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Tuesday, May 14, 2013

Happy Mother's Day



Henrik 5/2/10
A few days days before Mother's Day, at dinner, Henrik announced "Mom's the favorite mom in the world". Theodor then said, "wanna kiss you" and wouldn't take no for an answer. I was proud. I was happy. I know my boys are young and I'm usually the one who makes the cute holiday cards with hand and foot prints, but I wasn't going to do that myself for Mother's Day. So when my boys gave me a surprise compliment, I was thrilled and took that as my gift. 

Later that night, my mom pulled Hank into her bedroom and showed him what he was going to get me for Mother's Day. He came back into the kitchen a few minutes later and we had this cute little exchange:

H: Hey Mom?
A: Yeah, Buddy?
H: We shouldn't tell you you have a necklace on Sunday.
A: OK, don't tell me.
H: I won't.


Theodor 1/21/12
We have been struggling for months to get this kid to do his business on the potty but without a lot of hope, I kind of gave up on #2. But, the day before Mother's Day Henrik surprised me with poop on the potty! I couldn't believe it, I asked him if he had to poop on the potty, he said yes, and we went to the bathroom. I didn't expect it, but we came out of that bathroom celebrating! And who guessed that this was the best Mother's Day gift?! Well, to me, it was better than the impromptu compliments or I love yous. It was like he actually made an effort to do something that would make me happy! I know this because when I praised him for using the potty, I told him how proud I was, and that he was a big boy. And he asked me, "Are you happy?" I of course told him I was and asked if he was happy too. He said he was and gave me a little smile. It was such a proud mommy moment. I couldn't have asked for more.

On Mother's Day I woke up at my parent's house and my Step-Dad said, "Happy Mother's Day" and gave me a hug. I said thank you and went over to the couch. Hank watched us and then exclaimed, "MOM! It's your day!" I said, Yes, it is!" There was a pause and then Steve nudged Hanky. "Henrik, is there something you wanted to say to your mom?" Henrik looked at me, cocked his head, smiled and then said, "You're welcome". 

I just laughed. Yes, without him I wouldn't have ever become a mother. I wouldn't have sat on bedrest for 13 weeks while we tried to keep him cooking. I wouldn't have been in labor, yelling at my husband who opened a granola bar when the doctor announced that it was time to push. Without Theodor I wouldn't have been walking around 10 days past my due date trying to knock the baby loose, or suffered horrible back labor because he was sunny-side up. I wouldn't have had the joy of delivering a baby naturally and I wouldn't have been able to sit back and watch them learn, discover and enjoy life.

With My Boys

I think it's pretty clear that being a mom is no easy task. The hours are long, there is no pay, but the rewards are miraculous. I think you can never really appreciate the work your mom does until you become one and experience the sleepless nights, the tears, the joys and the successes of your children. I am proud to be a mom, I'm proud and honored to have two wonderful mothers who have helped me become an amazing mother to my children. 

With My Step-Mother, Anna

With My Mother, Deb
I hope you all took some time today to say Thank you to your mom for all of their hard work throughout the years, and maybe give them a little "you're welcome" after all, they wouldn't have become a mom without you. 

Happy Mother's Day



A Letter to the Last Ten Minutes of My Life

Most of my days are easy. Most of the days I create a lesson plan, come up with some activities for the boys to do and on a normal day I only have to issue stern warnings to "behave" or to "be nice". Today was one of those easy days as a mom. It helped that it was 80 degrees outside, that the boys could run around in their underwear, carefree as the grass tickled their bare toes.  And then, just like that, the world collapsed as we raced back inside to avoid a thunderstorm. In the five or so minutes that it took me to gather everyone into the house, run back out to get the beloved forgotten toys, come back in and take my shoes off, you would have thought we were having a horrible, no good, very bad day.  

In an instant my children and dog took over my life and I didn't have an exit strategy. With Henrik asking "WHY?" over and over again, I found my self going crazy. "Henrik, why don't you understand? Why do you keep asking me the same question? Why aren't my answers good enough? Why are you getting upset with me for not knowing why it's broken?" He, for some reason, doesn't find it nearly as annoying as I do when I ask all of these questions to him.


