Buyer Beware : Bunchems

As I was combing my girls' Christmas lists, I noticed Bunchems.  The little balls of velcro-like barbs which looked perfect for my girls AND perfect for this momma who values open-ended play.

Haven't heard of them?  

Here's what they are:

{ photos from product page at Amazon.com }

I am a serial review-reader.  I ALWAYS read reviews.  I was shocked at the reviews I found;  

"A Toy Spawned From the Darkest Depths of Hell"

and  

"Burn Them!"

Review upon review with accompanying photos of nightmarish hair tangles.  Here are two photos from two different Amazon.com reviewers { + there are LOTS more }

And another ...

{   the linky-dink to Amazon's reviews ...  Amazon.com Reviews for Bunchems    }

My verdict : NOPE!

Be careful if you have long-haired-little-sweets in your house.  I do.  

And I have long-haired-little-sweets who launch stuff at each other.  

They're super tempting, but I'm skipping the 

imminent { MOST LITERAL } headache!  

Please share!

That Darn Sofa.

PARENTING ALONE.

Prior to my failed marriage, this was my scariest fear.

I thought that there was absolutely { no way } I could ever be a single 

parent of little ones + a baby.  

a baby.  

Of course, people do it ... But HOW!?

{ Sleep is one of my love languages. }

+++

I was parenting WITH someone and I was overwhelmed.  

How would I EVER have the strength and fortitude to do it alone?  

I was still completely overwhelmed.  

I felt like ...

{ I WAS DOING IT ALL }

But isn’t that such the human condition?  

We all think are SO critical to what we do.  

Only we can do the job we were hired or volunteered to do.

Like taking a day off will set the world into chaos. 

IT DOESN'T.

  

{{ We’re just one tiny element of a day. }}

+++

That’s how I rationalized my internal struggle of feeling overwhelmed;  

"It’s just normal."  

You feel under-appreciated + overwhelmed.  That's life.

After all, I had a partner in this job that constantly reminded me that he had my back + that he was doing JUST as much as I was ... if not more.

But man, it just didn't add up.

+++

I was being told how much help I had, yet, it really didn’t FEEL like it.  

+++

I now can see that this was tactical.  

A pre-meditated emotional maneuver to keep me powerless. 

My once independent spirit was slowly, yet methodically stripped down to dependence.  

I was being changed.

Then … Rationalizing kicks in.  

"Feelings are just feelings.  They’re not always accurate.” 

{ what i know now is that these weren’t just feelings, it was my gut.  my intuition. }

+++

Get up.  

Get it together.  

Stop complaining. 

+++

I had a girlfriend who, just a year or two prior to my mess, was faced with parenting her very young girls alone for one year while her husband was in training/schooling half-the-country-away.  I trembled for her.  It made my stomach hurt.  But, she just bucked up and put in some major sweat and they made it work.  

And then the year was over and she made it. 

I WAS IN AWE.  

+++

It’s like moving a sofa with someone.  

You think the weight is distributed evenly, because you BOTH are helping.  

And you’re thinking; 

“Wow.  I could NEVER move that sofa on my own.  

I’m so glad I have your help.”

"Wait ...

Are you SURE you’re holding the other end of the sofa?"

“Yep.  Got it."

"Okay ... But, are you SURE you're holding it?  

It's just so ... HEAVY."

“YES!  

Of course I’m helping you hold the sofa! 

It's a heavy sofa.  It's going to be heavy.  

You're fine.  Just keep going.  

... and stop complaining.”

But.  Then they’re like,

“I think I’m tired of this whole sofa thing.  

Can you just hang onto it from now on?”

And you’re like,  

“Oh my goodness.  

How am I going to hold this {HEAVY SOFA} all by myself!?  

There’s no way.”

+++

But.  Guess what.  

{ YOU ACTUALLY WERE DOING IT ALONE THE WHOLE TIME }

+++

... and then they're gone.  

{ and you're holding the sofa alone. }

AND YOU'RE NOT DYING.

And it's all okay.

{{ And it's no different from when you THOUGHT they were holding the sofa }}

And you’re actually feeling great.

 {{ super sweaty.  an occasional stumble.  a few tears. }}

+++

But, you got it.  And life is good.

And that sofa is actually making you 

[STRONGER]

So, you keep hanging on.

+++

And you realize that you’re a healthier person because 

you’ve been left to hang onto that sofa alone.  

And you KNOW you have that sofa alone.  

+++

And honestly, the sofa is better off ...

because that person hanging onto the sofa had super dirty hands 

that was actually making the sofa look worse.

+++

But you,

YOU KEEP HANGING ONTO THAT SOFA.

{ alone.}

And it's so hard. 

But it really is 

{SO DARN GOOD}

::: lisalivesaloha :::

A Toast.

I rocked Harper to sleep the other night.

I can’t remember the last time I did.  

My girls are lovely little sleepers + I've always catered to a healthy sleep schedule.

{ dominant sleep gene from this girl, no doubt in my mind. does that even exist? }

So.  We’re rocking.  She’s drowsy.  I’m thinking.

A few days before, on Harper’s birthday, I was having a conversation with a friend.  

I ended up reflecting on the events surrounding her original birthday.  

The day she entered this world.

Of course there was excitement + anticipation.  But.  A few hours into labor, I recall wondering how on earth I could have ever forgotten that pain.  And why am I doing it again.  

But, here I was … Again. 

I also sharply remember { in desperation } wanting to quit.

I wanted it over.  

I wanted the pain to end.

  

But mostly, I just wanted to stop.  

{ can i get an "Amen", girls!? }

Huge problem with that.  

I was stuck.  

There was only one way for it to end:  Through the pain.

{{  And here we go.  Truths are transferrable, parallels are everywhere.  }}

During these past 2.5 years, I’ve been working through a painful reality in my life.  

A place I had never pictured myself, I literally had the rug ripped out from my comfortable + content little life.  

Steeped in the newness of the imposing reality, there were moments when I wanted to give up.  I wanted to pull the covers over my head + sleep the days away.  I wanted to yank the rip-cord and have the parachute open and then float dreamingly down to a normal place of contentment again.  

Riiiiiight.  

Sorta like bailing on labor + delivery; THAT was simply not an option. 

{ that's the thing about pain. }

+++

I was alone with my thoughts on my sweet Harper’s birthday evening.  

That night, I toasted to the pain.

I toasted the pain, because I’m starting to see that ...

 It is actually the pain that ultimately ushers in the 

{ really good stuff }

And i know it's coming. 

xo.