Riding along in my automobile...intentionally

As we've discussed, the theme of my new focus is being intentional. I want to be intentional about who I put into my life. Because without that we end up trapped in something causing us pain that we don’t even know we are trapped in. Got it?

But the intentional part doesn’t stop there. Once you have people in your life, what do you do with them? In theory if you’ve selected the right type of people, then you’re all cruising along being awesome together. And maybe that is a post for another day. What if the people are family? The kind that have to be there? Like the tiny humans…? How intentional are my interactions with them?

Yes, yes, I intentionally interact with them every day. I chose to be a part of their lives. I make them breakfast (ok technically they make their own now, but you get the point), drive them places, watch them blossom into tiny humans who can do things like make their own breakfasts. And I love every moment (ok, that is a lie, mom life is hard sometimes… but I love most of the moments).

But recently I have found us busier than ever (cue the “I told you so” from parents with children older than mine…) . Like eat in the car, shower only when extremely necessary kind of busy. I mean I looked up and this summer was GONE. Don’t get me wrong, I love watching my kids do things they love. I will always be their biggest cheerleader and supporter, but lately I’ve felt a lot more like a chauffer than a raiser of tiny humans.

So, I want to be more intentional in my interactions with my kiddos. And y’all… that is HARD! I mean, sometimes all I want to do when I get home from a long day turned even longer by soccer/dance/gymnastics/theater is sit on the couch and stare at a wall. Maybe eat. Maybe not. Naps would be great. But that isn’t what is best for my kids. Yes, one of those days where we all veg on the couch while eating tv watching a show is ok. But it can’t turn into the norm. Last night my 7 year old daughter took it upon herself to heat up some mac n cheese and set the table for everyone so that we would sit down at the table and share a meal together. While my heart was humbled at the fact that she wanted to do this, it was also a little sad because I couldn’t remember the last time we’d shared a meal together at our table.

As a part of keeping me honest, I’m going to share with you guys my plan for being more intentional with my kids. Please hold me to it.

Step 1) We each set a weekly goal on Sunday night. It should be something we can accomplish in 7 days. It can be about school, or work, or friends, or self care, but we have a goal. We write that goal down and post it on the fridge. We have daily check ins and reminders about the goals. That is causing us to have bigger conversations than “How was school?” ”Fine”. (Although remind me to tell you guys about the “where do babies come from conversation” with Braden two weeks ago… one of the funniest, yet most terrifying moments of my life). So we set and talk about goals. I won’t share the kids, because that is theirs to share, but mine this week was to find a mentor. And as soon as I set the goal I knew exactly how to set about finding one, so made a phone call (I know that seems counter productive to my “be more present” goal, but if I have a mentor then I stress less about work, allowing me more time to spend with the kiddos). Yay goals!

Step 2) Create time and stress less. Now you will never once hear me say that being late is acceptable. Not once, not ever. But I have started stressing less about it if it happens to occur. Old Lauren would stew in the car, afraid that the world would no longer accept us because we were 3 minutes late to a practice. So, starting now I won’t stress and I’ll be more present in the car. Because honestly we spend a lot of time in the car. So no more zoning out. Be present, have the conversations.

Step 3) Take time for family. Over the past 12 or so years I have worked so hard to try and get our family into the same geographical area. Now it’s happened so I need to make sure we are taking advantage of it. All of us! Last week I booked a weekend get away with my brother’s family in October. Because spending time with my cousins was one of my favorite parts of childhood!

Step 4) This one is the hardest, yet it seems so simple. Just be present. Going at this pace often leaves my brain friend by 7pm. I just want to sit for a moment and relax. But I have to do better. I’m not saying to give up my “me” time, I’m saying I need to slow down enough so that the me time can wait. When my kids are home and awake, I need to be in a state of mind to give them my attention. Again, I’m not saying all the time. Playing alone is something that every child needs to learn to do, but there has to be equal time when we do things together, and not just watch tv. So one thing I’ve started doing is having Amelia read to me at night, instead of in her room. I was so good about doing this with Braden, but #secondkidproblems have kicked into full gear. Braden and I take a lot of time lately in the kitchen. I am being present with them in whatever small ways I can find. No matter how tired I am.

Stay tuned. Life is a delicate balance of raising them right and letting them fly. Most days I feel like I’m doing ok, but some days it feels like I’m barely treading water with them. At the end of their childhoods I want most importantly for them to look back and know they were loved.

Every Pain has a purpose...

