Short, but Oh So Deliciously Sweet

This may not be my only post for the day or it may. I'm supposed to be grading papers. I'm supposed to be writing a paper for one of my grad school classes AND doing an assignment I missed when the boy was in the hospital- all due tonight. I'm supposed to be doing a lot of other things but I just HAD to share these with you.....
These are like CRACK! They are so FREAKING GOOD! Seriously. You all know I've been on and off of the weight loss wagon these past few months, well, K introduced me to these a few weeks ago and I have not been the same since. I'm trying to think myself hungry just to come up with an excuse to eat them they are that GOOD! I've tried the caramel drizzle ones, as well, and they are almost as good. Delicious but not in the same way!

Try them.

That is all.

Sunday in The Park

Sunday dawned early....we began our day around 6am because there was lots to do and get ready for. Luckily, in all of my wisdom, I had prepared the night before. I knew exactly what the girl was wearing and what I was planning on wearing. I had packed the diaper bag, cleaned the car, and packed the girl's breakfast and lunch. I even pre-filled her sippy cup so I wouldn't have to worry about it in the morning. I was set. I rolled out of bed and was ready to go. Sort of. We headed out, made a quick stop at grandma's house to borrow a few navigational tools and then we were really off!

Our first stop on our journey? Luna's house. It was a short drive from grandma's to Luna's. But it gave me just enough time to worry that Luna was not, in fact, Luna the incredibly smart, funny, quick witted and totally kind mommy I had come to know in the past few months. The ride gave me just enough time to think that maybe we were driving into an ambush. Maybe Luna was really Larry and he was going to kill my daughter and I. Maybe, just maybe, this was all a set up and I was in for the worst surprise of my life. Not the case at all.

The girl and I arrived at Luna's and she came out and she was exactly what I expected. She was cute and nice and totally at ease with everything about herself and the situation. (Unlike me who was still waiting for Larry to jump out of the bushes.) We loaded up the car with her stroller and then her adorably sweet, friendly and funny little girl, L. We were all set. We hopped on the road and headed towards our destination- The Park. We were headed to meet more mommies, more kiddos, more friends.

Conversation flowed easily for Luna and I. I was so happy to have those moments to get to know her even better. It was so nice to be past those initial "first date" feelings because we had come to know each other so well through our writing and conversations. Luna is exactly who she puts out there through her words, whether they are blogs or comments or ims or whatever. She is completely real. She is completely intelligent. She is kind and friendly and has a beautiful heart. She is fun, too. She is exactly the person I want planning my 30th surprise birthday party and the girls weekend away. She is the person I would turn to for honest advice as well as comfort. She is city savvy and completely down to earth. She is the woman we all want for our friend.

The trip continued and we were moments away from our final destination when poor little L started to cry. And it was weird. Even I knew it was weird. Everything had been fine up until that point. The girls were enjoying Dora on the DVD and the moms were enjoying each other's company. Then L began to cry and she wouldn't/couldn't tell us why. Then it happened. This poor little curly haired darling blew chunks. All over herself. I felt so terrible for her. What a feeling!?!? Everyone knows that puking is no fun and it's especially no fun for a little one in a strange car in a strange place surrounded by strange people. We made a slight detour on trip and the kindness of strangers came into play. Luna cleaned up L as best she could but unfortunately she was left without any pants. A decision had to be made. Did we continue to our playdate or did we go home? Luna offered to just take the train but I could never, ever put a mom and her car sick little one on a train and go about my day as if nothing had happened. We decided we would hit the play date, briefly, and then head home. No big deal. We'd still get to meet everyone and say hello, it would just be short.

Our journey continued. We made a slight detour into a part of town that was not originally on our itinerary for the day but quickly found where we were supposed to be. We also found a meter free spot and made our way into the park. We were late. We were walking fast, navigating streets with one difficult jogging stroller and another stroller whose wheels just did not want to cooperate. Finally, our destination.

From a ways back I saw this red jacket. It was bright. It was on a woman. It was tailored. I loved it. I pretty much figured it was OHMommy. Why? Because I could see it was on a woman who was put together and easy going and looking fabulous in the midst of chaos. It wasn't. It was her sister, Kash. We came closer and there were kids everywhere. We formed this circle and the hellos and introductions began. A hug from OHMommy. A hello from Kash. A smile from two gorgeously put together blond OHkids who clearly belonged in the pages of a magazine. Things were looking good. Everyone was super nice and pretty much at ease.

OHMommy was better than expected. I'm not a hugger. It's just not in my nature. I don't know why. It just isn't. I'm especially not a hugger with people I barely know. But the ease with which OHMommy approached me made me feel totally comfortable. She has this "power" to charm and calm all at the same time. She has this aura of class and fashion and love for her family that is overwhelming from the moment you meet her. And that fact that she was wearing a gorgeous white jacket with two children under the age of 10 was amazing to me! We, again, fell into conversation easily. She asked questions with her distinctive and lovable midwestern accent, seriously I love that accent. She talked of her husband at home and her flight in and what they had been doing since arriving. She just oozed warmth and class in a way that I'm not so sure I've seen before.

OHMommy is probably the type of mom that would have intimidated me at a normal playgroup. She's the mom that I would have been nervous to get to know. She is gorgeous. She is put together. She is calm. She is friendly. She is amazing with her children. And she is friendly from the moment you meet her. She is the woman I want to sit and drink coffee with all afternoon and then have wine with in the evening. She is woman I want to sit with on the beach and enjoy the sun and chatting and watching our kids play together. She is the type of person who smiles and you know she likes you and you can open up to her. She honest and understanding and warmth all wrapped into a fabulously classy package.