*I always answer truthfully to my children. If it's something that I don't think they are ready to handle mentally, or an issue that I'm not ready to address, then I give a truthful answer but something that lends me the opportunity to change my answer later. There are two things about being a mom that I cannot tolerate. Two, small and very insignificant things in the grand scheme of parenting that I just cannot handle: 1. When Thornado pulls my hair, you know, like the tiny hairs on the back of your neck that always fall out of the ponytail. When he grabs on to those I just, lose it. For some reason, I could deliver an eight pound child without drugs, but I cannot withstand the physical pain of hair pulling. 


And 2. When Henrik asks me Why? Or the same question over and over again. I give him some wiggle room when he asks a follow up question, but the repetitive same question or "why" comments bug me to the core. I try really hard to answer him honestly and take all of his questions to heart and he flat out ignores me when I give him a good answer and explain something to him.*


At the same time that Henrik was following me around the house asking why this random fishing pole from last Summer was broken in two, our dog, Delilah walks past me and I can smell this horrid smell: death. I have no idea what she rolled in, nor do I want to know, but whatever it is, it's stuck on her collar and it's now soaked into my skin and I too smell like death. I quickly usher her upstairs, she cowers and slinks up there taking her sweet time.  Henrik is locked at the bottom of the stairs, both hands on the gate asking, "Who broke my fishing pole?" 


I throw the dog into the bath, slam the door to the bathroom and wash as quickly, but as effectively as possible. I hear Hanky talking about the fishing pole in the background. The dog has some black substance stuck to her collar and in her fur. It is all I can do to not vomit over the smell. As I wash her (of course) her winter coat comes out in the bath and now I have to wash the tub and clean the drain, but because the boys are left unattended, that will have to wait until later. Which means I'll likely forget about it until I take a shower tomorrow morning. When I let Delilah loose, she instantly runs to my bed. I just shoot her a look and she jumps off and runs downstairs. 


As I'm walking down the stairs I'm greeted by Henrik who (I'm serious) says, "MOM! WHO BROKE MY FISHING POLE?" I open the gate to let the dog off the stairs, I answer, "HENRIK, I STILL DON'T KNOW" in a loud and serious tone, but that doesn't stop him, he asks, "WHY DON'T YOU KNOW?" in an equally loud and serious tone. But before I could get down to his level and have a fight with a three year old, the dog jumps on the couch. "OFF!" I yell at her and then, there was a CRASH followed by a whimper-whine. 


I run into the living room only to find Theodor had knocked over the lamp in a place where I couldn't save him quickly or easily. He was behind the end table and wedged into the wall. I can't reach him. I'm also blockaded behind a giant tub full of balls and balloons. The lamp is on an angle, Theo is holding on to it for dear life. He won't let go and stand up which would make the rescue much more effective. So, I balance between the balls and table trying to pull the lamp from his grasp so it doesn't break, but then, Theo starts laughing. A ball had landed on his legs during the rescue attempt. He started to kick it and laugh. Henrik wanted to see what was going on so he comes over (stands on my foot while still holding that damn broken fishing pole) and asks, "Why did he fall?". Delilah is seriously on the couch, getting it soaked, and I have to tell a 15 month old to stop kicking because he's about to knock over the entire bucket of balls on top of him. He knocked the balls out.


 I finally get the lamp out of his hands because he's distracted by the balls, but because he was running around in 80 degree weather and was only wearing underwear, the balls and balloons are sticking to him, still making it impossible for me to grab him. One by one I get the balls and balloons off of him and he's able to scoot his way out. I pick him up, put him on the ground and feel like I've just run a marathon. 


Once he's free, Delilah gets off the couch herself, Henrik puts the broken fishing pole down and Theo walks into the other room to play with the cooking stuff. It was all like it never happened. I on the other hand, look at the living room disaster in disbelief, sit down on a soaking wet couch and just start to laugh and wrote these letters:


Dear Henrik, I do not know why the fishing pole is broken in two. I do not know how it broke or why it broke. I do not know who is responsible for the breaking of the fishing pole or why one might break a fishing pole. And no, I cannot fix it. No one can. My answers of truth, like perhaps it was put away incorrectly, or because someone was careless with it, were good guesses, but alas, I cannot say for certain why it broke. Nor will I be able to in 5 seconds, 5 minutes or 5 years.

