If I’d told pre-Mommy Diana that I’d be ordering all of my groceries online I would have scoffed and talked about how lazy that was. Now, it’s helping me to save time and stay sane. From my mother, I’ve learned the power of planning out our meals for two weeks at a time. That alone can take a long time. In the past, I made my list as I went and then rewrote it to make my shopping trip go faster. Now I just look up the recipe and add the ingredients to my order. No more crazy list making. In addition, I add items to my order every time I realize we need them so I’m not racking my brain trying to remember what it was that we needed. On top of the list making, shopping for two weeks worth of groceries at a time is stressful with kids in tow and takes forever. Yes, my husband could go or watch the kids. I know that. I also know that his schedule can be unpredictable and that I want as much time with The Twins as my work schedule will allow during the week. I also don’t want to devote a chunk of my weekend to it. Now, I just place my order and spend time at home with my kids and husband and wait for the delivery. If delivery isn’t comfortable for you then you can also pick up your groceries FOR FREE! Get why it adds to my happiness now? Haha!

2) LIFX Lights: Okay, this is technically an App that goes with special light bulbs. I’m afraid something like this makes me sound a little snooty but they were a gift. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve woken up irritated because my husband has left one of our lamps on. (Seriously it’s right next to you!) Now, when I wake up in the night and see the glow from the lamp next to our couch all I have to do is roll over, grab my phone, and turn it off then go back to sleep. Yes, I could get up. I know this. Getting up is a “If you give a mouse a cookie” situation with me though. If I get up then I need water or a snack. If I have water or a snack then I have to pee. If I have to pee then I have to turn on the bathroom light then if I turn on the bathroom light I’m wide awake. Beyond turning lights off, I can set them to turn on at certain times. No more tripping down the hallway in the dark. Instead, I schedule our living room light to be on at a dim glow at the same time my alarm goes off. I even use the different lighting features to help set the mood to do my nightly exercise and meditation. (More on that later.) Could I live without it? 100% Are the small conveniences it offers making my life happier? Definitely.

3) Audible: I’m a HUGE fan of Audible and have been using it for years. It recently skyrocketed up my list of loves when I discovered the “Free For Members: Health and Fitness” section. Ya’ll! This section has helped me to find so much joy in my life! There are workouts, meditations, and soul searching tools on there. I am the Queen of hating exercise and working out but decided to try the Ab Blaster workouts. They start out at 5 minutes and work their way up to 15. I literally curse my way through every single minute but I feel so much better after I’ve done it. I’ve also used a couple of meditation options on there. I realized recently that I’d gotten pretty one dimensional when I took away work and kids. Having my daily workout and meditation gives me something to do just for me that doesn’t require me to leave the house, involve a lot of set up, or cost a ton of money. I’m releasing stress and sleeping better too. Less stress, more sleep, and a healthier mind/body is rocking my world and making me sooo happy!

4) Dr. On Demand: As a working Mom, this one is 100% a game changer for me. For so long I put off therapy because it was expensive or time consuming. Most therapist’s offices are only open while I’m at work so therapy meant spending money on gas, the appointment, and missing work. It made it hard to get the mental health that I needed and made me feel guilty about taking the time/money to do it. (Yes, I know the guilt is stupid but I’m working through that.) I decided to give Dr. On Demand a shot and it’s changed my life. I now see my therapist every two weeks for an hour for talk therapy. We video chat through the app so I don’t ever have to leave home. The Hubs or my Mom can watch the kids while I have therapy and I never have to take time off from work because later times are offered. To make it even better, the cost is way less because my Dr can work out of her own home and my insurance covers more of the visit because I’m using the app. To say that therapy is making my life happier would be a complete understatement. It’s helping me to find myself again. Beyond therapy, you can see Doctors about so many issues. For example, I knew I had a post nasal drip and didn’t want it to get ugly. I used the app to talk to a Dr who gave me some advice on what to do and called in a nasal spray. All done before I even went into work and for $30. Game. Changer.

I hope that you found something new to love here. I’ll be sure to share any more discoveries!

