One more thing to shame people for.

One more thing to shame people for.

“……Because I post about how much I love my boyfriend on facebook, that makes it fake? Because I post that I make him dinner, that makes me a phony? If I don’t post about our fights that makes me a liar?

I have a different idea.

What if I really do love him and want the whole world to know it? What if that is because I am proud of him, of our relationship, and of the family we have built?
What if I want to spread positivity and show people that true love exists for everyone?….”

Read the full post at http://www.madidoesmotherhood.com/please-dont-shame-me-for-publicly-loving-my-boyfriend/

Don’t Date a Man With a Child.

Don’t Date a Man With a Child.

Don’t Date a Man With a Child.

Click here for the newest post by “Madi Does Motherhood”

Zuppa for the nostalgic soul

Zuppa for the nostalgic soul

I don’t cook because I’m perfect. I am the furthest thing from it. 

I don’t cook because I feel like every woman should do all the cooking and be put together all the time. Lord knows that isn’t me. 

I don’t cook because I have so much spare time that I don’t know what to do with it. I would nap, or drink. 

I cook because there is something so therapeutic about it. It is relaxing, and I am in total control. It is so much better for me than the things I used to do to exercise total control. 

But the best part about cooking is when you get to recreate a recipe that brings back old memories. For me, making zupa Toscana brings me all the feels. Back in college two of my best friends and I would make dinner every Thursday, and often other nights, before we would go out. By cook dinner I mean that they would cook dinner while I provided moral support, helped consume the wine, and sometimes chopped vegetables on the rare occasion that they wanted to trust me with a knife. 

We would blast music and dance around with our booze. There would be laughing and singing, horrible horrible singing. 

Zupa was one of our most cooked meals. It was a take on an Italian soup served at Olive Garden. Olive Garden was also special because that was our “hangover” food. As often as we could we would roll out of bed at 1pm,  try not to look at the light, and drive to Olive Garden for unlimited soup salad and breadsticks. 

So now on cold nights like last night when I need a warm pick me up, I start chopping potatoes and kale and make some zupa, because soup and memories can always warm your body and soul. 

   

    
 

Love is a Choice

Love is a Choice

I know you’re thinking I’m going to talk about choosing your sexual orientation or choosing who you marry.  Sorry about your luck, nothing quite that interesting.

I in fact believe that love itself is a choice.  I don’t believe you choose who you fall in love with or when it happens, I do however believe that staying in love and making love work are choices that you and your partner make,.

I choose to love Mr. F.  I choose to love him when he leaves the toilet seat up.  I choose to love him when he forgets to throw away his trash.  I even choose to love him when he forgets to buy me Christmas presents.  I choose to love him because I didn’t choose to fall in love with him.

And he chooses to love me when I’m too tired to walk the dog.  He chooses to love me when I complain about the extra pounds I’ve gained since the baby.  He even chooses to love me when I whine because I have a simple head cold.

We choose to love through dirty diapers, spit up, and sick kids.

The choice we make every day to love each other is not simple.  Its making a choice to forgive and sympathize.  Its making a choice to begin every day with a kiss and to never go to bed angry.  Its making a choice to surprise each other even when its something that seems small.  Its giving up on battles that seem insignificant just so that the other person comes out happy.

Love is hard work.  It is probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done.  Its definitely the messiest thing I’ve ever done.  There are fighting words, and lost hours, hurt feelings, and eyes filled with tears.  But I will continue to make the choice to love him until the day that I die, because doing life with him is worth every hardship and more.

I will continue to make this choice because even when I am upset over a fight we had, he is my person.  He is my person who will pick me up and dust me off and put me right back on that shelf looking good as new.

Love is a choice, and I make the right one every single day.