Some days it’s all hard. You feel like the only companionship you have is the continuous stream of toys that are constantly littering the floors. And the couch. And the tub. You haven’t had an adult conversation since yesterday and your husband hasn’t paid you a real meaningful compliment in weeks. Ya know one like. Thanks for being a team player. Thanks for keeping our kids alive. Thanks for folding my underwear. You feel guilty. And stressed. And really fucked up for realizing or registering any of this through your brain. You beg your body to let you cry because the pains in your neck have become too much to bear and everyone telling you they admire your strength have no idea how weak you really are in your alone moments. The moments you blink and try to push out a tear. The moments you close your eyes so tight you hurt your face. You are a neurotic-type-A BITCH to the closest to you on the outside because inside, you’re drowning.

You give and you pour out love and you smile and you dress nice for work. You curl your hair and spray perfume and some days you even find time to change your chipped nail polish. You have these silent calls and cries out for help but nobody sees them as such because they’ve seen you post something funny lately, or they’ve laughed with you, and they think you’re all right. They think you’re just fine.

You struggle to be nice to yourself. You pinterest self help techniques on Pinterest at midnight. And how to be a better parent/wife/human. You peruse your anxiety relief workbook that your therapist loaned you. You highlight your hair and toy with the idea of full blown Britney Spears shaving it off at one of your lowest moments. You sit on the floor in the room all of your dead mothers things are packed away in and silently cry while you polish your toes through hot tears running down your neck. Finally your body has allowed you to cry.

You text your friends in a cry for help and they answer. They are there. Someone is answering you in this deep dark abyss of depression your writhing through. Silently tormented by the sadness and the stress and the solitude that is young motherhood. The sadness that is young motherhood without a mother of your own. The sadness that is a bump in the marriage road, the sister road, the professional road. Because if you don’t get up and get dressed and brush your damn teeth – ain’t nobody gonna do it for you. Ain’t nobody gonna do it for you. So you cry. And you put your quick dry top coat on. You blow your nose and put a towel back around your hair that needs to be blow dried. And you chug a glass of water and you thank God for all the happiness he has put into your life and then you have that instant mom guilt for having a moment to yourself. And thinking about one day your kids will be grown and then Jesus Christ what will I bitch about if it’s not 17 toy hammers on the floor? But ya know what? I needed that fucking moment. After the scrapes and bruises of a hard week, I needed that alone moment. To hear a household operate for one lone hour without me. God only knows what’s on the other side of that door but it’s better than the abyss. For now. It’s better for now as you finally let out those burning, torturous tears tied to all the one billion feelings you’ve had since the last time you cried strong. Because crying strong is when you cry alone. Crying strong is a cry mostly I think only a mother knows. Crying strong is what separates the women from the boys. Crying strong saves me from myself. With every breath I let out and every tear that dropped down onto my naked legs, I felt a little bit better. A little lighter. A little more okay.

They don’t tell you about the after death. Death was the easiest part of grief. When the shock surrounds you and protects you. The death is a finale, and to our human brains it’s over because we know it’s a fate that can’t be changed. And then as you move through life as a brand new and broken person you hold onto memories differently. The happy ones are just that, free, uplifting and there is the purest form of innocent bliss that actually lightens up your entire body for a moment. And then there’s the realization of a memory made because of death; that’s not fixable to our human brains, because it’s just as final as the end of a person’s presence. It’s death’s memory that feels so tangible and heavy and so polar opposite of the feelings of a good memory. And somewhere in between is the place we will one day all learn about it in the balance of it all. There is beauty in the balance, and the journey to one day get there. Nobody will ever be the one to tell you this, and hopefully you won’t have to ever know what it feels like until you and your children are old and grayed. It’s my deepest wish for anyone who is breathing today, to never ever hurt even for a minute the way I’ve had to ♥️

It has been my very thorough experience that most people just don’t give a shit about other people. It’s a selfish and broken world we are living in right now. Modern barbaric times. And if you’re kind, or happy, or hopeful, or even hopeless, it’s a big cold scary world out there.

Take it from me. I’m one tired, broken ass bitch. I mean that in the most literal and figurative of ways all at once. My patience are tried, my heart is broken, my mind is always racing. My tank runs on fumes most days and for what? A pretty picture on instagram? To try and psych myself out to the point of comparing myself to someone in my life?

