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To My Sister

Posted on October 11, 2011 Written by Tonya

If you don’t know who Jessica of My Time As Mom is, you must be living under a rock.

It truly is as simple as that.

First of all, she has a wonderful blog, is ALWAYS! on Twitter, is a Social Media Specialist for Eli Rose and co-founder of Vlog Talk, a weekly vlog meme. On top of all that, she is a killer Scrabble player ( speaking as the opponent who ass she kicks all the time) and is the kindest and most helpful person I probably have ever encountered.

I am so happy to have Jessica here today sharing a letter to her sister, Victoria.

To My Sister,

We have always been opposites.

From our hair to our shoes to our personalities.

The expressions salt and pepper and night and day have been used to describe us many times.

We have had our ups and downs in life.

We have laughed over stupid jokes and mom’s hair.

We have cried over the loss of family members and other things that I can’t remember.

We went many months without speaking to each other.

But we have always been sisters.

And we will always be sisters.

I know we don’t talk as often as we should and I don’t tell you I love enough.

But I do and my life wouldn’t be the same without you.

Although if I was you, I would recommend that you not listen to me the next time I tell you to shove a sock in your mouth.

What You Won’t Remember

Posted on October 4, 2011 Written by Tonya

I made the leap from Blogger to WordPress in early August with a lot of help from Ashley of My Front Porch Swing and have turned to her more times than I care to admit since then with questions and utter freak outs over missing posts and widget help. Ashley, I am grateful to you and appreciate your patience with me. I still have have much to learn about WordPress!

Today, I am pleased to share Ashley’s loving letter to her daughter and I am particularly proud of her for stepping out of her guest posting comfort zone to write such a tender piece for my series.

My darling daughter,

What you won’t remember.

You won’t remember your fight to be here. The surgery when you were only halfway done. The hospitalizations that your sweet, loving brother took in stride. That your daddy worried through but during which stood strong. The terror, fear, and absolute determination to meet you grown and strong. Absolute gratification, relief, and complete joy that filled us all when you arrived – and were, indeed, fine.

You won’t remember your first time at the beach. The gulf’s breeze blew around us, the water just a bit too cold to enjoy. Snuggled deep inside a wrap tied to close to my heart, you were barely aware of your surroundings. You won’t remember the cool sand, the gull’s cries, or the waters lullaby.

You won’t remember your fight with pneumonia. The stark, white walls of the hospital. The compassion in your nurses eyes. You won’t remember me holding onto you so tight they had to pry my fingers just to set you down. You won’t remember the thousand prayers I sent up to those we lost, higher powers above, and anyone else who would listen.

You won’t remember your first steps. The strength, courage, and fearlessness in which you moved along. You won’t remember me sinking to my knees in wonder, delight, and trepidation that you were gaining independence. You won’t remember the tears on my face as I tried to commit every.single.second to memory while grabbing the first camera I could find.

You won’t remember my reluctance to leave you. In the beginning, the time I spent away from you was counted in minutes. The nervousness as I kissed you goodnight, and eventually goodbye when I finally gained the nerve to trust you would be all right. The tears I shed over being away from you and your brother will not register in your memories – but they are sure burned in mine.

You won’t remember the first time you said, “I love you”. When you gazed up into my eyes with such loyalty, affection, and adoration, I learned all over again the meaning of true love. There is no greater love than that of a child, and you won’t remember the thrill of joy and contentment that filled my heart when you spoke those three words.

You won’t remember the moments I thought of your life ahead, of the people you will meet, those you will love, the accomplishments you will achieve. You won’t remember the emotions that struggle to prevent me from completing my thoughts. You will build an abundance of memories and none of them will be lacking in love. You won’t remember the moment I wrote this with such conviction and belief in the amazing woman you are going to become.

Whatever the future brings, there is so, so much you won’t remember.

But even with all you won’t remember, I still hope you never forget.

I love you,
Mommy

Dear Bear’s OT Girls

Posted on September 27, 2011 Written by Tonya

There is truly nothing more endearing than having others fall completely in love with your children and treat them with as much love, compassion and respect as you do.

The lovely Shell of Things I Can’t Say is here today sharing a poignant letter of gratitude to her son’s Occupational Therapists.

Dear Bear’s OT girls (aka his Occupational Therapists),

Thank you.

You have no idea what it means to have my son excited about coming to see you. He calls Occupational Therapy “my play place.”