Last but not even close to least is ConverseMomma, CM. CM is the only mom that I haven't spoken to in "real time" but she is probably the mom I feel knows me the best and I know the best. Not sure why, exactly, but I feel like there's a connection. (Not that there isn't with the other moms but I don't know, there's just something.) CM was there with her two beautiful children, Bugs and Butterfly, and her husband Simon, I mean D. ;) CM understandably brought her husband with her to our play date. Two kids. Traveling. WAY TOO MUCH! I had convinced my husband to take the boy to work with him because I just could not fathom bringing him with me. It just would have been too crazy wielding that double stroller and all the necessities and trying to keep and eye on him and still have a nice time. But I digress....so CM brought D, who was incredible with Bugs. Seriously great dad and I really think that all of the husbands would get along famously.

CM and I said our hellos and introduced our daughters to one another. They are only a few short months apart and they giggled at each other. I believe they even shared some dirt together but I can't be positive. It was adorable. CM was what I expected, too. Completely down to earth. Completely friendly. Completely normal- no freak there! She had on her trademark cons and was beautifully comfortable looking with her curly hair (totally envious), and her fabulous highlights! She was the mom I'd meet at the park and have over for dinner and future play dates.

CM is the woman I would have met on the first day of college and been inseparable with. She is the woman who I know I could call who would understand when I needed to cry, when I needed to laugh and when I needed to just be. She is the woman I want sitting in my backyard or on my front stoop with me drinking beer or wine and enjoying the afternoon and evening. She is the woman who is incredibly compassionate and kind and friendly. She is the woman who I know is there. She is the woman who would have my back in a fight and hold my hand through the scary parts of life. She is the woman I know would understand my fears about my children and rejoice in the momentous occasions with me. She is incredibly funny with a fabulous sense of sarcasm and wit. She is outgoing and fun. She is the counterpart I wish lived closer.

Our meeting wasn't brief but it wasn't long. The kids ran around. The moms talked of blogging and how we found one another. We talked of future meetings. We talked of continuing to talk. We talked of our kids and things that we all knew about each other. We just enjoyed each other. And then we parted ways. Luna and I headed back to our fabulous parking spot that was so good, I almost didn't want to give it up. CM and D and Bugs and Butterfly headed back to the train and home for the afternoon. And OHMommy headed into the park a little deeper and then off to the airport. Our meeting was too brief for our liking. But it was perfect in every other way. I am incredibly lucky to have found this community of women who is fabulously friendly, classy, outgoing, funny and just wonderful. I am incredibly lucky to add such genuine and endearing women to my circle of friends and I can only hope they share that.

Stop by each of their blogs and see their impressions of the day and of each of us.
LunaNik
OHMommy
ConverseMomma

Changing Plans

Our plans have changed again.

Plans change. It happens. It annoys me a lot of the time but I'm learning to roll with it.

The husband texted me earlier today- almost at the same moment I was hitting publish post for my Friday post- to let me know that our friends would not be coming over tomorrow night. She's a nurse and unfortunately, she was on call this weekend and got called in for a double tonight and tomorrow. That sucks. I was pissed. BUT it was unavoidable. It's her job. They would have rather been with us. They would have rather been eating the first ribs of the season (YUM) and drinking some "honey bears" and just hanging out. But work called and it's important. We rescheduled. Maybe next weekend if the husband can switch his schedule. And if he can't, that's ok, too. I have an offer for some visitors to come and spend the Saturday evening with me and the kids and maybe even bring some fondue....we'll see.

My point? Plans change. It used to really upset me to get canceled on. It used to drive me nuts when plans did not go as I had laid out. It sometimes still makes me anxiety ridden when things go awry. BUT something has changed. I don't know what. I don't know why. I don't need to know because the change is good.

Tonight, I didn't have to worry about getting to the supermarket and getting food for tomorrow and next week. I went to the supermarket but I didn't go nuts. Tonight, I didn't have to sit down and plan out what my day was going to be like tomorrow so that I could get everything done and ready for our guests. Tonight, rather than worrying about everything that needed to get done I laid on the couch and watched a movie. I drank some wine. We took the kids out, briefly since the boy still has a fever, for some ice cream and we even played outside for awhile before dinner. It was relaxing. It was what I needed. It was perfect.

Tomorrow, I don't have to clean. I don't HAVE to vacuum. I don't HAVE to chop tomatoes for bruschetta or season and slow bake the ribs so that they are ready when people get here. I don't HAVE to do anything except get up with my children and enjoy the day. Tomorrow, I can stay in my pajamas all day or I can shower, dress myself and the kids and head out for the day. Tomorrow, we can have some heart shaped waffles for breakfast or we can head out to the diner for a mommy and me breakfast. Tomorrow, the kids can play outside while I grade papers and do schoolwork in the backyard or we can bake cookies and do laundry. We can do whatever we want. All because our plans changed.

Yeah, our friends canceled/postponed our evening. An evening I was really looking forward to. An evening I had been planning since we invited them over. But you know what? It's ok. Our weekend is still going to be fun and great. The husband is going to come home tomorrow night and we're going to be able to relax and have a nice dinner together. The house might get cleaned or at least vacuumed and the tomatoes might get chopped. There won't be any ribs but there will be delicious dinner to enjoy as a family.

