With Tyler, I canвЂ™t because I was just three when he was born. That instant when you achieved a new understanding or appreciation. Sometimes you can recall a moment in your life when a lesson may have been learned.

These were not ancient times, but this was long before any one of us could whip out a phone to capture a moment, upload to Instagram, Facebook and Twitter, develop a hashtag #SiblingLove, email out to family and then send it to WalMart to have the image printed and mailed to your home, because this is a picture that you actually want a hard copy of too versus just a plain oleвЂ™ digital. He was my first real friend, first best friend. As the first born, Tyler can be credited for giving me the title of вЂњsisterвЂќ that I get to carry with me through life. Burned images from times cherished by family long ago. When I think of us as young children flashbacks of photos I have seen over the years come to my mind. I donвЂ™t really remember welcoming my Brother Tyler into the world. Be sure to subscribe to the Blog or FOLLOW my NEW Facebook Page. This is what motherhood did to meвЂ¦ and I kind of like it.Д®njoyed this post? Awe, thanks. Motherhood made me appreciate what I had and not what I wanted. Motherhood said your dishes can wait but your baby will grow if you donвЂ™t slow down and live in the moment. It allowed me to put things into perspective and see what is important. Motherhood gave me the ability to live more simply and love more stronger. I donвЂ™t feel like she was a selfish woman, she just didnвЂ™t know any different or better. Everything that defined the woman I once was, centered around perceptions. You see before motherhoodВ the woman I once was cared about things, but that is just what they were, things.

Motherhood made me a messy house baring, pizzaВ eating homebodyВ who would trade in getting all dolled up for a night out on the town for sweatpants and a movie, holding her baby. Rocked the ground beneath where she once stood. Motherhood took the former me and shook her up a bit. Someone on most days that I donвЂ™t recognize. Now I consider it a good day if my hair is not high atop my head in a messy bun, if both legs are shaved (yes, I have in a hurry forgot to shave a leg), and my goodness I felt like I went to the spa when I took some time to clip my nails and pluck my eyebrows. I made salon appointments for the latest ombre hairstyle, booked a manicure, did a little shopping, or a lot of shopping and always seemed to run out of time on weekends getting to do what I wanted to do. I once was a woman who found time for me. It was Fall harvest themed about two weeks ago. Now I consider myself extra festive with my new Spring flag in the front yard. Even the simplest of get-togethers included well-thought out themed menus, down to matching disposable plasticware. My home decor changed on the spot with the season. I once was a woman who made a fuss over presentation.

Now Fridays consist of heels off, sweatpants on, take-out ordered and if we are lucky, we last past 9:30 pm. Dinner dates never began before 7 pm and always ended with drinks and maybe even dancing somewhere with friends. I once was a woman who equated a good time with going out.

My bed looks like a teenage boy resides here (no offense!). Our laundry sits in the baskets so long that it wrinkles to the point that I have to wash it all over again. Now dishes are piled high as if the sink is just a storage bin. Clean dishes, folded laundry, organized cabinets and a made bed. I once was a woman who kept up with her home.

Jergens backwards