As I stepped onto the streets of Piccadilly Circus with white board and markers in one hand and blindfold in the other, I couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of vulnerability at what I was about to do. Observing the
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Dear Kayde,
I’m a huge slacker.
A lot changes in a very short amount of time. But for some reason I never feel that I have anything significant to write.
You are now two years, two months, and twenty-two days old. Weird, and completely unintentional. You’re a genius, but we’ve known this since the day you were born. You go to sleep in your own bed now, in your own room, like a big boy. Most early mornings you come crawling back into my bed, which is okay with me. I’m proud of you for sleeping by yourself for most of the night. You brush your teeth before bed, grab your blankie, binky, and cup, and walk into your room. You’re never very happy about it, as you’re usually whining or crying. But you do it, and that is what’s important.
You still see Daddy the same amount of time, between six and eight days a month. And Daddy pays child support finally, after signing an agreement giving me sole physical custody of you. Now we’re just waiting for the date of our hearing to finalize our divorce.
I’m hoping I’ll be able to get a court order stating that I can take you out of state, so we can move to Austin in about a year. Daddy won’t agree to it, so I’m desperately hoping it will still work out. Otherwise we’re stuck here. I hate it here. And Craig isn’t here. And there are so many better opportunities for us in Austin. I wish Daddy would stop being selfish and think about what’s best for you. I would never keep you from him, you’d still see him just as much.
We’re still living with Bammy and Ampa. It definitely isn’t my favorite place to be, but I do appreciate the opportunity to live comfortably while also saving money for our future. I have a job interview tomorrow, so hopefully I’ll be working a “real” job soon, as well as continuing school in the Fall. I’m trying really hard to not let my anxieties control my life. And I’ll do anything to give you the life you deserve.
I love you so much, Chickaletta.
Hey ladies and gents!
If you’ve kept up with my blog (which I’ll admit is severely lacking in content), then I would assume you’re aware of my body issues. After taking a shower last night, I felt I needed to post about it.
I spent the time between getting undressed and actually starting the shower examining every part of my body. Like literally EVERY part. I’m not sure if it’s in hopes that I’ll have this epiphany and suddenly believe that I’m this beautiful being, or just to remind myself of how disgusting I truly am. The latter is the result of this examination, every time.
But while doing this, I was thinking how sad it is that I’m so ashamed of myself. I have very little control over my natural appearance. It’s sad to think that so many people hide so many aspects of themselves from the world, when they didn’t choose these things.
I hide so much of my body, because I hate the way it looks. I’m embarrassed of the tiny, purple spider veins sprawling across my thighs. I hate the cellulite I see covering my body from the waist down. I hate the little spots all over my calves that never seem to disappear. I hate my round face and the double chin I catch a glimpse of in every reflection. I hate how my face is so unsymmetrical that my eyelashes make one eye appear much smaller, only one eyebrow is capable of having an arch, and half of my smile is almost scary looking. I hide half my face behind my hair, and almost never wear anything exposing my legs. I blame myself. I must be too out of shape, or too fat, or too lazy. Something. Anything to blame myself.
I have some control over my weight and the amount of fat stored on my body, so I can take blame for that. And believe me, I do. But I didn’t get to decide what my face looks like, or how curvy I am, or how many freckles I was going to have splattered across the entirety of my body. And that isn’t fair. It isn’t fair to me, or to anyone else, to be ashamed of these things.
The saddest part of all is that I’m still going to be ashamed. And so is every person advocating “body positivity”, whether they choose to admit it or not. Because as humans, we’re conditioned to feel this way. It sucks. And it’s maddening. But it’s life, and we have to figure out how to deal with it in the least self-harming way.
I am the worst advocate of this. I’m completely aware of all of these things, yet I still blame and hate myself for all of it. It’s irrational. I just hope that some day things regress as far as image goes. Go back to judging people based on their intelligence, what they can accomplish, and who they are as a person. I don’t want Kayde growing up in a society that will shame him for being flawed. Because everyone is flawed. Beautifully flawed.