Dear Delilah, I am not sure why you get joy in rolling in dead things. I can assure you that your running away and not responding to my calls is more than annoying. I know you do not like to get a bath. I know you like the smell of death. I however, do not. I know that Mimi and Pop Pop have a large back yard with deer, foxes, bunnies and who knows what else, but I'm the boss. If you roll in death you get a bath. And no, you may not dry on the bed or the couch. And no, you will no longer be "free" in the backyard.

Dear Theodor, I understand you do not know your own strength, but when you lean on the lamp and it falls over trapping you between the wall, the couch and end table and I come running to your rescue, do not flail your legs so that you knock over the large rubbermaid tub of balls and balloons. It's not funny, and your sticky body is a magnet to latex and rubber. 


I cleaned up the mess of balls, threw away the balloons and took the broken fishing pole to the trash can outside. No one has asked about the balloons or the fishing pole since. 

Saturday, May 11, 2013

The 3 Ps

I, having two sisters, have never understood the excitement of the penis until I had sons. I do have a brother, but he mostly lived with his mom while we were growing up, so I never got to be around what I believe to be the potty-talk humor that has become my life. Once my boys found it, it's been a constant in our daily discussions. I was never really fond of using other words for the genitals and while my Munga called it "tinkling" I prefer to just call it pee. So, when Henrik and Theodor first discovered their penis, we called it what it was. No reason to hide it, I didn't want to shame it, I didn't want to discourage the touching of or playing with it. But never, NEVER did I think I'd have to talk about them all day long. 

From being naked, to potty training, to getting Henrik to poop on the potty, these boys have completely changed my outlook on the penis and being naked. They are matter of fact, so I try to give truthful, factual responses and since Eric isn't around right now to field these ones for me, I've got to do it on my own and someday my sons will find this mortifying. While potty training, I pulled out all of the stops: stickers, cars, candy, a bribe of any kind, but when that didn't work, I stopped and tried to think like a boy. I remembered when I was a little girl I played with a lot of boys, I wanted to be just like them and when they peed on trees, I wanted to too. But, it didn't work so well for me and I remember being livid that I peed all over myself when they quickly peed, put it away, and went back to playing. 

And Voila! 

To entice Henrik, I put Trix cereal in the toilet and asked him to pee on those standing up to make it fun. And fun it was. I've never seen that kid smile so much! When we were outside, I told him that we could stay outside and he could pee right on the tree! (It really makes my job much easier and he now aims for ants). I even let him pee off of the deck and we can watch the pee fall onto the ground (his preferred location). I thought we'd be done with the whole excitement since he was successful at peeing, but I was wrong. Pee, poop, and the penis have entered all realms of our life. For example:

H: I'm gonna hit in the nuts.

A: Who said that to you? 

H: I don't know. 

A: What does it mean, hit in the nuts?

H: I don't know. Why would you hit a seed?


This is language that I would never say and I don't think I have refered to them as "nuts" ever, but now that Henrik goes to school, he's promptly picked up on a few more terms, even if he doesn't understand them.  Or how about this one:

(Henrik got soaked in a super soaker fight. When the other kids had to go inside we went too. Henrik wanted to get out of his wet clothes so I stripped him down to his undies)

H: I wanna go back outside and play chalk.

A: But you're just wearing your underwear. You can't just wear your underwear outside.

H: (starts to take his underwear off)

A: (shocked) No! You can't go outside naked!

H: (looks at me like, have you got a better idea?)

A: Fine. Just go out in your undies.

H: (ran out the door before I could finish my sentence)


He has no shame, he just wants to play, he doesn't care if the world sees what his daddy gave him. But one day when our friend Hannah was going to come over, he informed me that he had to put his pants on "because you have to wear pants when girls come over". I agreed that it was a good rule and quickly got the pants. You see, most days, my boys just run around in underwear or in Theo's case, a diaper with underwear over it because he prefers to take the diaper off while running about the house yelling, "Fun-ny nak-id boys. Diaper off". 

Or how about my most recent favorite:

A: Hey, do you have to go potty?

H: No. Does it look like I'm touching my penis or my butt?

To this I had no reply. I just sit back and think, man, I wish Eric were here. It's not fair that I'm having all of the fun. 

