Fat

Fat

It is often spoken of like it is the worst possible fate for a human.  Worse than cancer. 

Fat

The tone with which people even say the word makes you think it is shameful and disgusting.

I suppose it is.

Fat

People have been known to say, to me, “I don’t want to get fat!”  And they use that tone.

Do you know that fat people are harder on themselves than anyone else could ever be?

Yes, I’m fat.

I don’t have a thyroid condition.  I have no other possible medical excuse.

I’m fat.

Because I have had a life full of bad habits.

Because I love sugar.

Because I have a sedentary job.

Because I have crappy genetics.

Because after baby number three, I just didn’t have it in me to fight it anymore.

Because, dammit, I like to eat.  And even as temporary as it is, eating makes me happy. It gives me pleasure.

But you know what? It turns out happiness is just as temporary.  

And so I will eat.  And enjoy it.  And be miserable.  And hate myself.  But I will still eat. 

On the radio this morning the announcers were asking for our earliest memory. I got to thinking about when I was three or four years old and went to Joanne’s house with my brother.  He was all of five or six and was going to play with Joanne’s brother,  so I tagged along. 

When he was ready to go, I opted to stay behind and play with Joanne. 

Keep in mind, if I’m four at this point, it is just barely.  I may have still been three.

When it was time for me to go, Joanne’s mom asked if I know my way home and of course I said yes.

I may have mentioned that I was incredibly young, but you should know that I was also new to the area and that it was at least a ten block walk from their door to mine.

Ten blocks means nothing, however, when you go the wrong direction right from the get-go.

So, no.  NO!  I’m three and 10 blocks from home.  NO I DON’T KNOW MY WAY HOME!

To this day, it amazes me that anyone could look at a preschooler and think that they are okay to venture out in the world all alone.  

I remember wandering, crying, down busy 50^th street, having no idea where I was. 

I remember a car pulling over and a nice lady asking if I was lost. 

I remember sitting on her lap in the front seat while they drove away.

And they took me to Woolco.

Woolco. 

Yes. Woolco.

While this wonderful family was bringing me to the local department store, (my American friends could compare this to a Walmart) my mom, dad and two brothers are riding bikes around the neighbourhood looking for me.  My mom is yelling at my brother, who at five years old, was to be responsible for me.  They decided ‘that’s it!  We’re checking Woolco and then we’re going to the police station!’

Yep.  Woolco.  I’m not kidding.

They walked in and there I was, sitting at customer service, eating licorice. 

After a little reflection...

I realized how lucky I am.

Coworkers are expecting babies in the next few months. This is, of course, a new and exciting time for them - one is even expecting TWINS! They have much joy, and much fatigue, in their futures. They have the excitement of all the firsts - steps, smiles, teeth, words. Oh, I remember it well.

My life, these days, however, is different. So much different. And it took giggling over baby bellies for me to realize that many of those differences are actually quite awesome. Yes, I will enjoy watching their bellies grow and will snuggle those little ones endlessly given the opportunity (the babies, not the bellies). I would pat little diaper bums and rub circles on their wee backs. I would look at their beautiful little faces and make gooey noises at them.

But no. You could not pay me a million dollars to go back there myself. I've done my years (almost 18 of them so far at my oh-so-young age of 38) and cherish them. But I'm happy to move on.

Yes, I have teenage girls. And a younger girl who thinks she is a teenager. Yes, they swear at me and roll their eyes and stay up too late and write "I thot you loved me" in the dust on my car. Yes, they can choose their own friends, and it doesn't matter whether or not I like them, seeing as how they schedule their own playdates now. (And trust me, if any of those playdates result in me rocking a babe-in-arms again, heads are gonna roll!)

Yes, there are demands for money and more scheduling and plenty of "that's gay!" comments. There are scantily clad self portraits on facebook and lots of creepers that they trust because that's what big-hearted girls do. There is girl drama and cat fights constantly. And yes, money is extremely tight.

