FOR ALL MOTHERS ( Including soon to be ones).

 A MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN IS KNOWN AS A MOTHER

I know it isn't mother's day, even though they should be honored everyday.....However I was really missing my mom this morning and with all the tough things in my life lately that seem to be so overwhelming I have been wishing I had her with me today. But even though she is no longer here I know she is still and will always be in my corner....even when I fall down....I read the below take on motherhood and wanted to share it.

Enjoy

~T

 The most beautiful person I have ever known, inside and out! ~My mommy

We are sitting at lunch one day when my daughter casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of “starting a family.” “We’re taking a survey,” she says half-joking. “Do you think I should have a baby?”
… “It will change your life,” I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral.
“I know,” she says, “no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations.”
But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes.
I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable.
I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking, “What if that had been MY child?” That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her.
That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die.
I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of “Mum!” will cause her to drop a soufflé or her best crystal without a moments hesitation.
I feel that I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby’s sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.
I want my daughter to know that every day decisions will no longer be routine. That a five year old boy’s desire to go to the men’s room rather than the women’s at McDonald’s will become a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom.
However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.
Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself.
That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give herself up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years, not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.
I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor.
My daughter’s relationship with her husband will change, but not in the way she thinks.
I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his child.
I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic.
I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving.
I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike.
I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or cat for the first time.
I want her to taste the joy that is so real it actually hurts.
My daughter’s quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. “You’ll never regret it,” I finally say. Then I reached across the table, squeezed my daughter’s hand and offered a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings.
Please share this with a Mum that you know or all of your girlfriends who may someday be Mums. May you always have in your arms the one who is in your heart.
(Author Unknown)

 

My Babies! 

POWERFULL MESSAGE FOR COUPLES

DON'T JUST HOLD ON TO EACH OTHER, GROW WITH EACH OTHER! 

"You don't know what you have till it's gone" Such a true yet sad saying... too many times we hear those words or have even felt that pain. why is it so easy to give up and keep re-trying with others again and again rather than just try with the one you are with? 

Most people ( not all ) 'hide' in their past.... I say hide because they do just that. Rather than work on getting over it and moving forward. Life is not meant to be traveled backwards. Besides who wants to live in that hurt over and over? Such a waste of time when you could be living for what is right infront of you.

If you are lucky enough to have someone in your life that loves you and you love them back why wouldn't you hold on to that, nourish that, and grow it?  Fall in love with someone who deserves you heart, not someone who will play with it, mistreat it or take advantage of it. You can't make someone love you all you can do is be someone who can be loved.

All this said I come to hear the song "More than words" by extreme  in my head...

http://youtu.be/t1Indun6_Fc 

 More than words: Extreme

Saying I love you
Is not the words I want to hear from you
It's not that I want you
Not to say, but if you only knew
How easy it would be to show me how you feel
More than words is all you have to do to make it real
Then you wouldn't have to say that you love me
'Cause I'd already know
What would you do if my heart was torn in two
More than words to show you feel
That your love for me is real
What would you say if I took those words away
Then you couldn't make things new
Just by saying I love you
More than words
Now that I've tried to talk to you and make you understand
All you have to do is close your eyes
And just reach out your hands and touch me
Hold me close don't ever let me go
More than words is all I ever needed you to show
Then you wouldn't have to say that you love me
'Cause I'd already know
What would you do if my heart was torn in two
More than words to show you feel
That your love for me is real
What would you say if I took those words away
Then you couldn't make things new
Just by saying I love you
More than words

 So TALK, and ACT....... Love who you have....Because I am sure there is someone else who would gladly. 

A metaphor for a man writing about a lifetime of not speaking to his wife about his deep feelings and thoughts only to one day lose her a long the life journey. She waited for him...until she felt like she couldn't wait any longer. So one day, unexpectedly, she simply walks out of his life. And not until he realized she would never come back is when he feels the regret of the missed connection. Those 60 years that he could have said something, anything, to make her stay.

That's why he says "...how amazing it is that to know somebody for sixty years and yet still not really know that person at all". In his mind, he always felt like things were all right and would continue to be that way forever-- that she'd always be sitting on that train, content with their lack of communication and attraction based on mere superficiality.

 

Missed Connection - m4w

I saw you on the Manhattan-bound Brooklyn Q train.

I was wearing a blue-striped t-shirt and a pair of maroon pants. You were wearing a vintage red skirt and a smart white blouse. We both wore glasses. I guess we still do.

You got on at DeKalb and sat across from me and we made eye contact, briefly. I fell in love with you a little bit, in that stupid way where you completely make up a fictional version of the person you're looking at and fall in love with that person. But still I think there was something there.

Several times we looked at each other and then looked away. I tried to think of something to say to you -- maybe pretend I didn't know where I was going and ask you for directions or say something nice about your boot-shaped earrings, or just say, "Hot day." It all seemed so stupid.

At one point, I caught you staring at me and you immediately averted your eyes. You pulled a book out of your bag and started reading it -- a biography of Lyndon Johnson -- but I noticed you never once turned a page.

