My Story

When I was a kid, I knew I was going to grow up to be one of two things: a writer or a teacher. Nine years ago when I graduated from college with a B.S. in elementary education, I thought my career was set. I knew all I was going to do was teach. Through moving overseas, watching my husband deploy for a year, and having two babies two years apart, I still maintained my career. I even learned that kindergarten was my absolute favorite grade to teach. I never took more than a year off of teaching through all the transitions that occurred in our busy lives. Then we moved back to the States, and everything changed. Knowing that we would only live in Georgia for 8 months, I did not even try to work. That was my first time as a stay-at-home mom, and it took some serious adjusting. It sounds crazy, but I actually had to learn how to be a mom full time. I was so used to getting up early, getting the kids ready, rushing around the house to get everyone out the door on time, dropping the kids off at daycare on my way to work, teaching all day, quickly running errands when I got off work, picking the kids up from daycare, arriving home around 5, cooking dinner, waiting for their dad to get home, eating dinner, doing baths, then bedtime, and then I had the last hour or two of the day to do laundry, dishes, clean up the house, and go to bed myself. The days were packed full, especially on days that Tally had ballet. But we did it, and all the chaos somehow gave us routine and stability.  Then all of a sudden, everything stopped. Once we were settled in Georgia, I did not know what to do. My husband was still getting up early and going to work every day, but the kids and I had nowhere to go and knew no one. We also had the misfortune of choosing a house in the loneliest part of town. It was pure country living. Our closest neighbor was 100 yards away on either side and apparently had no interest in knowing us. We never met one neighbor the whole 8 months. I finally quit whining, enrolled both kids into a great preschool (although it was a solid 30 minutes away from our house), and began to figure out how to be productive and establish routine while simply being a mom. It took a month or two, but I did learn how to be a stay-at-home mom. Then, at eight months pregnant with baby #3, we moved again. We uprooted our entire family, packed up everything, said goodbye to the country living of Georgia, and headed to Kentucky. I had hoped to go back to work upon arriving in Kentucky because I knew we would be here a while. But who would hire someone who's about to have a baby? So I waited. My husband deployed for yet another year. I made friends. I actually got to know my neighbors (some more than I intended to), and when the timing was right, I tried my hardest to go back to work. I spent a whole afternoon perfecting my resume and another afternoon going from school to school to speak to the different principals. I felt confident that I had done everything I needed to do to get a job. What I had not counted on was thousands of other people doing the same thing. So I waited. And waited. I called a few principals every now and then to check back in, and everyone said the same thing: "We have no openings right now, but keep checking in." So I did. And finally, school started back at the end of the summer, and my heart sank as I stayed home. I felt fortunate to be able to take my daughter to school on her first day of kindergarten, but I wished that I had my own classroom to report to when I was done. I missed having my own identity outside of wife and mother. I loved my husband, and I loved my kids, but I yearned for something to do for myself. Suddenly, I remembered an email I had received from an old friend a year or so earlier, asking me if I would be interested in going into business with her selling skincare products. At the time, I had zero interest in selling anything and politely declined, knowing that I would not make a good salesman. But at this very moment, being unable to get back in the classroom but desperately wanting to contribute financially to our household, I pulled that old email back up and thought twice about what my friend was asking me. I wrote her back again and asked if it was too late to join her. She graciously and happily took me in, and that is how I became a consultant for Rodan+Fields. Just over a month into it, I cannot say that I am exceptionally gifted at this line of work, but I am still learning. I am not going to quit anytime soon. My husband is a skeptic (along with some others), and I accept this as a challenge to be even more successful at this venture than I ever dreamed. This is my story of how I became a teacher-turned-stay-at-home-mom-turned-skincare consultant.
https://lmartin5.myrandf.com

Beaming

As I write this blog today, I am literally beaming with pride. I think back on everything my little Maddy has overcome, and I could not be happier for her. From the moment she was born, and I heard the word clubfoot, I knew we had some challenges coming. My Google searches on that word later proved that I was right. The doctors also confirmed my suspicions by telling me that she would be behind with most developmental milestones.
At 3 weeks of age and casts reaching from the tips of her toes to the tops of her thighs, my heart ached for her legs that she was not allowed to use. How frustrating it must be to not be able to move your legs, I thought. How irritating it must be to not be able to stretch or bend your legs! But she proved to be a fighter, and she was the happiest baby I'd ever seen. It was as if she was telling me to have no pity on her, for how can you pity someone who's smiling? So we carried on, and the casts became just a part of her. They became such a normal part of our lives that her older sister even asked me one day why I had no baby pictures of her with her casts. She assumed that all babies had to wear them.
At 4 months of age, while still wearing casts on both legs, Maddy rolled over from her belly to back right on time just like the average baby. By 7 months of age, with the casts replaced by an uncomfortable brace that held her feet apart at an angle, she was sitting unassisted. By 9 1/2 months, she was crawling with her brace. By 10 months, she only had to wear the brace while sleeping and was in physical therapy. At 11 months, she was pulling up to standing. Soon after, she was cruising around the furniture. In the midst of all her incredible milestones that proved not to be as delayed as predicted, the doctors continued to express concern for her development. I was baffled and annoyed. How could they possibly see red flags when she's doing all these wonderful things?! My pride for her continued to grow despite being surrounded by naysayers, and she continued to be the happiest baby in the world. My first two children were not walking by a year old, so I showed no concern that Maddy was not walking either. She would get it when she's ready. And then one day she did. Four days shy of 14 months old, Maddy was sitting in the middle of the living room. She looked at the floor, she looked at me, and then she put her hands on the floor in front of her. She leaned forward, sticking her little bottom up in the air, and she pushed off. She slowly and carefully came to a standing position, and she stared at me with the biggest brown eyes I've ever seen. Her face showed pure concentration. Her arms balanced her wide stance, and she began to smile. Her left foot moved forward a few inches, and then her right. She plopped down to the floor and gave me a huge grin. I couldn't help but grab her and squeeze her with excitement. A mother is always proud when her baby starts walking, but my pride in that very moment exceeded anything I had ever witnessed. Two steps are hardly called "walking," but for Madison Grey, it's a huge accomplishment. And now it's only a matter of time.