There is more clean up than every before. They are far messier than any toddler, with the exception that they don't fingerpaint on the walls with their own poop. But they are still plenty gross nonetheless. There is still much potty talk and a whole lotta bodily functions.

And keeping the oldest one dressed is almost harder now than it was when she was two.

However.

The majority of my time now is spent driving kids around. Of trying to remember who has to be where when. Of homework (soon) and school nights and late-night phone calls. Of fighting over computer and TV time. Of trying to convince the offspring that it is okay to help with dishes, do their laundry and clean their own room. Of watching them play sports with no car seats or strollers.

And while I no longer stand by a crib carefully watching a little chest move up and down, I do sometimes stand by an empty bed in a pink tinkerbell bedroom wondering when the little body who belongs there will be home. A reminder that my life isn't perfect. (Yet.)

The rest of my time, the time I've been most concerned about over the past years - me time - has come to me in abundance. For the most part. With the exception of the stuff I've already mentioned, my life is my own now.

As I sit here, finally blogging, I have one kid out (somewhere), another watching TV and the third out playing on the block with her friends. I have come down to the computer in peace. There is no screaming. No tantrums. No demands on my time.

And I can sit and read a book on the deck with no interruptions.

As promised, things do get better - and easier - as I become less important in my childrens' lives. Their independence is my independence.

How sweet is that?

Life without kids?

There are writing prompts that speak to you sometimes, and this was it for me.

3.) Describe what you think your life would be like if you had never had kids.
(inspired by Amy from Somebody's Parent)

A life with no kids?

Let's pretend for a moment that there are some good parents out there who will choose this option - and that I am one of them. Yes, we know better, but work with me here, okay?

I wasn't the youngest mom out there, but I was the youngest of my circle. So, let's take a look at my life for a moment without those cranky, hormonal beings that insist on living here and calling me "mom" (on a good day).

I would get up in the morning with no one to haul out of bed but myself. The shower would be mine, when I want it. My conditioner would be full, AND it would be a salon brand. There would be towels clean and folded, as opposed to wet and crumpled on my floor. I would save an extra five minutes because I wouldn't have to look around for my hairspray. It would just be right where I left it.

I would most certainly not be living here. I would be in some executive apartment style condo with a gym and a pool and I would be mortgage free.

I would leave for work when I was ready. There would be no angry children on my heels waking the neighbourhood. My work phone would be answered to those calling for a real reason, not just wondering what was for supper.

I would have extra money that wouldn't need to be spent on field trips, child care and truck loads of candy for bribes. Money would be plentiful. I would drive a cutesy little convertible two-seater, and my wee little no-baby-body (that I keep this way because I am a most awesome fitness trainer) would be dressed to kill. My fake blond hair would be blowing in the wind. I would be quite amazing.

I would be free to see my friends, who wouldn't be so free to see me due to their own children getting in the way of their lives. And I would be completely judgemental about the way they are raising said children and absolutely and totally upset that they can't just go out at the drop of a hat like I can.

I would take amazing holidays to far away places. I would have so many more options with only one or two people to pay for, instead of five. Greece, Italy, Paris, Hawaii and Fiji. Oh. My. Stars. And did I mention my bikini body?

Last, but certainly not least, I would have no one to do 17 loads of laundry for every week. No one to come home to cook and clean for. No one to tell me that I'm effing stupid, or that they hate me. No one to embarrass by playing my Glee Rocky Horror Picture Show music full bast with all the windows down. No one to shout "I love you" to outside of their school in front of their friends. I would have no tiny little soccer players of my own to watch and cheer for. No cheerleaders or singers to make my heart full.

There would not be a precious little seven year old snoring and sneaking her thumb under the blanket in bed here beside me.

And that would really suck. My time will come. And I will try to be patient and wait it out.

They're worth it, after all. I think.

A Repost from exactly two years ago, in honour of our upcoming first camping trip of the season.