So my best friend had a “stern” talk with me the other day that ended with “just take some time to do you for a while”. As much as I would have loved to have denied the fact that I’m not that girl that seems to always been in some sort of relationship, I couldn’t. I tend to seek something to replace what I’m missing when something ends. Replace that first “Good morning” text and the last “Good night” each day. That’s how I ended up here. I had ended a relationship and I missed him all the time, so I found something that would help take my mind off of things. I never expect these “replacements” to last too long, but then they do. Because apparently I am a relationship person.

And because I haven’t been very intentional about these things I typically end up in messes. Messes that I think will get better, or are going fine, but are they’re really not. Like a small blemish on your body that you refuse to go to the doctor for because it will get better. I mean it’s really not that bad. It will get better on its own if I just do the things I know are right. Then three years later you have an 8 pound tumor growing.

And the thing is, as much as I try to rationalize that things are going well, there are usually signs. Not like someone is being mean to me (although I have done that relationship a few times…), but signs that I’m not happy. But in true adult fashion I rationalize and shove all the feelings down deep. Because I love this person. I love the life I share with this person. I love the things I share with them that I don’t share with anyone else. Plus typically in any sort of good relationship, this person becomes a friend. So not only are you losing a plus one, you’re losing a friend. And that is scary, and painful, more so because the person you would typically lament to is the person you just lost. So rather than ending things, because that will bring pain, I stay because that pain seems like the lesser of two evils at the time.

Unfortunately all this does is prolong the inevitable. Because the things that I rationalize and shove deep down don’t go away. When left untreated they grow. So that now instead of a small pain, it has grown… to an 8 pound tumor. It has ruined all chances of good feelings, reconciliation, friendship. All the things you wanted to hold so close to avoid pain.

So what I have come to realize is that every pain has a purpose. And I need to stop ignoring those pains. That doesn’t mean that at the first sign of trouble I should head for the hills. But on the big stuff, the things I shouldn’t compromise on, I need to heed that pain. I need to rip the band aid and feel all the feels because prolonging the inevitable doesn’t make it go away. It makes it grow.

Thanks to a recent (super awkward, but that is another story entirely!!) trip to the movies, I’ve decided that I need to be more intentional about who I put into my life. What purpose do they serve? I want to go out and intentionally seek friendships that allow me to grow and feel loved by amazing women. Women who see things the same as me and women who see things differently than me. Women that love Jesus, and their children, and their dogs, and their husbands (or some combination of any of those things). I want to find godly men to surround myself with that make me laugh. Men that are friends with no other expectations. People that love me for the strong person I am, but aren’t afraid to challenge me when I’m wrong.  I won’t be able to stop pain in the future, because let’s face it, my “picker of men” function won’t be magically cured overnight. So there will be more pain in the future. But my hope is that as I continue to be intentional about the type of people in my life, that I will trust them and grow as a person to recognize and admit those signs earlier.

And that’s the other thing. Admitting when I’m wrong is probably the thing in this life I am the least good at (Ask my mother…for real…she’s got some stories!). So admitting that I was wrong in picking a person that was supposed to be my person is not easy for me. So I think that sometimes I try to make things work so that I don’t have to admit to failing. (I legitimately can’t believe I actually just admitted that on paper.) Because let’s face it, 99% of all relationships don’t fail because of one person. Each person is at fault. So there is that, plus having to admit that I picked yet another thing that didn’t work out. Then in this town you have all the nay-sayers to begin with, so you want so badly for something to work just to prove them wrong. Because clearly that is the basis of a good relationship. Proving people wrong. No wonder I ended up with an 8 pound tumor…

I digress. Even with the pain, and the failures, and all of the things, I learn something each time. I realize things about myself that I don’t like when I look in the mirror. I’ve done a lot of growing over the past year. A lot. I’ve lost friends over it. I’ve had some come back. But what I have come to realize is that I still have so far to go. But I am on a path, to feel the pain, know it’s purpose, and be intentional about surrounding myself with the right people to help me do that. 

One last note... I'm also going to be more intentional about writing. Writing is so cathartic for me and has been a lot of how I uncovered these feelings above. So if you see me out and about, feel free to hold me to it. I promise not all of my stuff will have references to Gray's Anatomy =) 

What Gray’s Anatomy taught me about relationships…

Just rip the dress

In one of the earlier seasons of Gray’s Anatomy, Christina was going to marry to Preston Burke. And then she didn’t. He left her at the alter. And at the end of that episode there is a scene where Meredith cuts Christina out of her wedding dress as Christina sobs. You think it is because she feels so sad, but she mutters that she is relieved. I remember the first time (and all subsequent times) that I’ve seen that episode wondering how you get to a point of feeling so relieved that it is over. Why not just end it?

