A Precious Moment

Two a.m. rolls up on her like a tidal wave hitting the sandy shore. The child cries and screams until she opens her tired eyes and hurries groggily to soothe the infant. She falls asleep with the baby sprawled across her chest with a circle of drooled milk on her shirt. Exhausted, she carefully places the child back in her crib, careful not to stir her too much. She clumsily tip-toes out of the room, and slips back into her own bed, happy to get back to sleep.

It’s 5:45 a.m. and the alarm on her phones blares an annoying, high-pitched tone telling her that it’s time to start her day. She rubs her eyes, stretches, and checks her phone. Stiffly, she head to wake up the overly energetic 6-year-old and tells her it is time to get ready for school. After an hour of fighting, coaxing, and rushing the kid, they are finally ready to go to the bus stop. She is already overwhelmed from being tired, trying not to forget anything, and ensuring she remembered to have the child do her homework the night before.

When the bus arrives, her heart breaks a little. Not because her little girl is going off to school for the day, but because of the words that leaves the girl’s mouth as the bus comes to a stop – “Stop it, Mommy! It’s embarrassing when you kiss me in front of the bus!”

She smiles and waves at her daughter as she turns to climb the steps of the bus. When it finally pulls off, she slams her face into the palms of her hands and releases a few quiet sobs. She finally takes a deep breath, wipes the tears away, and pulls herself together.

Once she gets back to the house, the Infant is awake and ready to eat. She pics her up and the pain she felt at the bus stop was made better once those little arms wrapped around her neck and that tiny head layed on her shoulder.

Breakfast is served, eaten, and cleaned up. She puts the baby in the playroom so that she can take a few moments to sip her coffee and sit in her thoughts.

She continues her day – work, housework, bills, etc. At 4 p.m., she heads to the bus stop to pick up her daughter. She is excited to see the girl because she missed her all day. The excitement fades into more sadness when her daughter hops into the car and says, “Hurry up, Mommy! I have to pee!” She isn’t sad because her daughter has to pee, but because there was no hug, no “hello”, no nothing.

The rest of the night gets completed – dinner, homework, bedtime routine. At 8 o’clock, it is time to tuck the kids in.

She tells them it’s bedtime and follows them to their room. She first picks the baby up, hugs her for a long time, kisses her, and tells her she loves her. The she lays her down and gives her “cuppie” to her.

Next, she walks over to the 6-year-old’s bed. She tucks the blanket under her daughter’s sides and hands her stuffed animal to her. At last, the girl wraps her arms tightly around her neck. She says, “I love you so much, Mommy. Goodnight.” Then the girl kisses her and curls up in her bed.

That end-of-the-day moment, those goodnight hugs and kisses from her daughters is what she looks forward to every day. All of the exhaustion, heartache, and lack of free-time is all worth that one moment each night. She is no longer a servant, she is no longer an embarrassment. She is a super hero, a comforter, a mother.


Why Didn’t You Love Us?!

I remember sitting on the stand in the courtroom, my parents and brother sitting in front of me, the judge to my right. I held my tiny hand in the air and swore to tell the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Then, the judge asked me who my father is, and I pointed at my dad. He asked me if I would like to be his daughter forever and asked me when when I replied “Yes”.

I was about 6 years old when my dad adopted my brother and me. It is one of my fondest memories. As I grow older, I think of many questions I would like to ask my biological father.

Why did you leave?
Why did you promise to visit and not come?
Why didn’t you send birthday cards?
How do you sleep at night knowing you have two grown children that carry your genes but are not a part of you?
Why didn’t you love us enough to stay?
Do we have any siblings?
If so, are you active in their lives?
If so, why were they good enough to love but not my brother and me?

I often feel selfish for having these questions because I have the best dad in the world. Really! He adopted my brother and me, treated us as his own, and loved us unconditionally. He never missed a baseball game or dance recital. He was always there, and still is. He is absolutely wonderful and I am so grateful to have him. He took the place of our father, so why do I care so much about these questions?

Another part of me doesn’t feel guilty for wanting to know the answers because I know they will never be asked out loud. I am too scared to find him and ask him, I am scared of hurting my dad by finding my bio father, and I lack the resources to track his whereabouts.