And when we sit down to read books, do we grab the Caldecott winners? No. The Newberry winners? No.  We grab "Even Firefighters Go Potty" a flip book where all sorts of professionals take a break from what they're doing to take a poop. "Where's The Poop" an animal and child flip book where the parent asks the baby if they've "made their poop" and your child gets to flip the flaps to find all the poop. And "Everyone Poops"where we see all the different kinds of poop as well as a pretty graphic image of a child pooping. Yes, I purchased these books for my boys because all of the reviews suggested that they aided in potty training, but I couldn't have predicted the love for these books. Even the baby grabs these books, studies them, screams for them and then asks to pee on the deck. My boys bring these books to guests at our house, they want to read them over and over and over again. 

We have conversations about toots and farts (they do have to say "pardon me" after they do them), we run around the house having Naked Boy Time, we even have lots of photos of my sons playing outside in underwear, shoes of their choice, and a jacket. It's just become a part of my life that I didn't know about when I became a mother. Yes we had to make the choice about circumcision or not, but I kind of thought that was it. Now I'm explaining why your pee makes such a large arc in the morning and why you peed on your leg because you were sweaty. 

I never thought that having boys would be so, exciting? Is that the right word? I'm learning a WHOLE new genera of things that I didn't know needed to be explained. While some may cringe at this post, I've got to be honest, it's what I deal with ALL. DAY. LONG. I remember being a High School Senior and rolling my eyes at the Senior boys who could literally just say the word "poop" and laugh for hours. Well, I'm living that life now. Henrik even laughed when I said, "I have to do my duty" NOT talking about poop. Really?! He knows dooty? We've officially entered the world of potty training and all that goes with it. With a 15 month old that knows when he has to go, and a three year old that is pretty trained, I have a feeling I'll be checking the toilet for large ones, small ones and responding to cries like, "Mom! It's stuck! It won't flush down!" for several years to come. 

And while I prefer to have a few minutes of privacy when I have to go, I don't get that luxury any more, every time someone has to pee or poop in our house, it's a family event and we get to be excited and do the potty dance, sing a little song and even break it down. It's kind of fun to be that excited about life, and like the book says, "everyone eats, so, everyone poops". There's nothing to be ashamed of. 


Friday, May 10, 2013

Happy Birthday

On May 2nd my oldest son turned three. *Gulp* Yes. Three. I don't even know where to begin. I remember the day he was born like it was yesterday. I remember being in labor for 13 hours then finally being told to push. I remember his cry as he called out to me while they weighed him. That cry tugged at my heart and there was this unexplainable pull or exchange the two of us had. I remember holding him close to my chest as he nestled into my breasts. His first walk, his first tooth, his first word, all clear as the day they happened in my memories.


On his birthday, when I watched him play, I realized he was no longer a baby. When did it happen that this kid could ride a scooter or climb a tree? I swear, I turned my head away for a second and BAM he's a boy! I've noticed over the past week that his L's no longer sound like the W he was making before. Slide was no longer "swide" and Left wasn't "weft". He self corrected, no one said anything, he just knew that he wasn't doing it right. He started sleeping in his own bed (more often) he started to take pride in doing chores and helping me cook, clean or set the table. When asked to do something he'd reply "Oh, course. Sure". He took pride in being a big boy who could play with older kids and recognize letters and words.

Don't get me wrong, I LOVE the fact that he's growing up. It makes life so much easier now that I can have my hands full of shoes, toys, precious rocks and the baby, and I can say to Henrik, "Can you please open the door for me?" and he'll run ahead and get the door, smiling as I pass though. I love that I can have real conversations with him like when we were stopped by a train on our way home a few nights ago and he started talking about how trains got flat tires. I informed him that trains could not in fact get a flat tire and tried to explain the science behind the train wheel, train tracks and tires. He replied, "If you run over a hammer or a pork-o-pine, then you actually get a flat tire. And that's how flat tires happen". And with that, I had nothing else to say, but was stunned at his matter-of-fact attitude, use of logic and confidence.

But I miss the first six weeks of his life where I literally did nothing except lay on the couch holding him on my chest (sleeping or nursing) while watching all of the seasons of The Office and Law and Order. I miss the days where I would wake up to nurse him and he'd be wide awake ready to have a cooing conversation in the middle of the night. I look at him and while I physically see a boy standing before me, I actually see a sweet, curious, innocent toddler looking up at me trying to get me to figure out what he wants.