I ended something Saturday night. Something that has existed in my life as a relationship of some type or another since last June. It has taken many ups and downs and sideways turns, but at the root there was a lot of love. But underneath all of that was this truth that I was living the relationship that he wanted for us, not one I envisioned for myself. Although I’ve acknowledged that to friends and family over the past 15 months, there was always this fear that in addition to losing a relationship (and all of the feelings of failure that come with that), if I ended things I would also be losing a friend.

That last statement is SOOOO me. I’m a stayer! I stay way too long because I rationalize all of the things that make me unhappy in a relationship. And I think I do that because I often confuse that rationalization with compromise. We are supposed to compromise, right? That’s the basis of any good relationship is compromise. It’s Relationship 101. But all of us have (or should have) these sticking points. Things we aren’t willing to compromise on. I do, and at the beginning of every relationship I am so resolute in them. Then I fall in love and that resolution begins to fade into rationalization. “Well, I can do this because I love him and he loves me and it’s not like he explicitly asked me to do this, it’s just something I have to do if we want to be together…” When I say it like that I seem kind of like someone I would hate. One of those women who doesn’t have the guts to do what is right for herself. **Sigh**

BUT… this man had grown to become my person. We talked every day throughout most of the day. We shared in each other’s joys and successes and failures. And I wasn’t sure I was ready to give that up.  I was scared. Because honestly what relationship doesn’t also end up with that person being one of your best friends? Losing your partner and your friend in one decision is SCARY! So I chose to compromise what I wanted on one end of the spectrum to get something I thought I needed on the other. And then came my moment.

Ok, I’m not actually sure it was just one moment. I think maybe it was several tiny moments. But if I’ve learned anything from Gray’s Anatomy it is that even the smallest bleeds can be catastrophic if not caught in time. I didn’t want to continue to put band aids on something that we both knew will never heal.

And I expected for it to wreck me. Don’t get me wrong, that night I called a friend and she listened while I cried. But the next morning I woke up expecting to feel that gut wrenching pain that comes with no longer getting to love someone, and I didn’t. The tears didn’t come. Instead I sat up and felt relief. Not relief in that this was a terrible relationship or that he was a bad person, but relief that I knew I no longer had to put what I wanted and needed aside for someone else. It was as if someone had cut me out of the dress and I could finally breath again.

Tiny Humans and Baby Sisters

The thing no one tells you about when you’re a single parent that dates another single parent, is that when things don’t work out, you don’t get visitation. And that is tough. I spent over a year of my life loving that little girl, helping to raise that little girl, and just like that she is out of my life.

No, she is out of our lives.

You see, I’m a grown up. With lots of experience in areas of the heart. That experience has brought lots of love and laughter, but also lots of heartache. And with each heartache, comes a void. I’ve learned as time has passed to take that void and put it in a little box. And as a coping mechanism, that little box doesn’t get opened very often. So while I still love and miss that little girl, I don’t think about it too much. It is too painful.

But my babies, the tiny humans, they aren’t grown ups. They’ve also experience a lot of love and laughter, and also a lot of heartache. But unlike me, they aren’t calloused. They wear their heartache right on their sleeve for the world to see. And like me, they lost two people during that breakup. Amelia lost the only father figure she’s ever known, and she lost her little sister.

Because you see in this relationship we weren’t just playing. We were building a family and a future together. Olivia was her little sister. We both told my kids how important it was to teach Olivia the right things because they were her big brother and big sister. And they loved her as such. And silly me, I thought both kids were ok when Olivia was gone from their lives. I thought because I put my feelings in a box, and because they didn’t sit down and cry each night, that they were ok.

But you see, they aren’t. Their lives got ripped apart. Our family went from 5 to 3 in a single day. They never even got to say goodbye to her. And unlike when a marriage ends, my kids don’t get visitation. They don’t get to see the man they considered to be a father. They don’t get to see their little sister. And at least for Amelia, it is breaking her heart.