And then Sunday will come. Sunday morning will dawn and the girl and I will head into the city. We'll pick up our friends and we'll head to Central Park. We'll play and the plan is to ride the carousel and see the zoo and the sea lions and make new friends and enjoy each others company. That's the plan. They are calling for rain. That's ok. The plans can change. Who knows they may end up being even better than the sea lions?!?

Friday

I have a bunch of different ideas going around in my head right now and I can't decide what to write about. Should I write about the argument/discussion that the husband and I have been having for the past few days about appreciation and time off and the accompanying issues? Should I write about discovering the plethora of CDs that I thought were stolen with my car back in college and have re-introduced me to music I forgot existed? Maybe I should write about my Sunday plans in the city with my daughter and some fabulous ladies and their children and the nerves that currently accompany that outing? Or should I write about the fact that this day has not been fun so far and I'm hoping it gets better?

I'm going with the last one because the others will wait.......

I woke up this morning and I was feeling good. I exercised last night, which meant I showered last night, which meant I could sleep in this morning. My hair was ridiculous because I let it dry while I slept but it was nothing that a ponytail holder, some water and my blow dryer on low couldn't fix! I couldn't decide what to wear because all of my favorite white tees had been worn- or so I thought! I found one that fit perfectly and I threw that on with one of my cardigan sweaters, aka my teacher's uniform. And I headed out the door ready to grab my non-fat vanilla cappuccino Friday treat and enjoy my day because ALL of my classes were testing, forgetting I had NO GAS in my car! D'OH!

Ok, so gas had to be gotten. $50 later and my car was still not full....almost, but not completely. And now? No cappuccino....running late. Then I got stuck behind someone in one of those PT Cruisers who decided to ignore the 45 mile an hour speed limit and drive 30 the entire way into work. I made it to work on time and headed for the teachers' room to fill up the caffeine tank. I make my coffee and go to put the lid on. Our "fabulous" food service decided to order us miniature cups for coffee and therefore the lids we have don't fit. I proceed to make my way to my mailbox and spill coffee all over the place only to be greeted by the fact that there are 5 teachers our today! FIVE! That's RIDICULOUS!!!! My free periods? Somewhat non-existent because I'm covering classes. Ok, really, in the grand scheme this isn't so bad but it's Friday and it's been a long week, cut me a break.

First period rolls around and the first test of the morning. My students get to study for a bit, it helps. Tests go out and there is silence. They are concentrating. It's nice. I watch them like a Hawk. I DETEST cheating. HATE IT! A student calls me over for a question. The student behind him proceeds to crumple a paper, not his test paper, DUH. I get my first cheat sheet of the day. Fabulous! Test finished. Class over. Next period. Another class. Another test. No cheaters in this one. Test finished. Class over. Next period. Coverage. Seniors. They've checked out. They just don't care. And they're rude. Joy of Joys. I love teaching. I love teaching. I love teaching. I just don't like kids......

In the midst of all of this? The text message rolls in. It's from the husband. I know it's not going to be good news. It's early. He's working. The boy is sick. Fever. Great! The husband has given permission for Tylenol. Ok, good. My mind starts to reel. The past few weeks have been full of coughing. Not terrible coughing, but good hearty coughing. Now the fever. Is this the return of pneumonia? Or did it never leave? Text message back to the husband. Can he please bring the boy to my work for 2:30. I cannot leave today. We don't have enough teachers. I'm giving a test. I can't afford it. I'll lose pay. He has comp time. He's busy. He'll see. Seething now. Text message to grandma canceling our evening plans. We had family coming in tonight from Florida. We haven't seen them in months. I was excited. The kids love them. I love seeing them. Canceled. The boy is sick. I have a feeling we're heading to the pediatrician. That's the next phone call once this coverage is over. Once my lunch begins. Once this day starts to look up.

On the positive of all of this, because I'm doing my best to see the positives, it's Friday. It's Spring. Tomorrow is Saturday. We're having friends over tomorrow and now, my problem of figuring out when I'll make my supermarket trip for tomorrow's food is solved. Tonight, I'll be home. Tonight, the husband will be home. Tonight, the kids will be home. We'll miss seeing our family but we'll be together and I'll get to go to the supermarket without two children hanging off me or out of the cart. Tonight, we'll be able to curl up on the couch and watch a movie or two. We'll be able to enjoy each other's company and talk about the week we've had and the Friday that started to go bad but ended up going nice.

When Did This Happen?

This past weekend we purchased a small swing set/climber for the kids. The park is about 10 minutes from our house and the kids love it there but sometimes it is just too much of a pain in the ass to schlepp them over there. Plus, having this new "toy" in the backyard makes future play dates with friends and cousins a lot more fun and it also makes it a lot easier for us to have dinner outside and have the kids right there with us. There were a lot of bonuses and the thing was not expensive. Once we get the pool out, it will be a veritable happy land in our backyard!

So, these past few days the boy has been heading outside as soon as he gets home from school and playing on it. He comes in, briefly, for dinner and then right back out- unless we go for a walk. He seriously LOVES this thing and I am so happy we "splurged" and got it for them! We've been sitting outside with him and watching him but we've also been right inside with the screen door open watching him that way. When we sit and watch him from inside the house his inhibitions are gone and he is totally off in his own world.


The boy plays on his castle and creates this world of pirates and Dora and Diego. He imagines being on the ocean and sailing into the water while sliding down the slide. And as he plays he narrates everything. His mind going a mile a minute. He is fascinating to watch and listen to. And it makes me a little sad, but good sad.