And all he's left with is a blubbery, blubbering wife.

So, we went camping in our new-to-us trailer for the first time this weekend.

Oh. My. Stars.

I'm one of those wives who tends to think about things before diving in. Thus, my endless questions about how much weight our truck can pull. More questions about "What if we push on the slideout without the bars being put on (because it would be just like us to forget....)?" Does he know how to pump out the crap? Load the fresh water? Are the stabilizer bars on okay? What are those boards for? Are you sure we don't need one of those triangle things on both sides? How is the truck doing? Maybe if you take it out of cruise control on the hills it won't be so hard on the motor. Are you sure the dog isn't going to jump out? Aren't we too close to the neighbours fire pit? Isn't our own fire pit going to burn our awning? You should be using your emergency break.

Yup. That's me.

Aren't I amazing? Leon is so lucky to have me. Just consider everything he would have screwed up if I wasn't there. In fact, he is so confident that I helped iron out all the bugs this first time out that he figures he's okay going without me from now on.

I'm just kidding. He's stuck with me most times.

Although, I do have to say that for someone who is so on the go all the time - and I do seriously mean all the time - camping is incredibly boring. I mean, really, what the heck do you do out there? And let us remember that I'm a boredom eater. A Costco size bag of M&M's, ice cream, raw weiners, coolers. I'm going to be a house if I go camping very often!!

You get up in the morning and brush your teeth outside in front of your neighbours so you don't waste water or grey water tank space. Then you have breakfast outside in front of all of your neighbours. Then you sit outside and scratch your butt in front of all your neighbours. It's a little weird when you think about how much of yourself you are sharing with these neighbours.

And then the neighbours get to delight in watching this first time trailer family.

They can laugh at you while you back into your stall, get everything set up, and then realize you forgot to stop at the water tap and fill up, so you hook the trailer back up and head out to get water. Then you think the water is full, so you go back to your stall and set up and realize the hose is a little funky so you actually didn't get any water at all, so you make trips to the water tap with a jug and fill it manually anyway.

They can watch while I pull out the lawn chair/bed thing. I laid it out so carefully and got the back and legs just where I want them. With my book in one hand and drink in the other, I go to sit down and suddenly I'm laying on the ground with my legs in the air. I guess the one set of legs didn't lock into place. And if they didn't see it actually happen, the laughter from my family most definitely made them look after the fact. (I was a little stunned and laid there for a few minutes, laughing foolishly at myself.)

They watch, and smell, while the girls scam poor Olivia into scooping up dog poop. Really big dog poop.

They listen while my dysfunctional children (hey, it's them, not me!) have atter in their high-pitch, blood-curdling ways.

They get to enjoy the singing around the campfire (decked out in winter jackets for crying loud!) as my girls put on a concert. Lordy, do they sound beautiful together!

Then finally, they help while Leon "breaks" the trailer. Our jack broke and he had to try a make shift jack to get the ball/hitch thing hooked up on the truck. CRASH! Down goes our trailer. Thankfully we had a farm girl next door who just the week before had to learn this process when their tire fell off their combine.

It was not pretty. At all. I had to walk away to have a meltdown. At that moment I decided this camping thing was just too stressful. And really really really frigging cold. Did I mention that?

Then we got home. And there was almost nothing to unpack, save two loads of laundry and the perishables from the fridge/freezer.

How totally handy is THAT??

I think I'll go out again after all.

Originally posted June 8 2009

The Executive Chef

Olivia's big commercial debut! Well done baby girl!

Is It Wrong?

Is it wrong that my daughter loves to get zipped into a collapsible Dora laundry hamper?

Is it wrong that she rolls around behind me

while I tidy around the house?

Is it wrong that she wiggles and giggles in this thing?

For hours?

Yeah, I don't think so either.

Cassie's Big Day

Cassie's 14.

Oh. My. God.

Isn't she beautiful?

And she has her learner's license.

Lord help us all.