For the past 6 weeks Amelia has asked me daily if I was ever going to get married again. My response is typically that I don’t know. She then follows up with the question of whether or not I’m going to have another baby. To which I typically and emphatically answer No. (As an amusing aside to this story, I once accidentally told her we could get a puppy instead, which she has totally run with. She now tells everyone she’s getting a puppy even though I meant to tell her we could get a fish. She’s basically laid down the ultimatum that we either get a baby sister or a puppy. She’s holding my uterus hostage!!!) And then one day I thought to ask her if she wanted me to have another baby. She said “yes, because I want to be a big sister again”. It finally dawned on me that she doesn’t really want a new baby sister. She wants her old baby sister back. These questions are her trying to understand this loss in her life. Trying to understand why they aren’t coming back. Trying to understand how a man that told her he loved her and tucked her in at night, just disappeared one day, and took her baby sister with him. 

And y’all, it’s tough to explain to your kids why relationships don’t work out. But it is even tougher to explain to them that they lost their family and probably won’t ever see them again. There is a lot of judgement going on in my head. I’m judging me because I put my kids in that situation. I told them to love her because family is forever. I judge him because now he isn’t the father he promised them he would be. But through all of that judgement, the hurt and loss that my kids feel is still there. There is no resolution because our relationship ended for a reason. But how do you tell your kids that you chose to end their relationships, too?

For now I’m dealing with their pain through trips to Space Camp and the beach, through sno cones and cheese dip, through lots of love and laughter of our own. We go on grand adventures on the weekends because we miss her less when we aren’t at home. I realize that is not an entirely healthy attitude about loss, but for now it is the only way I know how to help them. Because I can assure you that Amelia is not getting another little sister. Or a puppy. I can barely commit to a fish… I swear it’s like animals come to our house to die, and more loss is really just not in the cards right now. Did I tell you that their cat ran away the same weekend that Mike left?

Yes, life is hard some days. This is hard. And I pray daily for God to take my anger and guilt away about this. But so far peace hasn’t come. And so tonight I write. And tomorrow will be a new day. 

Princess of my own castle

Breakups are hard. Period. I remember when my first boyfriend and I broke up in junior high. It seemed like the world would end. I remember crying to my mom in the gym during a basketball game and thinking that my world would never be right again. That I would never “love” anyone like I had “loved” him.

Well, 20 years later and breakups are still hard. I’m still crying to my mom, only this time it is from the driveway of my house and not a high school gym. And although it is like a gut punch, I know my world will not end. But man going through a breakup as an adult comes with so many added complications.

Like the stuff. We were, how should I say it… Shacking up…? So now there comes the dividing of the things. What is his, what is mine, what was ours and who gets it now? Now, 3 days post break up was my worst day so far. I was fine one minute and a sobbing mess on the floor the next, and it would come out of nowhere. But during one of my ok moments, I felt like that would be a good time to start the packing of the things. Man was I wrong. Yet another heaping, sobbing mess. But little by little the things are being sorted and packed.

Post breakup Day 4 was a good day. I didn’t cry once. There is always an underlying sadness, but no tears. Fast forward to post breakup Day 5 and complication number 2. The pictures. Since we had integrated our lives together in a day where not too many days go by without photos being taken, there is a ton of photographic evidence lying around. I went through my phone, and for some reason I just couldn’t erase all of the pictures. Some were easy. Delete. Gone. Like the life we had planned. But others are still there. I just can’t do it. They serve as a grim reminder of the things we did together when we were in love. And don’t get me started on the pictures in the house. Taking his picture off my office desk was almost my undoing. And it’s more than just pictures. It’s dividing a life. Things you wouldn’t think about in a million years. Like the DVR. Last night I erased all of his shows. Because last night it wasn’t hard. But I don’t want to happen upon one in 6 months when I’m having a randomly sad day and have a meltdown. So part of breaking up is going into detective mode and figuring out all the places your lives are intertwined and unraveling those strings. Ugh. Dagger to the heart. These small, inconsequential actions somehow make it all too real.

Now don’t get me wrong. This breakup was my idea. For a million reasons that I won’t name here. But it doesn’t make it any easier. I know this next statement will make zero sense to all of you people out there who live with your head leading the way, and not your heart, but sometimes you can’t help who you love. Turns out, my sixteen year old self was wrong. I would come to love someone even deeper than I had loved my first boyfriend. And this guy was the one who took the prize. We’ve spent almost 3 years of our lives together, and for those of you tracking, that’s almost 1/10^th of my life. That’s insane. But for all the reasons my head told me that this guy wasn’t right for me, there were a hundred reasons that my heart told me to keep him. I have never loved anyone as truly and deeply as I loved this man, but sometimes love is just not enough. Even though we never stood up in front of God and our friends and took vows, we promised a life to each other. A life together. A life raising our children side by side. A life filled with all the reasons that I choose to wake up and love him every day. And now I don’t get to do that anymore.