You make it fun for him. You help him. And you all love him.

My Bear has the sweetest heart. He really does. But, often, others don’t see it. They see his struggles. They see the things he does that are “bad.” They see him as a difficult child.

But, you don’t.

You greet him with a big smile.

You thank him for being such a good helper when he reassures a crying child in the waiting room that “Don’t worry, this is so much fun. Don’t cry. Go have fun with the girls.”

You give him choices and laugh right along with him when he squeals with joy.

You let him sit in your lap and stroke your hair. He loves playing with hair. It’s soothed him since he was a baby. And you never pull away from his touch.

You run your fingers through his hair and rub his back and make him feel safe.

You understand when he has a rough moment and never scold. You gently pull him back to what he should be doing.

You encourage him and make him feel like he’s doing a great job.

You never get frustrated with him.

When I share the struggles he has been having, you nod knowingly, letting me know that what he is going through is completely normal and that you have strategies to help.

You give me hope that things won’t always be so freaking hard.

You don’t judge him or me for what he is going through. You only focus on what can be done to help. That kind of acceptance brings tears to my eyes.

I wish I could scoop one of you up and have you spend the day with Bear at school. I wonder how differently his day would go if he had such encouragement and individual attention all day long.

But, we have to share you with the other kids who need you.

I’m sure there are days when you are tired or deal with kids who give you a hard time, but you don’t let it show.

I’m just glad that you are there for Bear, to help him at his “play place.” I understand that this is your job and you could say that you are only doing your job. But, I know differently. I know that you don’t have to care so much.

That caring? Is making all the difference in the world to my Bear.

For that, I cannot thank you enough.

Sincerely,

Bear’s Mommy

Dear Baby Girl

Posted on September 20, 2011 Written by Tonya

Robin is one of my favorite writers and her blog, Farewell, Stranger is one I never miss. Robin’s writing is raw and thoughtful and eloquent. I have devoured every word of her brave journey through postpartum depression and especially love her posts about her three-year-old son, Connor, who could be the Canadian version of Lucas.

I had the pleasure of rooming with Robin the first night of BlogHer ’11 and we stayed up until after 2:00 AM talking. To say that I hope we get another opportunity to do that again someday would be an understatement.

I am so pleased to have Robin here today with a letter to her baby girl. Confused? Keep reading….

Dear Baby Girl,

For a few months now Connor has been talking about his baby sister.

“I’m going to have a baby sister,” he said one day.

“When my baby sister comes, I’m going to teach her how to paint,” he informed me a couple of weeks ago. He was wrist deep in watercolor paint at the time, and the image of the two of you creating art together nearly made me cry (which surely would have smeared my own amateur work of art).

One day I asked him when his baby sister was coming.

“On Friday,” he said, his voice confident and sure.

I laughed of course, because he seems to be under the impression we merely have to order a baby and go to the hospital to pick it up. (It’s Grandma’s fault, because when he asked her recently where babies come from she took the admittedly smart approach and told him they grow in the mommy’s tummy and then you go to the hospital to get them.)

I wish it were that easy. If we could have you with us on Friday, I’d leave for the hospital right now and wait in happy anticipation.

That’s not how it works, sadly, but I’m intrigued that your three-year-old brother is so sure you’re coming to live with us.

Nine years ago, when we bought our first house and it was being built, your dad and I stood on the ground outside with nothing but the skeleton of a house surrounding us and thought about what it would be like to live there. It was getting dark – the sun was going down in the hills to the east, and I could see footprints in the dirt beneath us from the workers who had been there that day.

Suddenly I had an image in my mind, clear as a photograph, of our family. Four of us – your dad and I, a boy and a girl. I dismissed it as a silly dream or wishful thinking and didn’t even mention it to your dad at the time. It was too much like picturing the “perfect” family.

I actually always imagined I’d have a girl first, so when your brother came along I was surprised. And that led me to wonder whether maybe my quickly-dismissed vision from that long ago day wasn’t in fact worth paying attention to.

Your dad and I had never really talked to Connor about having another baby. He just started talking about it on his own, and has mentioned his “little sister” to Grandma as well. None of his good friends have little sisters – they’re all little brothers – so I really don’t know where he got the idea.

Maybe he knows something we don’t. I sure hope so, because our family isn’t complete yet and I’d be very happy if you’d come and join us.

Love,

Mama

P.S. If you turn out to be a boy, that’s okay too.