My stop was Union Square, but at Union Square I decided to stay on, rationalizing that I could just as easily transfer to the 7 at 42nd Street, but then I didn't get off at 42nd Street either. You must have missed your stop as well, because when we got all the way to the end of the line at Ditmars, we both just sat there in the car, waiting.

I cocked my head at you inquisitively. You shrugged and held up your book as if that was the reason.

Still I said nothing.

We took the train all the way back down -- down through Astoria, across the East River, weaving through midtown, from Times Square to Herald Square to Union Square, under SoHo and Chinatown, up across the bridge back into Brooklyn, past Barclays and Prospect Park, past Flatbush and Midwood and Sheepshead Bay, all the way to Coney Island. And when we got to Coney Island, I knew I had to say something.

Still I said nothing.

And so we went back up.

Up and down the Q line, over and over. We caught the rush hour crowds and then saw them thin out again. We watched the sun set over Manhattan as we crossed the East River. I gave myself deadlines: I'll talk to her before Newkirk; I'll talk to her before Canal. Still I remained silent.

For months we sat on the train saying nothing to each other. We survived on bags of skittles sold to us by kids raising money for their basketball teams. We must have heard a million mariachi bands, had our faces nearly kicked in by a hundred thousand break dancers. I gave money to the beggars until I ran out of singles. When the train went above ground I'd get text messages and voicemails ("Where are you? What happened? Are you okay?") until my phone ran out of battery.

I'll talk to her before daybreak; I'll talk to her before Tuesday. The longer I waited, the harder it got. What could I possibly say to you now, now that we've passed this same station for the hundredth time? Maybe if I could go back to the first time the Q switched over to the local R line for the weekend, I could have said, "Well, this is inconvenient," but I couldn't very well say it now, could I? I would kick myself for days after every time you sneezed -- why hadn't I said "Bless You"? That tiny gesture could have been enough to pivot us into a conversation, but here in stupid silence still we sat.

There were nights when we were the only two souls in the car, perhaps even on the whole train, and even then I felt self-conscious about bothering you. She's reading her book, I thought, she doesn't want to talk to me. Still, there were moments when I felt a connection. Someone would shout something crazy about Jesus and we'd immediately look at each other to register our reactions. A couple of teenagers would exit, holding hands, and we'd both think: Young Love.

For sixty years, we sat in that car, just barely pretending not to notice each other. I got to know you so well, if only peripherally. I memorized the folds of your body, the contours of your face, the patterns of your breath. I saw you cry once after you'd glanced at a neighbor's newspaper. I wondered if you were crying about something specific, or just the general passage of time, so unnoticeable until suddenly noticeable. I wanted to comfort you, wrap my arms around you, assure you I knew everything would be fine, but it felt too familiar; I stayed glued to my seat.

One day, in the middle of the afternoon, you stood up as the train pulled into Queensboro Plaza. It was difficult for you, this simple task of standing up, you hadn't done it in sixty years. Holding onto the rails, you managed to get yourself to the door. You hesitated briefly there, perhaps waiting for me to say something, giving me one last chance to stop you, but rather than spit out a lifetime of suppressed almost-conversations I said nothing, and I watched you slip out between the closing sliding doors.

It took me a few more stops before I realized you were really gone. I kept waiting for you to reenter the subway car, sit down next to me, rest your head on my shoulder. Nothing would be said. Nothing would need to be said.

When the train returned to Queensboro Plaza, I craned my neck as we entered the station. Perhaps you were there, on the platform, still waiting. Perhaps I would see you, smiling and bright, your long gray hair waving in the wind from the oncoming train.

But no, you were gone. And I realized most likely I would never see you again. And I thought about how amazing it is that you can know somebody for sixty years and yet still not really know that person at all.

I stayed on the train until it got to Union Square, at which point I got off and transferred to the L.

http://newyork.craigslist.org/brk/mis/3985247459.html

Learning to love yourself

The beauty inside you! 

At the end of the day you will not remember the person with the most beautiful face but you will remember the person with the most beautiful heart and soul.

I wanted to write something to encourage women (and men). To encourage them that loving yourself is beautiful. That what you have inside you can and should be what people see 1^st. That as they get to know you they continue to see that inner beauty shine through and enjoy being in your presence.

I recently did a beach/water shoot with my friend who takes pictures of beautiful women all the time. His subjects are brave, sexy and adventurous…..all the things I am not when it comes to pictures of myself. So I decided to try!

Doing this shoot was a big step for me, I wanted to show that size and a ton of make up doesn't determine beauty, however after seeing the body shoots I felt mortified. I have always been tough on myself...."not good enough" “too chunky” syndrome. After posting a few “test shots” someone sent me this msg...."I'm honestly in love with your face. that's never happened to me. I know it sounds crazy .....Your face definitely shows your heart. that's one of the reasons I love it. I know it's beautiful too." It was then I realized  I have REAL beauty in me and  it shows on my outer. No one man or woman are perfect.....No matter how hard they try to be, what "procedure" they get done....it doesn't change the heart....the most beautiful thing a person can have.