The people who know me? They KNOW me. They know my grief is still thick. They know I’m in the midst of shoveling my way through the depths of depression. They know I cry alone at night in a bed I sleep in with my kids. They know my marriage takes a back seat to almost everything these days. They know I’m morbid and sad and sometimes that’s a lot to listen to, or read over text. But those people? They still call me. And they still text me at midnight. They still tell me I’m strong when I feel like the only thing I’m good at is failing on every level.

Some would say love should never be hard. But love has so many levels of complexity and sometimes things that are layered with such twists and turns get sorted into a gray area that sometimes in my opinion can be, well, difficult. And THATS OKAY. It’s ok to say that sometimes love is hard and I’ll explain why.

Do you think when Dan married me 5 years ago he knew my mother would die a very ugly and sudden death? Do you think almost 7 years ago when he proposed to me, bare foot and on a mechanical bull, he thought there would ever be a time we didn’t fall asleep talking like we had just had our first sleepover? Do you think we ever really knew what we promised to each other “in good times and bad, in sickness and in health” would EVER actually be the latter? No! We didn’t. Because you really don’t ever plan for the bad, the unthinkable, the ugly torturous shit that pops up. And boy has it popped UP. And then beyond Dan, my family. My friends. My own father. Some people just can’t hang tough. But it’s in the absence of those people who didn’t choose to stand by me, that I have the strength to stand alone. There’s a quote that says something along the lines of how we are all just one phone call, car accident, diagnosis or break up away from a life changed forever – and it could not be any truer. Hard love is, navigating our way through the murky waters that have been the death of one of our parents and the very ugly aftermath of it. Our vows and commitment to each other have been put to the test time and time again and even though we are not perfect we put our best in for each other even on the silent treatment days. Or the days we argue through text as to not fuck up our kids by hearing us yell. We are looking odds in the face and defeating them, even when we’re trying to defeat each other. But, same team. Same end goal. Same love is somewhere way deep down towards the bottom of our sometimes very heavy hearts. It’s the absolute foundation of who we are together today. It’s the blueprint. It’s the very pure and simple building blocks we put together the first few months of dating where we knew we’d be together forever.

Life is weird in that, we all die in the end. Thats fucked up to say out loud. It’s even more fucked up to write out and have these words forever in a blog post on retiredsequins.com. Nobody hates putting bad shit out into the universe more than me. I even have mantras in place for my children as to have them attract good and shield off the bad. I repeat positive things out loud throughout my days and if something is really bothering me I write out positive affirmations for the people I love and me. I guess my point is. We fight, we love, we laugh, we cry. We have things, really bad or really great really amazing or really devastating things that happen FOR us in this lifetime. Job changes, meeting people, losing people, hearing your favorite song for the first time, saying goodbye forever or saying hello again after a long while. All of these things hold the same exact weight and they hold no weight at all.

I try every day to wake up and choose happy, positivity, health, and love. Some days are easier than others. Some days my 4 year old sends my 1 year old flying through the driveway because he hit him with his bike. Or I’ve talked about poop more than I ever EVER care to ever talk about poop ever again. (That constipation bout ruined me as a mother for a good week) Some days I am pouring out smiles from a painfully dried out empty cup. Some days I wake up and I’m rejuvenated by something supernatural that picked up my spirit, but either way. Every day, I try my hardest to put forth my best self. I speak fluent in many love languages especially the people who live under my roof and the very few people I hold near to my soul. I’ve even been able to adjust the way I love people based off the way they receive love ~ meeting someone as deeply as they’ve met themselves.

People see me smile and laugh. They see me live in a decent house in a beautiful town raising two dreamboat children and a husband I still find completely attractive on many levels. What people don’t see is my tear soaked pillow, my spare bedroom filled to the brim with my mother’s clothes and belongings. They don’t see that I feel like an orphan a lot, parentless and roaming through life’s hardest lessons, often on my own, or until I feel crazy enough inside my own head to ask for help. Or start bouncing some of my insecurities and issues off some of my closest people. And sometimes the people closest to me don’t wanna hear it. Or they don’t wanna help. Sometimes the people closest to me forget exactly what I’ve been through in 34 short years.