Yes, that’s right. I’m a single mother and I don’t have a job.
Doesn’t make sense, right?! I’m sure you have many questions, or maybe you don’t have any.
I’m a full-time mother. I have my son five days a week, which equals out to be precisely 71% of the time.
But I’m consciously aware of where he is and who he’s with 100% of the time.
Sure, I could get a part-time weekend job. And I’m planning to. But here’s how it really is:
1. I don’t sit around all day, and I’m not jobless because I’m lazy.
I mean, I’m probably a bit lazy. But who isn’t? I sure as hell don’t just sit around all day without a job because I just don’t feeeel like working. Trust me, I hate working. Or at least I did about two years ago when I last had a “real” job. But sometimes I feel as though working and leaving my son with someone else would be a break for me. “But you get two days off every weekend!” you exclaim. It’s true, I do. But I still make sure I know where Kayde is and who he’s with. A mother’s job is never done, blah blah blah. Sad, but true. And working isn’t the best thing for me right now. Yes, I need more money. But we’re not suffering because of it. Kayde has more than any child would ever need, and he has the best of it all. I find ways to make things work and make ends meet. Besides, if I had a job, I’d just be spending that money on some stranger watching my kid. No thanks.
2. I don’t get to sleep in.
At least not every day. Occasionally, Kayde will snuggle me until almost noon. But that comes with a price; he was probably up every half hour with respiratory issues the night preceding. He also doesn’t go to bed until he chooses (the perks of sharing a room with your mom for the time being), which sometimes means 11pm. This means I don’t go to bed until at least 11pm.
3. I don’t get to shower regularly.
I’m lucky if I get more than four showers in a week. Yes, more than just showering every other day. For example, this week I’ve taken two so far. I know, I’m gross. But when you have no one to watch your child, and he doesn’t go to bed until almost midnight, that’s really your only chance to shower. What’s worse, is that he can sense when I’m not there while he’s asleep, so I have about fifteen minutes before he cries and doesn’t stop until I snuggle him. I’m not capable of fifteen minute showers.
4. I change every diaper, give every bath, and wake up every time.
Besides the one or two days that he spends at his father’s house, I am responsible for everything. That means every morning poop is mine to clean, every bath is mine to give and clean up after, and every time he wakes during the night, I have to wake up as well.
5. He is not my only responsibility.
Not only do I have to be consciously aware of Kayde every second of every day and tend to his every need, but I also have other things to accomplish at the same time. I take college courses online. I somehow manage to do very well in school, while being beat in the leg with a wooden train track. I do the laundry, and the dishes, and clean everything else, while Kayde is behind me making messes. I cook dinner and bake cakes, while Kayde insists he needs to be held every moment that I’m in the kitchen. Not to mention running errands and watching friends’ toddlers.
6. It’s lonely.
Even though I always have Kayde around, I still get lonely. 90% of my conversations are with an almost-two-year-old. The topics and vocabulary are very limited. Sometimes I want a job just so I can have more social interactions with anyone older than twelve. And at the end of the day, when Kayde finally passes out, I have no one to talk to. No one to share my daily experiences with, or share the tasks that come along with caring for a toddler. It’s exhausting, and I’m alone.
Don’t get me wrong, I love Kayde. He is the very best part of me. I wouldn’t change the fact that I have him, and I don’t regret a thing. But it’s not easy, whether you’re with your child’s father or a single mother, whether you work full-time, part-time, or not at all. Raising a child is tough.
No. I am much MUCH more than that.
I am self-conscious, self-aware, and self-absorbed. In all the worst ways.
Every female I know seems to fit every social anxiety description “to a T”. What I find a bit funny about that, is that every one of them that I know fairly well seems to lack at least half of the things described.
You are not more than self-conscious if you tell me to stop obsessing over what I can and cannot wear, because “confidence will keep people from worrying about how you look”. If that’s how you feel, then you are not suffering.
Relationships and social interactions are not difficult for you if you insist on seeing each of your friends multiple times a week.
