Thanks

Night before last last I laid in bed and cried.


Now...before you guys get all up in arms...especially those related to me, you should know know they were happy tears.


I cried because my sweet husband held me in his arms and asked me why I never gave myself any credit for being smart or pretty or wonderful.


He held in in the darkness as he told me how important I was and how much I was worth not only to him, but to our family.


Trust me, I didn't cry even a quarter of what I wanted to; however, I let silent tears roll down my cheeks wishing I could bury my face in the pillow and release all the poison that had been built up in my system for so long-all the negative thoughts, ideas, and comments that rattle inside my brain. Instead I allowed my slow tears and my bursting heart to purge the negativity.


I'm not sure I've really thanked God properly for my husband...but I did that night. I sure did!

Living in Paradise

So last week I made the first portion of "the move" this past weekend.

It has been a week and I can safely say that I have never felt more relaxed, or at least I don't remember a time when I was more relax and comfy. I really tought there would be a big adjustment period or that perhaps he would change his mind after living with us.

As it turns out, he is even more amazing than I knew. Because of his calm nature and the fact he is a phenom Dad, my kids are sleeping in their beds each night without complaint AND taking naps each afternoon. (Who are these kids and where did mine go. I don't really want them back, I just want to keep tabs on the little critters.)

There have been so many times when I have fought bursting into tears. Not because I'm sad, but because I can't believe I am so lucky. My kids are curling up with him and calling him Daddy (or Popi thanks to Dora) and his son is calling me Mom. Just thinking about them all running around on the pitch running and kicking the soccer ball around brings tears to my eyes right now. It's so natural and so amazing...there are no words, guys. There just aren't.

Anyway, I have to admit that it's going so well, the dark part of my brain has begun to try to sabotage me. At night, as this beautiful man is cuddled up next to me, holding my hand in his sleep, it begins to whisper, "Are you kidding me? How can this man, who is so sweet and patient and caring (not to mention hawt!) actually be in love with you? Do you remember being married to the "good enough"guy that decided that sex with other people was perfectly ok? What are you thinking girl?!"

Now I am lucky enough to be able to discuss this with people who can smack the darkness out of my head and then there is the lightness I feel when I tell MAT my fears. Having gone through a nasty break up with D's mom he understands, but there is something about being Colombian that makes me take things in stride and not dwell on the darkness in life. Ok, it might be genetic, but I still think it might be cultural.

I am determined to take each day and appreciate the hell out of it. 

Mi Amorcito

When I first saw this man back in October, I remember thinking that there was no way in hell he'd ever be actually interested in me. Just no damn way, people.  He's almost three years younger with three percent body fat and totally yummy. (I mean the accent alone, guys!) What in hell can I offer this man?!?!

Obviously a lot as it turns out because he has chosen me. Shut the Front DooR!!!

And better than that...he is all about me begin as girly as I absolutely want to be. In fact, he encourages me to get my nails done. I asked him if he thought it was a stupid expense and he replied, "Are you going to get them redone every 3 days?"

"Well, no; that's just silly."

"Then there is nothing wrong with you needing to get your nails done. It makes you feel good."

Sorry girls, he's all mine.

He is encouraging my weight loss and reminding me to eat (he used to check that I ate breakfast every day until it became a habit), but not because I'm big; because, "The kids and I need you around a long time, baby." I must say it's easy to eat well around him because he eats so well. Fruit, vegetables, rice, protien, smoothies...he likes good fod, but it isn't a NEED for him. Food fuels his body; it's not something he lives for.

Hummm...What a novel concept.

Actually, he asked me what I thought the other day because he was afraid he is getting too skinny. I told him that I would fatten him up soon enough with some good Southern cooking, but I wouldn't change a single thing about him. I have seriously never thought hip bones were sexy on a man until recently. Wow. Really.

Anyhoooooooo....

I feel myself blossoming under his light. I can remember once liking the feeling of being girly and feminine, but I stopped because it became passe'. I love the feeling of wearing dresses and feeling pretty...and I do. Where a majority of my life I always felt my weight (regardless of what I weighed) and felt awkward in pretty clothes because I didn't think I was pretty enough to wear pretty clothes.

For some reason I thought that pretty clothes highlighted my lack of pretty by drawing attention to myself instead of helping me become prettier. I know I'm not crazy and other people have felt the same way...right?

Now, as I stand beside him, I feel like the most beautiful girl in the room. Seriously. I do not notice who is prettier or skinnier or has a cuter outfit; I just focus on us and how good I feel around him. It's like the huge mountain of uncertainty disapears and I can finally relax into my skin. I have more fun. I smile more. I laugh more. I stress less. I fidget less. (This is HUGE in itself!) And all of these things are felt both with and without kids. I am as relaxed with all 3 kids as I am with just us 2. He just lets me be me and really loves it.

My cousin commented months ago that it was true love becasue I said I felt skinny around him. It's true. I do. I'm am never self conscious of my weight around him and when I've said I could wear something I've seen in a store window he has just looked at me oddly and said, "Why?" Like the fact that I'm probably around 70 pounds overweight has never really occured to him.

God, I love that Latin men like women with meat on their bones. Because while I may never lose all of this 70 pounds (even though I'm really trying and it's decreasing sssslllowllllyyyyyyy), he will still think I'm just as beautiful at a smaller size as he does right now. I mean...I'm going to get nothing but better!

Hell, I may be freaking impossible to live with by the time I lose a bit more weight. 


For example, I bought a dress on a whim. I thought it was pretty, but I would have NEVER even attempted to wear at any other time in my life...even when I was in college! But I bought this cute, lilac colored, strapless dress with ruffled tiers. (see below)

 I wore it out the other night with a little black shrug and wedge heels with black flowers onteh strapes and his eyes bugged out of his head. "Baby, this dress this dress!!! You look georgous!! Where did you get this dress!"

Don't ask me what anyone else was wearing that night. And don't bother asking his what anyone else was wearing because he proudly held onto me the entire night. I felt like a queen. I fetl like no one has ever made me feel before...I felt like my Pop finally wasn't full of total shit for the past 33 years...I felt beautiful.

Holy shit...I guess I am beautiful after all.  :)