Another Year --- Another Cheer

Just some pics of the Victoria Co-Ed awesomeness. This is the 25th year Vic has won the Cities competition. And Oh. My. God. Is it fabulous!

See the post below for the video!

RIBT 2011 Redmen Invitational Victoria Co-Ed

My 11 New Year's Resolutions for 2011

1. I would like to accidentally write 2010 on patient visit sheets only 37 times, which is half my usual, before figuring out that it is actually 2011.
2. I will get a signed agreement from Olivia that for the remainder of the winter she will only lose left-hand mittens so we can at least make mismatched pairs.
3. I would like to unclog my bathroom sink.
4. I would like to be a nicer, kinder person. Except to those who don't deserve it.
5. I would like to lose 40 pounds, but failing that, would at least like to weigh less than my dog.
6. I will try really hard not to make nasty assumptions of the person in front of me driving the Toyota 30 kms below the speed limit.
7. I will try not to swear as much.
8. Scratch number 7. I'm just setting myself up to fail.
9. Stop calling Baba a nasty old hagbitch. (It's okay. I'm not that mean. She's not MY Baba.)
10. De-clutter. I mean, really. A husband, three kids and a dog?? One's going to have to go.
11. Take on 2011 with an open mind and lots of laughter. It doesn't ALL have to piss me off. Or at least people don't have to actually SEE how much they annoy me.

My Christmas Letter

Because I can't find the damned cards that I know I bought last year, I've thrown together a letter to go out in it's place. I've even done up a word search with some words from our past year, but sadly can't get that to load on my blog, but for some fun ,try this link to the word search. Keep in mind, of course, that this letter is printed on beautiful Christmas paper that I chose with great care... from the cheap rack.

That said, for those who think they might receive a letter from me this year, you may or may not want to read this now. Truthfully I'm scaling back on my Christmas greetings for local peeps this year.

December 14, 2010

I hope this letter finds you all healthy and happy! Personally, I’m digging a little deeper this year to find some joy. It’s been a rough one for us, but this letter is going to positively reflect our year, even if I have to B.S you a little bit!

Leon is still enjoying his career as a fire fighter and landed the July page in the 2010 Edmonton Fire Fighter Calendar! I highly recommend you check out his video on you tube – with the volume up for extra chuckles from my mom’s hooting! Leon has also taken up hunting, much to the disappointment of the doe currently residing in my freezer.

Sadly, Leon lost an aunt and uncle this past fall, which was closely followed by his Dad having a heart attack while in Winnipeg for one of the funerals. He is home now and doing well! His parents celebrated their 80th birthdays with a big move out of the long-time family home and into a beautiful senior’s condominium.

Asia is 16 and in grade 11 this year. She is still cheerleading, although she feels it may be her last year at it. She has been fortunate with the travel opportunities in the last few years with trips to California, Florida, Seattle x2 and will be off to Hawaii in April.

On the down side, she has been diagnosed with ADHD and ODD (oppositional defiance disorder) which is causing struggles and tension both at school and at home. She lived with a friend for a few months through the spring and summer, but is home again (home again, jiggity jig). We are hopeful that she will be back on track very soon!

Cassie is in grade 8 and will be 14 in January. She is studying hard for her learner’s license and has been warned that she will be learning to drive in her Dad’s truck, with her Dad’s guidance. This mama is just not cut out for that kind of pressure, nor is my car. She is doing well in school and is very proud of her grades. She is striving for honours next term, and for a chuckle in that regard, check out my blog at http://adayinrhondaslife.blogspot.com/2010/11/how-is-this-all-i-can-come-up-with.html. She is playing indoor soccer again and loves it. She is a very happy girl with only occasional hormonal meltdowns and I am incredibly thankful for that.