Dear Mama

Posted on September 13, 2011 Written by Tonya

I am so humbled by the generous response to my new weekly feature, Letters For You that debuted last week and very grateful to Poppy of Funny or Snot for helping me kick off the series.

If you missed her heart wrenching letter to the lifeguard she credits to saving her daughter’s life, you can find it here.

This week, I am pleased to welcome Natalie of My Crazy Busy Life. Natalie helped her grandmother celebrate her 75th year recently and here is the birthday letter she gave her.

When Tonya asked me to contribute a letter for her new weekly series, I knew exactly what to send. While I had a close relationship with my grandparents, my paternal grandparents were the ones who actually raised me.

Last month, my grandmother celebrated her 75th birthday. I helped throw her a surprise party. We mailed invitations, ordered a cake and created a slideshow that celebrated her life. But what’s a party without presents? And more importantly, what do you buy someone who truly has it all? I followed the advice I’ve told my kids MANY times: I used my words. The following is a letter I wrote for her birthday.

Dear Mama,

One thing I’ve learned from you over the years is that our time here is limited. We never know how many days we will have or what our tomorrow may bring. So, as you celebrate your 75th year of being alive, I think it’s fitting to share with you a few of my thoughts. After all, there’s no better time like the present.

Children growing up often take their lives for granted. Children who are loved and nurtured naturally assume that there will be food on the table, a warm bed to sleep in and a lap for snuggles. That is, children make these blind assumptions IF their families are raising them in the way God intended.

I simply want to say thank you.

Thank you for giving me a home where I can be blissfully unaware of the outside world. For allowing me to assume that I will always have three square meals, a bed to sleep in and a hug when I needed it.

Thank you for caring for me all of the times I was sick and the countless bowls of chicken noodle soup you made on the nights I couldn’t sleep; for giving me a lap to be rocked in and arms that hugged even as I grew too big to crawl into that lap; you never turned me away. You simply adjusted in your chair to make room.

Thank you for telling me stories of not only your childhood, but the ones from my fathers, aunts and the rest of the family. Because of that, I’m blessed to know my history and where we come from. You shared the funny memories as well as the sad. I heard the struggles you faced not only as a wife and mother, but also as a woman. The strength I receive from that and from you is second to none.

Thank you for showing unconditional love AND setting rules and boundaries. I always knew you cared, but also when my behavior disappointed you. Because of how much you loved me, I never wanted to cause the disappointment. I came to strive to do my best because I wanted to make you proud.

The day came that I did disappoint you, but my deepest appreciation stems from one of our most difficult times.

Thank you for supporting me when I was pregnant at only 16. I truly do not know how it would have been possible without you. Having a baby in high school was certainly not a life I had planned, but it became a decision I have never regretted.

Thank you for supporting me in the beginning of the most important role of my love–being a mother.

As I watch my babies grow into kids and then ultimately young adults, I can truly appreciate all of the love I was shown when I was nothing but a kid myself. Not only do I understand the love, but the also the pain and disappointment. I am more sorry than you know for the hurt I caused; I was simply trying to do as you taught me; I wanted to find my own way as my own person.

Thank you for staying in your marriage for 55 years. The two of you have given our family a touchstone as pillars of strength. You taught me through your example that all relationships require work and that vows are promises meant to be kept. There will be bad times, but then we can truly enjoy the good ones. Because without thunderstorms, we wouldn’t have rainbows.

One of my favorite quotes is:

Two great things we can give our children: One is roots, the other is wings. – Hodding Carter

Thank you for teaching me the importance of the first and then giving me the courage to use the second.

With all of my love,

Natalie
xoxoxox

Letters For You

Posted on September 6, 2011 Written by Tonya

When was the last time you wrote a letter?

With the gentle encouraging and support of Nichole (In These Small Moments) and other friends at BlogHer, I am proud to introduce a new weekly feature on Letters For Lucas called Letters For You.

I am urging friends to write a letter to someone, anyone; your unborn baby, your teenage son, your mother, your best friend, yourself at 15 or yourself at 80.

Tell someone something you have always wanted to and haven’t yet. Share a story, confess a secret, express your pride, offer your gratitude or spread your wisdom. Say something you didn’t even know you needed to say.

Letters should be funny, sarcastic or sentimental. They are yours.

I’m hoping this will be an opportunity to open your heart and share your soul. And who knows, after you write it, you may want to send it.