You don’t prefer being alone if you can’t even take a break from work without being on the phone with someone the entire time.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure everyone suffers from some sort of anxiety at some point in their lives. But you don’t truly know the struggles unless you have experienced the severity of it first hand.
I am so self-conscious that I even question whether I really have anxiety or if I’m just like the people that claim they do for pity or an excuse.
But it’s not merely social anxiety. It feels like I have the worst of it all. I struggle daily from my social fears and body image problems. If you asked a doctor, they’d probably tell you I have Social Anxiety, Body Dysmorphic Disorder, Depression, slight OCD, and I’ve struggled with eating disorders since I was 14.
Some days are worse than others. So much worse.
Being alone is almost a death sentence, but also so much easier to deal with than being with others. When I’m alone, I’m left with my thoughts. I pick at every part of me and try to dissect every social interaction I’ve ever experienced. Just a look that I can’t quite figure out the meaning of will send me into a panic. I need constant reassurance that I’m acceptable.
But being in public, whether it’s with close friends that I feel comfortable around or complete strangers, is anxiety inducing. I become hot and cold at the same time. I sweat profusely, while my arms and legs are covered in goosebumps. It isn’t always terrible, but the outcome depends on the event. Grocery shopping isn’t a problem, but a trip to the bar gives me sweaty palms.
I spend hours getting ready, trying to perfect every part of me. I never do, but I try. I make my hair look as best as I can, put on makeup that I rarely wear, and dig through my closet trying to find the most flattering outfit. Even in my most comfortable, baggy clothing, I still am constantly aware of my body and how it may look.
Even at 115 pounds, just 4 pounds away from being underweight and constantly told I look sickly, I couldn’t bare how fat and disgusting I felt.
The hardest part for me, that’s even more difficult to explain, is that I don’t know what I look like. I mean, I have a generalized idea. I know I have dark hair, black hole eyes, and more freckles than one would ever be able to count. But I can’t comprehend my body type or exactly how my face looks. I’ve seen so many different angles and versions of myself that I don’t know which is the most accurate. I ask people all the time if my photos even resemble me, or if I look much better in them than in person. I fear meeting people after they see photos of me, or even seeing someone I haven’t seen in a while. I worry they’ll be disappointed or surprised by how much less attractive I am in person.
I compare myself to everyone, which is pretty typical of a female, but it’s never-ending. I ask if I look like I’d fit in or resemble certain groups or individual people. I have judged every person I’ve ever looked at. It’s not malicious, for the most part. It’s me trying to find where I fit, and mostly trying to conceptualize how I look. It never works though, because nobody can be trusted. If someone says something complimentary to me, I assume they’re saying it to be nice or because they feel sorry for me.
I’m a mess. Just one big mess.
I act cocky at first to hide it, because nobody wants these insecurities, complaints, or constant questions in their life. But I’m not cocky at all, not even confident. And eventually, if you’re around me long enough, it all spills out.
I wouldn’t wish this upon anybody. This is a daily struggle for me. I’ve avoided getting my license, because I don’t trust myself enough to drive. At 22, I just began college classes, but only online courses, because being in school around strangers makes me incredibly uncomfortable. I don’t have a job, because I’m afraid to fail, and I’m not even sure I’d make it past the interview. I’m just too socially awkward. Photography has always been one of my passions, but I stopped doing it and refuse jobs, because I lack the confidence.
I just never feel as though I’m enough. For anything or anyone.
But I’m trying. Even though it’s only online, I’m going to college. I’m forcing myself to accept photography jobs. I’m making plans to meet new people or hangout with old friends. I’m hoping that forcing myself into these situations constantly will get me through it.
I may never be okay with how I look or act, but I’m trying.
Dear Kayde,
I haven’t written directly to you in nearly a year. I’m deeply sorry for that.
