You know that part that gets me in Sweet Home Alabama?  The “home Alabama” part.  Because as of Sept 1st, Alabama is home.  Birmingham to be exact.  It’s a little strange.  A little lonely.  A tad different.  A lot the same.

This summer has been just a whirlwind of activity.  Mike was asked to come to Birmingham for work.  He basically never came back.  Ok, he came back once, for 5 days.  The whole move happened so fast.  He went, he was offered a great position, he accepted, we moved.  Pretty much just like that.

Oh, can I tell you how hard it is to move with 2 kids?  Even with the moving company packing up our belongings, moves are just so stressful.

I am still stressed.  As I sit here in bed waiting for my Nyquil to kick in.  There are piles of our things all over our house.  A few random boxes left to be unpacked.  Pictures that need to be hung.  Everything needs to find a place.  A new place.  Including us.

Mini is already in her place.  She started pre-k 3 (omg so cute, details on that later).  Mike is in his place, working like crazy.  Baby J doesn’t care where he is as long as he is with me.  But where am I?   Somewhere between Birmingham – Naples and I miss my mommyyyy.

I do have to say that the way the moves happen so fast leave you little time to think.  Therefore less time to feel anxious or get nervous.  I really feel like moving from home to Naples a couple of years ago really prepared us to move this far from family.  I know Naples was only a 2 hour drive from “home”, but it still put distance between us.  Now there is a lot of distance.  A plane ride of distance.  Make that 2 plane rides.  Damn ATL layover.

But everything will fall into place.  I will remember which drawer I put the silverware in.  I will stop fighting with this new cable company.  I will learn how to pull my car into the sideways facing garage.  (Maybe.)  I will build a life here.  Because if this is where my family needs to be, well this is where I am.

Sweet Home Alabama.

I go to lower my body into the tub and I feel the burn on my hand.

The days have been endless.  Mini has been out of sorts.  Confused about our move.  Confused about Daddy being gone for work.  Confused as to why we are staying at Grandma’s while we sit in limbo.  She reacts as any three year old would.  By rebelling.  Each day feels like a lifetime.  Even with my mom helping.   She is tough and defiant.  She doesn’t listen no matter what.

My hand still burns.  A reminder of how she scratched me.  With a determined look in her eyes.  To show me she was the boss.  She scratched my hand.  Over and over.  Until all of the skin was torn and you could see little dots of blood.  I just stood there and let her do it.  Defeated.  Where is my white flag?  I couldn’t speak.  Didn’t try to stop her.  She knew she hurt me.  Physically.  I am not sure she understands how it hurts me mentally.  She is three, she cannot comprehend that.  Or can she?  After being yelled at and punished, she apologized profusely and gave me a hug and kiss.  But my hand still burns as I sit here.  A reminder of how I failed her today.  And many days.  How I don’t really know if I am doing this whole mothering thing correctly.  Is what I am doing working?  Should I try different approaches?  Where is the god damn manual?

These are the negatives.  The thoughts that don’t make facebook.  The photos that aren’t on my instagram.  The ones I want to bottle up and hide because I am embarrassed.  Maybe your kid doesn’t scratch you when she is angry.  With such a look of determination.  I cannot get the image out of my head.   So I don’t tell the story.  I don’t want to admit my failures.  I don’t want to admit that my days aren’t all sunshine and unicorns as social media might display.  Some days are dark, full of rain clouds and time outs.

And then I think, I cannot be alone.  I cannot be the only one fighting this battle.   So I am sharing.  Sharing how I feel outnumbered by 2 children.  That even with help, I still feel like I am drowning.  Struggling for air.  Desperate for a breath sometimes.  Feeling so emotionally and physically drained I don’t know where I will find the strength to give her a bath.   And suddenly she sleeps.  So peacefully.  Her face looks so angelic.  So I lay and stare at her.  Run my finger down her cheek.  Kiss her little pursed lips.  I created her.   She is my storm to weather.  I can do this.   The days may be endless but the sun will always set.  Every morning is like a fresh page.  A chance for new beginnings.   Tomorrow is a new day.  I welcome the opportunity to try again.  I will wake up ready to be her mother every day for the rest of my life, and I will go to bed grateful for the chance, regardless of what the day had in store.

The gift of flowers can mean so many things.

Happy Birthday.

Happy Anniversary.

So sorry for your loss.

Congratulations.

You’re better off without him.

(Well that floral arrangement better be gifted with a bottle of vodka).

If you have something to say, it can easily be said with a bouquet of flowers.

I said Happy Birthday to my Mom this year with flowers from a fabulous new company.

Have you heard of bouqs.com??

Did you see them on Shark Tank?

I did.

The owners kinda cute.  But that’s not why I picked them to send the roses.

I can lie and say I picked them because they grow all of their flowers on the side of a volcano.

But the truth is…they are gorgeous flowers at an amazing price.

The standard bouq is only $40.  Shipped.

Want to add a balloon?  Teddy bear?  You can’t.  And I love that about them.

No frills.  No fuss.  No tacky vases that I don’t know what to do with after the flowers die.

Just flowers.

Beautiful flowers.

That happen to grow on the side of a volcano.

Want to upgrade the bouq?  Go for it.

Double the bouq for only $10 more.

Oh hello 2 dozen beautiful roses.

Besides the fact that the flowers were gorgeous and incredibly fresh, I love that I can sign up for the concierge service and never miss an important event again.  Because if i have to slap a picture into a frame as I sit in the car in someone’s driveway before a birthday dinner one more time, I may scream.  I’d prefer to walk into the dinner and see the flowers I sent already on the table.  I need my hands free to carry in my children and the wine anyways.

Click Here to order your own bouq.

Send them to your mom, your sister, or yourself.

You can thank me later.