The Crazy Lady With A Thousand Kids

“The crazy lady with a thousand kids.” In my head this is who my neighbors must think I am. They aren’t wrong. It’s definitely an appropriate title. Four kids, two bad dogs, one fish (yes, we killed almost all of the fish from my post), and a crazy husband and wife duo makes for an insane household. We usually do a good job of keeping the crazy behind closed doors…except when we don’t.

The other day I decided that I was going to take advantage of the quiet, sunny afternoon and take the Twins on a walk. We’re working on getting them used to wearing their backpacks with the leashes instead of riding in the stroller. I never thought I’d have a leash on my kids but I also never thought I’d have twins. Holy hell those little monsters can haul ass when they put their minds to it! Leashes are a must until they learn to stay next to me and not run after a strange bug or cute dog or really anything even remotely distracting that walks across their path. Anyway, a walk sounded like a great idea and to get them excited about it I repeatedly mentioned going on a walk while I got them ready. The phrase “tiny pitchers” clearly applies to more than humans though.

Moose and Luna (The Little Bad Dog) are normally pretty good about not running out when I open the front door. They like to stand in the doorway and watch me load the twins in the Mom Van every morning. I thought nothing of it when they moved towards the front door with us. I quickly realized my mistake as they both shot straight out of the door and down the road as soon as I opened it. The girls were hot on their heels so there was no leaving them inside.

Down the street we went, running like we’d just escaped some sort of summer camp for the deranged. We were a blur of bright colors. Arms and legs flailed. Dogs barked. Leashes flapped in the wind. The Twins laughed and shouted “Dog!” while I screamed for the dogs to get back in the house.

Moose quickly cowered and ran to our gate so I could put him in the back yard. He’s not as stupid as he looks. The Little Bad Dog had other plans. She ran across the street and into the neighbors yard. I quietly said, “shit” then put on my sweet Mommy voice and talked to the Twins about crossing the road. I held their leashes since they refused to hold my hands and I couldn’t pick them both up and run without tripping over my dress. As soon as we made our way across the street Luna ran into the next yard. Again, “shit!” The Conqueror and The Hun each ran a different direction (neither of them heading after the dog) and both fell flat on their backs like little turtles. “Shit!”

I helped them up as they giggled and squealed and we resumed our chase. Luna circled a tree. The Twins tried a divide and conquer approach. In cartoon fashion, as they got closer to the dog from either side of the tree she bolted. Now we were all tangled and the dog was running across the street again. “Shit!”

I helped the now crying girls off the ground again and across the street we ran. Or attempted to run. Down went The Hun. Poor baby tripped over her feet and went down hard on the asphalt. “Shit!” I said. “Shit!” She said. Oh God! It finally happened!

I picked her up and we all continued our run after the stupid freaking dog. As I screamed for Luna to come back my toddler posse came with me chanting “Shit! Shit! Shit!” I tried correcting with “shoot!” to no avail. Luna taunted the neighbors dog. (Have I mentioned that she’s an asshole?) When The Conqueror fell and scraped her knee I decided that the neighbor’s dog could just eat Luna and steered The Twins back towards the house. The stupid dog followed (far enough back that she knew I couldn’t reach her).

By the time we got inside we were all sweaty and gross but no one was crying and the cursing had stopped. I decided that we’d had enough outdoor adventuring and turned on Sesame Street for The Twins and fixed them some juice. Then I kicked the dog out of the house and into the backyard with Moose. Fortunately we haven’t had a repeat of our little cursing incident. I’ve chalked it all up to a big lesson in parenting and dog ownership. Hopefully it never happens again because if the neighbors didn’t think I was crazy before I’m sure they do now.

Recipe Time: Red Beans And Rice (Step By Step with Pictures)

A while back I promised to share this recipe but haven’t made it lately. (See my blog post Cooking Crazy.) When I made the menu for this week I decided that now was the time. For starters, red beans and rice is my favorite meal ever. On top of that The Hubs just bought me a vacuum sealer and, as the say in Steel Magnolias, red beans are “in the freezes beautifully section of the cookbook”. Add those together with a cold front and it was time for a giant pot of red beans. I doubled the recipe below so when you look at the pictures don’t think yours should look exactly the same. I adapted the recipe from this one.