At the end of the day, I’m a human. I think I have a lot to offer to anyone but specifically I am a devoted wife and mother who fiercely and endlessly loves her family. I hurt every day when my brain turns to memories of my mother. I smile every day with my kids. I look forward every day to seeing my husband walk through the door. I enjoy talking to my brother and sister throughout the week and it’s always a bonus when we can spend quality time together. Sometimes being an in law in a humongous family can really sting. But mostly it feels really good to have such a sense of belonging in a world where I sometimes feel rootless.

Anxiety is not new to me but the level I experience now is unlike any other. A text message, a phone call, a meeting called at work, a fever for one of my kids can send me into instant hand shaking/cheeks flushing mode. And it sucks and it’s terrible and any human who lives like this on a daily basis I honestly pray for you every night. My husband and sister are among some of the most anxious people I know, so I know we are not alone, but that doesn’t make it at ALL easier.

I guess I just want to invite the good the happy and the healthy into my life and the life of my sons, husband, and all the people who love me so well. My mom said to me once that maybe all the bad happens in the beginning, so that life can be enjoyed later on. Ya know, because “A calm sea never made a skilled sailor” (thank you MAMA)

I’m hoping this is the later on and that all the positive affirmations I’ve written out begin to see the light of a new day.

To feel the light of a new day. To dance in the light of a new day. To be the light of a new day. Health and happiness for my children. Health and happiness and clarity of the mind for my husband. Continued blessings and enlightenment through love in my marriage to a very good man. Happiness. Abundance and the fleeting feeling of innocence for the people I love. And all the light my heart can hold for the people who love me back.

You’re still saving me every damn day 🌈☀️

Be present.

Be wonderful to your children, you’re giving them their “good old days”

Put your phone down.

Say yes.

Remember saying no from the safe place of love is just as worthy as yes from a place of excitement.

Throw worry to the wind.

Ask people to pray for your babies.

Put your bare feet on the earth.

Stay grounded.

Pray. Pray. Pray.

You don’t have to respect everyone’s views or opinions. Smile, and move along.

Drink the wine.

Love loud.

Be the first one on the dance floor.

Not much a coat of paint can’t fix, save your money.

Plant lots of stuff.

Create a new goal.

Love without boundaries, limits or conditions.

Spend intentional time, simply.

Make a toast every time you pour a drink

Sing.

Stop and stare.

Let it go.

Choose happiness.

Collect a moment.

Cry.

Give yourself an extra 5 minutes.

Share a story, if it entered your mind, it wants to be remembered.

Breathe.

Say things carefully, so if you hear them return to you, you’re proud.

Be who you needed when you were younger.

Stay calm.

Buy the fancy, local, organic coffee.

Start your beer in the shower on a Saturday night.

Be kind to your spouse.

Soothe with words, soothe with actions.

Sing without music.

Find your own way.

Hold hands.

Talk to someone who makes you laugh. Thank them.

Be a light.

Clear your brain.

Stop what you’re doing and GO!

Live the life you dream of having.

Count your blessings.

Release your burdens.

Love your babies well. Even when they push you to the end of a very very very very, loooong, summer time rope.

Kiss the ground you walk on.

Send a package.

Buy someone a living breathing thing (like a plant not a dog:)

Hang string lights outside around your favorite sitting space.

Drive in silence.

Think.

Nothing will ever match the spirit of a new mother, don’t even try.

A memory treasured is a moment in time.

Swim.

Jump in.

Be brave.

Every so often, there are things that happen in my life, be it a quote, or a situation I find myself in, or something someone says, or a special moment I have inside an otherwise regular day; that inspires me to write. I wish I had kept better track of it because now I wish I could look back at each post and see what exactly the jump off was. This post is inspired by a compliment my sister paid me about how she views me as a parent. It was one of the nicest praises I’ve ever received, and for not having my mom around to pat me on the back, it was truly such a pleasant surprise to hear something so nice from my baby sister. 

My mother’s bedroom always smelled like mints and plants. Do plants even have a smell? I don’t know, but her room smelled like it. She had a big brown frame around a big blue waterbed. The back of her waterbed was s shelf and on it was aloe plants. We’d open up the leaves in the summer and rub it on our skinned knees and sunburned cheeks. It was under that bed that my brother hid the hair he cut off of the back of my head. It was in that bed I would lay and watch tv with my mom on Friday nights. It was in that bed I realized my mom was unlike any other moms of any of my friends.

