Bring Your Sexy Back

Speaking from experience here, the number one reason my libido has dropped over the years is because I just don't feel "it" anymore.  Not sex, I feel that just fine, but what I'm talking about is SEXY.  I just don't feel sexy anymore; Rarely, if ever, do I look at myself in the mirror and go, "Damn.  I'd do me."  How about you?  When I was preggers with Ladybug I thought I'd be this way, but to my surprise (and delight) I went back to pre-pregnancy size and shape and was delighted in my body's ability to "bounce back", so to speak.  Now, post-Butterfly-pregnancy, I have not been near as lucky.  The weight is gone, but the stretched out skin simply has no place to go and it leaves me feeling saggy and baggy and oh-so-lacking in the "I'm too sexy for my shirt" feeling that I used to feel in the bedroom.  It's not even just the physical aspect, it's mentally as well.  I'm so burdened by the lingering depression and stress and the everyday what-to-do's and what-didn't-happens...  It's overwhelming.  And I know I'm not the only one.  So many women I know feel the same way, I mean if you don't feel comfortable in your own skin, then it's pretty hard to feel sexually confident in the bedroom.  True story.


demotivational posters

One place I've found that really gets into the psychology of "feeling sexy" is this article at RedBook Mag Online called "Get Your Sexy Back".  They offer 21 ways to "tap into your sensual self".  Some of my favorites are:
5. Ditch the sweats. "If sweats have become your standard after-work uniform, then you are unlikely to feel sexy," says Sari Locker, the author of The Complete Idiot's Guide to Amazing Sex. You don't have to wear fishnets, "but buy some clothes that make you feel sexy when you're lounging, even if that's just a silky camisole and leggings."
     I'm the world's worst with this - I wear the same two pairs of blue jeans day in and day out (I do wash them.  Occasionally...), and if I don't have to work or go to town that day, my ass is happy sitting around in some baggy plaid or flannel pj bottoms and a tank top with no bra, often times with messy unwashed hair and yesterday's makeup.  I'm working on that!!!! *sigh* Moving on.

9. Make your most beautiful feature pop. Play up your eyes with a new eyeliner, or try a different gloss on your lips. Or, if you normally go natural, put on a little concealer. "When you feel beautiful, you feel sensual," says Debbie Mandel, the author of Turn On Your Inner Light. Take the extra three or four minutes to primp yourself and feel pretty — just for you
     This is something I used to do before "quality time", every time.  Fresh out of the shower, I would dab a little concealer under my eyes, a tad mascara and some nude-colored shadow (for shimmer), or maybe some light blush, and always chap stick for that fresh wet-lipped look.  I never do this anymore.  Again, working on that.

demotivational posters

10. Buy new underthings. Throw away those ripped, faded, you've-had-them-for-four-years granny panties and invest in some new underwear. The sexier, the better — but G-strings aren't required. New bikinis, boy shorts, or even basic briefs can make you feel special.
      Definitely my favorite.  A sexy new pair of panties can work wonders for my self esteem.  It doesn't have to be lacy or frilly or crotchless.  Something that matches my sense of style and my personality, but that's new and "cute" (cute is a relative term- take it the way you define it).  This is so important!!!

17. Change it up. Take an art class. Or book a last-minute weekend getaway. "Novelty is the greatest aphrodisiac," Gardos says. Switch up your routine to create spontaneity. "When you do something out of the ordinary, you're taking yourself off of autopilot, which creates excitement in your life," he says. "Excitement is always sexy."

One big thing is to stop tearing yourself down about that flabby tummy and stretch marks, stop beating yourself up over misplacing your keys and being late to work, or forgetting to pack the fruit slices in the kid's lunch for school.  You are your own worst enemy, and when it comes time to cuddle up next to you, those things are absolutely, positively guaranteed not to be on his mind.  He is just thinking about you, all of you, and how you make him feel, physically and probably mentally and emotionally as well.  So, if he's not thinking about all those other "little" things, then why should you?  Let it go and live in that moment!!!

