Tag: Family

Lent

Day 8: Therapy 101

Alexandra Diane

Today I took the first step in actively working on my mental health. I had an hour-long session with a therapist. This isn’t my first time with therapy. The last time I sought help was to deal with my postpartum depression and anger. However, that ended quickly after the therapist said to me, “have you ever been to therapy before? Bec” Because this isn’t how it works.” The woman said, after I bared my soul… That may have been word vomit of emotions and feelings, but she wasn’t correcting me, just being rude.

Even though I had an awful experience with therapy, I have always suggested it to family, friends, and my students. My husband is alive because I pushed him to speak to those are the VA who were trained in his combat related PTSD. I have guided more than a handful of students into either talking with a guidance counselor or a mental health specialist. Even my own little clone is in therapy, learning how to handle her massive emotions. So when my husband told me I needed to get help, I didn’t fight him. I didn’t want to do it, but I did it. I would hate myself forever if I always suggested those to seek help while I became lost within myself.

Somehow I got lucky. My new therapist seems wonderful. She has a kind voice, and she genuinely seemed engaged when I spoke about the things I’ve lived through. I can’t explain why I went with the first therapist I contacted, but a tiny voice inside me said, “this one.” When she asked me to fill out the pre paperwork, she asked if I had any trauma. In that millisecond, I finally stopped running and decided I didn’t need to be strong. I said “yes.”

While I have documented my sexual assault by my boss on here before, I have lived through a lot of other extremely dark things. Situations that I don’t feel comfortable putting out in the world, I will say this: I’m essentially a statistic for many things that can go horribly wrong to a female.

One thing she was gauging me on was to see if I may suffer from PTSD because my scores were pushing me there. However, that I don’t avoid situations that have caused me trauma means I don’t qualify. Part of me didn’t like that response because, for most of my trauma, there’s no way to avoid it. As I keep finding out, Jupiter/Gardens is a small ass town and the only way to avoid being triggered would be to move.

But fuck that. I’m not leaving my hometown. This is the place I’ve always wanted to raise my kids. It’s a wonderful community offering more in one location than any other community I’ve lived in. Another reason I throw my middle finger in the air at the idea of avoiding things is that I won’t be the victim. I am stronger than that. Those people who have bruised my soul will not now or ever win.

After an hour of jumping around and explaining pieces of myself to this woman with a trusting voice, I felt drained. However, even though we didn’t dive that much into the crap burdening my soul, I felt a small sense of relief. One that I can only hope will grow.

Bloganuary, Mommy Blogs

Family Traditions

Alexandra Diane
Bloganuary writing prompt
Write about a few of your favorite family traditions.
View all responses

Today’s prompt left me thinking. The task was to write about family traditions, and I struggled to identify what truly was a tradition for my family, the one I created or grew up in. I have friends who spend Christmas day going to the beach to visit the Christmas tree they  set up the night before. I know those who will do an amazing Eggmpics on Easter Sunday. But when I think about my family, I don’t see such wild outlandish events. I know family traditions are not solely about the holidays; however that’s all I can focus on right now. 

I look back at growing up and think about how most holidays are organized around my dad working them. For Thanksgiving, we never ate early. It would genuinely be Thanksgiving Dinner, not a strange linner/brunch thing. My dad would always be home for 4th July. Which was fantastic since my mom did not like lighting off fireworks. She was paranoid we would all explode and die. That is a reasonable fear for a mother to have because I have that now when I watch my tiny pyromaniacs. Opening presents on Christmas day varied each year depending on the day it fell on and what schedule my dad was working. 

But now that I reflect on how my life was organized, growing up, I see that the tradition wasn’t an elaborate display. My family tradition is and has been to value time. It doesn’t matter if it was a hobby, sport, or a career, our parents taught us to put effort into what we do. Wasting our time was not something we did. Time was valuable because there was so little of it. My parents worked hard to provide for us and worked harder, making my brother and I know how loved we were. Family time, of value, was something that my parents stressed. They both grew up in broken families. My mom’s bio-father left when she was in middle and was blissfully absent after her teenage years. My dad’s parents divorced. While my grandmother raised four crazy boys in the north, my grandfather served in the marines and later became a border patrol agent, stationed all over the US. But when my parents became adults they settled states away from their family. The connection broken. All that was left were each other and eventually me and my brother. 

I see this reflected in how my husband and I are raising our kids. When we are not working, we are inseparable. Particularly, because I’m super needy, and lucky to have a husband who doesn’t mind my attention. However, we love spending time with each other. We enjoy many of the same hobbies, share the same taste in music, but we are also comfortable in the silence of each other. With our children, we embrace their hobbies and try to encourage them to seek what brings them happiness. We try not to push our ideas on them however; we guide them into putting the best effort in whatever it is they’re doing. My husband and I want our children to appreciate the time someone spends with them and how they use their own time. Because we can’t get it back. 