A Year in Review

In 9 days we will reach our 1 year mark since my husband left for deployment. You don't realize just how long a year really is until you're smack dab in it, waiting for your companion/partner to return. He has missed A LOT! I have learned A LOT! The number one thing I have learned is that if it came down to it, I know I can survive on my own. Single parenthood is not fun or easy, but I think I have succeeded. All 3 kids are still alive and relatively healthy. That is the goal, isn't it? The dog stays on his bed all day, but he seems to be ok. The yard has about 18 different grasses and weeds growing in it with a bunch of bare spots where the dirt shows through, but the kids still enjoy it. I continue to mow it every 1-2 weeks. The van smells like something died in it, and for the life of me I cannot figure out what it is, where it is, or how to get rid of it, but the oil is changed, the tires are full of air, the tank is full of gas, and from the outside, no one would know any better. The oven sets off the smoke alarm every time I bake something (and I don't burn the food!), but I have the speed of Super Woman when it comes to turning it off before the fire department is alerted. His side of the bed is covered in clean laundry, but I know exactly what articles of clothing are in that pile. Easy retrieval is essential in the morning rush to get dressed. In his absence, he has missed 3 1/2 months of Maddy wearing full casts on her legs, countless trips to Nashville to see her orthopedist, 7 months of her wearing a brace 23 hours a day, 1 1/2 months of her wearing the brace only while sleeping, several physical therapy appointments across town, her first birthday, and every celebratory milestone she has hit along the way. For Hunter he has missed a 4 hour trip to the ER to get 5 stitches in the head, countless ear infections, surgery to have his tonsils removed and tubes put in his ears (with a horribly painful recovery, I might add), numerous nightmares, his 3rd birthday,  impressive temper tantrums, and all of the potty training (which I thought would never be done! Go me!). For Tally he missed all of pre-k, riding the bus to and from school for the first time, learning how to read and write, 2 dance recitals, 3 loose teeth (so far!), her 5th birthday, and it appears that he will miss her very first day of kindergarten. During his absence I endured a painful abdominal hernia repair surgery with a lengthy recovery and was forced to hire a full time nanny for a month just to survive. I backed my van into the neighbor's parked car. A bird flew into our house. Squirrels took over the attic. I handled Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, Easter, and the 4th of July without him. I conquered 2 LONG trips to NC to see family (thanks to the help of family who rode with me!). And he missed my [insert # here] birthday and our 8th wedding anniversary. As we enter the last week of our year without him, I cannot help but look back at everything we have accomplished and be proud. I could not have done it without the help of fabulous family, amazing friends, wonderful babysitters, and helpful neighbors. And coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. I can only hope that he fits back in without a hitch and does not feel like a stranger in his own home. One thing is for sure... we will welcome him back with open arms!