Each week, on Wednesdays I will feature a different letter.

Please let me know if you are interested in participating by e-mailing me at tonya@lettersforlucas.com

I’m excited to give you the very first Letters For You letter from Poppy (Funny or Snot).

Dear Arica,

“I wish I were Sophie” is my middle kid’s mantra. She contracted Jan Brady Syndrome right around Christmas. I welcome the opportunity to reassure her that she is my most interesting child as well as my most annoying.

Perhaps you remember her. She wasn’t being annoying at the time, she was playing dead.

My forgotten middle child there on the bottom of the public swimming pool at which you were life-guarding. I was swimming laps with my oldest while my husband was holding our youngest in the shallow end. We each thought the other had our four year old daughter who could not swim and was not wearing a life jacket.

I was under water when I heard your whistle, specifically counting my strokes. Like a marine mammal hearing a high pitch warning of impending danger, instinctively I just knew. Time stopped as I flew from the lap pool to the general swim pool just as you were breaking the water’s surface with my blue lipped little girl in your arms.

In those few moments before I knew she was going to be OK, I made eye contact with my husband who was just as confused. We were both trying to process how this could have possibly happened.

It didn’t take long before she started coughing up water and you handed her to me. I read somewhere that even abused children desire their mothers. It seems the same principle applies to neglectful mothers. My frightened child, and the most independent of my three, clung to me all day as I did to her. Then I started the torturous “what if” game.

What if you were distracted by a boy, a text, self consciousness about your swimsuit?

What if somebody engaged you in conversation near the lap pool and you didn’t move to the general pool in a timely manner?

We, her loving parents, did not know she was missing. What if you had not seen her?

I would have never forgiven myself.

I don’t forgive myself now.

I can only make sure it never happens again by being hyper vigilant around water. Shaking the whole time, I took her swimming the very next day to perhaps avoid a lifetime fear of water. I also signed her up for another round of lessons.

We came into visit you a week after it happened to thank you again, but I am afraid it was still too fresh to do anything but present you a small gift with tears in my eyes. A gift in exchange for a life seems so stupid. I want you to know, three years later, that I am on my knees thankful that my breach of duty came with a second chance. I am forever grateful to you, our life guarder, that you were watching when I should have been.

Thank you,

Poppy

Morgan’s List Of What NOT To Wear To BlogHer

Posted on July 31, 2011 Written by Tonya

While I’m still enjoying a little R&R in Hawaii (I’ll try not to rub it in), my friend, Morgan of The Little Hen House is here to keep you company.

I’m happy to say that Morgan is a IRL (In Real Life) friend and she is simply darling. Her writing is everything mine isn’t; witty, sarcastic and laugh out loud funny.

Morgan is also a mother to two adorable little girls whom Lucas loves spending time with, she raises chickens, writes for several mommy-centric Web sites, shares great advice on blogging, hosts a weekly Dr. Mom feature featuring her own mother and because she doesn’t have a TV, spends A LOT of time scouring the Internet for sometimes bizarre and always hilarious items.

The other thing Morgan does really well is Top Ten lists and here is one that she’d like to share with all of us…
________________________________________________________

There has been a lot of talk about what to wear to BlogHer ’11 this year, and shoes are no exception. If you’ve ever been to a blog conference before, then you know one thing is for certain: There are going to be many, many bloggers wearing really cute shoes.

If you are shoe-challenged, then have no fear! Sometimes the process of elimination is the best way to decide what to wear. So, here is a list of the Top Ten Shoes You DON’T Want to Wear to BlogHer ’11:

Butt-Toning Sandals:

Because this isn’t the “special” look you want to be going for.

Teeva High Heels:

Just don’t even go there, ok?

High Heel Flip Flops:

There will be people wearing high heels and there will be people wearing flip flops. You can’t have it both ways.

Nike Clogs:

Wear Nikes, wear Crocs, just don’t wear these.

Thigh High Converse:

*sigh*

Pink Leopard Wedge:

The quickest way to take a little black dress from “day” to “street walker”.

Stripper Shoes:

This shouldn’t need any explanation. If it does, I think the conference you are looking for is in Vegas.

Five Finger Running Shoes:

I don’t care how comfortable they are, they just creep me out.

Scary High Heel:

These take the term “spike heel” to another level.

Pony Heels:

There are no words.

