Magnets are Magic

I am the stingiest person on the planet when it comes to my face products.  I have been blessed with fairly decent skin and have never seen the point in spending that much.  I would rather take my mediocre skin to an island in the Caribbean than slather myself with a tiny jar that costs as much as a plane ticket.

But if those products magically show up in my house as a gift, I am not above a little indulgence...after all I am a girl at heart.  In order to share in the fun, my sweet friend Sarah (or Sarita as N calls her) came over for a mini spa night.  It might have been the limoncello talking, but we decided that photo documenting our night was the best idea ever.

Here's us straight from work with our regular makeup on before we started any of the mask

 We removed our makeup and washed our faces before we put on the mask. 

After waiting the allotted time we used the magnet bar that came with the mask to remove it.  The bar literally sucked the mask off our faces pulling a ridiculous amount of nastiness out of our pores with it.  After it was all done, we massaged the rest of the oils into our skin and voila!  We were shiny and new with baby soft skin.

This stuff is AMAZING.  There is absolutely no way that I would have ever bought into the Dead Sea Mud Mask before trying it this time, but I think if I try really hard I can justify it.  Or buy it and forget the new boots I wanted this fall.  Who am I kidding? We all know I'll just buy them both.

I Didn't Know

I didn't know it was going to be this hard.

There are so many things about being a mama that are harder than I thought they were going to be, but this takes the cake.

When I got divorced I knew that we would both move on to new relationships.  I was truly happy when he got remarried to a lovely woman who makes him happy.  I expected it to be hard, but it never was.  It felt like setting each other free.  It was a little odd to see my daughter being taken care of by another woman, but I found peace to let it go eventually.

Or so I thought.

Today was my baby girl's first day of kindergarten.  We all went this morning to take pictures and drop her off.  I was totally fine with sharing that moment.  We all hugged Alaina and sent her into the classroom peacefully.  But it's not my weekend with Alaina so her stepmomma was the one to pick her up from school today.  In my heart of hearts, I am so happy that Alaina has so many people to love and protect her.  But not being the one to pick her up from her first day of school was brutal. 

From the time I found out I was having a girl, I dreamed of this day.  I pictured every detail from curling her hair and walking her in to scooping her up in the afternoon to hear about how her day was.  I imagined us, hand in hand, going to get ice cream as she told me all about her new teacher and all the friends she made.  This day has been years in the making.  And yet, here I sit, without my girl, tears streaming.  I am truly grateful that Amy had her call to tell me about her day; I know that she didn't have to do that and I loved hearing her excited little voice.

It should have been me.  I carried her.  I breathed for her and gave up coffee for her.  I panted through hours of contractions as she tried to make her way into the world.  I bear the stretch marks and the c-section scar where they pulled her out of my belly.  I pumped gallons of milk when she was in the NICU and cried the first time I nursed her at my breast.  I sat up with her in the middle of the night and rocked her back to sleep when she was fussy.  It was supposed to be me picking her up from her first day of school.  I know that sounds so selfish, I do, but it was supposed to be me.

Someone please tell me it gets easier with time.  My heart can't bear much more.  I didn't know it would be. This. Hard.

I didn't know.