It is 11pm and I am dead asleep in the middle of my bed. Husband is downstairs working. The babies are in their beds. When Gamma starts grunting. And moaning. Then crying. I groggily get up and step over to his crib. He gives me a huge gummy grin when he sees my face. I pick him up and hold him. I place my cheek next to his and rub his peach like head. I smell his baby smell and bring him back to bed with me.

I lay on my side and nurse him. The room is silent except for his swallows. I hug him close and beg for him to sleep. How is he already five months? How did it go by so fast? My perfect little boy is growing oh so fast.

I feel his perfectly smooth bald spot on the back of his head where he lays and hope he wont grow up too fast.

He comes home with his happy, cheerful attitude. I am cleaning and hating it. I am huffing and puffing about something that probably doesn't really matter. He walks up behind me and wraps his safe, warm arms around me. My first instinct is to always push him away. But lately I let him. I let him hug me. I let him love me. And I love him in return. Lily looks up to us as we do what Carrie Bradshaw calls the "hollywood kiss." I look down on her and realize. I had never watched my parents kiss. So I hug husband tighter and kiss him again. This is what life should be. This is love. We are happy. We are a family.

We were walking to the park. Gamma in the stroller and Lily and Moo next to Husbandface. The sun was shinning brightly. Perfect temperature, slight breeze. Cars driving by. Flowers open soaking up the sun and happy. I felt it. I felt the shiny happiness of summer. The way summer feels when you're a kid. Nothing can stop you or remove your smile. Because ITS SUMMER! Yay.

Then on a blanket and I nursed Gamma and watched Moo with her tongue hanging out I realized, I was happy. I honestly can't remember the last time I truly felt that way. Just sitting at the park. On a blanket. Watching Husband and Lily play. Life is good.

Some things I never want to forget:

cuddling with Lily first thing in the morning.

taking moo for walks while she is still so tiny.

nursing Gamma early in the morning with his chubby fist wrapped around my finger.

when Husband comes home from work Lily yells, "HI DADDY!"

walking toward Gamma while he is crying and he starts to calm down, he knows I will pick him up and make everything all better.

finding crafts Eric made while cleaning his room.

husband's kiss just before I fall asleep.

the way Lily says, "Ank oooo." Whenever you give her anything.

In two weeks Lily and I will have our birthdays. She will be 2 and I will be 25. Twenty five. A quarter of a century.

These are things I got Lily for her birthday:

Lily barrette

A water lily dress. Similar to this one but green with water lilies.

Husband wants to get her this.

I made her some dresses. And we will be in Seattle for our birthdays.

I don't know if I have told you how awesome my husband is. Husbandface, he is awesome. I do not know where I would be or what I would do if I hadn't ever met this man. When I am freaking out he says, "Valeta, calm down." And I take a deep breath and I start to calm down.

He is the one who noticed that I wasn't okay. He is the one who made me realize that I wasn't all healed like I previously thought. I needed help. I think it is hard when someone you love is going through a bad time. Even harder to tell them they need help. It would be easier to just ignore the craziness and hope it passes.

Husbandface excepts me for who and what I am. I could never ask for anything more.

Sometimes I'm wrong. Sometimes I've had a miserable day and I wonder how I am going to get through bedtime. Sometimes I think I am all better and then I cry for an hour.

Then tonight I put Lily in the bathtub while Gamma was in his baby bathtub next to her. She looked over at him put her arms in the air and called out, "GAMMA!" He giggled his perfect chubby cheeked giggle. And the sadness, frustration and stress melted away. She said his name a few more times. He laughed some more.

After bath when it was Gamma's turn for lotion Lily toddled over and said, "Loshun! Help!" So I put some lotion on her little hand and she rubbed lotion on Gamma's belly.

I hugged my babies close and loved that moment. It made my day.

I want this for my birthday.

I don't like having that sad last post up.

Happy things are happening. Eric will be home soon. He has been gone a month. When he is home I can't wait for a break from him and when he is gone I miss him so.

Lily turns two soon. TWO! My children are going up way too fast.

There is a reason I'm so relaxed about potty training. I didn't mind that Eric was almost 4 before he was completely potty trained. He still wears good nites to bed and his pediatrician and I see nothing wrong with that. Lily is not ready for the potty and that is okay too. She can stay a baby for a while longer. If you don't like to read or talk about poop please stop reading now.

I don't remember actually being potty trained. But I know that I have always had issues with poop. I hold it in as long as I possibly can. I don't like to poop. I feel dirty while I am pooping. I freak the fuck out if husband tries to come in the bathroom while I am using it. I honestly don't know why. Everybody poops. Everyone you see today poops. Poop is gross but a natural part of life. When I was young I would hold it in until my body MADE it come out. It was humiliating to end up in the office everyday in kindergarten and first grade because I had shit my pants. My mom had to send extra clothes to school everyday. She would ask me why I went in my pants and I remember mumbling, "I don't know." And its still the truth. I don't know why but I don't like to poop.