I found another really great article from EverydayHealth.com here.

Since Butterfly's birth and passing, my relationship with the STBH (Soon-To-Be-Hubs, aka Mark) has strengthened immensely, however my sexual prowess has become nearly non-existent.  So tonight I am challenging myself, and hopefully you will do the same.  My vow is to try three of these things listed in these two articles over the next week and see what that does to increase my desire for some under cover lovin'.  Let me know how it works for y'all!!!

One Night Stand

A long time ago, I was laying around, flipping through what I'm sure was a Cosmo magazine (it's been that long, I really can't remember for sure), I came across an article about spicing up a love life that has gotten too comfortable. It was the same typical mumbo-jumbo that you still see littering the pages of the Cosmo to this day.

However.

There was one thing. One little idea that has stuck with me over all these years that I have never done, that I'm not sure I could convince any man, ever, to agree to, but that I want to try. I want to try it so bad. You wanna know what it is? It's gonna give you some insight into the way my mind works and how much of a freak I really am. So there ya go, that's your "Mature Content" warning. You sure you're ready?  Okay, it's not really that dirty, but still...  Here it goes.





taboo lounge - 123inspiration

Picture this- You're in the big city for the night, you had a business meeting and fly back home tomorrow.  You're sitting in the hotel room bar, sipping on a martini and catching up on your reading. You're dressed to the nines, that little black dress, those adorable little heels you never have a reason to wear. Hair and make-up immaculate. You are single, you are successful, but you are bored. You want to have a little fun, be a little spontaneous. And just as you're thinking, what could there possibly be to do, what risk could you take, just for that one night that would make you feel alive again. Something exciting, something new.

 And then, just at that moment, a man walks into the bar. He orders himself a cocktail and looks around, catching your eye.  A little smile as his eyes lock on yours. He accepts his drink and decides to take the chance, to walk over to your table for two, occupied only by one. He pauses, takes a breath and asks, "May I join you?"  You nibble your bottom lip, deep in the trance of the potential excitement that is lurking ahead of you.  The two of you make small talk, you laugh a little, and he just keeps staring at you, like you are the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. You both know what's happening, and you're convinced this is what you want, what you need to do.  This is that chance that you were asking for to just go for it, to throw caution and proper behavior out the window.  Not forever, just tonight. You're both on the same page, both young and free. So you invite him up to your room, and have an incredible night with this handsome stranger.

Only, here's the kicker. He's not a stranger, and neither of you are single. You're not even there on business. See where this is headed? I bet you do, you're a smart cookie.

That's right, it's your husband/fiance/significant other. It's a game, a role-play for the evening, just a little build up of lust and passion and excitement.  The two of you have rented a room for the night, and you left for the bar a little before he does.  Nobody knows you are together, you never break character, even once back in the room.  For the entire night you are strangers to one another, living only in the moment of bliss and passion and sexuality and lust.

That's my fantasy. That's something I want to do, and that I will do one of these days, if I have to roofie Mark to get him to agree...

Question: What do you want? What's something that's kind of wild, kind of crazy, kind of out-of-the-norm and out-of-the-box that you would love to explore with your lover?

Break that box, guys and gals. Be spontaneous :) and SHARE!!!! Don't leave me hanging here, I want feedback!!!

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As an added bonus, and because I have taken so long to publish this damned post,  I've been doing a little research. Need a little help vamping up your alone time with your significant other? Here's my little compilation from personal experience and the world wide web of little things you can do for yourself (or maybe to yourself?) to bring sexy back into your life!!!

Go to "Bring Your Sexy Back"

Pass Not Ye Judgement Here

   The soon-to-be-hubs and I (that's right folks, I'm officially not only married soon-to-be-divorced but also soon-to-be-hitched-again ;) Put that in your pipe and smoke it) went on a double date recently with one of my girlfriends and her new beau; An old friend of hers from childhood that she had recently reconnected with.  I had talked to her about a week before this double-date happened about how she shacked up with this guy for nearly a week, in a cabin, got snowed in.  Come on, you get the point right?  Things had been going quite well.  They really had a lot of chemistry and a real connection.  They shared a lot of things, including a somewhat dry sense of humor and a little bit of a twisted kinda state-of-mind (not in a bad way!).