If someone can’t see past what is on the outside, then why should I care if they are in my life or not. I have been “not good enough”, “not enough” for too many people that don’t matter. Learning to matter to yourself isn’t easy when you have never allowed yourself matter. And stepping up and doing so is a BIG leap of faith for that person. It’s important to surround yourself with people who will uplift you, support you, encourage you and let you know when your wrong! All the fuzzy stuff won’t help without the tough love as well.

It’s hard to look at ones self and be fully appreciative of what you see on the outside and that is human nature, however don’t hate what you see, instead find one good thing and focus on that…..but always….ALWAYS work on your heart, because it’s something that will always show your true beauty or your ugly beast. 

~T~

When a guy tells you that you're hot; he is looking at your body. When a guy tells you that you're pretty; he is looking at your face. When a guy tells you that you're beautiful; he is looking at your heart.

- Unknown               

Kyle Young! What a kid!!!

Happy Mothers Day!

~Mothers Day~ 

 The moment a child is born, the mother is also born.  She never existed before.  The woman existed, but the mother, never.  A mother is something absolutely new.  ~Rajneesh

As I reflect on my life and sort through my pictures I am reminded at how lucky I truly am! I have 4 of the most AMAZING children, who I not only love to the depths of my  heart and beyond, but who love me just as much! 4 Children whom I have an unbreakable bond with. We have been through so much in our lives together and I can proudly say that we have made it through it all without damaging what we have! As they grow older and as I grow older it becomes and ever stronger bond.
I think back to my mom  today as she was so unfairly taken too soon and am honored that I got the gift of being her child. Those who knew my mom knew what an amazing woman she was, and how with just one meeting she could touch you and be engrained into your mind forever. I can only hope I could have an ounce of her soul in me, and want to be like her in so many ways.
 My mom is truly a gift. My children are truly a gift. And today on Mothers day I can proudly say.....I am blessed and then some!

I love you mommy, Bear, Goose, Zechy chen, and baby girl! (Mom, Josh, Caleb, Zech, Hannah)
Happy Mothers day everyone!!!  <3~T~

 My 4 amazings!

My Amazing Mommy! How I miss her!

The end where I begin

Forward and Onward!

I'm not good at letting go; it's quite hard for me to do. I think I have let go and I look back and see a tiny thread still attached to the past. It bothers me because it hinders me from moving forward...from moving on.

 I don't know if it's fear?  Fear of rejection, fear of being forgotten, or fear of doing the wrong thing.... or a mixture of all.

I don't like fear.... It becomes crippling. I worry too much about things I can't control. I struggle with the "F&@% It" attitude. I sweat the small stuff and become over taken by the big stuff.

 I use to handle stress very well; it actually pushed me to try harder. I’d cry…yell… then chin up and move ahead. Now it knocks me on my ass and into the corner… Too many beat downs in life.

I don't want to end up like the countless hopeless people I see around me who don't fight for a better life. I want to fight for the life I need, the life I deserve...the life I know is out there for me. And that tiny spark is all I have left to hold on to...That and my kids.

People will always let you down; family won't always be there. It's up to you…it’s up to me to make it happen.

 My choices, my fight, my determination and my peace of mind. As soon as I realize that myself then I can make bigger steps of progress. This is my responsibility! 

 <3 ~T~ 

!! ~ Bieber Dream ~ !!

YES I DREAMED OF THE BIEBS LAST NIGHT!!!....... 

...Not sure why???? I'm not a big fan....or even a little one for that matter! I haven't seen or heard any recent scandal  about him the day before ( and seeing as dreams may be linked to our subconscious) I was baffled as to why my sacred closed eye time was so violated by a biebs dream..... not it was not the "wet" type of dream. It was actually quite disturbing.

All I remember of it was being stuck in his pool room ( as in swimming). He was rocking out on a baby grand drunker than the dude from moonshiners who was recently arrested for public intoxication.

Steven Ray Tickle

The room was a mess, Like Hurricane Katrina mess ( equivalent to a teenagers room ) Littered with empty Red Solo cups, bottles,pizza boxes, strewn with drugged out teenage bodies and anything else that could live off a floor.....including doggy doo!!!!! I know right!!!! I didn't know Justin had a dog either! Turns out it was my dogs do do! Because like all of us in the dream we were all stuck in the pool room until the little man pop icon, as long as he didn't leave the room, none of us could either!

The dream was so realistic I could smell the horrible stench that was almost unbearable.... but I think the dog may have dutch ovened me in my sleep... Can't be sure, I was fast asleep after all.

So anyway my dream ended with me stuck in a swimming pool that was more like a human toilet yelling at the Biebs, like his money whoring momma should have to get his arse out of the pool room and into the real world and smarten up before I put him over my knee!

Time to shower the pool water off now......


~T~

A just for fun....and true story Blog!