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Tex Commando

I'm not angry, just outspoken

Tag Archives: Family

Isn’t it a funny word?

I am sitting here in my quiet living room while my girls are still sleeping, trying to think of something to write. I usually start by thinking of a title and then I start to write something, then decide that the original title doesn’t fit so I delete it then write something in this huge empty space then give it a title. This happens almost every time. This time I just decided to go for it with the original title that popped into my head. (Aren’t you glad you know all that?)

Anyway, I like the word momentum. It sounds weird when you keep saying it over and over and over in your head. If you keep repeating it, the beginning and the end of the word disappears. It just keeps rolling into the next word like a snowball rolling down the hill gaining


It’s even fun to type over and over again. Try it.

When I started writing, I had in mind the idea of keeping up the momentum of blogging again. Then I thought about school. I’m in school again and kicking its ass. Then I thought about my kids. SCREEEEEECH!!! The momentum stops.

Since I only have them with me half of the time, we don’t get to pick up speed once we get rolling. Every couple of days, the snowball hits a tree. Then we re-form the snowball and get it rolling again, and then BAM! Another tree.

It’s good. For the first time in my life as a parent, I don’t want momentum. I don’t want the snowball to keep rolling along without any help from me. I am appreciating the act of making the snowball with them and getting it going. The momentum turns into moment.

This tiny apartment is perfect for moments. Like, when Trystan and I discovered on Friday night that Vivian’s hamster was dying. It was just the two of us. The girls were out with friends. You should have seen him trying to feed it and make it drink water. He wanted to find out what was wrong with it. He tried to save its life to spare Vivian the heartache. Don’t think it was completely sweet. Because once he realized that the thing wasn’t going to make it, he asked if he could feed it to his snake. Uhhhhh….NO.

The kids are playing together. We are baking together, and creating memories in our new surroundings. It’s fun. It’s tight. They bicker, and I don’t have any choice but to hear it. They also cooperate and I get to hear that too. It balances out. We get into a groove and then it’s time to go to dad’s house.

Now don’t get me wrong- I enjoy cleaning my apartment after they leave, and it STAYING CLEAN FOR DAYS!!!!! I like hearing only the quiet hum of the refrigerator. The pillows stay on the couch. The shoes put away in their place. Blankets folded in the ottoman. Kitchen sink clear of dirty dishes. My own personal snowball starts rolling down the hill. By the end of the week, I’m ready for it to hit the tree. I’m ready to start over again with the kids.

This new routine is the new momentum. This new snowball’s momentum is gaining speed, rolling along. Sooner than I realize, it’s going to hit a tree. And it’ll be time to build another snowball with different snow on a different hill. Except it’ll be summertime. And there’s no snow in the summertime. So what’s a good analogy for the summertime? Eh, whatever. You get my point.


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Yesterday morning, my kids didn’t want to get up for school. Go figure. I usually go into the girls’ room and get them up gently ¬†first before I have to go all ape shit to wake up my son. The ‘baby’ was still asleep, snuggly and warm in her bed. I skooched her over and crawled under her covers with her and held her until she woke up. She felt so small and fragile in my arms. I remembered the first years of her life that almost every night we found ourselves in that position while she cuddled and nursed next to me in my bed. Those sweet moments were times that I cherished with all of my kids, but this one was special because she was the last one.

Then she turned two. There’s nothing in particularly wrong with two year olds. I actually love that age. The problem is that I became very dissatisfied with my life. I wanted to escape and I felt like I was trapped. I stopped eating, socializing with friends, smiling, talking, making eye contact, being present in my life. I was a zombie. I still went about my daily activities. I taught my Stroller Strides classes, worked out at my gym, ran errands, all-a-that. But when I got home, I shut down. It took all of my energy to do the other stuff, I had nothing left afterward.

It was during this time, while I was potty training the ‘baby’, I remember wishing out loud that she would just be potty trained already. Then in preschool, then in school, and only 16 more years until she’s outta the house. Once I stopped my shitty pity party, I remarked that I shouldn’t wish away her childhood because one day, I’ll wake up and she will be grown.

But it was HARD. Damned HARD not to want everything different. Hard not to wish I was living a different life in a different place with different people doing different things. 99% of the time, I failed miserably. I hated my life. As silly as it may sound, I tried to hide this from Mr. Tex. He’s a very intuitive person. He wasn’t fooled. He knew something was wrong, and was scared.

Have I mentioned that Mr. Tex is amazing? Because he is. He found out what my problem was. He made me deal with it. He helped me through the worst time in my life. I helped him through the worst time in his life. It didn’t take long for me to be satisfied with my relationship with Mr. Tex. That was the easy part. He loved me despite all the warts.

The hard part was dealing with the expectations and the shoulds. The kids expected me to be a nice mom. I had secretly started drinking coffee, and I was afraid someone would discover me. I was expected to fulfill a calling that I didn’t care about (compassionate service leader is motherfucking hard to do when you are depressed). I (guess) I was supposed to be happy chasing a toddler, homeschooling, cooking, cleaning, and chauffeuring, but I wasn’t.

Life is so complicated, it’s hard to say what event or decision was the turning point. It’s hard to attach a cause to what the problems were. It’s never so cut and dry. What I do know, is that almost three and a half years later, I am good.

Maybe it was all the yoga I have been doing that has taught me to take each moment as it is. To let go of my expectations about what I think I should be doing, and just allow myself to be where I am.

Maybe it was ‘coming out’ to my family and anyone else who enters my kitchen, that I drink coffee because I own a coffee pot. Or having drinks when I am out with Mr. Tex. Or writing it out on my blog for everyone and their child to see so I don’t have to pretend anymore, and so no one has to wonder what’s up with Tex.

Maybe it was deciding that I not only don’t believe in the Mormon church, I don’t believe in God. But the more I think about it, I realize that I never really did. Ever. So, it’s more of a return to formerly held non-beliefs.

Maybe it’s the return of Tex. Tex represents the person who is an open book. Tex has no secrets. Tex is uninhibited¬†and real. She cusses, she drinks, she flirts, she loves.

I lost years of my life during that dark depression. I realized the weight of that yesterday when I was snuggling my big girl in her bed. It reminded me that I have made a resolution. I resolved several months ago not to let a day go by without hugging them. I have kept that promise. It’s my way of remembering each of them the way they are each day so years won’t pass again without the memory of who they were.

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