   So the night comes that we have our date, dinner at a local bar/restaurant that Mark and I used to work at, then bowling at a little bowling alley just outside of town.  Dinner was fine, my friend, let's call her Jane, and her beau, we'll call him John, seemed to be getting along fine.  At one point after we had finished our meal, I pulled out my phone and showed "Jane" some pictures of our new terroris- I mean - Puppy (more on that later).  Then "John" pulls out his phone and is showing me some little e-cards and political funnies about anti-gun-bans and what not.  Pretty much Anti-Obama stuff in general.  While I don't always agree with these little posts I see splattered all over my Facebook News Feed, a lot of times I will share them or pass them along to friends because they are humorous or because I know that friend will find it to be true and would appreciate it.

   Anywho, we decide to leave, but we're going to stop by her house for a short before leaving to go bowling.  When we get there, "John" starts making lots of comments about welfare, comments about food stamps and medicaid and "Obama Phones".  Example:  "I outta quit my high paying with benefits job so I don't have to pay my own bills anymore" or "Too bad I work, I could get me ______ from Obama."  At this point I notice my dear friend getting a little tense.  See, here's some background:  She is a single mom, her ex (who is a close childhood friend of mine for probably the last 15 years) rarely has steady work, tends to be a bit of a screw-up, and isn't much help in the financial department.  She got lucky a couple years back and got a job working at a local business that her uncle owns.  She makes decent money, she pays her own bills, she keeps her house and her car in great condition, her child always looks nice and is well-bathed and well-groomed (let's face it, I'm from the country folks, you don't see this stuff a lot, especially in a single mom), and she always managed to eat healthy and exercise.  She is responsible, she works hard, but she's doing it alone.  Jane gets a small amount of food stamps each month.  Jane's son is on Medicaid.


   Apparently, earlier before dinner, they had got on the subject of government assistance, and finances.  John suddenly went from charming and sweet to obnoxious and condescending.  He basically turned up his nose at the kind of money she is making and tore her down for needing a little bit of help.

    So now my point;  Why is this such a bad thing?  There are people out there who are abusing the system- Selling their foodstamps for beer and cigarettes, using their welfare checks for drugs, living off the government for their entire lives because they're lazy and would rather work the system than make an honest living.  I get that.  But there are also people in this world, like my friend, who work hard and take care of their families but sometimes it's just not quite enough.  Sometimes, people need help.  Ask anybody who has ever been an addict, who has ever been depressed, who has ever been down on their luck or suffered a loss, needing help does not make you a bad person.  It does not make you weak.  It makes you human.

   Would you rather see a single mom out there busting her ass at a job 5-6 days a week and getting a little assistance from the government, or a woman raising her children with a man who refuses to get a job and just living off of welfare and being entirely dependant on assistance from others?  It's not the same thing, and yet they are both judged equally by so many.

   "How about you take your judgements and your big paycheck and your guaranteed overtime and shove them up your ass?" I wanted to tell "John" after I heard the full story.  I mean, how dare he treat her differently than he had for over a month because now he knows that she is on government assistance.  Sometimes, people just need help.  And if you are not one of those people, that's fantastic.  It really is.  But if you are that person who needs help, in any way, don't let people who are running their mouths tell you what you need or don't need, and don't you dare let them make you feel like you are somehow below them.  You are a good person, and being able to reach out for help when you need it takes an amount of strength that not everyone in this world has.  Hold your head up high, and shoot for the moon, because "even if you miss, you'll land among the stars".

I Am ___________ (Who Are You?)

So, as I scour the web for countless hours, reading every blog I can find looking for inspiration; to write, to clean, to love, to breathe, to live, to do whatever it is I want to do... I come across a writing prompt that the awesome lady over at You Know It Happens At Your House Too did.  Here's what she did, and what she challenged her readers to do.