It’s been a busy year, so much has changed. You and I (mostly me) are in a transitional period in our lives. We moved out of Daddy’s condo and into Grammy’s house. Grammy got kicked out, which meant we got kicked out as well, after only two months. We had nowhere else to go but Auntie Kim and Uncle Pete’s dinky apartment. It didn’t go so well there.
Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t absolutely horrible, but it was bad enough. I didn’t pay rent, which meant I was obligated to babysit whenever asked, as well as buy 90% of the groceries for everyone in the house (six people). That was the manageable part of the whole experience. Auntie Kim was a crabby lady, and her and Uncle Pete fought quite often. You and Charlotte also fought, but even more often. Charlotte is a biter and a hitter, so you experienced the brunt of that. This made for a crabby Kayde, which made for a sad and frustrated Mommy. We were both crabby and miserable. I was desperate to get us out of there.
After about five months of suffering, Grammy found a new boyfriend, Mike (Grampy). She was planning on moving in with him and invited us to go with her. That’s where we live currently. We have the entire finished basement, which provides more than enough room for us, as well as our own full bathroom. We’re both so much happier. You behave so well, now that you only see Charlotte three days a week.
So that’s a summary of our living situations for the past nine months.
A few other things have changed as well.
Mommy has been seeing this guy, Craig, for about six months now. You love him. Like, absolutely love him. He’s good to you, and he’s good to Mommy. But he’s supposed to be leaving on Tuesday. This was inevitable, as he lives in Texas. It was really just a matter of when. Mommy has mixed feelings about this. I’m sad, because I know I’ll miss him, and it’ll be strange going from sleeping in the same bed as him every night, to him not being there at all. But I feel this is an important thing, because for now we are at a stand still. Have been for the entirety of our unofficial relationship. This will determine what will really happen with us.
Also, Mommy is bored. I spend all my hours, Monday through Friday, with you. And that’s not a complaint, I love it. But as the weekends approach, I get sad and lonely, even with Craig around. I never see my friends anymore. I know I’m a mother, but I’m still young. When you’re at Daddy’s for two nights, I should be going out and enjoying myself. So that’s what I’m going to try to do once Craig leaves.
I think I deserve it. I mean, I take care of you almost entirely by myself, and I think I do a decent job. I also started school at MWCC in January, and I’m doing really well. My classes are online, because I still don’t drive (working on it) and have you all the time. But I’m motivated to get a degree in Graphic Design, so I’m really pushing myself. I’m also working on finding a part time job for when you’re at Daddy’s.
You’re going to be two very soon, in less than a month. Mommy is working extra hard on your Vintage Carnival Birthday party. I hand stitched bean bags for games. I’m currently working on making your invitations from scratch. I even taught myself how to use fondant, so I can make your cake. I get way too excited. I just really love planning things.
Now let’s talk about you.
You’re perfect. I mean, pretty much absolutely perfect. Okay, you’re a little whiny and up my butt at times. And you can also sense when I really need to accomplish things in the kitchen, so you insist on me picking you up. I’m pretty sure it’s intentional. But that’s okay. You’re cute, so I’ll suffer.
Your favorite toys are currently Go! Go! Smart Wheels/Animals and train tracks. I love this, but also hate it. The only reason that I sometimes hate it is that you decide I NEED to set every single piece up for you repeatedly. The point of toys is for YOU to play with them, so that I can accomplish other tasks. Of course, I play with you all the time. But you insist it needs to be EVERY time.
Your favorite shows (you just started really watching tv) are Dinosaur Train, Chuggington, and Paw Patrol. Makes sense. You love trains and your world revolves around puppies.
Your favorite foods are probably pizza and sushi. You loooove pizza. Weird, because I don’t. I am incredibly pleased and impressed that you love sushi. Your favorite seems to be anything with raw tuna. Good boy. (;
Hmm, what else? You’re in a big boy bed now. Of course, you only sleep in it for half of the night, until you crawl into bed with me. Don’t worry, I don’t mind. I’m just happy you go to sleep in your own bed, even if you need your puppy pillow, a blankie, binky, cup, and cabbage patch doll to do it. Whatever works.