Here’s what you’ll need:

1 lb dried red beans soaked in water overnight (I use the Blue Runner brand)

1 medium yellow onion, chopped

1 green bell pepper, chopped

2-3 stalks celery, chopped

.5-1 lb Tasso pork, cubed or cubed ham (for my giant batch I used both)

1-1.5 lbs Andouille sausage, sliced (I use Richards)

1 heaping tablespoon of minced garlic

1/4 stick of butter

2 tbsp Worsteshire

1 tbsp dill pickle relish or dill pickle juice (I know it sounds weird but trust me on this one.)

1 Cup of beer

6 – 8 Cups of chicken broth (this really depends on how thick you want your beans)

1 bay leaf

2 tbsp dried parsley flakes

Salt, pepper, and hot sauce to taste

Step 1: Soak your dried beans overnight in a big bowl of water. The Hubs calls this “taking the fart out” but it obviously doesn’t do that’s

Step 2: Chop all of your ingredients. I like to do this the night before and store in the refrigerator overnight.

(I like to either compost my veggie scraps or freeze them to make stock. The Boy loves making stock so I like to save it when I can.)

Step 3: In large stock pot cook sliced sausage and ham/Tasso for 5 minutes

Step 4: Add onions, celery, bell pepper, relish, garlic, 1/4 stick butter, parsley flakes, and Worcestershire. Cook until onions are soft and clear.

Step 5: Add beans, beer, broth, seasonings, and bay leaf.

Step 6: Bring to a rolling boil for 30 minutes, stirring every 10 minutes.

Step 7: Reduce heat, simmer for 1-2 hours, stirring occasionally until beans are desired tenderness

Step 8: This one is also optional but I like to smash the beans a little to thicken it up and make it creamier

Step 9: Serve over freshly cooked white rice (bonus points if you serve it with cornbread).

I ate the mess out of it as did The Hubs and I have plenty to spare to vacuum seal. If you have any favorite recipes that you’d like me to try and write about please let me know! We love trying new things!

5 Things I Learned In The NICU

Monday was NICU Awareness Day. Its a day I never would have known about if my life hadn’t played out the way it has. NICU is a cute sounding name for a place no parent wants their babies to go. Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. I don’t know about you but before having my kids “intensive care” always made me think of old people or trauma patients. It never made me think of babies. Even after my Godson had to spend time in the NICU it never really sank in until The Twins were born. Maybe it can’t unless you’ve been there. If you don’t know our story, I encourage you to take a look at my post One Year Ago Today. Since I’ve already told that part, here’s some useful knowledge.

Did you know that premature birth and it’s complications are the largest contributors to infant deaths in the US and across the globe?

It’s pretty insane that even with the modern technology we have, this is still such a huge issue. While we don’t know the causes of premature birth in all cases, organizations like the March of Dimes are doing research to find out what’s causing these problems and how to fix them. You can take a look at their website here to find out where your state ranks in terms of preterm births. My state unfortunately gets a failing grade but I have faith that we’ll improve thanks to the efforts of Doctors and Nurses and researchers in our area. Because of the support and comfort that we received from the March of Dimes while we were in the NICU I will be a lifetime supporter of the organization.

In honor of NICU Awareness Day (a couple days late because I’m never on time) here are 5 Things I Learned In The NICU:

1) NICU Staff are the best around: The men and women who help to care for your babies become like family. They are there in the trenches with you caring for your baby and in some cases, fighting for their lives right along side them. They show care and love to each and every family and baby. They help new parents to celebrate milestones and cheer when babies get to go home just as loud as the parents do. Our nurses made it possible for us to have amazing moments like finding out that the twins were identical.