Sit down, open up notepad or wordpad of office or whatever document program you use, or grab a pen and paper, or a stone and chisel, whatever, and set a timer for 5 minutes.  Just as she knows, I know that 5 minutes seems like a long time that you could be doing something else, something "more productive" or "more entertaining".  But seriously, it goes by really fast and you'd be surprised what you accomplish in that 5 minutes.  Do it for yourself, it's interesting what you might learn.

So you have your timer set, I want you to complete this sentence as many times as you can in that 5 minutes:  "I Am _________________."

Easy?  Totally.  Enlightening, too.  Do not proofread or edit it.  Just  put down whatever comes to mind during that 5 minutes, just roll with it.  You don't have to share this with me, but I would love for you to do so.  Email me, Private Message me on Facebook, or for the more brave comment right here in the blog or post it directly to My Facebook Page.  I hope you all take the time to do this, and to show how much I love and support all of you, very much, I'm going to post mine, not anonymously, publically, out here in the World Wide Web for all to see.

If anyone does choose to publically share, I request that any and all readers be respectful of whatever is admitted to here.  This is about opening up, freeing yourself from the confines of external opinion and judgement.  It kind of blows that if some ass hat decides to start trolling.  Well!!! Here goes:


I am Sheila.

I am a first-time blogger.

I am a mommy to a crazy, rambunctious, brilliant, and terrifying terroristic 4 year old that makes my heart dance.

I am a mommy to an angel, a sweet perfect little girl that will be 44 minutes old for all eternity.

I am a SURVIVOR of domestic violence- From childhood and a marriage.

I am engaged to a REAL man who treats me, and my daughter, like we are all he could ever need.

I am kind of crazy - Scratch kind of. Read: Bat shit.  It's genetic, and I'm pretty sure my parents worked hard to make me that way.

I was raised in East Texas and taught to say "yes ma'am" "no ma'am" "yes sir" "no sir" and PRAY when life gets tough.

I have failed the people I love, but I have also made them proud.

I am infinitely lazy- I try to do better but that motivation just escapes me.

I hate that I'm so lazy - It's hard to change that about myself, even though I really want to.

I talk too much - And usually when I'm talking I'm ranting about something, but it's because I have values and morals and I don't take those things lightly.

I want my daughter to have every opportunity in the world, and I'm so afraid that I'm going to screw her pretty little head up that sometimes I just try to avoid spending time with her.... Because sometimes I think that she'd be better off for it.

I get angry, and when I'm angry it's hard to shut it off.

I suffer from depression, every day and night, and it's hard not to let myself believe that I am as worthless as I feel most of the time.

I have people who love me more than life itself, and I love them just the same.  And it's scary, but it's beautiful.


So there you have it.  That's who I am, typed in 5 minutes, not edited or changed in any way.  That's me, and that's as real as it gets.

I really hope at least a few of you participate in this-- It's a great way to end a rough day, you don't have to focus on the positive (I didn't) but it's good to throw that reality in there, to accept the good and the bad.  It's kind of my theme of the year, Embracing the Crust and what-not!!!

Does This Diaper Make My Butt Look Big?

So I'm in a fit of emotion right now.  I just read a couple articles, it started with the mother of a 3 year old waxing her daughter's eyebrows.  One of the "Teen Mom" stars... And I use that term VERY loosely.  You can read this article here.  So I go from there to the video showing the 5 year old from "Toddlers and Tiaras" being forced to have her eyebrows waxed.  The mom saying that the girl had a "bad experience" and the wax was too hot and it "ripped her skin off".  You can see that video here.  And then I come across the worst one of all, here.   And 8 year old girl, getting botox injections from her "part-time aesthetician" mother.  An 8 year old, beautiful little girl, who is worried about wrinkles.  Fucking wrinkles.

I am speechless.  I am stunned, and in awe.  Recently, I've been paying more attention to the sexualization of young girls, and I'm not talking about men pimping out underage children.  It's much more subtle, it's much less in-your-face, and really it's become completely normal, completely acceptable.  I'm talking about parading young girls around in tube tops and mini-skirts, high heels and talking about wrinkles, or preschoolers wearing makeup, and it's getting worse.

