I wrote about how on Sunday we did things like Build Bears, eat popovers and lose our son in the mall for five minutes. I felt like a human again.

Well, let’s say that if Sunday was a hill day, yesterday was a valley.

But throughout the day today we climbed, each in our own way.

Since (how I mentioned previously) the other story is not my story to tell, I will tell you that while I woke up this morning not feeling great, I ended up feeling better and better as the day went on.

I danced with my son, all around his bedroom, to Ed Sheeran’s sick Grammy performance of “Thinking Out Loud” (featuring John Mayer, Herbie Hancock and Quest Love). We both felt so happy. I thought to myself, “Have I ever felt this happy before? Certainly I must have been happier than this little moment.” but I really was so filled with joy.

And then the best friend who made me an “aunt” texted to say that she was driving around, and asked if we would like company for an hour.

Yes!

So I got to see my little niecey and watch my son try to hug and kiss her, too shy to ever actually make contact.

And there were some other snapshots of tiny, wonderful moments (tasting an amazing date, fresh from Israel)

and some crappy moments (listening to my daughter cry because the ziplock bag that holds her little plastic My Little Pony dolls broke).

I was glad to just be able to chill with my husband, tonight, with some TV or a podcast. First, I would be able to catch up on my Bravo and E! shows while he went rock climbing.

And then, and yes, I am purposely being vague here, he got home and we held hands, as a team, and he had to face a source of stress in his life, and I made my intention, ahead of time, to not let myself become enraged.

I am an extremely calm person. Extremely. You would think that because I am so emotional and dramatic I would be having outbursts left and right, but I have raised my voice maybe a handful of times in the past decade. I never yell.

But, tonight, I failed at meeting my intention. The rage crept up inside of me, as a mixture of protectiveness and disgust, and I tried to just breathe through it.

Another thing I am is a lazy person. I don’t say this disparagingly. I am not lazy-minded, nor am I a lazy mother, but in general, I would rather be relaxing than running.

But after we dealt with the stressful situation, and I sat there, rage coursing through me, my husband told me that he had just heard a really cool new band on the radio. Saint Motel.

And he was excited about it, so I sat on the couch, under my blanket, the E! channel frozen on my living room TV, as he plugged the song “My Type” into our stereo.

And all of a sudden, almost instantly, I started to shake my head. It was super catchy!

We both sat for a minute, moving to the beat of the song, and then I realized, I wanted to dance.

“Do you want to dance?” I asked my husband.

“Sure!” he said.

We could dance it out.

And so we had a crazy dance party in our living room

and all of a sudden my rage evaporated.

I actually danced it out.

I think that this vignette would make for a better scene in a movie than it does for a blog post, as this story is more of a scattered diary entry than a moving call to action or personal confession,

but I think that’s OK. I give myself permission to share with you the fact that I had two dance parties today,

with my two main men,

and that they made me happy.

And, as so many of you have said, just take life day by day, sometimes even hour by hour, so that is what I am doing. And this hour is an hour to dance party.

So that I shall do.

And, because it needs to be said, I am absolutely no longer Marnie; after this past week’s episode of Girls I am, 100%, no going back, Jessa. She rocked my world this week.

See? This is totally a quirky diary entry.

Dear Diary,

Today I made up a few games with the baby and he ate two poptarts, a cheese omelette and a kale smoothie for breakfast. I also got to see my niece in one of my very favorite shirts that once belonged to my daughter. I got to hear praise about my husband and echo it.

I listened to Ben Stiller on Howard Stern and I found about this new band called Saint Motel.

I had the best date ever. Oh, and by date I mean the pitted kind, from Israel. It was outrageous.

I got angry, but then I danced it out.

XOXO Love Always,

Jessa

The post Dear Diary, Saint Motel and rage no more. appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

But I am also lucky enough to have an actual sister; She has appeared many times on here throughout the years, and although we don’t get to see each other as often as we would like, my kids adore her.

My sister and I are completely different. She is a stong, driven athlete and fiercely independent. She is an award winning journalist and her resume is extremely impressive. She is a vegetarian, a runner and she does not like to talk about her feelings.

But, the thing is, there are these things–these sister things–that outweigh all of the differences.

For there is no one else on this earth with whom I can discuss TV shows and characters and storylines like I can with my sister.

(Side note: As I am typing this, she just asked me if I had watched a certain reality TV show on Bravo.)