Lent, Mommy Blogs

Day 33: Tea Party

Alexandra Diane

On a Sunday, Adelyn and I joined a friend of mine for her birthday. She had high tea at a cute little tea house downtown. While the other parents grabbed a babysitter and enjoyed an afternoon child-free, I took her with me. Adelyn has been my tiny shadow since she arrived in this world, and I wouldn’t start leaving her behind now. Especially after how fascinate she has become with tea parties since watching the new Alice in Wonderland.

Adelyn, who is a connoisseur of fancy dresses, had originally picked out a dress with a long tulle skirt and long lacy sleeves. It was a lot of work; however, I convinced her to pick a more stubble fancy dress. It was a pink knee-length dress with a bit of tulle and a lacy tank top. She topped off her look with a teal tulle headband. Although I’m certain she would have worn her tiara if she could have found it.

We arrived at the teahouse before everyone else. There was a Victorian-looking settee in the lobby. Adelyn excitedly sat down before quickly standing up again to inspect the tea sets on the coffee table in front of us. She surprised herself when she picked up the pot’s lid and found dry flowers inside.

“Do people drink these?” she asked, returning the lid.

“No,” I told her, pointing at the wall behind us filled with jars of tea. “But they drink these, and they make some from flowers.”

She scrunched her nose. “I don’t want to drink flower water. Can I have chocolate milk?”

Just as she asked me about the chocolate milk, the teahouse owner walked into the lobby. “I think we can do that.” She told Adelyn with a smile.

As we waited for our friends to arrive, Adelyn peaked into the tearoom. “Mommy, we don’t have a fancy hat.”

“We don’t need a hat,” I told her. “Besides, you have a beautiful headband.”

That seemed to put her nerves to rest. Also, so did Rebecca, walking through the door. Adelyn got up from the settee and hugged Rebecca. Shortly after, they guided us to the table the tea party was going to be. Rebecca, Adelyn, and I were all there early. Even with kids, I do my best to arrive at places early. Also, I blame my father and husband for still functioning like they were in the military and making sure we are always fifteen to ten minutes early for everything we do. Rebbecca used to be an officer in the Army, so she is also inflected with this same mindset.

But our early arrival allowed Adelyn to inspect every seat at the table. She chose a cushioned flower seat with a white and gold tea cup. But as she bounced on her chair, I noticed she was inspecting every place setting. Even though she was happy with her seat, she was not pleased with her cup. Especially after she looked at mine. It was a forest green cup with golden details, and on the inside was a pattern of a dragon. Adelyn asked if we could trade. As much as I like the cup, she is five, and this was not a battle I cared to have. Her satisfaction with the cup did not last. She now wanted my flowered tea cup. I told her no; we have already traded once. While Adelyn was inspecting the other cups, Rebecca claimed the dragon cup for herself.
Adelyn looked around at the other place settings and chose a pink cup with a golden handle and roses encircling the trim. Thankfully, she decided on her cup before everyone joined us. That would have made for a quiet show, having her switch cups with a table full of adults.

Adelyn’s teapot of chocolate milk arrived with the other guest. We would have to wait until everyone picked their teas before the sandwiches and desserts arrived. I felt bad. Everyone was hm-ing and ha-ing over their choices. I could hear her tummy rumble. Eventually, the pots of tea arrived, and everyone began talking. Adelyn did her best sitting still and acting like a proper little adult. She would lean in and ask me questions about the conversations everyone was having, and she made friends with the person sitting next to her. He was a dad of a little girl just about her age.

“What are they doing?” Adelyn asked when the tea staff returned and started moving pots out of the way.

I leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “I think they are going to bring the food.”

“Finally!” She sighed dramatically.

Three-tiered tower filled the sports on the tables that were once taken up by the tea pots. The first tier had hot cranberry & orange scones with clotted cream and preserves, they filled the second with small sandwiches, and the third held desserts. Adelyn’s eyes got big, and she reached for the desserts.

“Um, no,” I told her as I placed a cucumber sandwich on her plate.

She sniffed the sandwich and turned up her nose to it. “No thank you, I’ll just have a brownie.”

“What are you talking about? You like cucumbers.”

Adelyn lifted the bread and scrunched her nose at what she saw. “But it has the creaming stuff on it.”

“It’s just an herb cream spread.” As I peeled the cucumbers off the bread.