We were watching the today show or whatever was on in the mornings back then. It was June and Billy Ray Cyrus was performing achy breaky heart. There was all the groupies and fan girls in the audience and there was a woman with a white tank top on and her nipples were poking through her white shirt and my mother said “oh Jesus Christ her tits are hanging out” and I remember saying to her, “Ma do you think Simon’s mom says stuff like that!” And I don’t remember what her response was, but I know that her actions always matched exactly who she said she was.

It’s funny isn’t it? To realize what kind of mother you are? How you came about to be the way you are? How maybe some of the things are exactly the same as the way your parents were? How maybe, some things are polar and complete opposite of who your parents were to you? for you? That maybe the things you had were just as important as the things you didn’t have and that’s why you are exactly who you are present day? So me for instance. I grew up in a household with both parents, married, italian, loud the whole bit. Usually we’d eat mostly pasta, pasta, and maybe a meatball on top of the pasta dish my mom would whip up, usually pizza night was on Fridays at Sue’s pizzeria with the Sasso’s. I remember when our friends would come over we’d watch tv in the “den” and eat microwave cheese filled hot dogs, and use can cheese to make shapes on our saltines (omg vomiting at that memory) I remember getting virgin strawberry daiquiris at the ground round on special occasions, sleeping in bed with my brother and all our stuffed animals, and I remember my mom soaking us in our pink bathtub every time I had a scraped knee. I remember playing with my best friends, Mary, Simon, Chris and Hakeem. I remember going too far into the woods, bike jumps, and eating ice cream every night, climbing trees, drinking from the hose and always swimming in the pool when it would rain. I remember filling one styrofoam cooler with tadpoles me and my brother collected from the pond and having frogs literally all over our backyard a few weeks later. I remember then growing a little older and moving upstate, and the neighborhood kids were my favorite, one because they were mostly fun, and two because they were always able to play. It was Tshepo, Christy, Heather, the Crawford Twins and Matt. Even though mostly the boys would tease us, and draw pictures of my legs on the driveway, we would play hide and seek and flashlight tag every night in the summer time. Life was so good.

I remember childhood being simple. I remember it being really wonderful and rich in experiences. I can think back to that time and miss the simplicity of it all. The way summer vacation felt. How Fourth of July always meant the Jersey shore and time away from “home” but I loved it all the same.

So, with all that being said. I’ve found it funny how I’ve really come into my own as a mom. There truly is nothing that can explain the way a Mother’s spirit feels when she can spend sweet precious time with her kids. Tonight, I asked my husband to give me 5 minutes so I could change the sheets and as I threw the top sheet up in the air, I instantly flashed forward in time, to a time where my kids will be grown. Where my kids won’t be jumping on top of the sheets and the comforters when I throw them up over the bed to make it. Where my kids won’t be laughing or screaming or running through the upstairs naked, or even whining for that matter. Where I’m not threatening to take a toy away if Maverick doesn’t brush his teeth, where I’m not gasping every time Ace falls as he’s learning the way to walk. There will be a time we will surely miss this crazy, unchartered, endless days and sleepless nights. So soak it up.

Soak. It. Up, I said! Say yes more. Say no less. Be who these babies need NOW. Put your phone down. Take tons of pictures. Let them know you’re in love with them. Turn the tv OFF OFF OFF. Be their best friend. Let them stay up. Let them eat dirt instead of microwaved cheese filled hot dogs 🤮. Who cares if there’s a mess, it’ll surely find it’s way to be tended to during the 8 months of winter 😂 tell them another story, read another book, play another game, be funny, enjoy yourself, while enjoying them, because NOW will never be here again, and now that they’re asleep and I’m writing this blog, tomorrow they’ll never be as little as they were today and man, that just stabs in my heart a little too hard.  So be the best mom you can be. Give them more experiences and less things. Dig in the dirt. Eat dinner outside. Water the pavement. Flag the ice cream man down. Kiss their scrapes, don’t forget to apply and reapply their sunblock, make another play date with their favorite friend, sing with them, dance like a fool with them, laugh when they’re funny, make them smile the MOST, and give them a good old fashion summer. The kind you know you’d live again and again in a heartbeat if you could 🌈🎏☀️ 

God bless America AND you, and stay safe my friends 🇺🇸🤗