Liv will be 7 on Boxing Day and is in grade 2. Her reading skills are exceptional, especially considering she was only agreeable to learning her letters last year, far behind everyone else in her class. She has some ADHD testing in her near future, because I don’t know the difference between ADHD and being busy and a bit of a brat. She is also playing soccer and has gotten quite good at it. Having her birthday so late in the year means that she plays with kids who are older and bigger and she has learned quickly that she’s going to need to be quick and a little bit aggressive, much to her mama’s delight. She tried out recreational cheerleading this fall, but we quickly discovered that it is just not the sport for her. Overall, she is spoiled rotten and treats us all to many crazy tantrums. I often tell her that she is lucky she’s so cute, even with no front teeth.

Let’s not forget Ringo. He is still a great big goofball. He is incredibly neglected, but somehow continues to love us anyway!

And me? I’m working full time and have been since August 2009. I work at one of our hospitals with a wonderful group of pharmacists. I have scaled back with my photography as it just got to be too much on top of a full time job and running around with the kids. I am still playing soccer and totally love it! Work and soccer keep me sane.

I am stubbornly trying to convince my body that it can achieve a size six again on nothing other than chocolate, cookies and potato chips, but so far it isn’t working. Fear not, I am persistent and refuse to give up my research. Go ahead and laugh, but you just wait. My discovery will make me rich one day, and then won’t you feel silly.

So that is where 2010 has brought us – and I only had to lie a little bit…

Merry Christmas to you all and all the best in 2011!

Love, Rhonda, Leon, Asia, Cassie, Liv and Ringo

My Blog Is My Therapy

Note: This is not a post that you want to read. I'm not kidding. Go to the top corner of your screen and exit now. Before it's too late.

You probably wouldn't believe how close I came to just keeping my car running in the garage tonight. I actually started to make myself a deal that if I was still conscious by the time Cassie had to be picked up from soccer, well then, that would mean that I was meant to endure this bullshit just a little bit longer. I guess the positive side of this paragraph is that I haven't actually looked into how long it would take carbon monoxide to kill me.

That's me. Always looking up.

For those who think that would be just a plain old selfish, shitty thing to do, you're entitled to your opinion. And for others who think I should be immediately locked up in Alberta Hospital, you're entitled to your opinion too. Rest assured, that option would kill me faster than anything else, so it probably wouldn't be wise. But whatever. I know for a fact that every parent after 16 years of crap has looked at that oncoming semi and thought, this could all be over in a second. I'm just being down-right fucking real, and for anyone out there who actually enjoys this crapshoot called parenting and want to judge me, then you clearly haven't walked a mile in my shoes. In fact, I think I'd bet on you lasting about five steps before you tear your feet out of said shoes and throw them as far as you can while sprinting in the other direction.

I hate wads of crotch-swiped toilet paper on my bathroom floor. I hate dishes all over my living room. I hate all my broken stuff that I used to love. I hate peeling used tampons off the wall behind the toilet. I hate being hated because in between working all day, making supper, putting Liv to bed and taking a kid to soccer, I asked, nay, demanded help with dishes. I said "as much as you can do in five minutes". That was asking too much. REALLY????

I hate that my kid failing school, dropping classes and getting fired leads to a 'you-know-nothing-mind-your-own-business' bullshit attitude. Not my business?? Since it's my job to make sure you're not living here when your 30, and you are clearly going down that road, I'm making it my fucking business!!! Who the hell do you think you are telling me that I have no right to get all in your face when you screw up your life? And then you demand respect? REALLY?

And last but not least, the littlest daughter is crying because she can't go to a birthday party that I have no control over because she'll be busy with her cheer recital that I had no control over. But hey, at least she's inconsolable because SHE'S SIX!!!

And yes. With the exception of the tampon (which happened about two weeks ago and I just haven't yet recovered from) this was 30 minutes of my evening.

A mere 30 minutes in my own personal hell.

*Addendum

Upon much reflection, once I cooled off, I decided to still go ahead and post this. It's my blog after all. And I hope to one day look back at this and laugh at my foolishness. At the rate things are going, I'll be reading it in a few years from the recreation room of the women's facility and thinking back on how good things were at this stage of my life and how I wish that I could just have it all back.