The most important of the questions is whether or not I have siblings. I would at least like to know them or know their existence.

If any of my readers/followers have a biological father named Fred Nagle who graduated from Tunkhannock Area Highschool (Pennsylvania), please PLEASE reach out to me! His last known whereabouts was Florida 1996.

If anyone has similar stories, please share!

Working (A Little Inspiration)

Do you ever go to work with an assumption that your day is going to be bad? That you hate your job? That you have so many other things you’d rather be doing? I hear ya!

If you answered yes to any of those questions, it is probably because you aren’t finding much, if any, satisfaction from your occupation. In my opinion, that is purely your fault. No matter what your occupation is, find a way to take pride in it. If you work at McDonald’s be proud of yourself when you see that family of four smiling and enjoying the food you just made. If you are a janitor, be proud of the cleanliness you created. No one else did that. You did! If you are a Wal-Mart Associate like me, take pride in your customer service skills and how great your department looks. If you are a realtor, be proud that you helped that newly-wed couple find their dream home for under market value.

The point is, whatever you do, do your best. When you do your best, you get a sense of accomplishment and pride. The reason for this post is because of something that happened to me at work yesterday:

I ALWAYS go into work with a great, smiley attitude, even if that isn’t reflective of my mood. My task yesterday was to pick out all of the flowers and vegetable plants that were sad-looking or dead, mark them down to 50% cost, and place them on a clearance rack.

Because the weather has been so wonky here in Northeastern Pennsylvania, we lost a BUNCH of plants/flowers due to the frost. I, being a person who loves the beauty of each individual flower, was a bit saddened that we lost so many plants. Despite that feeling, I kept in mind that there are customers that like to buy these reduced plants and nurse them back to health.

I was marking them down while smiling and acknowledging customers as they walked by. Then came a customer that is one who likes to nurse the reduced flowers back to health. I engaged her in a conversation about these plants and how wonderful it is that she likes to bring the flowers back to life. As she was searching through the clearance rack, I took notice of the particular type of flowers that she was showing the most interest in. I saw that it was the Dhalias that she liked, so I let her know that I had just put two other clearance racks in the front of the store, one of which was nearly filled with Dhalias. She was ecstatic! She went and found a bunch more from those racks. When she came back, I rang her flowers up at the register. While doing so, she asked to speak with my manager.

From experience, I assumed she was going to ask him if he would be willing to reduce the price of the flowers a bit more. To my surprise, when he arrived, she raved about how pleasant, helpful, and deserving of a raise I am.

The point is, even if your work and positive attitude aren’t recognized, there are ways to make yourself happy in what you do. Even if you are seeking employment elsewhere, your attitude each day will make going to work bearable.

Whatever your occupation, keep up the great work! Maintain a positive attude and take pride in what you accomplish, big or small! You wouldn’t have a job if your employer didn’t need you or appreciate what you do!


I have always been a strong believer in one’s intuition, and I have ALWAYS trusted mine. Not sure what your intuition is or when it is “talking” to you? Well, when my intuition “talks” to me, I usually start the day with a knot in the pit of my stomach, I feel nauseous and anxiety takes over me. I feel nervous, but don’t know why. When this happens, I have learned that something bad is going to be happening at some point that day. I don’t necessarily mean I can see the future, but this feeling is super hard to ignore and is usually right. That is until I recognized it and started to be cautious of my actions and things happening around me during the course of that day. If I practice this, I can sometimes make it a good day if it was something preventable.

Call me crazy, but I legitimately trust my gut. Let me know if you experience this as well and tell me a story involving your intuition.