2) Just because a baby is in the NICU, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t show excitement about them being born: Looking back, our days in the NICU were so crazy. They were often lonely but the highlights in between times when I could hold the girls were when I had visitors. Many friends and family chose not to visit. For some people seeing a baby hooked up to wires is scary. That’s understandable. Especially when the baby is so tiny. It’s okay to still be excited even though it’s scary. It’s okay to ask if you can visit. Don’t be offended when you can’t hold the baby but do be there to hug the parents and celebrate this new tiny human with them. Obviously there are circumstances where you shouldn’t visit. Don’t go if you even have an inkling that you could be sick. Use your judgement. Just sending a message to the parents encouraging them and saying how happy you are that their baby is here goes such a long way.

3) The NICU isn’t necessarily a sad place: While there is sadness there, there are also moments of beautiful, unspeakable joy. When I look back on that time I remember the friendships made, the kindness shown to my family by others, and the special moments with my sweet girls. NICU families get to celebrate milestones that regular families usually don’t even think about. Your baby finished all of their bottles in 24 hours? Party time! They got to put on their first outfit? Tears of Joy! They maintained their body temperature without the help of machines? Woohoo!! The celebrations keep you hopeful. They keep you sane. Our NICU team gave us little milestone cards for the girls’ baby books. They said things like “Daddy held me for the first time today!” and, my personal favorite, “I’m going home today!” When you see other babies go home you’re jealous but so happy for those parents too.

4) There are ways you can help NICU babies and their families: You don’t have to know someone in the NICU to help out. One way you can help is by donating to organizations like the March of Dimes but there are other ways too. Some hospitals have blood banks specifically for their NICU. If you are a Mom who is nursing that has milk to spare, some states allow you to donate breast milk. It’s not unusual for the Mommy of a premature baby to have trouble producing milk. While formula is great, breast milk is pretty awesome for passing on immunities as well as providing nutrients. If you like to sew, quilt, crochet, and/or knit you can make clothes and hats for babies in the NICU. One local organization that I love is Heartstrings and Angel Wings. They provided us with the very first outfits that The Twins were able to wear.

5) For NICU families, coming home can be a scary adjustment: Bringing home a new baby is scary for most families, but bringing home an early or formerly sick baby can be especially scary. In the NICH you spend days and days with a round the clock team of people helping you with your baby. They have monitors so you know if they’re getting enough oxygen. Suddenly it’s time to take your sweet baby home and it’s easy to feel completely overwhelmed. Here’s where you come in. If you have a friend or family member who’s had a baby in the NICU please stay patient and supportive. Offer to cook some meals or wash some laundry. Maybe take their older kids to see a movie. They have just experienced a crazy time and are having to cope with that while they adjust to being a parent to a new tiny human. It’s a lot to handle.

So many people have different experiences in the NICU. We were incredibly blessed to be able to bring our babies home healthy and happy. Hug your babies tight and often. And if you know a NICU Doctor or Nurse give them a hug too because they’re awesome.

The Day My World Stood Still

I remember the day in fragments of memory that sparkle and cut like broken glass.

I awoke to my mother’s voice on the phone, “Can you come over to the house?” That immediate sinking feeling flooded my gut. Why was she at home? It was the middle of the week. I jokingly asked if she’d been fired. No, just come over.

When she looked at me I saw death and pain her brown eyes. My mind started racing. My grandmother? Dad? “No, Dad is on his way.”...Dad is on his way? Why? You’re divorced. He should be at work. Who is it?! What happened?!

With a quick, quavering breath the bow was drawn and then the arrow rocketed deep into my chest. “Ricky shot himself.”

I remember feeling like the world was spinning. I remember not understanding. Surely she didn’t mean what it sounded like. He couldn’t be dead. Suicide?

My entire being screamed out against it. Looking back, I know in my bones that I did something then but in my memory everything stops. Those moments are locked away and I refuse to locate the key.

Soon my Dad was there and they were both holding me. A reminder of what my Uncle Ricky always told me, “Your parents are who they are. You can’t change them. Just remember that they love you and no matter what they want to do what is best for you.”The next days were a blur.

I wore pink to his funeral because he would have been happy to see me in the color. Every year when we went shopping for my birthday he’d pick out bright colors for me, even when I was going through my angsty teenage years. We sat together as a family, all of us side by side. My Bonus Parents never knew him the way we did but they stood by us as we grieved. My knees buckled as we sang in the Church and my parents held me up. Twenty years old but still their baby.