**Addendum

Cassie has apologized for her part in all this and is now working her fanny off cleaning the house.

Liv is fast asleep.

Asia is hiding in her room.

I Rescued A Human Today

I RESCUED A HUMAN TODAY.

Her eyes met mine as she walked down the corridor peering apprehensively into the kennels. I felt her need instantly and knew I had to help her. I wagged my tail, not too exuberantly, so she wouldn't be afraid.

As she stopped at my kennel I blocked her view from a little accident I had in the back of my cage. I didn't want her to know that I hadn't been walked today. Sometimes the shelter keepers get too busy and I didn't want her to think poorly of them.

As she read my kennel card I hoped that she wouldn't feel sad about my past. I only have the future to look forward to and want to make a difference in someone's life.

She got down on her knees and made little kissy sounds at me. I shoved my shoulder and side of my head up against the bars to comfort her. Gentle fingertips caressed my neck; she was desperate for companionship.

A tear fell down her cheek and I raised my paw to assure her that all would be well Soon my kennel door opened and her smile was so bright that I instantly jumped into her arms. I would promise to keep her safe. I would promise to always be by her side. I would promise to do everything I could to see that radiant smile and sparkle in her eyes. I was so fortunate that she came down my corridor. So many more are out there who haven't walked the corridors. So many more to be saved. At least I could save one.

I rescued a human today.

How Is This All I Can Come Up With After All This Time??

I promised myself that if I could remember how to get into this account, I'd blog. Just a quick post. And I am finding that even after all these months, I'm stuck. My mind is blank. My fingers motionless.

All I've got is this:

These are the things I heard from my 13 year old tonight immediately following "I want to get honours next semester."

• How do you spell "honours"?
• Is my middle name "Page" or "Paige"?

Awesome.

Have A Happy Period.

I know this has made its rounds before, but Oh. My. God. I love it so much I just had to share it again. Bahahahaha! I so adore this woman!

Dear Mr. Thatcher,

I have been a loyal user of your 'Always' maxi pads for over 20 years and I appreciate many of their features. Why, without the LeakGuard Core or Dri-Weave absorbency, I'd probably never go horseback riding or salsa dancing, and I'd certainly steer clear of running up and down the beach in tight, white shorts.But my favorite feature has to be your revolutionary Flexi-Wings. Kudos on being the only company smart enough to realize how crucial it is that maxi pads be aerodynamic I can't tell you how safe and secure I feel each month knowing there's a little F-16 in my pants.

Have you ever had a menstrual period, Mr. Thatcher? I'm guessing you haven't. Well, my time of the month is starting right now. As I type, I can already feel hormonal forces violently surging through my body. Just a few minutes from now, my body will adjust and I'll be transformed into what my husband likes to call 'an inbred hillbilly with knife skills.'

Isn't the human body amazing?

As Brand Manager in the Feminine-Hygiene Division, you've no doubt seen quite a bit of research on what exactly happens during your customer's monthly visits from 'Aunt Flo'. Therefore, you must know about the bloating, puffiness, and cramping we endure, and about our intense mood swings, crying jags, and out-of-control behavior. You surely realize it's a tough time for most women.

The point is, sir, you of all people must realize that America is just crawling with homicidal maniacs in Capri pants... Which brings me to the reason for my letter. Last month, while in the throes of cramping so painful I wanted to reach inside my body and yank out my uterus, I opened an Always maxi-pad, and there, printed on the adhesive backing, were these words: 'Have a Happy Period.'

Are you f------ kidding me? What I mean is, does any part of your tiny middle-manager brain really think happiness - actual smiling, laughing happiness, is possible during a menstrual period? Did anything mentioned above sound the least bit pleasurable? Well, did it, James? FYI, unless you're some kind of sick S&M freak, there will never be anything 'happy' about a day in which you have to jack yourself up on Motrin and Kahlua and lock yourself in your house just so you don't march down to the local Walgreen's armed with a hunting rifle and a sketchy plan to end your life in a blaze of glory.