Where did my little baby go? When did he get so big? When did he start using his imagination and making up stories? When did he become a little boy and stop being a baby and when does it all stop? I used to dream of the days when he would tell me he loved me, he does. I used to long for the days when he would be able to feed himself and handle his juice or milk on his own, he can. I would spend endless time thinking of the moments when he would dress himself and get ready all on his own, we're just about there. I wished my days away. I was there for all of that. I was there the first time he said "I Love you" back. I was there the first time he asked for a hug and a kiss. I was there the first time he opened his own juice box and proceeded to down it in seconds flat. I was there for all of those moments and they were wonderful but why did they go by so quickly?

Up until this point in the boy's life I haven't been able to remember the moments in my childhood that correspond to the one's he was experiencing. I don't remember being 1 or 2 and the milestones that accompanied those years. But, now, the boy is starting to use his imagination. He's starting to dream and create stories. He's creating worlds beyond this one and they are fabulous and exciting for him and for me. I remember those days of my childhood. I remember playing outside, by myself, for hours on end. I remember conspiring with my friends to create marvelous fantasy worlds where we played for days and days. I'm starting to get to the point where the things that the boy is doing are things I remember doing and it's incredible to me.


I can't believe we've come this far. I can't believe he's 3. I can't believe he's beginning to be able to read- he read the word ICE at the gas station tonight. I can't believe that the scrawny little monkey that entered our lives 3 short but long years ago is now a little boy who is growing up faster than I keep up with. It's so exciting to watch. It's wonderful to experience and live through. I am honored that he is my son and he's sharing all of this with me. It's melts me every time he says "I love you, too". It brings tears to my eyes when he tells me I did something really good because it means that he is hearing he does things "really good" a lot. It means we are doing things right. I adore when he showers his little sister wit hugs and kisses and begs to play with her. I just love all of this but I am afraid of how fast it is all going. I worry that I'm going to roll over one morning and it will be 25 years later and his first baby will be running into our bedroom to say good morning to grandma and grandpa. Again, I'm trying not to wish the moments away. I just sit and watch him and use my imagination, while he uses his.

The Moments to Come

So, we're going to this benefit on Thursday night. I feel like such a socialite when I say that. You know, like one of the Real Housewives of NYC. (Love that show! Crappy reality TV AT. ITS. BEST!) So, yeah a benefit. I'm excited. It should be a good time. I'm still trying to decide on a dress...I have this black one that I wear, well, to every formal event I go to. Which is not many. And I just bought a new dress. A Vera Wang. On Ebay. Tags on it and everything. It was cheap. I'm excited to see how it looks. We'll see. But I just made an appointment to have my hair done. I figured, I saved a TON of money by buying off Ebay- seriously, the dress was less than $60 bucks- instead of off the rack (not that I would have bought Vera Wang had it not been on ebay) so I can afford to get my hair "did" for the evening.

ANYWAY, I made this appointment and the very nice woman at the salon informed me that I should bring any accessories I may want in my hair with me. Ok. No problem. No accessories needed. I want something simple and classy. Not 1996 junior prom, giant curls on top of your head and annoying ringlets at the side of your face that go limp before you even get to the dance. Just a very simple up do that I can't do on my own. Appointment made. Excitement building.

I hung up the phone and started thinking about accessories. Not because I was planning on using any- in case I didn't make it clear, I'm not. But because I have this pearl comb in my jewelery box at home that is probably the only accessory I have EVER worn in my hair that was really completely decorative and pretty much non-functional. I wore it on my wedding day.

When I found my wedding dress, I was surrounded my mother, my godmother and most of my bridesmaids (I had 10). We all knew it was the dress when I put it on. I still get goosebumps thinking about that day and about the dress. God, I love my wedding dress. Seriously. I also knew that I wanted a looooooooong veil. I had a cathedral length veil, no blusher. I didn't want anything hiding my face. Finally, I knew I did NOT want a tiara. It just didn't work for me. I had no idea what I wanted up there making the top of my head look pretty but it wasn't going to be a tiara. They make my head look stupid.

I searched and searched and searched for an accessory to wear on my head that was elegant and beautiful and befitting of the rest of my ensemble. I found it online and my godmother purchased it for me- a gorgeous pearl comb. I loved it. I still do. It sits in my jewelery box, only ever having been worn on my wedding day. I really don't know where my garter is. My dress and veil are boxed up and preserved. My shoes from the day sit in my closet, probably never to be worn again. I do still have the underwear I wore that day. (Weird, I know, but they were my something blue) My point is everything else has kind of been put away for one reason or another. My comb sits there as a daily reminder, each time I go into my jewelery box for a necklace or bracelet or ring, of that day.

My comb popped into my head after I made my appointment and the vision that came to mind was my daughter. I don't know that she will be my only daughter. I don't know that she will definitely get married and have a big dress and a big day. I don't know that she will even want it, but I had this vision of handing her my comb. (Unfortunately, in that vision we were still in the house we're in now but I think that's a technicality!) I could not see her face, because I don't know how absolutely stunningly gorgeous she'll be when it's time to share the comb with her. I could see her and I standing in front of the jewelery box her father gave me one of our first Christmases together. I could see her red hair and her creamy complexion. And I could see the comb and the feelings that I had, for an event that is not even close to occurring and may never occur, were incredible. I am excited for that. I am excited to pass along that pearl comb to her and to any other daughters I may have. The idea that my daughter could one share in something so special with me is unbelievable to me.

