Well, that was ugly.

Everyone warned me that there would be some quiet, unassuming moment where the divorce would smack me like a ton of bricks, and I would LOSE. MY. SHIT. My divorced friends, my mom, my therapist- it was pretty unanimous that it would come. I thought I was ready. I have had some ugly moments, no doubt- just ask Sara Lynn about those early days, around the fire pit. Court was awful. I almost passed out- my lawyer had to grab me and hold me up (and for his hourly rate, I DO NOT FEEL BAD).  There are moments. Small, innocuous moments. However, nothing like what I experienced last night. Yesterday morning I met with a photographer friend to get some family photos done. I have a few good pics of the boys and I post single hood, but nothing GREAT. I wanted fabulous. I wanted fall festiveness. And let me tell you, I got it. My gal Christine is extremely talented. It was cold, a bit damp, and my boys are almost three and five. There wasn't a listening ear in the house! I didn't doubt her talents because she did J's newborn shots, and a very entertaining, nose-picking, pond-exploring shoot almost two years ago. Pics? Gorgeous. Yesterday was no different. She shared this image with me.

I loved it. I thought it was amazing, and captured us so well. I didn't feel fat, I didn't think anyone looked disheveled- I just loved it with all of my being. I felt like it truly captured who we are. And then I. LOST. MY. EVERLOVING. SHIT. Sobbing. Boogering. Ugly crying. Unable to breath crying. Couldn't see but for the tears. This is my family. My beautiful, perfect in my eyes, family. And I am the head of it. IT IS ME. There is no co-parent visible, because there isn't one, and that is a-ok. There is happiness in my house, in my life, and joy in my heart. There's also a crap ton of laundry to put away and other such things- which truly means nothing in the long run. I wept for the could haves, should haves, and won't ever happens. Hell, I even CALLED A FRIEND. I don't particularly like to "have emotions" with others, I prefer to keep them all locked up, and function under a facade of normalcy. With this kind of grief, it wasn't happening. I could barely talk on the phone, and my friend seemed to just know what to say. I talked to my mom, and as always, got me (my mom is AWESOME), and reiterated that I was normal, and having an "artichoke" moment (long story, for another day). Once the tears finally dried, I looked at this picture again, and laughed. This is my family. I love them. 

And it is perfect.