I hope that gave you a little direction! Stay away from any of the ten styles above and I can guarantee that you won’t be the worst dressed person in the room. You’re welcome!

I urge you to follow Morgan on Twitter and Facebook and look for her epic posts on hosting a celebrity baby shower, Top Ten Reasons I Suspect My Children Might Be Trying To Kill Me and Celebrity Guest Post: My Summer Plans with everyone’s favorite gal pal, Gwynie.

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Naming Sawyer

Posted on May 3, 2011 Written by Tonya

Jessica was kind enough to have me guest post for her last week (Visit from a Friend), so this week I am returning the favor. Trust me, you won’t be disappointed.

If you don’t know Jessica there is no time like the present. She is the mother of an autistic teenager, gave birth to triplets and lost one and then had a son that is nearly Lucas’ age. Her blog, Four Plus an Angel is beautiful, heartbreaking and inspirational. I’m honored to call her my friend and her writing, her story never ceases to move me.

And so, without further adieu, here she is sharing how she and her husband came up with their son’s name.
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Since I have my fingers and toes crossed that Tonya will need to pick a baby name some day very soon I thought it would be a perfect subject for my guest post…

My husband and I do not have an easy time agreeing on baby names. Before I got pregnant I had pictured us lovingly laying at opposite ends of the couch, reading off baby names to each other as he rubbed my swollen feet, dreaming of our future child.

He likes classic, typical, ten-million-kids-have-that-name names and I like different, cute, the-only-kid-in-the-class-with-that-name names. By our fifth child the name discussions just about sent me into preterm labor.

I had all kinds of rules in my head. The name could not begin with the same letter as any of our other children. It had to have the same style and feel as the others and it could not, when put with our last name, sound several consonants off from any celebrity. He had one rule. His son or daughter could not be named after any of his previous students. My husband has been a principal for years.

We were screwed.

I used my strategy that has worked well in the past called “hold out until things get intense and then he will give in” and it worked beautifully.

There I was lying on the operating room table with my child’s future in my hands and I picked my dream name.

“Sawyer” he would be.

But here, and only here (because my husband has no idea another blog in the world exists outside my own) I will say, I might have been wrong. I LOVE my son’s name and think it fits him perfectly but there is a chance “basic Joe” may have been the way to go.

See, I don’t really enjoy unsolicited comments, especially when they are about my children and most definitely, when they stop me in my tracks while trying to grocery shop with kids climbing on my head.

For some reason saying “Sawyer” in public has drawn out more comments than pretending I can sing country music and naming him Apple.

I now know that there was a character on Lost named Sawyer. The majority of Sawyer’s devoted fans have stopped me to let me know. Also, apparently there are lots of girls/dogs/streets/last names/ex-boyfriend’s goldfish named Sawyer. And, believe it or not, Sawyer can be mispronounced as SAW-YER (think the tool + “you” with a strong southern accent).

How did this happen? I thought I picked a fool-proof name. I believe I have come to understand that there is no such thing.

Either way, I am sticking to my opinion that I love my little guy’s name and would not change my mind even if he hadn’t already been wearing it in the world for almost two years now.

I will, however, be picking his teachers by class list. I am determined to enroll him with Apple, Sunday and Blue so that his name does not provoke a single comment about the plane that crashed and left him stranded on an island for six straight years of a wildly popular television show that was watched by everyone except for his parents.

I urge you to follow Jessica on Twitter andFacebook and look for her posts, If My Kids Could Blog, because it’s hilarious, Sick Day, in which she puts this whole motherhood thing into perspective and her weekly feature, The Hot Seat.

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A Second Child

Posted on April 12, 2011 Written by Tonya

There was a time when my husband and I wanted to have (gulp) three children, but chances are with more than one miscarriage and my our advancing age, that won’t be happening. We are hopeful that we will have at least one more…

We are currently in the throes of deciding when the perfect time is to have another baby, so I love hearing how other couples reached this decision and how it affected their threesome, which is why I invited Jessica of My Time As Mom here today.

Jessica has become my late night Scrabble friend and I love reading about her two adorable little girls. Jessica’s youngest is Lucas’ age, so we spend a lot of time commiserating comparing notes with one another over nap time, bedtime and toddlerhood.

Please welcome, Jessica!

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For five years life was spent with one child. My daughter was the center of attention, the joy of our lives, and the beginning of my gray hair.

