Reactions

"You must be tired!"  This seems to be the constant reaction I get to my younger two children all the time. Actually, it is generally the reaction I get when people are around my daughter, Lily. I can't recall a time I have ever felt the urge to let someone know that I thought their child was hyper or overactive or obnoxious. Kids are different. You really can't even compare your own kids when you have more than one. Yes, there are similarities, but they are different creatures. The saying "God never gives you more than you can handle" comes to mind so often when I am with Lily.

I have 3 children; Gabriel is in college, Nathaniel is in elementary school, and then sweet Lily. I've been married for 16 years to a very supportive, loving husband, Michael. We're like most average couples with financial struggles and hopes for family fun amongst all the craziness. Fortunately, we approach all of this as a team. I think if he and I weren't the couple we are, we would have ended long before Lily was every born. Nathaniel is on the Autism spectrum so we have struggles with him. He's received services through our school's special ed department since he was in pre-school. We're now ready to have Lily evaluated because she is a hell of a lot more high-spirited and energetic than most kids her age. She doesn't like to listen. She's very head strong. She's very stubborn. Many would say that she's just your typical 3 year old. But it's gotten to the point where we really have to think about where we are going to take her. Can we go to that store? Can we go eat there? How much rest did she have last night? Did she have a nap today? I almost feel like I'm about to trek the Andes mountains with all the planning just to go to the store with her.

Where did it all start? Hmmmm, I didn't imagine myself in an office job with money struggles with 3 kids. I imagined myself Julie McCoy, your Cruise Director. Or even a marine biologist. But that would be a struggle seeing as I am claustrophobic and the thought of using something else to help me breath gives me an anxiety attack. I went to college because that's what my parents said you were supposed to do. I took it as the opportunity to be "out on my own, make my own schedule, party every night if I wanted to" time. After a year of failing grades, the parents said no more of them paying for college - you are doing it on your own. The good thing about all that is it made me even more determined to get out on my own and do my own thing. I shared an apartment with my best friend from high school. We worked, but we partied like each night was our last night on earth. I swear sometimes I am so surprised I've made it this long!

Before I met Michael, I had a long distance relationship for about 3 1/2 years. I was trying to decide if moving to Colorado was what I wanted to do or not, primarily to be closer to J, but wasn't sure. Then he had an auto accident, was in a coma for about a month, and I decided it was time to move to be near him. It took me a bit to get the money together and suffice it to say, he had to go back home to Idaho for his recovery. He left Colorado a week before I got out there. I had a job and a place to live lined up so I went on with my plans. He figured he be back out there in a year. I figured, how different would it be to live there by myself until he got there; we'd done the long distance thing for so long, what was another year? I was young, too, only 21.

I did go out after I moved out there. Made some friends. Still in my partying ways, I partied a bit too much. I went out with this one guy in particular just a couple of times. Then about 6 months into my move, it's looking like it will be longer until J gets out there after all. Then I figure out that I'm pregnant. And not by J. I hadn't seen J since our visit before his accident. So I went through a lot of soul searching to figure out what I wanted. Call it selfish, but I knew that ultimately I had to live with my decision - keep the baby, adoption, or abortion. I decided the best thing for me would be to keep the baby. I didn't want to have an abortion. 

So all of this comes to mind at 21 and pregnant. Be responsible. Talking to myself, I would say "you've been irresponsible. Do the right thing." I also knew that if I told my parents, after getting over the shock, they would not want me put the baby up for adoption. Being the strong person I thought I was, I then called the father, who immediately went to the standard lines:

1. How do you know it's mine?
2. You should get rid of it.
3. Put it up for adoption. I was adopted. It's the best thing.
4. I'm not ready to be a dad.

One of my favorites: Guys aren't going to want to go out with a single mom.

Why would I, a single mom, want to date someone who doesn't want to go out with me? Hello!!!

5. You're going to have trouble finding a job. People don't want to hire a single parent.

So I basically said, bite me, this is what I'm doing. I don't want to marry you. I don't want money from you. I just want you to know so you can make whatever decision you plan to make that you'll have to live with for the rest of your life. Some say I didn't give him much choice because I carried the baby to term, delivered a beautiful, healthy boy, and have continued to live my life. Well, he's not the one who (a) has to live with being pregnant, delivering a baby, and handing it over to someone else to raise or (b) live with knowing they "got rid of" the baby. I just told him if he decided to be involved, it had to be from the beginning. I didn't want him coming around when the kid is like 10 and deciding he's ready to be a dad. He asked if I'd go see a counselor. I said if it would make him feel better I would, but it wasn't going to change my mind. Which it did not.

Anyway, fast forward 3 1/2 years. He's stayed away from us. J never did move back to Colorado. We did continue, somewhat, our long distance relationship. He thought I was very strong to take on being a single mom. I also moved back to Louisiana to be near my family. He came to visit me when Gabriel was 3 1/2. I thought we'd had a great weekend. 3 days after he went back home, I met Michael. He came to the store where I was working. I thought he was cute, but coming off of my awesome long distance boyfriend visit, I really wasn't looking for anyone to go out with. I did a little flirting.

Then I get the dreaded phone call from J that "he didn't think we could stay together because he couldn't have a wife who wasn't in shape." Really?! Did you really just say that to me?! Over.Done.Check that off the list.

4 days after I met Michael, he called me at the store. He had an article he wanted to bring me. I asked him what he was doing for lunch the next day. We met for lunch and proceeded to spend the afternoon together followed by the evening together. And he hasn't left my side since. When one door closes, another one opens. God brought us together. We dated intensely for 9 months and then were married. We are opposites in many ways, but we complement each other in so many others. Now, that's not to say that we are one of those OH.EM.GEE sickingly sweet couples that can't keep our hands off each other every. We have our little tiffs and we have many more hugs.

Fast forward several years and a coupla kids later. I figured instead of having conversations with myself as I'm driving to and from work, why not start writing some stuff down. I have no idea where it will go. Sometimes I'm sure I'll rave on and on about my kids. And other days, it may just be a struggle to keep from banging my head against the wall. Either way, it feels good.