Fit For A Princess

2 new tiaras have made their way into my house …
One for each daughter to wear to the upcoming Daddy/Daughter Dance.

I am pretty sure these tiaras mean more to me than they do to Marco or either girl. They represent something I never truly had; an involved father.

I love my dad more than anything. I know he tried. I know he did the best he knew how, especially with his very weird work schedule (he rotated days and nights so we rarely saw him).
My desire, even as a 40 year old married woman with 5 kids, is to please him and make him proud of me. I still feel like a little kid around him; I want him to notice me. Everything single thing I do, I do for his approval.

Despite always asking, he never did anything like this (a daddy/daughter dance) with me. He danced with me once at my wedding.

He never went to my concerts, plays, games, … I’m not saying he didn’t give me extravagant gifts or life changing opportunities. He did. I appreciate each one more than you can ever know. Sometimes, however, it is little things that make the bigger impact on a person’s soul.

I love my dad and I logically know he simply struggles with showing his love for me (and everyone else). He thinks gifts are the best way to say “I love you” or “I’m sorry” or whatever emotion he can’t vocalize. What I always wanted and needed was for him to dance with me, come to my concerts, cheer me on at my games …
I still desperately want him to be proud and approve, but I fall short every time.

My dad and I have a story and it is ours. Most of it is messy, but there are some really nice parts too; like the one time he acted silly and he piggy-backed my down the aisle at my rehearsal dinner. It was completely out of character for him and it is one of my favorite memories of him. I accept our story, but it doesn’t mean I want the same story for my daughters and Marco is well aware of that fact. This is why this dance is ridiculously important to me. It is the girls’ first dance ever and they get to go with the best man in the world.

I always wanted my husband to be the dad who did things with his daughters, like dress up in ties and tiaras (which happens to be the dance theme) and dance the night away. I wanted them to have the dad who went to their concerts and plays and what-not.

They have all of that and more. They get nightly piggy-back rides to bed, special songs sung to them, random dancing in the living room, and so much more. The girls love their daddy and he is amazing at making time for each child (not an easy feat with 5 kids). They want to go to the dance and so he is bringing them. I confess I get jealous at times. Not bitter. I just wish I had what they have with their daddy.

This dance is the closest I will ever get to a daddy/daughter dance, so I although neither girl expected or asked for a tiara, I bought them each one. I will dress them up and put make-up on them and do their hair fancy and make them feel like royalty. I will love and cherish each second of getting them ready. I get to live my dream out through them. I hope one day they look back and see how very lucky they are to have Marco as their daddy.

Now excuse me while I go put one of their tiaras on while I do housework.

~Andrea
#bekindalways
#youhavepurpose

*written 3/28/18*

UPDATE:

The girls and their daddy. Be still my heart.

The 11 year old doesn’t like dresses so we shopped for a beautiful pants outfit. The top is so feminine and perfect on her!
They had an amazing time. The girls got to dance with their daddy.
The 8 year old was a social butterfly, flitting around and dancing with her friends. The 11 year old had a blast with her friends. They all did the Chicken Dance.

It might not have been my dance, but I love a man in a suit and had to get a picture before the moment disappeared.

Pain Tolerance

As a parent I am guilty of blaming myself for every bad decision my children make and every negative emotion they feel. I carry the weight on my shoulders and in my heart. I think most of us are guilty of this.
I just want my kids to be happy, well liked, have good manners, be successful …

One of my kids went through something very traumatizing last summer. The trauma impacted all of us deeply and I blame myself. What could I have done to prevent this from happening? What did I do or fail to do that created this reality? The questions are constant and run through my mind on auto-play 24/7.

The event was a big enough deal I asked Marco how he felt about counseling. I wanted someone who could help us handle our emotions properly, help me develop enough peace so I could sleep at night again, and guide us on new parenting strategies since my old ones obviously weren’t good enough.

When you are dealing with the aftermath of a crisis forgiving yourself, moving forward, realizing there was nothing you could do to change what happened, accepting the choice was someone else’s and you do not control their choices, or whatever else is holding you back is a long process. There is no quick fix. There will be good days and bad days. It is hard work.

There are sessions I felt were pointless because of my own mental blocks. And then it happened; a break through. In session I was able to realize pain tolerance goes beyond physical pain. It was all part of a longer conversation, and it was a light-bulb moment for me that helped at least a little. Everyone has an emotional pain tolerance and how they deal with it is based on how they are wired.

We do not think someone is less capable when they need pain medication for something we personally do not need medicine for. We realize not everyone can handle the same amount of pain. We accept that. So why is it hard to accept people also have different pain thresholds for their emotions?

We need to realize and accept not everyone can handle the same amount of emotional pain. Maybe you think their story is “nothing compared to…” but everyone’s story matters. We can’t know their pain tolerance so comparing it to anyone else’s is most unhelpful to them and you.

Why do I keep blaming myself for my child’s crisis? Each of my children were born wired to handle a certain amount of pain (physical, mental, and emotional). My one child hit a limit. There is nothing I can do about that now.  Now that know the limit I can try to teach them better ways to prevent hitting that limit and ways to handle it when they do.

Now to work on that forgiving myself thing ….

~Andrea
#bekindalways
#youhavepurpose

*originally written 1-10-18*

2018 Has Been A Long Year …

… and it is only February (at least it was at the time I originally wrote this. It is now April …). I really thought this long year would end when January ended, but February was January’s ornery younger sister. I was not amused.

Instead of wallowing I was doing the best I could to keep my head above the water. It has to get better, right?! I was at the point where I was able to do more than just tread water. I was slowly moving forward …

Then March came in and decided to put January and February to shame. That totally angered April, who apparently thinks she needs to show the other months how to really show the world what “craptastic” means.

I don’t even know which way is up anymore. I think the biggest slap in the face is I no longer have a therapist/counselor/person I word vomit to. I don’t even know why. He said he was in for the long haul. It ended up being a short haul.

I suppose I could find a new one, but honestly this whole experience enforced my belief to trust no one because everyone leaves.

So now that you know why all 20 of my drafts (yes I have been writing regularly) have not been published (it has been the longest year ever).

I want to discuss some other changes; namely the name. I needed a change. It is that simple. I had a temporary name (Sunshine & Daisies) until I could come up with “the one.” It just took awhile to discover the perfect fit, but I finally did.

My Patronus Is Coffee almost sums up my life perfectly. I figured “My Patronus Is Coffee With a Side of Posh” was too long though. Maybe that can be a subtitle.

I think I need a travel mug that says “Andrea Runs on Dunkin” 

I do not sleep. I function off my many caffeinated cups of coffee (because decaf doesn’t even deserve my side glance). Coffee keeps me awake, semi-sane, and mostly pleasant. When people visit they offer a cup of the hot elixir to appease me (OK I may be making that part up, but maybe y’all will take a hint).

So to sum up … this far 2018 sucks, I have no grounding anymore, I can’t be held responsible for things I say or do if you visit me without an offering of coffee … oh, and I changed the name of my blog.

~Andrea
#bekindalways
#youhavepurpose

PS I will get those other 19 drafts touched up and posted asap.