My husband and I both worked full time and I was also going to college full time. Life was busy but we were still able to spend time as a family, just the three of us.

But we talked; we talked a lot about having a second child. We thought we could afford another kid. We thought we would have enough love for an addition to our family.

But we also thought what the hell are we thinking?

Our daughter was five. She could feed herself. She slept through the night. She was potty trained. I could sleep late in the mornings.

She was almost in school and the daycare bills had an end in sight – finally.

We would be starting all over.

Being pregnant again, my body growing and stretching after I worked so hard to get it back to normal after the first child. Our life would be filled with sleepless nights, diaper changing, baby crying, and car seat carrying. Money would be spent on countless baby accessories instead of designer jeans and flip-flops (for me of course).

Did we really want to give up the freedoms we had spent years gaining back as our daughter became older?

The truth – yes, we did want to give up these things. We wanted a second child. We wanted our oldest to have a sibling to share her life with just as my husband and I both had as kids. We wanted another person in our family and we wanted to start all over again.

So we did. And we have never regretted the decision.

Will we have a third?

No freaking way!!

I urge you to follow Jessica on Twitter and Facebook and look for her posts: Bedtime with a Toddler Sucks, because it’s hilarious and Cheater Cheater, in which she admits to cheating at Scrabble and yet, I still play with her every night. Hmmm.

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Normal

Posted on January 10, 2011 Written by Tonya

Liz is the brilliant face behind a belle, a bean & a chicago dog, where she shares her adventures with her two adorable daughters, (self proclaimed) metrosexual husband, yummy sounding recipes that even I could attempt and musings on life in general. Her writing is straight forward, witty and always leaves me wanting more.

I am proud to say that Liz is also my fairy blogmother and has advised me on several blogging quandaries with an ease and candor that I respect.

She has to be one of the busiest and most dedicated bloggers in the blogosphere. On top of all the writing she does, I rarely visit a blog that she hasn’t already been to and left a heartfelt comment.

Everyone loves Liz, but if for some reason you aren’t already following her on Facebook, Twitter (she tweets a lot!!), her BBCD Blog Frog Community, or Our Mommyhood, you must be living under a rock or have terrible Internet access and need to right away!

I am happy to have Liz here today and so, without further adieu, here what “normal” looks like in her home.

********************************************************************************

I’m so honored to be posting at Letters For Lucas today, though I was even more honored the day Tonya asked me to be her fairy blogmother!

When Tonya and I were talking about this guest post, she asked me about my “Normal.” It’s kinda funny that she chose that topic because it’s something my husband and I talk a lot about.

He and I moved states away from all our family and friends, and everything we knew, over 7 years ago. We hadn’t been married even 2 years when he accepted his first outside sales position, so all the “life accomplishments” you do as a married couple pretty much began after our relocation.

Like, our first (and second and third) home.

Two babies.

And countless new jobs and promotions.

Right from the start, our Normal wasn’t typical.

Another big part of our Normal is that my husband works out of the home. All the time. As in, there is no physical building nor company location within 500 miles of us.

A lot of people’s minds are truly boggled by this, and I’m not sure why. Though once they seem to process this abnormal bit of information, the next question is always, “How is it having your husband around the house all day, every day?“

I usually giggle and say, “It’s a good thing we like each other, because we certainly do spend a LOT of time together!“

He and I are both creatures of habit, which I find to be a good thing. Plus, kids thrive with routine. Since I’m home with them all day, every day, our family routine definitely helps me with the kid wrangling. And working out of the home takes a LOT of discipline, so routine is helpful to his productivity and success, too.

Our routine nature and his working out of the home also means that all he has to do is catch a whiff of what’s cooking, glance at the clock to see if it’s 5 or so, and walk downstairs so we can eat dinner as a family.

Again, not very Normal.

I completely realize that we have some unique benefits with our current set-up. But with all the good come sacrifices, too, like relocation and being a part-time single mom when he’s on the road overnight for work.

So, I guess my Normal could be summed up as this:

-Moved away
-Husband works out of the home
-Husband travels overnight for work
-SAHM
-Dinner at 5

It would be hard for me to imagine what life would be like if Craig suddenly had an office job or if I began working full-time, just like other people can’t imagine having their spouse around the house all day or picking up their lives and moving like we have.

And I totally get that.

And respect that.

Because we each have our own Normal.

What is your Normal like? Would you change your Normal?
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To My Sister

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