I’ve spent the past eight years working to heal. The first year was the worst but time has played its part in dulling the edges. There have been so many moments when I have wept with frustration and grief because he wasn’t there. Every birthday and Christmas missed. The day I graduated from college. The day I walked down the aisle to the man of my dreams. The day my daughters were born. When I held my sweet baby girls for the first time and he, the man who had been there on the first day that I entered this world and celebrated so many birthdays with me, was not there to see what I had worked so hard to create.

I’ve had moments of regret…moments where I tormented myself for not seeing the signs. For not saying, “I love you,” the last time we spoke. I have moved past those. He would have hated those moments.

I’ve had moments of anger. How could he do this? How could he leave his family? We love him! He should be here! I need him! I’ve learned to let that go too. The person who pulled that trigger is not the man I choose to remember. My Uncle was full of life and humor and…his own demons. I know this, he didn’t leave us to hurt us, whatever his reasons may have been.

Through it all there have been moments of outrageous laughter. Memories that come crashing in like waves. That terrible 90’s hairdo with the frosted tips. Our shopping trip. Firing rotten fruit from a potato gun. The Christmas when he cut his hand so I could see what blood looked like through my brand new microscope. Asking me every time I saw him if I wanted a cigarette and praising me when I said no. The time he passed the hat at my parent’s Christmas party to buy me a toy Jeep that I could actually drive. Flying kites together on the day my grandmother died. His pride as he told stories about his head strong daughters.

So, today I took the day off. I spent my time with my babies. I had lunch with my Dad. I mentally asked myself if I wanted a cigarette and, as always, replied, “no.” I wore pink. I lived and found laughter and embraced the day. I cried and slowed down and remembered my wild, flawed, obnoxious, funny, loud Uncle.

In Loving Memory of Richard “Ricky” Rizer. Gone but never forgotten.

Learning from My Son

Sunday was “date” day in our house. I don’t mean romantic date though. I mean special time with the big kids. We split up and each take a kid to do something together. Sometimes we have to bring The Twins along but whatever we do, we make sure the focus is on whichever kiddo is with us. This weekend it was Daddy & Daughter and Deedee & Son. I think it’s worth noting that the kids are always a little jealous of what their sibling is doing at first but then they forget all about them.

For their date, I signed The Hubs and Crazy Eyes up for a Dads and Daughters program at our local university. It’s awesome! They get to go to five women’s sporting events and do special things like meet the athletes or participate in halftime activities. This month was soccer. She got to kick the ball and score a goal at half time. She enjoyed it although she kept calling it baseball. Bless her silly little heart.

The Boy and I took a different approach. He does a ton of outside work type stuff with his dad but that’s not really my wheelhouse. He loves to make things and has been taking an art class after school so we decided to go to Joann’s to get some craft supplies. Our primary objective was to buy him a sketch pad. Any other craft supplies were bonus. It turned out to be a really humbling and kind of embarrassing experience for me.

The Boy picked out two items while we were there that I instinctually nearly talked him out of. The first was a white butterfly mask to decorate and the second was a doll. I give zero shits about my son playing with either of these things, but I know that not everyone would feel the same. I looked at the plain white, butterfly shaped mask in my sweet boy’s hand and immediately worried that he’d have other people squash his creativity by saying ugly things. I cringed internally as he picked up the plain white muslin doll and decided that THIS was the project for him. Both times I immediately felt ashamed of myself for even thinking of talking him out of them.

In both instances, I judged from a female perspective. Surely that doll will need a dress and hair. Of course the butterfly mask will need glitter and sequins. I was wrong on both accounts. The doll is now a spooky pumpkin man. The Boy has chosen to make an all black suit for him. The butterfly mask will be the new mask of his superhero alter ego The Gunner complete with brown feathers and red and blue felt. (See my post on that for more details.) I would never have come up with either of those things. If I’d said no because of the dumb things people say about boys not being allowed to like butterflies or play with dolls I would have been closing off an opportunity for my Son to create.