For the love of God, pull your head out, man! If you have to slap a moronic message on a maxi pad, wouldn't it make more sense to say something that's actually pertinent, like 'Put down the Hammer' or 'Vehicular Manslaughter is Wrong'.

Sir, please inform your Accounting Department that, effective immediately, there will be an $8 drop in monthly profits, for I have chosen to take my maxi-pad business elsewhere. And though I will certainly miss your Flex-Wings, I will not for one minute miss your brand of condescending bullsh!t.

And that's a promise I will keep.

Always.

Wendi AaronsAustin , TX

Let's see if this one works:

The Thingy

The
Thingy

Say What??

Okay, so I'm just going to come out and say it.

My family is crazy.

And I'm the sane one. So what does that tell you?

Seriously. I said that to Leon last night and he looked at me. Deadpan.

And I thought, WTF??

For the first 8 years I was monotone, even-tempered and b*o*r*i*n*g.

In other words, I was a doormat.

And that gets tiring.

And it hurts. Because no one ever notices your sacrifices.

So eventually I said fuck it.

Because I wanted a life too.

So now, I'm busy from working a full time job +.

I'm back to parenting three kids through tension so thick a machete can't cut through it.

And I've learned that to get anything done, I have to nag just a little bit.

Boiling over inside because no one was lifting a finger wasn't helping anyone.

Anger issues? Um. Yeah. It's called being busy, tired and stressed out.

And if someone takes me out in soccer I want to retaliate by destroying their knee caps. You have a problem with that?

And just FYI, having moods that consist of anger, sadness, joy and blah is not a mental illness.

At least that's what all the little voices in my head are telling me.

My Best Answer To Any Question Will Always Come In Blog Form

I was asked a little while ago how I put up with Leon's imperfections.

Yes, plural.

Now, please understand (Leon) that this wasn't a question specifically directed at me because Leon is such a pest. Even though he is. Rather, it was a general relationship question. And for some reason, this person thought that I might actually have a most perfect and inspiring answer.

My answer was "bite my tongue and tip-toe". I know. I'm chalk full of wisdom.

However, having had some time now to digest the question and properly regurgitate a most fabulous answer, I feel the need to share it with everyone. (Complete with music if you want to scroll down and play it while you read.)

So here it is to all seven of you who read my poor, neglected blog.

I put up with Leon's imperfections because he is my husband. My confidante. My friend. The father of my children.

And you know what? He also puts up with my many imperfections. I leave my shoes wherever they happen to leave my feet. (And it takes three sweeps of the house for me to find them.) I insist on leaving my hair products on the bathroom counter. (And he insists on putting them away.) God knows I have put on weight since we met. (And bless him for pretending to look the other way when we both know he isn't.) I prefer to read at night. (And we'll just leave it at that.) I've decided since going to work full time that McDonald's provides a fully balanced meal consisting of meat, potatoes, bread and pickles. (And so he cooks me REAL food without complaining. Much.)

I find that we have both hardened in some ways that I wish we hadn't. And we both put up with habits and traits that may just drive each other crazy.

Because you know what? We're just human. I have a few people in the world that I love to judge, but for the most part I won't notice if you put on weight or get a bad haircut. I won't mind if you swear like a sailor or are the prude of all prudes. If I love the person that you are, then I will love you no matter what.

Even if you're a shit.

Which Leon is. On the best of days.

We did have a very rough patch not long ago. And I mean rough.

We worked through it.

We showed we were human.

We faced how delicate a marriage really can be.

And I honestly feel that we are better for it.

I'm still here after 18 years, three kids, several dogs and even more houses, bills and even more bills, whiny bouts of tears and countless rounds of hysterical laughter, because I want to be.

Flaws and all.