I have learned to not wish away these days and months and years because they go by so quickly. Before we know it our children will be handing us grandchildren (hopefully) and it will have all gone by so quickly. These days are precious. They are priceless. They are magical. But there is so much magic in the moments to come that sometimes I cannot help but hope for them and dream of them.

Positive Living

So, I came home on Wednesday night after dropping the kids at my parents for the evening and I was just beat to shit. I was still recovering from the flu and I had been going to physical therapy constantly and it was just wearing me out. Plus, work has been crazy because of the end of the quarter and my kids thinking that next week is June so they don't actually have to behave or do work. I was relaxing on the couch watching some TV when the promo for the Diane Sawyer interview of Dr. Randy Pausch came on.

I don't know if you know about Randy. I first heard about him a few months ago when I was introduced, via email, to his "Last Lecture". I only saw bits and pieces of it but I read a lot about him and I had been reading the transcript of his lecture online.

Randy is dying of pancreatic cancer.

Randy is living while dying and it is absolutely incredible to watch and learn about.

I programmed the TiVo to record the interview just in case I fell asleep. I did not. I stayed up and watched every moment and when it was done, I threw away my giant pile of tissues and headed to bed. Something had changed in me. I needed to share what I had just seen about Randy with my students. I needed them to see what he had to say.

I went into work the next morning and prepared my classroom and cued this up for the day:


I decided my students needed to think about their dreams. I decided they needed a break from learning Church History and I needed a break from teaching it.

There was something about this man and his message. The night before I had been moved to a constant stream of tears listening to him talk about living while dying and his family and friends. I listened to him talk about positive living and accepting the cards we're dealt but dealing with them in a way that is positive and life affirming. I listened to him talk about abandoning anger and hurt in your life because it does no good. It's about being positive. It's about living. It's about giving people a chance. I decided my students needed to hear his message even if they didn't understand. I made my decision and I had the best night's sleep that I had had in a really long time. And I've been sleeping pretty well since.

The past two days my classes have been watching Randy's lecture. I have watched it more than a dozen times, now, and I learn something different or pick up something new each time. The reactions from my kids have been different. Some of the kids are glued to the lecture. They are fascinated by what he has to say. They are riveted by this man who looks so incredibly healthy yet has only months, possibly weeks to live. And I am, too.

I have a lot more that I'd like to write about Randy's lecture and the things that I've come to realize and think about because of it but I'd like to you learn a little bit more about him (if you want, of course!!). Even if you just watch an excerpt from YouTube (There are quite a bunch of different clips) I think you will begin to see what I am talking about.

I can tell you one thing, the power of positive thinking is incredible. Seriously. Positive thinking brings positive results. And vice versa. I headed to Hot Doc, aka my orthopedic surgeon, yesterday prepared to hear that I was getting another 6 to 12 weeks of physical therapy. But it was a beautiful day out, I opened my car windows and sunroof, I blasted the music and I told myself that whatever Hot Doc told me I was going to accept and deal with. I could not change what was wrong with my shoulder, I could only accept and deal with it. I was in a good mood, feeling really upbeat. Hot Doc informed me that my shoulder is better than before the surgery but will never be 100% (I knew that from the beginning). Hot Doc told me that I will always have a "trick shoulder". Hot Doc told me I will always have pain. I have been fixed as much as possible for right now. Then Hot Doc told me what I've been waiting to hear, I am done with treatment. No more Hot Doc appointments unless I get worse. No more physical therapy. I am done. Am I completely healed? Nope, never will be. I knew that would be the outcome. Am I out of pain? Nope, never will be. Am I just as I was before? Nope, never will be. Am I ok with all of that? Actually, yeah. I've accepted it. I'm done with treatment. I can move on to the next part of all of this. I have been waiting for being able to move into the next part of this accident "saga". I got exactly what I wanted yesterday and while it doesn't seem like positive things, it is.

I knew since treatment began that I was never going to be 100% again and yesterday I accepted it completely and I am now getting to move on. Positives all around.

I encourage you to try it. It's hard to be positive all the time and I don't know that it's completely possible. Randy says at the end of his lecture that his words aren't about dreams and going after them but about how to live our lives in such a way that our dreams come to us. If we live good lives the dreams will come to us and the good and the positive will come to us. In the moments that I've spent reading about him and listening to him I am seeing my perspective change. I am seeing myself change.

The Troublemaker

Allow me to introduce my daughter. Isn't she cute? Doesn't she just look like the sweetest thing ever? I just want to scoop her up sometimes and snuggle her and shower her with kisses and tickles. She's incredible. We love her. We'll keep her.



Let me tell you about my daughter. She is, for the most part, quite sweet and innocent. Then there is the other part of her.

This is a child, who from the very moment of conception, has been a troublemaker. Trouble we love her for. Trouble we cherish her for. Trouble we would never change for the world!

This is a child who, within two weeks of being alive, was having ultrasounds done to make sure she was digesting correctly. Turns out she had reflux and liked to eat a lot.

This is a child who took 50 ounces of formula a day for months!

This is a child who has been eating solids since 2.5 months because it was just too much formula to be giving her and juice would not satisfy her hunger.

This is a child who enjoys Mexican food, Chinese food, Italian food, Spanish food and essentially any food that is made for humans.

This is a child who, two weeks ago, feasted on a tube of diaper rash cream and lived to tell about it.