Which brings in complication number 3. The kids. I told them on post breakup Day 2. Mainly because I was afraid they would see me randomly break down into tears and think I was insane. (Amusingly enough that happened Post Break Up Day 1 at a dance competition and now I’m pretty sure all of the other moms think I’m insane.) They of course, took it better than I did. Go figure. But then this morning Amelia asked if Olivia would always be her little sister? How do you answer that? Avoidance. That’s how I dealt with it this morning. But I know it will come up again, so I’m busy trying to figure out how to explain to my five year old that not only has she lost the only father figure she’s ever known, but she’s also lost her little sister. Now don’t get me totally wrong, Amelia is super stoked to have her entire room back to herself, but she is grieving, too.

Each day seems to be better, for the most part. But I think I’ve realized that a part of me is clinging to the hope that this isn’t the end. Which is totally unhealthy. Clinging to a life that only happens if someone else changes is a hopeless dream. But sometimes the reality that there will not be another ballgame, another kiss, another night be the fire is just too much to handle. So I think for now I’m clinging to this hope that it really isn’t the end.

And that is due to complication #4. As a teenager you have nothing but free time. No kids, no real responsibilities. Which leaves plenty of time for staying in bed and sobbing uncontrollably for hours at a time. Not so much as an adult. I am forcing myself to feel this only in small doses, because I can’t afford to fall apart. I have these pesky things called bills, which require payment, which requires a job, which does not allow me to stay in bed sobbing uncontrollably for days on end. And then the nerve of the kids. Expecting me to get up to take them to school and dance class and soccer…. All joking aside, being an adult is hard enough to begin with. It’s even harder when you’re sad and all you want to do is curl up and have yourself a good cry. When you’re sixteen, your friends have nothing but free time to call and console you. Not so much as an adult… Not that my friends haven’t been there for me. Because they have. But we’re squeezing in therapy time between toddlers falling off slides and work meetings. And then there are the innocent ones that casually ask “Are you doing ok?” Apparently “No” is not an acceptable answer to that question. I get lots of uncomfortable pauses and people cautiously taking steps backwards. But that is the truth. For now, I’m not ok, but I will be and some days that has to be enough.

So for this day I’ll have to give up the dreams of a life I planned. But as I have so often discovered, life often does not go according to plan. I have faith, and for now that is enough for me. Well, that and the fact that my happily ever after might just be me being the Princess of my own castle, doing things on my own, while raising my tiny minion army of 2…. 

Why I Stayed

This is a hot topic that I've seen all over the news and social media this week. It is also a topic that I have struggled with sharing to those outside of my circle of friends for close to four years now. Well, today is the day that ends. 

It is easy to sit on the other side of domestic violence and judge women for staying. It is easy to say that you'd never stay and these women need to just leave. Unfortunately abuse is not always black and white, and neither are the decisions a woman must make in those relationships.

I was emotionally abused in my marriage for 2 ½ years before the abuse finally turned violent. The first time something happened I was livid. I left the house and stayed with a friend. Braden was just over 4 months old. HE apologized. I went home. Several months went by and life was good. But then it happened again. Again I left, and again HE apologized, and again I came home. As time went the abuse became more and more frequent and I stopped staying with friends. The problem was that usually when it got to the point when I was scared enough to leave, I was also terrified that HE would find me at a friend's house and hurt them, too. So I'd lie awake, all night, listening to Braden sleep and making sure that no one was going to hurt anyone I loved. There were several nights that I did stay at our house, too exhausted to leave, but too scared to stay. So I'd lie on the couch at night to make sure that HE didn't take or hurt Braden. That would sometimes go on for 3 or 4 days in a row. I was raising a toddler, working full time, and not able to sleep or feel safe in my own home.

Eventually I just started staying at hotels. Sometimes for a night at a time. Sometimes for a week. I constantly kept a bag in my car that was packed for Braden and I. And I know that some of you are reading this, judging me, asking me why I stayed.

I rationalized that he had never hit me, so it wasn't really abuse. But over those 2 ½ years I became a shell of the women that I once was.  In the end things got really scary. My marriage ended with incredible violence. I won't go into the entire story, but Amelia and I walked away with minor bruises after things finally turned violent. Guns, a SWAT team and a knife that could have easily killed Amelia and I ended my marriage. My world changed in 4 hours on a Friday afternoon.