Source: Total Life Counseling

These things are due to media influence.  You look at the female pop stars from the 80's and you have long flowy skirts and a little blush or lip gloss and some cute high top sneakers.  Then bring on the 90's.  You start seeing Britney Spears and everyone that follows.  We've got midriff-baring shirts, mega-cleavage that I don't have at 25 and they not only had but flaunted at 16.  They are wearing leather pants that may have just been painted on for all I can tell.  Stiletto heels.  Miley Cyrus "pole dancing" at the Teen Choice Awards (yes- I saw the video. And my liberal ass didn't even approve).

Even Barbie dresses sluttier.  Our society is so shallow and focused on the aesthetically-pleasing slim figures, big boobs, flashing as much skin as we can get away with.  When did this become ok?  When did we lower our standards not just for ourselves, but for our children.  Why is it okay to dress up your 8 year old like a "lady of the night" to send her to school?  And the beauty pageant circuit is only making it worse.  They don't promote anything other than the message that a little girl is only as good as she looks, that her entire worth to herself and everyone around her is based on her brow line, her jaw structure, her slim hips and flat belly.  There are 1st graders with eating disorders, for Christ's sake!!!  And we just go on about our business, because this has become the "norm".  This is what our society is- Pimping out our little girls for everyone's amusement, despite the deep psychological problems that are absolutely inevitable for children who spend their entire "childhood" watching what they eat and how they dress and how they wear their hair.

FUCK. THAT.

Let that little girl jump in a mud puddle, don't let her shave her legs before she is even allowed to use scissors without supervision.  Don't worry more about her messing up her hair than if she's enjoying herself, having fun, being a kid.  Maybe I should go to school to become a shrink, because from what I'm seeing that profession is about to experience a serious boom, I mean, how could it not?

We are telling our children that it's okay to care solely about your physical appearance, that everything else should come next.  Is that really how we want to raise our daughters?  To be botoxed up box blond bimbos who can't spell words like "you" or "that" and think that their only value is as arm candy trophy wife and that it's okay if they get knocked up before high school because then MTV will pay them a lot of money and they can go get $16,000 worth of plastic surgery they don't even really need.

I'm freaking out a little.  I like to dress up, I like to wear high heels and too much make up and low cut shirts and dance a little risque sometimes, but I don't want that to be the only thing I portray to my daughter.  My mom was the same way, she spent her summers wearing belly-baring tube tops and short-shorts with high heels and she kept her hair fixed and makeup done and body nice my entire childhood.  I did not start dressing like that until I was 18, and felt like I had the right to do so.  As a teenager, I walked around in big black baggy pants and long t-shirts sporting my favorite heavy metal band.  I read books and thumbed through Cosmo-Girls.  I enjoyed the glimmer and the glamour but I did not let it define me.  I defined who I was and who I wanted to be, through more than just the clothes I wore.  I listened to Stevie Nicks, and I listened to Britney Spears.  I listened to Black Sabbath, and the Backstreet Boys.  I snuck into my mom's room and tried on her dresses, long and short, and her high heels.  I played with my grandma's make up (although it was usually to pretend to be a ghost or a mummy-- the woman was pale...)

How now can we expect our children to come up with that broad of an influence when the vast majority of media is shoving the idea down their throats that they are only beautiful when they are perfectly conformed, perfectly sculpted by whatever means necessary, that "natural beauty" does not exist and what matters is only skin deep.  It makes me want to wrap her up in a poncho and lock her in my closet for the next 16 years.  My heart aches for her that there are so many people in our world that want to strip that innocent childhood away and replace it with "Diamonds are a girl's best friend" and "Really, you're going out in that?"

My heart is heavy.
My mind is angry.
And I just don't know what we can do to stop it,
But I know, we can't do it alone.

Also: Watch this about women who are dressing their daughter's up like Dolly Parton, or Julia Robert's role in "Pretty Woman" - yes, the prostitute.