She ate that no problem and before she could reach for another dessert, I already had grabbed a turkey & cranberry sandwich.. She nibbled it up and asked if now she could have the better food. I finally relented and filled her plate with sweet treats. She ate them all and emptied her chocolate milk from her teapot.

After two hours of being a sweet angel baby that I barely had to correct, she leaned into me and whispered. “Can we go home? I’m tired.”

I leaned down and kissed her head and said soon.

Every wrapped up their meal shortly after her request. Not because she asked to go home but it was closing time. We hugged everyone and said our goodbyes. She held my hand as we walked to the car and I looked down at her and smiled.

“Did you have fun?” I asked opening the door for her.

“Yes!” she beamed, climbing into her seat.

“What was your favorite part?” I asked once I started the car.

She thought for a moment. “Spending time with just you.”

It made my heart feel good to hear that. It’s what I wanted for her since she has been so good with her little brother. I wanted her to feel special and the tea party did just that.

Lent, Mommy Blogs

Day 35: Downward Spiral

Alexandra Diane

Last week I didn’t have the energy to write. We returned to school from Spring Break, and all my students were going insane. While I spent the week paying attention to my students’ needs and trying to get them back into the swing of things, I should have been paying attention to my mental health. I didn’t want to write and couldn’t focus. I was just diving deeper into a darker space, and it wasn’t until Saturday did I get a slap in the face. 

On Saturday morning, we finally took a break from baseball…so of course, that mean we headed to the baseball fields to support friends who were playing against each other and later met up with a group of boys so they could have fun, practice a bit and just be ten-year-olds causing chaos. I would never have questioned our Saturday plans if I were mentally sound. It was a beautiful day. There were daughters at the games that Adelyn is friends with. I would have never had a moment of uncertainty. However, that was not the case. 

When Tyler came into our room to ask me what I wanted to dress Bennett in, I just stared at him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

I fidgeted with whatever was in my hands. “Are you sure I’m not intruding?”

“What? Why would you be intruding?”

“I don’t know.” I felt uncomfortable even voicing feelings, which is something I rarely have a problem with. “You’re just going with the dads, and I don’t want to feel like-”

“Stop,” he interrupted me. “Have you taken your pill?”

I shook my head no.

“Okay, well, take that.” He watched me and waited until I did. “You’re not interrupting. We’re going to Jeffery’s and Reese’s game. Their moms will be there, and Deanna will meet us afterward and bring Hailey. You need to get out of the house. You aren’t staying here. Alex, you never intrude, ever. You know this. If I wanted just time for Mark and me, I would have said so.”

He was right. He has never had a problem saying he felt, and until I had our youngest, I never experienced this issue either. I thought I was getting better, and I was feeling normal. But this weekend just proved that the medication wasn’t a miracle drug. I mean, logically, I know antidepressants don’t fix things immediately. I’m not even five months postpartum, so I don’t know why I would think everything is fine. 

All I can be grateful for right now is how attentive my husband is to my mental state. I appreciate how well he knows me. Even if it can be annoying, especially when I think I can hide that I am irritated by a situation. But I will forever be grateful that he knows me well enough that I might need‌ help, especially when I may not see it. 

Lent

Day 31: Spring break, the chance to do nothing

Alexandra Diane

While many see spring break as a chance to travel and go on adventures, I took it as an opportunity to have downtime with my family. I’ve not so secretly loved knowing there were riptides at the beach and that Adelyn isn’t the best swimmer. It’s allowed me to stay home and enjoy doing nothing without the guilt.

This break from our busy schedules has allowed me the ability to catch up on neglected housework. Though I’m not where I want to be, I have cleaned the bathrooms and gone through the mail. The stockpile of mail has been taunting me since November. I hate opening mail. It tends to be bills and nothing fun.

Aside from housework, I have spent a lot of time sitting on the floor with my tiny raptor. Bennett has become very vocal and produces new and interesting sounds. Most of them come from being disgruntled that he can’t move where he wants to yet. Although today has been a major milestone, he has rolled over six times in a row. All while yelling at me.

This time at home has also let me focus on my writing. I didn’t know how well I’d be able to keep up with my lent writing challenge, but every day I wrote something new. Now I may not complete it on the day I created the post, but I do at least start it. There was a day this week when I pushed out three new posts. I’m still grinding away at posts 11 and 12. They are the most complicated for me to write. I have to capture emotions and feelings from the past while not making the post extra flowery and taking away from the truth of the story.

Adelyn has been enjoying the one and one time too. She told me the other day that she is sad I have to spend all my time with the baby. I had worried about this when I was pregnant, and now she was vocalizing it. However, by being home and actively being able to put the baby down for a nap, I can focus my time on her. We’ve read books, made cupcakes, and snuggled on the couch watching her favorite shows. During the week, I spend a lot of individual time with her. But she doesn’t see it that way. She’s five, and it doesn’t process the same as an adult. But when she sees me putting her brother down for a nap and me coming to spend time with her, it makes her happy.