I stayed for several reasons. First of all, with emotional abuse, it is not always black and white when you are in the middle of it. The first time seems bad, but then after so many incidents, you begin to rationalize. You tell yourself that it's really not that bad. Before long I was isolated from my friends and family, so I had no one to really talk to about most of the things that were happening.  It wasn't until after I got out and began telling my story to friends that I realized how bad it was. And I only knew that by seeing their reactions.

I also stayed because I made a promise, and I don't do failure well. I know that sounds silly, but I stood in front of my friends and family and made a promise to God to love this man forever. It didn't matter that HE had broken his promise to me. I always felt like if I was strong enough I could fix us both.

And the statistics. As a parent you always want the best for your children. Statistics say that children raised with two parents are more likely to succeed. I wanted nothing more than to give Braden that life. And the thing is, when HE was good, he was the best father you could ever want. The problem was I never knew who I was coming home to. And when HE was bad, it was just plain scary. HE could turn from good to bad in a moment and I never knew what would set him off.

But lastly, I think I stayed because I was scared. When I woke up the day after the attack I was lost. I had suddenly gone from a two parent household with two incomes to a one parent household with one income raising two children. By myself. I just kept repeating that over and over. I'm by myself. And the thing is, I had a good job. But I still couldn't make ends meet. I had to make decisions that I didn't want to make, but decisions that were necessary for my kids and I to not only survive, but to prosper. And now we are all better for it. During the abusive period I had lost friendships and some family ties. I was terrified that leaving would leave me all alone. Of course for the most part that couldn't be further from the truth, but things aren't always clear when you're in the middle of the storm.

I guess what I am trying to say in this blog, is please don't judge a woman who has been beaten for staying. Often these women don't work outside the home and have no source of income. Their spouse may take their money. Sometimes being out of an abusive relationship is just as scary as staying in one. I know that it takes courage to leave, but sometimes it takes just as much courage to stay. And I know that no one will ever understand that last statement until you have lived the life of a woman who has been abused. I found myself and made me better despite my abuse. Not all women have the ability to do that. I had a lot of faith and a good upbringing and a place to come home to. Things haven't always been easy since we've gotten out. There are still nights when I wake up scared in the middle of the night and can't sleep. There are still nights when I sleep with chairs under the door, but I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I made the only decisions I knew how to make at the time, and my kids and I are happier and healthier for it. 

When Love is not Enough

The Beatles once sang "Love is all You Need", and while a beautiful sentiment, I think anyone over the age of 12 would absolutely agree that this statement is unequivocally false. While love is needed in a lasting relationship of any kind, so is compromise, and passion, and laughter, and so many other things. Unfortunately in relationships sometimes love is just not enough.

And I found myself in that place recently – the place where the love remained but not much else did. I was in a relationship with a man that I loved and adored. And then things changed. We got in a fight that we could never quite recover from so I had to make the tough decision to end things. I won't lie. It was hard. Devastatingly hard. I had shared my life with this man. My dreams, my passions, but more importantly I had shared my children with him.

He put them to bed, he dried their tears, he cuddled on the couch to watch cartoons. He taught them things and was someone that they, too, had come to love. When things ended, it did not just end for me. It also ended for them.

So while I was going through the pain of healing from a breakup, I also had to break the news to my children. We sat down and I informed them that Mike wouldn't be around anymore. Of course they asked why and I stumbled through something to the effect of 'because we had a fight and we just aren't getting along.'

It took my breath away when Amelia piped up with "Just call him and tell him you're sorry." I don't know why I hadn't expected this because at our house everything can be fixed with "I'm sorry" or a band-aid. As I choked back tears I told her that sometimes it just wasn't that easy. Then Braden jumped on the band wagon. They took turns telling me how to fix it, but how do you tell your children that sometimes sorry doesn't work? That sometimes just because you love someone doesn't mean you are meant to be with them?

The answer is you don't. One day they'll find out on their own. As much as I would love to imagine that my kids will never experience heart ache or love someone that doesn't love them back, that just isn't realistic. One day, they'll figure out that life is hard and love is harder and I'm sorry doesn't always heal all wounds. But until then, it's up to me to let them know that while other people tend to drift in and out of their lives, I will always be there. That I will always love them, and for the three of us, love really is all we need.