Oil Life, Happy Wife

It's no secret that women are waiting longer to have children. When I was just out of high school, all of my friends were having kids. It was perfectly normal to start your family at 18 or 19. I almost had the jump on everybody, as I was pregnant for a while when I was 16. That just wasn't in God's plan for me at the time. While my friends were having their babies I was going to college. After college I started having some health issues that put extending our family in the back seat. After that, we just decided we weren't ready for a while. I ended up having my first son when I was 27. At the time, I looked at the 18 and 19 years olds and thought I had matured into someone who would make a better parent. To a certain extent I had figured out a lot of things that come with age, and I would be able to parent with purpose. I was ready. I had my own growing up done, and I could focus more on a child. It sounds like a beautiful thing. You wait until you have worked on y...

Once upon a time, mothers all over the country were taken for granted. No one understood or appreciated how much work went into being a mom. Now though, we are being inundated with memes on Facebook taking notice of all the various jobs that go along with motherhood. I stay at home with my kids, so I get it. I eat, sleep, and breathe my kids. So much so, I feel like I have lost myself in all of this. It's worth it though. I mean it's my responsibility to make it all about them. This phase doesn't last forever. I am fully aware of all the chores and tasks this particular job entails. My little blessings can be quite a pain in the butt. The other day I was reminded of a different kind situation that moms endure regularly but never speak of. That is the physical pain we put up with from our children. Generally there is lots of getting run into and banged on. There are pokes in the eye and bruises, and tons of pulled hair. The other day we decided to take the boat out. It was a...

One beautiful day in April 2015, I decided to lay out in the sun in the back yard. I was exhausted from having just moved into a new house. I was a month away from giving birth, and Jordan was at school. I had gotten a lot done that day, so I decided to treat myself to a little vitamin d to recharge. I changed into my swimsuit and set my chair up in the rather small patch of sun that shown through the trees into my backyard. I applied sunscreen and played music from my phone. I was in that chair for less than 20 mins when nature called. I went into the bathroom and as I was passing the mirror, something unusual caught my eye. I looked back in the mirror and stared. I thought maybe I was seeing spots from the sudden change of light. No, no, no that was my face. My face was covered in dark spots. Almost like giant freckles covering my face. Have you read the book, Freckle Juice? I felt like I belonged in that book. I called my husband frantic. His answer was the same as always, "Goo...

Why did I come all this way for him to be gone? What if I hadn't waited so long? Why did I take so much time for granted? What if I had tested just a few weeks sooner? Would it have mattered? Would he have wanted to see me? Why didn't he say something? Why didn't he tell them? I don't regret the life I have had, but I should have been there. All those photos of my sisters growing up...I should have been there with them. I was meant to be there with them in those moments and memories. I have time though, to be with them now, but not with him. Was it really my destiny not to ever have known him? Did I take a wrong turn somewhere and miss my window of time to be with him? I would like to think that his death acted as a beacon of light for me to find my sisters. I would like to think that in some small way I could ease their pain. I would like to think that one day I will know him. All I can hope is that he will be proud.

I am not photogenic. I have spent years dodging people with cameras. And while I love to take pictures, I hate to be in them. I am extremely critical of my appearance. I am a horrible combination of lazy and insecure. I spend most of my time in jeans and t-shirts with a messy bun and no make-up. I just feel that there are many more important things to worry with than my appearance. When my oldest son was three years old, I took him to go see Christmas lights and take a train ride to the North Pole to see Santa. We had an amazing night, and when it came time for his picture with Santa, I had an epiphany. Up until that point, I could count on one hand the number of times I had posed for a picture with him. In that moment I realized that if something happened to me, that would be it. There would be almost no photos of us. He was too young to have any memory of me. So while he was my whole world, there was no evidence of that. What if he had nothing to remember me by? At that moment I made...