One of my favorite thing about being home this week is tormenting my husband. I know he thoroughly enjoys me being here with no true task to do. This leaves me with all the freedom in the world to demand his attention while he works. Being a stage five clinger is just one perk he gained when he married me.

All joking aside, I have loved the time he and I have been able to have. Usually, we see each other for a few hours a day, most of them on a ball field. But there were only two practices this week; the rest of the week has been free of baseball responsibilities.

Last night was probably my favorite night of the entire week. While Mr. Bennett refused to go to sleep, Tyler and I started playing “name that song.” It wasn’t something we planned on doing; it just happened. He had his Spotify app open and random tunes played. Sometimes I knew the song on the first note, and there were other times when I had to wait until the lyrics started. We did this for probably two hours. Switching from song to song, talking about memories they evoked, or making us look up different things about the bands. The night was perfect.

As we went back and forth, naming the bands and songs, I couldn’t help but think about how happy I was. This was all I’ve ever wanted out of life, to feel complete with my partner. To be comfortable in our own space and enjoy each other company. We didn’t have to do anything extravagant. Peace and simplicity tend to be undervalued. I love how comfortable Tyler and I are with each other. How easy our conversations are. Even after driving him insane from the moment I wake until he goes to bed, we always have something to talk about or share. Would it have been nice to go on vacation this spring break? Of course, it would have. I am always up for a new adventure. But if we weren’t home, there would have been so many natural moments that would have been missed.

Lent, Mommy Blogs

Day 25: Big brother, middle sister, baby brother

Alexandra Diane

I never thought I’d have three kids. I always thought I’d have two, and in a way, I do. I birthed two and my husband came with our oldest. When we started dating, it wasn’t just the two of us, we were always a party of three, and I was fine with that. Markie is and was a fantastic kid. 

So when I found out that I was pregnant, I was excited. Not just because I was going to have a daughter but because Markie would now have a friend.

 I could not have asked for a better amazing little boy. Mark went from being an only child in both households to the oldest when he was home with his dad and me. I was worried about how he would adjust to having a little sister, but my worries were for nothing. He was caring and sweet, and that love has only grown as he and his sister have aged. 

Adelyn is obsessed with her Markie. Everything he does, she wants to do with him. He skateboards, and she wants to skateboard. He plays baseball. She wants to play it too. But with the five-year age difference, things can get challenging. Mark wants his independence from his little sister, and I understand that. Only it’s hard to explain that to Adelyn. On the days when Mark is at his mom’s, Adelyn is waiting for him to come home. Sometimes I’ll find her in his room stealing a stuffed animal. When I ask her what she’s doing, she’ll tell me the stuffed animal is sad and lonely because Markie is gone. 

I thought our family was complete with just the two of them. That was until my hormones told me otherwise, and I had a minor meltdown when I finally told my husband I wanted a third child. 

While pregnant, the worries about how the two older children would adjust to a new fresh baby came flying back. I didn’t know how Adelyn would adjust to sharing her one on one attention with a new baby. Part of me wanted to have another little girl so they could play when Mark wasn’t here and gang up on him while he was here. But the universe had a different idea, and we were blessed with another little boy. A little boy that Mark and my husband were thrilled about because both of them said they could not handle another Adelyn. 

We grew from a family of four to a party of five with Bennett’s arrival. And just like with Mark, my worries were unnecessary. Adelyn and Mark both dote on their little brother. Showering him with love and affection. The five, five, five age difference has worked out in our favor. When I need to put Bennett down to make him a bottle or do the dishes, he’s never alone. He always has someone talking to him and giving him attention. This works out wonderfully for Adelyn. She has a trapped audience to sit and listen to her stories or songs. Bennett coos and babbles with her. However, Mark might be screwed. He’ll be fifteen and have a ten-year-old sister and a five-year-old little brother fighting for his attention. But secretly, I think he loves it. 

Mark will sit on the couch and play fight with the baby. He says Bennett is working on his ninja skills. Now that Bennett can hold things, Mark will put stuff in his hands only for his baby brother to throw it back at him. Mark is convinced that Bennett will be playing baseball the moment he can walk, which is a terrifying thought, a toddler with a bat. 

While the days are long and busy with sports and trying to navigate it all with an infant, I don’t think we’d have it any other way. My kids are wonderful. It’s probably why I asked my husband for a fourth and why he has a vasectomy scheduled. There’s no way we’d be lucky enough to have four amazing kids.