I Didn’t Love Me Enough

During my second year of highschool, I met my highschool sweetheart. He was funny and fun, and I liked that he was two years older than me. I was infatuated with him and our relationship. We lasted nearly five years together, but only because I didn’t love myself enough.
Everything was perfect at first, but most relationships are. Eventually, he started to back-hand me in my face when I did or said something that made him angry. It hurt me not only physically, but emotionally too. I thought ‘How could he love me and still hit me thay way?’, but it wasn’t enough to make me leave or call the cops.
Little back-handed smacks in the face eventually escalated into him choking me, punching me, kicking me, etc. As time went on, it seemed as though it became easier and easier to make him angry and I felt that I just couldn’t do or say anything right.
He also had a severe pornography addiction, but it didn’t bother me at first because he was still sexually interested in me. Just like the physical violence, this addiction escalated. He would watch porn and masturbate while I was in the shower, running an errand, and when I was asleep in the bed right next to him. This sickened me. I felt like I wasn’t enough for him and I must be fat, or ugly, or bad at sex. All I thought I knew, was that it was because there was something wrong with me. I eventually asked him timidly (for fear of being hit) what it was about me that made him need porn instead of me. I got hit anyway and he went into a fit of rage. Any time I tried to simply talk about the subject, this happened. He eventually started telling me that I am disgusting, I am fat, I am stupid, and that no one would ever want me so I was lucky that he was willing to put up with me. I eventually believed him.
I felt like everything he did and said to me, I deserved somehow. I managed to find a way to tell myself it was all my fault and no one else’s.
In 2009, I told him that I was pregnant and all of the physical abuse stopped surprisingly. Instead, the verbal and emotional abuse was worse and becoming more frequent.
I finally broke it off with him after our daughter was born, but the reason was not the abuse I suffered. It was him not having a job and not helping with the baby. Either way, I felt like I was finally free.
Turns out I was wrong about that. What he put me through during those five years of our relationship affected me for much longer than our relationship lasted. I went from that abusive relationship to the next and to the next and so on…
I had been choked unconscious by a boyfriend, I had bee body-slammed by a boyfriend, I endured so much more physical abuse and emotional abuse after that. I just wanted someone to love me. Somewhere along the line, I confused sex with affection. I felt as if someone slept with me, they cared about me. Common sense tells otherwise, but it took me a very long time to recognize it.
The man I married, Rondell, saved me in a sense. He showed me that love is about being friends, about touching each other in ways that are caring and tender, but not always sexual or foreplay. He showed me who I really am and opened my eyes about the world around me. He showed me what love is really about and taught me to love myself again.
My husband has never laid a finger on me, he has never called me any nasty names, and he has never said anything to me or about me that would intentionally hurt me.

PLEASE, if you are reading this and you feel stuck or scared in an abusive relationship, know that you are worth so much more! You DESERVE so much better. And be BRAVE, brave enough to call the cops and brave enough to leave. BRAVE ENOUGH TO LOVE YOURSELF!!!

Bows for Girls

About two months ago, I learned how to make different types of bows for little girls by watching videos on Youtube.com. After getting inspiration from these videos, I headed to Wal-Mart and chose just enough ribbon to make one style just to see if I was capable of making beautiful bows. The first one I did was less than fantastic, but I grew very passionate about making these bows.

After expressing my deep interest in this crafty hobby to my husband, he agreed that I should make an investment in supplies and try to sell my bows. That evening, I headed to the Hobby Lobby with my oldest daughter, Kaylee. There, we spent nearly two hours checking the store out as we had never been there before (I will have a blog review coming up of my experience at this store). By the time we left, I spent a little less than $200 on ribbon, embellishments, thread, and any other necessities I would need.

I started making bows every single night because I loved it so much. I was able to be creative while doing something relaxing. However, I noticed I was distancing myself from my family because I was so involved in my new hobby. That and the fact that I hadn’t sold even one ribbon were the contributors to my putting this hobby off. I posted photos of the ribbons I have made on Facebook Rummage Sale sites and people expressed a lot of interest. They even went so far as giving me a meeting time and place so they could purchase the bows they liked. However, each person either stood me up or cancelled on me. This frustrated me immensely.

Now, I make bows here and there for family members and friends, but I can’t bring myself to charge them for the bows. I do hope to find more time for this hobby and possibly having a table at craft fairs in the future. Here are some photos of the bows I have made:

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Blogging for the First Time

Hello! As of late, I have been exploring many avenues to find myself, to figure out who I really am, what my passion is, and figure out my talents. I am hoping this  blog will be one of my many talents. I plan to use this page for many things, such as stories and experiences from my life, my interests, and even some product reviews. I appreciate you taking the time to come here and checking out my page! Be sure to take some time to get to know me in the “About Me” portion. Please feel free to leave questions, comments, or feedback as every bit helps me out.