We have inside jokes that no one else would understand, and when we sing together, our voices resonate in perfect harmony. That is because we are sisters.

There are just some sister things. I can’t explain them. They just are.

 Last evening I got a song stuck in my head, but really, it was just about a measure of a song, one to which I knew not a single lyric, but I felt like I had heard it recently and knew that the only person who could  possibly help me was my sister. So I called her and said, “I have this song in my head and I have no idea who sings it but I think it is from a TV show or a movie and it goes something like this.” And sang a few “Dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun”s to her.

“It’s ‘Take Me to Church’ by Hozier,” she said, instantly.

There was not a second of hesitation. I ran to my computer and to YouTube and sure enough, she was spot on.

She couldn’t tell me where I had heard it recently, and then it hit me: It was from Tom Schwartz’s Instagram.

Fitting that this mystery song came from the social media feed of a Bravo network celebrity, or “Bravolebrity”, as they say.

But I don’t take it for granted, the sister thing, because as different as we may be, we also share something that I do not share with anyone else.

We look alike. Our voices are hard to tell apart on the phone. She was the first person I told when I found out I was pregnant with my son and she was the first person to take my daughter for a pedicure just this past weekend.

She knows things that no one else will ever know.

I may not always understand my sister, as we speak different life languages, but will always get each others’ melodies.

I always love her. I love her an incredible amount. And I know that the feeling is mutual.

I will always support her.

I will always be her number one fan.

And she will always be the person I call when I can’t figure out a song, when I can only come up with three notes.

Because she can figure it out for me.

Because it’s a sister thing.

The post Sister things. appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

The launch of the new website for Pearl Communications, my PR firm. It was actually the owner who suggested that I use Brand Revive and then ended up hiring them herself, with brilliant results.

A great phonecall with my friend who told me she would make a wish for me at 11:11.

Eating brownie batter (pre-egg) with both of my kids and having matching chocolate mustaches.

Discovering, accidentally, that over a half a year ago, a woman blogger whom I do not know nominated me for a Liebster award.

An impromptu visit by my grandparents so that they could drop off two new winter coats for my daughter, just because…

…and then my son falling asleep in my arms as we chatted; My daughter then climbed onto my other side and wrapped us all in a blanket and my Mommom and Poppop watched the three of us with sheer joy.

Getting a card addressed to “Aunt Becca”. #friendshipisthickerthanblood

Catching a phonecall with J, with whom I have been playing phone tag for two days, only to say, “I have to go in 7 minutes because I have an important call with a doctor and my kids are running around like crazy and I’m home alone with them.” and then hanging up on her when the doctor called, only to see her face at my front door 10 minutes later. She didn’t offer. She didn’t ask. She just showed up.

My husband coming home from work and saying, “I have something for you.” That something was not a traditional gift (it was actually a self help book to be honest) but he’s never been big on the traditional romantic gesture, now has he?

Giving my son his bedtime and kissing him twenty times before placing him in his crib. Giving my daughter her bedtime and cuddling with her, nose to nose, as she told me, “You are the best mom in the world and you make me so happy and I want to be with you all the time. You are super.”

Sending a goodnight text with a friend that was, incredibly, truly identical to the goodnight text she sent to me.

 Cozying up in a bathrobe and towel turban next to my husband on the couch as he played Grand Theft Auto 5; Bob Seger’s “Night Moves” came on as the background song and we sang it together, belting out, “…Waited on the thunder!”

Getting a video text from my dad’s secretary from their firm’s holiday party (which included margaritas and karaoke). Because it is the greatest thing ever. (Hint: Click the link below and allow Quicktime. You won’t be sorry.)

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Agreeing to listen to a kooky podcast before bed. Because that’s the kind of thing that girls do early on in relationships when they really like a guy and they say “Oh yeah, I would LOVE to watch that monster truck alien zombie space ninja action movie with you!”, which I think means that I still feel that way about my guy; I want to listen to something to make him happy because I really like him. Even though it’s weird.

Parenthood. And I will leave it at that, because I am not a show spoiler.

Holding my hot and crying daughter at 2am as she said her ear was “killing” her. I told her that she probably had an ear infection, like I have just had. “Awwww, mom, are you trying to copy me?” she asked.

I think that I am blessed to have had all of those moments, but, I think I am even more blessed that now,

because I can finally appreciate them.

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