It made me wonder how many other times I’ve told my kids no or discouraged them because I either didn’t want them to be judged or because all of my life the activity was deemed a “girl” or “boy” activity. Its really easy to encourage my daughters to do more masculine things but it’s still hard sometimes to offer my son the same opportunity. As much as I want to be open minded I still have a lot to learn. It’s a good thing I have awesome kids to teach me and show me when I’m wrong.

Fishy Failure

About a month ago the topic of getting the kids a small pet cane up. I, of course, put my foot down when The Hubs and The Boy started talking about getting a turtle. They smell and require a level of initial investment and upkeep that I just don’t think the kids are at. After much discussion we agreed on a fish. A fish. ONE fish. We went to the store with the kids and had them help us make decisions and pick out what we needed.

After a couple of hours in the store with the kids we are now the proud parents of SIX fish….well………five fish as of last night. Poor Oreo. He went inside the little house in the tank and died. The Hubs has tried to tell me that the fish looked funny when we got it but I think we’re just shitty ass fish parents.

We are not, however shitty parents of our tiny humans and so I went off this morning to buy a new fish just like Oreo to replace the original with before the kids come home. Now, let me mention that we would never be doing this if the fish had died while the kids were here. If they were here we would have discussed it then said a prayer as we buried our poor little Oreo. Unfortunately this happened on our watch and we just can’t afford the upheaval that would come if they thought we were negligent and killed their fish. I can see it now. “Do you promise you won’t kill our fish?!” Solemnly telling the fish goodbye as they leave for school on Monday.

As with any situation, I texted my Mom. Big mistake there. It’s been non-stop dead fish jokes since then.

My plan seemed so smart. It was smart right up until I got to the pet store and saw a nearly empty fish tank where there’d been plenty of fish just like Oreo two weeks before. It turns out they were pretty popular. There was only one fish left and it was too small and had too few black dots to pass for our fish. Crappppp! How the heck is that going to work?!

After freaking out in the pet store fish aisle for a few minutes I brought the fish home and hoped for the best. It’s been a few hours and Oreo (or off-brand Oreo as I like to call him) hasn’t been outed as a fake yet. Hopefully the kids never catch on. If you know us personally do me a favor and don’t mention it to the kids. I’d hate to have to lie and say that the fish got smaller because we put him on a diet and that his smaller size just makes it look like he has fewer spots.

Making Progress

This week is going by in a flash and stretching out over an eternity in nauseating back and forth fashion. I’ve woken up every day this week thinking that it was Thursday. At least today I got it right. Im still stressed but I’m making progress.

A couple of months ago my husband mentioned that I always wear the same things. It’s easy to quickly blame it on a lack of finances but when I think about it it’s more an issue of not taking time to care about my appearance. I have other clothes. Not that I should do it for other people, but I’ve started trying to change up my wardrobe again.

The Hubs and I spent all of last weekend cleaning house and rearranging furniture. I’m not a clean person by nature but I find that my stress levels have gone down now that the mess is gone. I’ve also been planning out our dinners for the past three weeks. It takes extra time on the front end and involves prepping ingredients the night before. It’s so worth it though! Getting back to eating real food and having dinner at a fairly reasonable time has been so nice. I had a couple slip ups in week two where I didn’t prep ingredients like I was supposed to and I definitely regretted it. Both times we either ate junk food or ordered pizza. (I guess that’s both isn’t it?)

The kids have small chores now. After my therapist asked me, “what are the kids responsible for?” and I gaped at her like a fish on land, The Hubs and I realized that at 5 and 7 it’s totally reasonable to ask them to help out more around the house. Not knowing how to be clean will hurt them later in life any way. My Mom tried to teach me but I was a shitty student.

I really appreciate all of the love and support that everyone has given me since I opened up about my stress and mental health. Thank you all for your support!