I was never in daycare as a child, but my mom always worked. I always had different babysitters. Many of these babysitters are probably the reason I am so messed up. At one point my mom's older brother lived with us. My uncle babysat us (my brother and me) while my mom was at work. My brother and I would watch TV all day and eat hot dogs while Uncle did whatever in his room. I would poop in my pants. I was probably 4 or 5. I would hold it in, hold it in. Ignore that feeling of "you need to poop." And eventually, my body would just make it come out.

Uncle would get angry. He would put me in the back yard, make me strip my clothes and hose me off like you would a dog. He would say, "You like being shitty? You like sitting around in shit?" I would cry. I would say no. He would make me clean my underwear in a bucket of water.

Most humiliating of all, he would lock me out of the house with no clean clothes for hours. My friends from next door would come out to their backyard and point and laugh at me. I would hide under a bush and cry and wish for life to end.

I hate admitting all of that. In fact, I am shaking right now just remembering it all. My children will never feel that way. My children will learn that poop is natural. That it is okay to poop. That accidents happen and that is okay. Most of all, they will never be humiliated the way I have been.

Hey HUSBANDFACE! Make valeta.net work.

Thanks.

A lot of things came up yesterday in my meeting with a psychologist. Bearing my soul to a perfect stranger used to be easy to me. I would tell anyone, anything. But after recent events I find it hard to trust anyone. After the meeting I felt kind of like a fish after it has been gutted. I was anxious all day after the meeting.

I told her about my mom and dad. I realized I have no perception of what a real mom and dad are supposed to be like. I was watching the duggars on TLC the other night and watching Jim Bob being a wonderful father to his daughters, I was jealous of his daughters. Why didn't I have a loving father? No father-daughter camp-outs for me. The occasional call or strange sporadic visit was all I got from my dad. Then I looked over on the couch next to me to see Lily on Husbandface's lap dozing and hugging him tightly. He whispers little lullabies in her ear. She is such a lucky girl, to have such a great daddy.

My husband has no real perception of what a real mom is like. His mom died when he was 4. His older sister and dad's girlfriends were his female role-models. Luckily, he has a great sister. So here we are me with no dad experience, him with no mom experience, trying to be parents. I think we make a good team. We have our moments where things are not perfect.

One of the reasons I think I feel so sad now is because I have a happy life. There is no worrying about money or abuse. So now my mind cannot relax because it is letting all the things that happened to me in my childhood flood back and bother me. I've tried to do the whole "happiness is a choice" thing. It is not working.

Today was not a good day.

Started out pretty good. Had a meeting with a psychologist so I got to shower and get dressed and get out of the house with no children.

Then I came home.

Lily threw some fits. Gamma cried. We all took a nap. That was really good.

Then lily wants to play outside and she destroys my best basil plant. I thought she was over messing with the plants. Sit down to feed Gamma and there goes the basil.

She takes the vacume apart and gets dirt everywhere. While I'm cleaning that up I step in dog poo. And I've been so good about cleaning after Moo. Gamma starts screaming again.

Sometimes I wish I could take a break from this job.

So, potty training = FAIL. Who decided to cut his first tooth the same day I wanted to start potty training his sister? Four freaking month old Gamma, of course. Neither went well. Lily peed everywhere except the potty. She did love changing those Dora undies everytime she peed. So maybe I should have gotten plain boring undies. I just don't think she's ready yet.

That's the one piece of advice I found useful about potty training. Wait until they are ready. When they are ready, it's pretty easy. Every kid is different so who knows when she'll be ready.

I hate breastfeeding teethers. My boobs hurt.

This coming week is sure to be an adventure.I have to stay home everyday until Moo gets her shots on the 14th. So I have decided tomorrow to attempt start to potty train the Lily. Eric was almost 4 years old before he was potty trained. And he still has to wear good nites to bed. But "they" say boys are harder. Lily follows directions well, tells me when she has pooped, and loves underwear. (Who doesn't love new underwear?) Haha. I gave her a package of tiny dora undies and she took them all out and put them on her arms.

Is it weird that I don't like the word "panties"? It just makes underwear feel dirty. Or that they should be covered in frilly crap. Or something. Anyhow, I don't like it.

So at one point when I was driving home from Phoenix I got sick of all the music I had with me and I started just scanning through radio stations and found a country station. I would say I listen to all types of music but some of the songs I heard were rather disturbing. One about how "she's rockin' the beer gut" WTF? Since when is a beer gut even remotely sexy? I literally could not stop laughing.

Another thing I noticed as I drove down the I-5 were all these signs that said, "congress created dust bowl". I wonder what they are about and who put them there.