This is a child who walks with such confidence after a short amount of time that I'm pretty sure she'll start running within moments.

This is a child who knows how to skillfully play catch and hide and seek.

This is a child who, this weekend, untied a garbage bag, reached inside, pulled out a paint roller and decided to test out the flavor of green moss paint....and lived to tell about it.

This is a child who is so in love with her father that she goes to him above all others and lights up whenever he is in her presence.

This is a child who routinely beats up on her older, bigger brother because she adores him and loves being with him.

This a child who is incredibly cute and loving.

This is a child who was a complete surprise and who has come to fit into our lives so perfectly that we cannot imagine a time before her.

This is a child who takes after her mother and gives me visions of first Communions in handmade eyelet dresses in the street playing hockey.

This is a child who will forever be active and playful and loving because it is clearly in her spirit and how she was born.

This is a child who has an incredible sense of who she is already and I am so excited to see how she grows into it.

This is my troublemaker. She looks sweet and innocent and perfect and she is.

I just thought I'd share her with you!

I Need a Weekend...

...to recover from my weekend.

We had a really nice weekend. It was relaxing and fun and spent with friends and family but by Sunday night I was spent, as were my children and my husband. The result? The stomach flu reared it's ugly, puking, head once again.

It started with the girl. I felt so bad for her. She vomited up the feast that she enjoyed earlier in the evening when we went out to dinner. Then proceeded to try and expel every other bodily fluid from her body via her mouth. The poor kid! She's never really puked before. She's spit up and a few times in the beginning of her life we thought she had a pyloric disorder, but those have been the extents of her vomiting experience. She proceeded to yack from 2am on.

The husband then got in on the act. No yacking until early this morning but definitely flu-like tendencies and pains. He moaned and writhed in our bed as I slept on the air mattress with my puke factory and the boy, who was working on hacking up his lung.

Finally, we got the girl back asleep in her crib around 5:30am, I called out of work, unhappily, and climbed into bed with the slowly expiring husband. And then it hit me. The churning. The cramping. The pain. YUCK.

The husband went into work for a few hours to get some paperwork done but was home by 10:30 when the party was really getting started. He took the kids downstairs and left me in bed to sleep and writhe. And I did. I got up once to go downstairs to see how everything was but the couch was too uncomfortable so back to bed it was. I christened our new garbage can and then went back to sleep. Until 7:30pm when I finally rolled my a$$ out of bed and downstairs. That is where I currently lay. On the comfy part of the couch recounting the day's events and thinking about the fun we had this weekend. Even without the flu, I need a weekend to recover from the weekend.

We enjoyed beginning the Tudors Series on DVD. Highly recommend this to anyone looking for a good story! We've only seen two episodes and so far we really like it. Jonathan Rhys Myers- H-O-T, even though he is boffing everyone except his wife!

We also watched "Alvin and the Chipmunks". The kids and the husband loved it. It was a nice break in our Saturday. Some family time spent in front of the TV- quality. ;)

Saturday night we enjoyed quite the Mexican fiesta with friends of ours- two of which got engaged yesterday! YAY! We're very excited for them! And it was nice to spend the entire evening talking and enjoying each other's company. We definitely need a repeat.

Sunday we celebrated my parents 35th wedding anniversary. 35 years! Incredible. We went out for Spanish food- delicious. Not always the most fun with a 3 year old and 1 year old preparing for puke-a-palooza later on in the evening. But nonetheless a nice night.

We had a fun filled busy weekend and I am so glad we did. We are blessed to live the life we live and while it's hard sometimes and stressful and puke-filled, it's all worth it. I'll take weekends like this over and over again if someone could just negotiate making Monday and Tuesday non-working days!

Friday Fun With Randoms

It's Friday, I love me some Friday!

I've been reading about a lot of people who are just backing away from blogging for many different reasons. I understand. I feel as if it has been a struggle lately to write. To even sit down and do anything other than work or school work. I have ideas and they bounce around in my head but then I forget them. They must not be that important.

If I can think of something to write, I will, otherwise, oh well...

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The boy is better. Thank God!

I really can't stand puke. I can't stand the smell or the thought or anything. Now, because that first power puke came out all over the carpet, my carpet smells. I've been vacuuming every day to get the smell out and using that carpet fresh stuff that you sprinkle. Hopefully, that will work.

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I feel like I'm funnier in real life than on here and it disappoints me. I had a conversation with someone, who also has young children, and I made that frat house reference and they thought it was hysterical. Maybe it was just that person. Maybe I need to be in conversation to be funny. I mean, I think that people think I'm funny. Who knows? I just feel somewhat disappointed in myself on this one....I'm funny dammit!

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Has anyone else noticed the influx of maternity-like shirts?!?!? I went to Kohl's the other day to get some pants- I had a credit, woo hoo!- and just about every single shirt out there looked like a freaking maternity top! Now, I enjoyed the flowing tent like style of maternity tops when I was pregnant, but honestly, now, I don't need it. I don't need people thinking I'm with child when I'm not. And the tops are cute but I know that I'll look pregnant and it's just not what I want. Could we make something slightly less 9 months along?

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My daughter is walking. On her own. I think it's the most fabulous thing ever! She was cruising and then taking a few steps on her own but now she's walking. She'll stand up from the middle of the floor and just walk around! She looks adorable doing it because she holds her hands up to keep her balance and just toddles....adorable! I can't believe she's walking...it seems like just yesterday she was teeny tiny in my arms....God, I feel old.