While Henrik was riding his scooter on his birthday I looked at my dad and said, "He's not a baby any more". My dad sighed, put his arm around me and said, "They grow up. But isn't it wonderful? You're raising an adult". I had never thought of it that way. Yes, Eric and  I had discussed that whatever our sons decided they wanted to be we'd support them and hope that they'd be the best damn whatever they wanted. But I never thought that I was actually shaping Henrik into a man. Scary? Yup. But man, am I pleased so far. This kid is cautious, curious, smart, empathetic, loving, kind, playful, proud, fair (unless he's around his brother), polite, adventurous and outgoing. All qualities I want him to have as a grown man someday. I'm teaching him about equality, fairness, rights, and the power of kind words. He gets that. Someday, he's going to be a wonderful man. And I'm so proud of that. Even if it means I have to give up the squishy baby cheeks and thousands of impromptu hugs and kisses.

So, Henrik, on this third birthday, know that while I'd love to hold you and never let go, I'm so proud of you for what you are becoming. I know the time will come when you roll your eyes at me for giving you a kiss, asking you questions about your significant other, or even talk about the good old days. I know there will be a day when I have to pass you off to someone else so you can be the man you are supposed to be, but for now, I'm going to live in the moment and I'll take as many fast kisses, snuggles on the couch, and games of cars that you'll offer up. I love you. Happy, Happy Birthday.






Tuesday, May 7, 2013

What Have I Done? Thoughts On Choosing Motherhood

I distinctly remember the night I told Eric that I wanted to be a mom. We had just come home from a wedding and were oohing and ahhing over one another, drunk on being in love. We were sitting on the couch discussing our lives and our life together when Eric asked me what I wanted to do with my life. I replied, "be a mom". He kind of rolled his eyes in a 'Well duh' kind of way and said, "but what else do you want to do?"

Ever since I was a little girl I wanted to be a mother. And a teacher. When I was older I wanted to be a mother, teacher, lawyer and work for the International Criminal Court, and work for an orphanage and be a foster parent and.... the list goes on. As long as it was something to do with children, I wanted to do it. I went to college and thought I'd enter into early childhood education but I decided it wasn't for me. So I worked towards a secondary education degree and specialized in History, Geography, Communications and Political Science. Are you noticing a theme here? That dream of being a mother was still the number one priority. And I decided that being a stay-at-home mom was the most important part of being a mom. I had been a nanny and while there certainly isn't anything wrong with working, I just knew that I wanted to be the one who, day in and day out spent all of those hours with my kids.

About a month ago my youngest sister came to town for a week long visit. In that time, she was bored out of her mind. She adores her nephews but the responsibility and exhaustion from being around the three and one year old wore her pretty thin. I wonder what she thinks of me? Does she see me and ignore my education and focus only on the stay-at-home aspect of me? Or does she see how I've become a "fun sponge" who would prefer to watch Psych and White Collar while drinking wine on the couch, getting in bed by 11 o'clock? Or does she see the hard work that I put in each second of the day to make life easier for my kids and me? Or to her, is it annoying that everything I do revolves around nap and bedtime?

My 10 year High School reunion is this Summer. In the last 10 years I've lived in four states, received a Bachelors Degree, got married, worked at a gym and two different Starbucks Coffee houses, worked as an Executive Director, moved six times, bought a house, remodeled a house, had my house flood, re-built a house, and gave birth to two children. I'm almost 28 and a stay-at-home mom. Something to brag about?

I'm not using my education, I'm not working for what I set out for but I am doing my dream job. I'm fortunate enough to get to stay home. I'm not a famous lawyer nor will I ever attend Law School, but I am a teacher. Just ask my sons, we "play school" all the time. According to my sons, I'm also a baker, a chef, a "good fixer", a "maker", a "book reader", a cleaning guy, a good driver, a boo boo kisser and a good snuggler. I am a mom. There are days I struggle with the notion that I do more laundry than a laundromat. That I am a mom who drives cars in circles around a handmade masking tape track more than Jeff Gordon. I am a mom who stays up late each night so I can have more than one episode of Bones to myself. Most of that "me" time is spent posting pictures of my kids on Facebook and scouring Pinterest and the Internet for activities for the next day.