Imagination

When I was a kid, I spent many, many hours lost in my own imagination. I can remember playing house with my little sister for hours on end. My stuffed animals and baby dolls were all real, and just like in "Toy Story," they all talked and moved around when I wasn't there. In 4th grade I often played news reporter with my best friend, Jessica. One of us would look through an empty paper towel roll and pretend it was a video camera while the other one sat at the table and read made-up news stories. I just knew that one day I would be a reporter for real, or at least a journalist of some sort. My dad's house had a huge magnolia tree in the front yard, and I can remember playing under it countless times as a child. The long leafy branches made a fabulous fort. I also remember my older sister climbing it and getting stuck near the top. It was a a very tall tree. My Barbies all had names and varying personalities. My pound puppies were my real dogs, and I pulled them around on a leash. I also slept with the mama pound puppy one night with gum in my mouth, and I woke up the next morning with dried gum strung all over her head. It never came off. I had an amazing imagination as a kid, and it does my heart good to hear my own kids using theirs. I give Tally full credit for teaching Hunter how to pretend. She lives in a world of pixie dust, where arabesques happen spontaneously, and she probably wonders why everyone else doesn't suddenly twirl around unexpectedly like she does. As I sit here in the living room typing this blog, I can hear her playing with Hunter in the other room. The futon is a ship, and there are sharks in the water. I don't usually approve of them playing on my desk chair, but at this moment it serves as a boat that will roll them across the water to the island. Hunter plays along excitedly and is just thrilled to have his sister's attention and to feel needed in her imaginary world. I often find him playing with his cars, giving each of them a voice and playing out different scenarios like Tally does with her Barbies. That is most definitely indicative of her influence. It makes me wonder . . . did I have the same effect on MY younger siblings? Did I unknowingly teach my little sister how to pretend? Or is it something that comes naturally? Regardless, I am waiting for the day that one of my kids has an imaginary friend. Hunter  has an imaginary monster that seems to come and go, but mine was so real I can still see her face. Kristi Ernie was her name. She was Vietnamese and lived in the house down the street. She visited often, and when we moved to a new town, she still visited frequently. She visited, that is, until my mom sent her home one day. Kristi Ernie refused to get out of my older sister's bed, and we were arguing about it. My sister was NOT happy that Kristi Ernie was in her bed to begin with, so she was yelling at me to get her out. Finally, my mom came in the room, and for the first time, she spoke directly to Kristi Ernie herself. She demanded that she get out of my sister's bed, and she told her to go home. That was the last time I saw Kristi Ernie. I can only hope to have to speak to my own children's imaginary friend. That just might do my heart good again.

Loss

No parent is supposed to outlive their child. For the past 5 days my mind has been completely preoccupied with what a friend of mine is going through. We became friends in Germany. Our families traveled to Belgium together one weekend when I first found out I was pregnant with Tally. We often ate at a Greek restaurant together. My friend was always volunteering and helping other people whenever they were in need. I remember her bringing me Taco Bell one night with another friend simply because they were worried about me after I had a baby two weeks before our husbands all left for Iraq. And then this friend and her family moved away as military families tend to do quite often. We have kept in touch through Facebook but I have not seen her in a couple years. After they moved it was discovered that their 2nd son had a brain tumor. He was always so full of energy and silly. He endured multiple surgeries, chemotherapy, and radiation. He put up a good fight for two and a half years. And then last week, he died peacefully in his sleep at the age of 11. Although they still live in Germany (in a different town from where we lived before), the funeral will be in Indiana. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that their hometown in Indiana is only 2 hours and 45 minutes away from where I am now. I hope that I will be able to make it. There is a feeling of complete helplessness within me that I am so far from my friend, and I can do nothing for her or her family. As long as I can work out the logistics with my own kids, I will be driving to Indiana one day this week to see sweet Nathan laid to rest. I cannot imagine the pain and torment of watching your child suffer for so long, fighting so hard, and then losing him. The world is not supposed to work that way. Lyrics to one of my favorite songs come to mind....

"Lord, make me a rainbow. I'll shine down on my mother. She'll know I'm safe with you when she stands under my colors, oh, and life ain't always what you think it ought to be, no. Ain't even great when she buries her baby. The sharp knife of a short life. I've had just enough time..."

It's a bird!

Today at approximately 12:00 noon, I was standing at the back door of my house talking to Tally who was in the back yard. She was so excited that she had just witnessed soldiers jumping out of an airplane and parachuting to the ground. The door was wide open, and suddenly something swooshed by my head. I looked back over my shoulder and saw a bird flying frantically all over my kitchen. I love to watch birds when they are in my yard or in a tree, but apparently when they are inside my house, I freak out. I yelled to Tally, "There's a bird in the house!" and I ran outside screaming. A moment later the dog took notice and started barking at the bird. I slowly crept my way back inside to keep track of the bird's movements just in time to witness him pooping as he flew over the coffee table and living room carpet. Since he was still fluttering about, I screamed again and ran out the front door. Two of my neighbors happened to be standing outside, and one of them came running to the rescue. She offered to bring her cat to my house to do the job, but I feared that my dog would eat the cat (although he would probably just lick it). The bird had landed on top of a window by this point, so we brainstormed ideas on how to catch it. Just as Tally came in with a box, the bird took off again, and I screamed while running down the hallway. Apparently I am useless in a crisis situation. Luckily, the bird then flew out the back door and everyone was safe. No one was pecked to death. Phew!

Reading is good for the soul.

I absolutely love the feeling of finishing a good book. It is a feeling of satisfaction, yet, at the same time, a feeling of disappointment because there is no more of it left to read. Sometimes I wish a good book could just go on forever, and every night as I get into bed, I can look forward to reading it. The very end of the day is my most favorite time to read. All the daily chores are done, the kids are asleep, there are no interruptions, and I am able to read until I just can't keep my eyes open anymore. Rainy afternoons are great too, most definitely with a cup of coffee at my side. My most recent good book is Sweet Jiminy by Kristin Gore. I thoroughly enjoyed this book and read it in about five days from cover to cover. My house might have suffered a little bit while I took advantage of every opportunity I had to read, but it was worth it. Sweet Jiminy is the second book of Kristin Gore's that I have read, and I loved the first one just as much. She may very well be surpassing Jennifer Weiner as my favorite author. Now the never ending search for a good book continues as my last search comes to an end.