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Did anyone else see New Kids on the Block has reunited!??! I LOVED them! Jon was my favorite because well, everyone else were losers! First, Kathie Lee Gifford back on TV and now NKOTB back together?!?! It's a sure sign of the apocalypse.

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And the pregnant man!??! Check it out....Oprah had him on yesterday....he was a she and now he's having a baby.

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Ok, my brain is oatmeal....I actually can't think of or remember anything else I wanted to say and again, disappointed!
I hope everyone has a fabulous weekend and it isn't raining where you are!

Worst Frat House EVAH!

My inspiration for this post? Besides the events that I will share with you, this quote:

"Having children is like living in a Frat house -- nobody sleeps, everything's broken and there's a lot of throwing up."
Ray Romano

Allow me to make something perfectly clear before I continue, I never lived in a frat house, ever. I did grace the inside of many frat house on Drexel's Fraternity Row and even a few at Penn but I never, ever lived inside of one. I had friends who did. I've seen movies. I know enough to understand what it might be like to live inside of a frat house. And I believe that I am fairly close to living in one. The worst one EVER!

The boy has been sick. Tuesday night we were sitting around doing nothing. The husband was doing schoolwork, I was watching TV, we had eaten our dinner- the boy wanted nothing to do with it and he was laying on the couch with me. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, the vomit starts flowing. Like water, I tell you. One minute he's playing nicely and enjoying himself, the next he's standing in front of me power puking.

What's power puking you ask? Let me elaborate....you know those times when you are in the midst of a giant drinking fest. You know, college days, um, frat parties, bachelorette parties, Wednesday nights. So you're in the midst of drinking and you've knocked back quite a few and all of a sudden it hits you....you're going to blow. But it's ok. You know that it's ok because you need one or two good power pukes to get you over this hump and then you can go back to enjoying yourself and mingling. You head to the closest bathroom and do the deed and then head back to the party and grab yourself another cup of mysterious jungle juice and go on with the night, no one the wiser. Get it?

Well, Tuesday night my son had his first power puke, or so I thought. He literally stopped mid sentence, mid playing, mid everything, puked, cried and then asked for soemthing to eat. I was convinced that he was fine. He had eaten some bad cheese or drank some bad juice. One power puke and we were done. No. Such. Luck. My son has not mastered the art of the power puke. The puking progressed through the night until finally around 5 or 6 am, just after I had called out of work, he puked one last time- to make sure any and all bile was out of his stomach- and then passed out cold asleep in our bed. It was like all the nights I fondly remember from college drinking nights.

The husband took the girl to daycare, there was no way I was letting her get near the puke fest and possibly catch it. She eats more than I do- I don't want to have to deal with that when it comes up. He went to work and the boy and I, well, we slept for a long time. He was exhausted from puking all night long. Tossing and turning. I was exhausted from jumping each time I heard him cough or start to gag and get ready blow. It was just like college. We slept until 11 or a bit later when finally the boy woke up and requested a juice box. I was fearful. I didn't want to put any type of substance into his body for fear that it would be expelled a short time later. But he was begging.

A juice box and some pretzels it was. And I waited and followed him with towels and rags to clean up any appearance of vomit. It never came. He didn't eat much. He laid around all day. He didn't play. He didn't even ask to watch anything on TV. Then around 4:30 or so he fell asleep on the couch. He did not wake up until 6am Thursday morning. It was INCREDIBLE!

So, yes, the worst frat house EVAH! No beer, no booze, no dance music or beer pong. Just puking, lots of crying, people passed out on couches and crap, aka toys, EVERYWHERE! You know what, though? As much as I enjoyed my time in the frat houses of Philadelphia, I enjoy my time in this frat house infinitely more! Minus the puke....always minus the puke!

Night Terrors

It's just about 10:30 at night and I am exhausted but Clooney is on my TV as Michael Clayton and I'm not quite sure I can go to bed. I love my bed. I miss my bed during the day. In college, my bed was my sanctuary. I would come home from my 4:30am practices and get back into bed before my 10am class, it was wonderful. I would lay in it on rainy days and watch TV with my friends either laying on the bed with me or on the floor next to me. My bed was unbelievably comfortable.

Our bed is still super comfortable. I love sleeping in it. I love watching TV in it. I love playing with my kids in it. I just love it. Lately though, it has been quite cramped. The boy has been sleeping with us. Every. Night.

I am not a proponent of co-sleeping. It's just not something I'm comfortable with. My children slept in an heirloom cradle next to my side of the bed as newborns and they were put into their respective cribs by 4 or 5 months old. I'm a sound sleeper. I move a lot. I like my space. Ironically enough, my son is very much the same way. He likes to be comfortable. He likes his space. He likes his pillows and blankets. Most of all, he likes to sleep horizontally when everyone else is sleeping vertically. That spells A-N-N-O-Y-I-N-G!

When he had his surgery we were advised by our doctors to let him sleep with us for a number of reasons. We had to be able to get to him at a moments notice because of the risk of bleeding and vomiting. It would also provide him with a sense of comfort and security after the trauma of the surgery. Honestly, it provided me with a sense of comfort knowing I was right there with him and able to keep an eye on him.

Before the surgery he was waking up in the middle of the night because he could not breathe. He would stop breathing. Sometimes he would come into our room and bed. More often than not we could comfort him and get him back to sleep in his own bed. I figured that this was how things would go following the surgery. It would be a short spell of him sleeping with us.