You talk so well now. I mean, for an almost two year old with a lisp (which is the cutest). You say pretty much everything. You’ve been speaking for a while, but within the past few months have been constantly picking up new words. Within the past week, you started saying “love you”, which may be my favorite thing you say. You can also name most of your plastic toy animals, which I find pretty impressive. You’re a smart kid, and I’m incredibly thankful for that.
There’s more I have to tell you, but I think I’ll wait.
Love you, Bub.
Yes, that is from an Aaliyah song. Don’t judge.
ANYWAY…
Apparently, I’ve been missing from my blog since about May. I apologize. Although I’m sure I was not very dearly missed. A lot has changed in just three/four months. Here’s a quick recap:
I left my husband. Yes, like the husband that I was once miserable over for leaving me. I left him.
I moved into my mother’s house.
I then moved into my friend’s apartment last Friday.
I have a new boyfriend. I know, I know. Too soon.
I also just signed up to become a distributor for It Works!
Now that I’m at my current residence, I have a laptop to use. So hopefully that will mean focusing on my blog a little more. The plan is to start doing reviews/spoilers/deals once again, and I also plan on getting into more detail about the recent happenings in the lives of myself and Kayde.
So stay tuned! Or don’t! (;
Okay, so I know I’ve been bad at posting lately. My computer is a huge pain, and my tablet was missing for days. My goal for next month is to get back to it with full force.
I will do my best to get the last few April reviews up before the week ends. I also have a giveaway in the works, which I’m planning on posting on Friday, so stay tuned!
Dear Kayde,
Today is your birthday. (Well, technically yesterday, I’m a little late. You’ll understand why.) Ahem… today is your birthday. The plan was for you to wake up with a floor covered in balloons for you to play with, eat a big birthday breakfast of eggs, hash, and sausage, get a few last minute things for your party on Saturday, then go out to Friendly’s with me and Daddy for dinner and presents. That is not at all how your birthday went.
Today, you woke up after a long sleepless night to a floor covered in balloons, but you had no interest in them. You layed in my lap, coughing, wheezing, and struggling to breathe. No breakfast, you’d barely take a bottle to keep you hydrated.
Mommy and Daddy were concerned. We didn’t want to wait until your one year checkup tomorrow, so at about ten-thirty in the morning we were off to the hospital. I tried feeding you a food pouch during our three hour wait to be seen, but you threw it up in the waiting room. Finally, shortly before the time you were born, they took us in and checked you out, which made you even more miserable. You got x-rays, which was not a pleasant experience, and we were informed you have pneumonia. My poor sick birthday boy.
How ironic that at 1:37 pm a year ago we were in a hospital, with you lying on my chest, the first moment I met you. And exactly one year later, we were again in a hospital, with you lying on my chest, the sickest you’ve ever been.
Instead of a birthday dinner, I opened your gifts for you to play with for only minutes at a time between whining fits snd frequent naps. And now you lay here in my lap.
And I think about the past year, your first year, and how you’ve made it the best of my life. You are the reason for my existence. You gave me purpose. You have grown and changed so much in just a year. You are so sweet, cuddly, strong, and smart. You make me laugh more than anyone ever has. You make me proud daily, and I feel truly sorry for every person that isn’t lucky enough to call you their son. You are the very best part of me.
Your very first birthday was one of your worst days, but it was still the best first birthday I’ve ever been a part of.
Because it was yours.
I love you, Bubby. ♡
So, I was never planning on doing a “Flashback Friday”, not sure if it’ll even become a trend for me. Buuut, a friend of mine came over last night with a flash drive containing photos I’ve been dying to see for a little over a year. My maternity shoot!
It was very casual, as she’s one of my closest friends and just did it for free. (She also did my wedding photos, she’s pretty amazing.) So, there are a few of my super mature husband scaring me with a booger.
But anyway, finally seeing these photos has been long overdue, especially since Kayde will be one next Thursday. So without further ado, here are a few photos I wanted to share:
RaisingKayde 