WAKE UP PEOPLE.... THESE ARE OUR CHILDREN.  Let them be kids, for God's sake, and for theirs.

Embrace The Crust!!!

So I've been inspired by this amazing blogger that I read here - Doyin over' at Daddy Doin' Work wrote about the loss of his longtime friend, Wade.  In the post, he writes about needing to love the crust of people, including yourself.  So, in honor of the new year, we are going to admit to our crusty bits (not intended as gross as it sounds) and we are going to embrace them.  Prepare to be crusted!!  I'll start with me:

• I eat ice- Constantly.
  I list this because it drives Mark totally bonkers, but it's just a habit I have.  I mean, it's not like I'm on meth and constantly smokin' it up, it's frozen freaking water.  It could be worse.  Embrace that shit.
• I cuss too much.
  I'm not sure there's actually a "bright side" to this, and I tell myself all the time "I'm going to stop doing that" but I fucking slip up without realizing it.  Maybe one day, one New Years Resolution at some point. Maybe, damnit, maybe.
• I'm judgemental.
  I hate a Judgy McJudgerson, I really do.  But all too often I will hear/see/read something and I catch myself making a snap judgement on the issue.  I keep these judgements to myself,  I catch myself doing it and reprimand myself for doing it.  I hate when it happens.  But I have the best of intentions and the utmost respect for others in my heart, just sometimes that heart-to-brain wave takes a couple of seconds to catch up.  I silently repent, every time.  I love everybody, including their crusts. I truly, deeply do.
• I'm lazy.
  I wish I had just a little touch of OCD, just a smidgen to help kick me in the ass to get things done around here.  But my house is not "dirty", it's cluttered, and very lived in.  I'm not a person of filth nor do I enjoy living in that type of environment, and I am trying to get better.  The biggest problem is:
• I procrastinate.
  I'm definately an "I'll do that tomorrow/later/whenever" type of gal.  I'm actually getting better about it, sometimes.  Sometimes I do it just for the hell of it.
• I have no follow-through.
  I am the queen of unfinished projects.  Case in point, my Domestic Violence series.  I'm not done writing it, I'm not going to stop with My Story. But I always have this flash of motivation to do things and then that passes, not because it's not important.  I think this really falls deep into the "Procrastination" layer of my crust.  These layers are definately connected.

So I'm sure that's just the tip of the tip of the iceburg of my issues, but all in all, I'm really not such a bad person.  I love deeply everyone around me, and I have been a bitch and a bad friend and a bad girlfriend and a bad daughter.  Who hasn't had those times in their life that they look back on and go, "What the hell was wrong with me?"  But I don't live my life looking back with constant regret and sorrow.  I can take these things I don't love about myself and admit, "yes, I could be/do/say/act better or differently, but I'm me. And I'm okay with that."  Are you brave enough to embrace the crust?  Are you committed to loving the crust in others, as they should love the crust in you?

I dare you, all of you, the embrace your crust, right here, in this blog.  Leave me a comment below, or on my FB Page, telling me about you or your partners crust, just one thing, that is the not-so-glamorous, that you embrace, that you cherish, that you just put up with 'cause you love 'em.

GO!!!!

OH!! And Keep a watchful eye out for Part 2 of Embrace Your Crust, assuming my partner in crime *coughLIZZYcough* will ever write her part. ;)

A Complete Family (?)

So just when I think my psyche is calming down, that the waters are beginning
the descent from killer swells to a low tide, someone says something.  That little
side remark, not directed at or towards me in any way.  But someone says something,
and it just hits home.  It hits right where it hurts.

That's when the panic sets in, that's when I get that tight feeling in my chest,
that bubble in the pit of my stomach. And the bubble turns into a knot, and that
tight feeling in my chest becomes a pinch.  Then the pinch turns into a brick. And
then I'm sitting here, stuck in my head, which feels like it's spinning out of
control all poltergeist-style and I don't even know how to react.  So I just sit
here, stuck inside my head.  Not even trying to get out, just, dwelling on it.

