I am Momma, hear me roar...

As I have stated, I am a mother first and foremost.  My children are pretty much the center of my universe.  That being said, I am not a soccer mom!  I'm not the type to bake cookies and pack well balanced lunches.  I don't host sleepovers and do NOT want their friends hanging out at my house.  I will chauffeur my children to any event you are hosting, but don't ask me to volunteer for the school function because I will tell you no.  Oh, and I hate fundraisers.  I will buy stuff from my kids so they can put in some money, but I would much rather just donate money each time than do those stupid fundraisers. 
At the same time, if something is important to my children, then it's important to me.  I am trying very hard to enjoy what little time I have left with them as my babies.  My youngest is a middle school football player, co-captain of his team, and he LOVES football. During football season I can get this child to do anything, if I use football as my currency.  Grades falling, I'll talk to his coach and have him benched till they pick up.  Chores slipping, get that coach on speed dial and he will be benched.  Fortunately for me, I am a consistent parent and most of the time I mean every word I say so I don't have to fight too hard for chores or grades.
My ex and I are figuring out this co-parenting schedule.  He is supposed to have them Wednesday until Saturday.  I work nights those evenings and it just makes sense to have them go to their dads for those days.  A few weeks ago, the football team had a moms of fall picture taken with the boys and their mothers.  It was scheduled from 3-5 and there was supposed to be food before hand.  He had the children.  He still doesn't have a phone.  He was late.  I got up to the school at 3:30 and they had already taken the picture and were heading out because it was raining.  I called and told him to forget coming, we had missed the picture.  I sat in the parking lot and cried so hard it hurt my chest.  I cried for the missed picture sure, but I cried because for the first time in forever, I'm not in control of my children's comings and goings.  I have to rely on others.  I'm not used to giving up control.  I cried because I was angry at him for not making this a priority.  I cried because I felt like a failure as a parent.  Most of all I cried because my son is 13 years old.  He is going to pull further and further away from me and want to spend less and less time doing things with me.  He wants to hunt, fish, play sports and ride motorcycles.  None of those things interest me.  I cried because he is growing up and this was one of the last opportunities I had to do something special with him, and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it.
I was, and still am, so angry at his father.  I was always so much in love with him that I could forgive him anything.  However, I realized that I was making him a priority.  I was going out of my way to make him happy, and make sure all his needs were met.  While he wasn't doing that for me.  It's hard when you are madly in live with someone and you just know they don't feel the same way.  He is always the priority in his life.  As for me, It's my children and I will fight tooth and nail to make sure they have all the happiness they deserve. 
With or without his help.

Allow me to introduce myself...

I'm a bitch, I'm a lover, I'm a child, I'm a mother, I'm a sinner, I'm a saint, I do not feel ashamed.  I'm your hell, I'm your dream, I'm nothing in between.  You know you wouldn't want it any other way...

Admit it!  You sang along.  Even people who hate that song can't help but sing along to it.  Especially woman.  I have never minded being called a bitch.  I can be.  We all can be, whether we admit it or not.  Usually, my attitude is dependent on someone else's; but not always.  I can be moody and temperamental.  I can get easily frustrated and feel anxious in times of stress.  Sometimes.  I am a riddle, wrapped in a mystery.  I wear my heart on my sleeve.  I am easily offended.  I am fairly emotional and will cry at Hallmark commercials, a sad song on the radio or the thought of my children growing up and leaving my house.  Even now, as I write this I have to fight back the stinging of tears.  I'm also stubborn, hard headed, obstinate, strong minded, opinionated and loud.  However, I can be sweet and kind, caring and loving.  I'm absent minded and I procrastinate.  I am also very unmotivated and kinda lazy.  And you will never find a more trusting friend than me.  

I tend to push people away.  I know I am tough to deal with.  If I keep people at a distance, I won't get hurt.  I can count on one hand the amount of people I have absolute trust in.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not a recluse or anything.  There are probably a dozen or more people I would trust with my children.  But less than half that, would I trust with a secret.  I have been betrayed far too many times.  Fortunately though, I am also an open book and don't have many secrets.  Just ask me.

In life I am a mother first and foremost.  I was never one of those women who ever wanted children and when I first found out I was pregnant with my oldest, I seriously thought about terminating the pregnancy.  I was a single woman and would be raising my child alone.  I never wanted kids, and here I was about to do it alone.  At the time I was living in a the spare bedroom of one of my dearest friends, one of the ones I would trust with a secret, and I was working for minimum wage at a gas station in Waterford Michigan.  I had no business bringing a life into this world.  However, a whole series of events happened at once and a year after finding out I was pregnant, I was living in my own home in Northern Michigan, and I had a great job I was able to bring my child to.  My mother came to my rescue and my family chipped in where they could.  

My son.  He changed my life.  I was just going through the motions and when he was born I knew.  I knew I wanted to be a momma.  At least to him.  He was the sweetest baby and even at 15 years old today, he is still a sweet hearted young man.  All things I do, I do with him and his younger brother in mind.  I go without, so they can have the things they need.  I am raising them to be productive members of society.  I say no more often than I say yes.  Even when we are upset with each other I still give them hugs and kisses good night.  They are only my children for such a short time before they become husbands, fathers, employees and/or employers.  My job as their mother is to teach them to be kind and caring, loyal and honest.  To teach them humility and bravery.  To let them know what failure feels like and to push them to do better.  I hope I'm doing it right.  It really is the most difficult thing to be a bitch who is absolutely crazy about her children. 

In the beginning...

Ever since I was a teenager, I would keep a journal.  I hesitate to call it a diary.  Diary's are for squealing girls who are embarrassed about having a crush on the popular boy, or for accounting how horrible the girls at school are.  My journals documented things happening to me that I just needed to get out.  I write them only for me.  And I write this blog only for me.  If someone happens to find it, read it and decide to interact, more power to you.

I recently had a change in my relationship status.  After fifteen years, minus two, I have asked my "baby daddy" to move out of the house.  This decision was not reached quickly or in haste.  It had been a long time coming.  Someone once told me that when a women decides to end a relationship, she has already ended it in her mind years before.  Mine was no different.  In the spring of 2016, after 8 years of attending college, I finally earned my Bachelor's degree in Social Work.  On the day of my graduation, he had to work.  The guys at work said they would cover for him and he should be at my graduation.  All he had to do was get in the car and drive 40 miles.  All he had to do was show up for me.  But that proved to be too much for him; just as doing anything special for me proved to be too much.  He rarely made me feel like I was special or important to him.  That in turn made me feel like I was nothing.

That is not me.  I am something.  I am a strong minded, independent, stubborn, opinionated, kind, loving and loyal woman.  Maybe that proved too much for him to handle.  Maybe, I am too much for any man to handle.  Right now, I am alright with that.

So this change brings about other changes.  I have a few projects going on around the house.  I have a tendency of starting projects and then not quite finishing them.  However, the other day, I finished a project.  I set out to put a two or three shelves over my washing machine.  Just those wire shelves, easy enough to put brackets up on the wall.  However, those types of things were never my job.  That was always his job.  I had asked him for years to put shelves over my washing machine.  So when he finally moved out, I did it myself.  And I completed it.  Now, I'm painting my kitchen, and hopefully doing a penny counter top.  Maybe next year.

So I don't know what this blog will consist of.  Not even sure I will keep up with it.  It's just every once in awhile I have something to say.  Words, or a story that just need to get out of my brain.  And it's easier if I just get it down on paper.  We shall see where this thing leads me.  So I close my eyes to old ends, and open my heart to new beginnings.