Facebook Memories

I have a love hate relationship with the Memories feature on Facebook. It’s really great for helping with things like remembering good times. I love seeing old pictures of myself and my friends and family. Some videos and memes still make me laugh year after year. Then there’s the dumb stuff that makes you think, “Jesus Lord! What the hell was I doing with my life?!” Yesterday I had 2 Facebook memories from 9 years ago that made me laugh at my younger self.

Ya’ll… I couldn’t recall who the hell I was talking about to save my life! Beyond that, the second one is just weird an unnecessarily descriptive. (Dear Past Diana, telling the internet that you slept on the couch with your boyfriend isn’t cool.) After some mental math and digging into my old Facebook photos I figured out who it was. This isn’t to say that I dated an insane amount of people. Maybe 12 from high school till The Hubs and I met? It’s just been so long that clearly this person who I thought was the bomb.com didn’t turn out to be THAT important to the grand scheme of my life. I sure thought they were at the time though. (Yes Mom, I know. You were right. I can feel you making a face right now while you read this.)

People often say that the days are long but the years are short. It’s so true. So many times I thought I had my path all figured out and then, not long after, life took a turn and I was having to build again. Friends have come and gone, I’ve changed careers, and my family has grown exponentially. It’s all happened so fast yet, in the moment, it took forever. I’m sure that one day I’ll look back on this time in my life and find things to make fun of myself for too.

It’s good to have reminders sometimes that you have overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles. Obviously, that boyfriend wasn’t a struggle to get over, but other memories remind me of trying times. I know that soon I’ll have a Facebook memory reminding me of the anniversary of my Uncle’s suicide. I will read it and fall apart. Then I’ll do what I do every year on his birthday and the anniversary of his death, I’ll celebrate his life.

I like to say, “this too shall pass. It may pass like a kidney stone, but it shall pass.” It’s helpful to remember your bad times and the dumb things you did on occasion. They give you strength to make it through when we feel like we won’t survive.

Big Scary Biker = Progressive Daddy?

As I’ve said many times before, The Hubs is a big hairy scary biker man. He’s a combat veteran who rides a loud Harley. He knows how to blow things up. As my Bonus Dad likes to say, he’s one of those guys who always looks a little dirty. He works with his hands and always seems to have a black, petroleum based product on him somewhere. His chest hair grows up his neck then to his face where it continues to grow all the way up to his cheek bones. He literally has to shave his cheekbones every day or two to keep from looking like a homeless person. He’s big and strong and looks ferocious. He is NOT the type of man who you’d expect to be perfectly happy with a house almost completely full of girls.

When I told him that our one shot at having another son failed, he was perfectly happy with it. All he wanted to be sure of is that the Twins were healthy. He jokingly told me that we could just raise one of them to be more manly when I told him that I was sad about not having a baby boy. He and The Boy are super close, but his bond with his daughters is something that would probably make a stranger scratch their head. Here he is, this big burly man with a house full of girls.

In his own way, he does what he can to push away years of toxic masculinity engrained in the community we live in so that our son and daughters can learn to love themselves just the way they are. He helps them with their homework. He helps them pick out their clothes. He lets Crazy Eyes “fix” his hair and beard. He lets her paint his toenails. He makes sure that our son sees this and knows that men can be strong and tough and still wear nail polish or pink or jewelry. Together we try to teach the kids that they can be who they choose and not fit into anyone’s mold but their own.

You’d think after his years in athletics and the military that he’d be pushing for The Boy to play sports. He doesn’t. He encourages the kids to pursue their interests no matter what they are. He saw that Crazy Eyes loves the guitar so he’s learning how to play so they can play together. When he works on anything mechanical he encourages both kids to participate. He taught them how to pee outside because girls need to know how to do it too. He doesn’t make fun of The Boy for enjoying cooking or other stereotypically feminine activities. He doesn’t leave Crazy Eyes out of stereotypically masculine activities. I know he’ll do the same for our twins.

For The Hubs being a bad ass goes deeper than his looks. It shows in his actions. It shows in the way he encourages our children to face the world with bravery and individuality. He shows it by always telling them he loves them and not keeping that love bottled up for fear of not being manly. And maybe it shows a little bit in his freshly polished toes.