"Do you feel like our family is complete?"

Reading an old blog, from a new blogger (new to me).  His wife asks him this
question.  If he feels like their family is complete, with just one child.  And it
hurts.  I have Ladybug.  And I have Mark. And in a sense, Mark has Ladybug.  I
don't have a "step child".  I don't have a point of reference for how he may feel
about the concept that she may very well be the closest thing to "his" that he may
ever have.  I don't think that I would be able to say "Yes, a step-child is enough.
I'm okay with not ever having my OWN child."

So now we're faced with the possibility that we can't have kids.  Not because he
can't have kids, or because I can't have kids, but because we could basically be
genetically incompatible.  That any child we try to bring into this world will
be plagued with Spinal Muscular Atrophy.  That, even if it doesn't occur in the
womb, that at any point during this child's life, he/she could have this
dibilitating disease that will ruin his/her life at some point, and eventually
kill him/her.  This is a terminal illness.  There is no cure.  There is no slowing
it down.

This means, he could have children.  But he may not be able to have children with
me.  And this hurts me.  And I can't imagine that this doesn't hurt him.  I cannot
fathom that he is actually okay with this!  I know he wants children, we wanted a
child (despite how unprepared we actually were for it) whenever we got pregnant
with Butterfly.  And we wanted a child while we were pregnant with Butterfly.  And
every morning I wake up knowing that we should have a child now.  A 6 month old
infant should be sleeping in a nursery just outside of our bedroom door.  An infant
who would be chubby cheeked with a full head of dark hair and those bright blue
eyes, just like her daddy.  She would be turning over and learning to sit up by
herself.  She would coo and ahh at us while we played on the floor during tummy
time.  And I go to sleep praying to God that we have that opportunity again.  But
I know that sometimes things don't always work out the way you want them too, and
that Mark and I may never get the chance to have our own precious little baby to
ooh and aah over.

I've had that before, and I will cherish those memories for as long as I am able
to.  And I know that even before I got pregnant with Ladybug, I longed for that.
And Mark - my God, if ever there were a man to be an amazing father it would be
him.  He was made for it.  He's calm and level-headed and gentle and incredibly,
amazingly loving and passionate and just so wonderful.  He deserves the chance
to be a dad.  And yes, he is Aleigh's step-dad (for all intents and purposes), and
he does not take that job lightly.  He treats my daughter the way he would if she
were his child, and this lifts my heart and warms my soul, really.  But I'm so
sad, for me and for him.  Together, and individually.  He deserved a child.  I'm
scared that one day, he will realize, no, no our family is not complete.  Our
family cannot be complete, because we can't have a child together.  Because he
can't share his genetics with a little bubbly bundle of happiness with me.  Or
simply because he can't enjoy that peaceful quiet warm time when babies are all
smiles and giggles and hugs, when it's finger-holding and diaper changing.  He
missed all of that with Ladybug.  She was already so smart and talkative and
independant.  She was nearly 3 when Mark and I got together.  Little, yes.  But
not a baby, not a helpless infant.  And that's such a magical amazing wonderful
time...

I want another baby.  I have got baby fever like nobody's business, and it is
a physical pain when I think too much about it.  And then I think, toss caution to
the wind and try again, but then I realize how selfish and stupid it is to think
that way.  But damnit, I want a baby!!! And I have a baby, and she is and always
will be enough, but it's human nature to want.  If I didn't have Ladybug as my own
little genetic mini-me, I would be stir-crazy at the idea of "No- Sheila- You will
never have a child of your own."  Maybe Mark is just that much better of a person
than me.  Maybe he really can handle it.  Maybe there are options, and maybe one
day we will be blessed with some fantastic opportunity to raise up a child of our
own.  It's just hard to be optimistic about this, with everything that has
happened recently.  With everything we have been through.

And that's why I'm stuck in my head.  Wanting to ask him, but not knowing if I'm
going to want the answer, or if one day the answer will change when he's older and
realizes that he's changed.

"Do you feel like our family is complete?"
"Is this good enough?"