My kids consume my life. I know I let it happen more than other parents. I choose to reschedule my hair appointment because my kids are melting down at dinner and I don't want to leave them with a sitter when I know they need me. I know there are probably 100 books out there that say I'm some kind of crazy for making appointments at 8 PM so I have a family dinner with my boys and get them a bath before I leave. But I'm sure there are 100 other books that say I'm doing it exactly right. I don't care what kind of parent you are. You are the kind of parent that you need to be for your children and your family. For me, that means I feel like it's MY responsibility to raise my boys to be educated, strong, compassionate, loving, driven, and happy. I don't want someone else to do it. If it means that I don't work for 7 years until the youngest one is in Kindergarten, then fine. I've been able to spend the best years of my sons' lives with them. And I'll have seen their first everything.

So, maybe I am a fun sponge, old, or not as decorated as my former classmates, but I have a rich life, covered in mud and sticky fruit snacks, decorated with finger paint, drool and Hot Wheels cars. According to Forbes a Stay-At-Home Mom would have made $115,000 based the different types of jobs they do and the number of hours they put in. While I'm not paid in any legal tender, I am paid in sweet words, cuddles, slobbery/snotty kisses and a love that only a parent can understand. I have two people who I not only created, carried, delivered, and nursed for a whole year, but, I have also shaped into humans and continue to nurture them so that they can be the best at whatever they choose to be. To me, that's the most important job in the world and I'm lucky to have it.





All You Need Is Love

In the past few weeks I've been faced with a few dirty rumors that I've abandoned my husband and that we are separated from one another. That is pretty far from the truth, but it hurt me anyway.

You see, Eric and I chose to live in different states back in January: we had a flooded house that was still under construction and needed to be sold so we could move to our next assignment, my husband was working the equivalent of three full time jobs, so I was by myself anyway, my mom was diagnosed with cancer, my grandpa was having health issues and honestly, I needed to get out of Winter in North Dakota. When we packed up the minivan I had a really hard time trying to jam everything in the back seat. I kept wondering if I was making the right decision, few will know what it's like to decide that it's the best idea to take your children away from their father so that their parents can take care of things like the flooded house that kept us financially handicapped. Or to take them away from their father so that they could bring a little sunshine into their grandparents lives when life got too hard.

Not many people have to make the decision to leave their spouse right in the middle of the strongest, healthiest part of their marriage. But I needed to be with my parents because I couldn't live with myself if I wasn't there to help out my mom while she was sick. I wanted to have my boys be around their grandparents who were taking shifts at the hospital every day to care for their great-grandfather. I wanted to help, and the only way I knew how was to be there. My Munga taught me, a very long time ago, that family is family. It's the one thing you will always have. It's up to you to keep it together and keep it strong. And no matter what, you do what you can to help out your family. This is what I was supposed to do with my life and things really couldn't have come at a better time; with the house being under construction, Winter dragging on for the fifth month, and cancer, it was the hardest, but best decision for my family. 

I've learned a lot in these past few months of being away from Eric. I've learned about my strengths as a woman, a parent, and a daughter. I've realized that I need some help from my partner in parenting, there are just things I cannot explain to my boys. I have fully and finally got to experience the luxury of having grandparents around for my kids from help with doctor appointments to Tuesdays at the park. I have learned that love is larger than what it appears and more than saying, "I love you".  

Love is a sacrifice. It is painful. It makes you patient. It is intimate and selfless. While in Michigan, my boys have shown me different kinds of love. Not many of you will understand the love of the three year old who while playing with his friends in a fort says, "We have to hurry. Fix up the fort so we can sell it to somebody else." When I asked Henrik why he had to hurry, he said, "so we can see our daddy". 

And I can't describe how painful it was to drive home from one of the best days of my son's life (seeing Thomas the Tank Engine in real life) and hear Henrik say, "I want to go to the airport and pick up Daddy". Or how much it pains me to see our 15 month old pick up a phone and say, "Hi Daddy. Want to kiss you".  But their love is not just for their father. Hearing them say an unprompted, "I love you" to their grandparents or seeing their joy when they wake up and ask where Pal, Gam, Mimi, Pop Pop, Chief and Grandma are. While not having them be with their dad is painful, it brings so much happiness to me, to see them actually bond with their grandparents, an experience that they wouldn't really have if we just visited for just a couple of weeks. 

A lot of people have made comments about how hard it must be to be us right now, yes. It's hard. But I have no worries or qualms about it in the end because I know that my family is going to be stronger from this whole experience. When you know you love someone you know that nothing can come in between you. When you know you're doing the right thing, love helps to ease the pain. And love keeps us going day in and day out until we can finally all be together under the same roof. I guess, Love is all you need.