In the hospital I slept right next to him. Occasionally, I'd sleep in the bed with him because he was scared or in pain. After the hospital we were, again, advised to let him sleep with us when he needed for a short time. Until he was out of the clear of the pneumonia. No problem. Again, I liked the comfort of knowing he was right there and I could keep an eye on him.

His sleeping with us dwindled, slightly. The waking in the middle of the night was supposed to stop. It has not. Now it's not because of the lack of ability to breathe. Now it's because he's having night terrors. He's dreaming about the surgery. He's remembering the hospital and the tests and the IVs and the breathing treatments. And he's having night terrors. Every night. 2am. Every. Night.

I miss my bed. I feel bad for my little guy. I envisioned child therapists working with my son to draw out his problems with crayons and paper. I took my questions to my pediatrician. (I love her. She's incredible. Seriously. I can't tell you how much I respect her and trust her.) You know what she told me? Let him sleep in our bed. It's what he needs. He needs the comfort. He needs the security. I get all of that. But does he really need to sleep horizontally and kick me in the ribs with an odd sense of rhythm?

Seriously, though, I feel bad that the little guy is going through this. He's healthy. He's gaining weight. He's got his energy back. We are beyond lucky and grateful. We are completely appreciative of the care that we received and continue to receive. I just wish I could figure out how to help him put those moments and experiences behind him. I wish I could let him know that it won't happen again (I hope). I wish I could help him talk through these terrors.

I've read it on so many of your blogs, in so many of your lives, so many of us would take our children's pain on ourselves instead of them experiencing an ounce of it. This is no different. I miss my bed. I miss my sleep. But, God, I feel so bad for my little man. This last little hurdle to jump over before this whole mini medical drama is behind him. How do I help him jump it? I don't know. Any experiences and thoughts are welcomed. In the meantime, I'm going to let him sleep in our bed and work through it that way. I'll just wear some protective padding!

Clooney is still on but I think I may have to pause him. The boy is set to wake up in a few hours and I need to get a teeny bit of shut eye before the break in our sleep cycles.

Animal Magnetism

Have you seen this movie?



If you haven't, I suggest you rent it. If you have then you know all about Carl's struggle with the gopher. That gopher is his nemesis.

Meet mine:
That's a groundhog. I hate that groundhog. I thought it was dead. I thought it was gone. Clearly, it's not. From when we moved into this house I would wake up, look out the window and there would be the groundhog staring at me through my bedroom window. I would be making dinner and look out the back window to see what the weather was like and there was that groundhog staring at me. I would sit on the couch and watch tv and there would be the groundhog staring at me through the sliding glass doors. I would drive to work and there would be the groundhog on the side of the road. I would go an visit friends in the area and there would be the groundhog in their backyard. It was EVERYWHERE. Then one day, I thought I hit it with my car- completely accidentally. Seriously, I may hate the thing but I would never ever harm an animal. (Unless it was harming me or my children) I thought it was gone and dead and I felt bad. I felt bad that I had possibly killed another of God's creatures. But I was little happy that it was gone. I didn't have to see it anymore.

I was sitting on my couch doing work this week when I saw something moving in the backyard. There was the groundhog. That damned groundhog was back! I hate that groundhog. I've tried to think about the groundhog in a positive sense. Maybe it's God. Maybe the groundhog is watching over me. I haven't seen him in close to a year so maybe he's back to bring me good luck. Or maybe he's back to annoy the shit out of me. I can't stand that groundhog!

A Walk to Remember

When I was in therapy for my PPD, and other issues, my therapist routinely told me that if I exercised it would help me to start moving out of the fog of depression. I exercised sporadically. It helped sporadically.

Since I started Weight Watchers, I've been relying on the fact that I've been eating better and cutting back on my portions to help me lose weight. And it's worked. The past week or two I haven't been as Weight Watchers faithful as I should have been, or could have been. But I have introduced exercise, again. I've been doing exercise DVDs and I count my PT as some sort of exercise. Actually I count my PT as more than some sort. They take a total body approach to therapy at my PT office and I've been working my entire body in order to help my shoulder. So, yeah, I count that as exercise.

Today, I did a 30 minute walking for weight loss video (GREAT workout!!) and then went out for a walk around our development. I popped in my iPod and I was ready to go. Excited, even, to go. The first song that came on my iPod was Frou Frou "Let Go". Extremely apropos. It set a really good tone for me. It got me thinking. I walked. I walked out of our section of the development and down our hill and into a different development. Simon and Garfunkel came on next, "The Only Living Boy in New York". I was thinking about what has been going on. I was thinking about the changes that my life has gone through over the past months and years. I was thinking about good I was feeling in this moment of exercise. I was thinking about how if I did this regularly than Pepper, my therapist, was SO RIGHT!

Next came Van Morrison. I love Van Morrison. I love his voice. I love what he sings about. I love what he makes me think of when I hear his music. It was "Warm Love". This song brought into the big hill. There is this hill that leads into the second part of our development. It's big. It's not really steep but it's big. I mean BIG. The husband and I used to walk it with the boy in his stroller and our out of shape asses could barely make it up the hill. Routinely, we would turn around mid hill and head back the way we came. Today, I contemplated turning around. I could see the horizon and the top of the hill and yet it was too much for me. I just wanted to turn around. I am out of shape. I was winded. I needed a break. Then the Corrs came on. "Breathless". HAH! How ironic! This song is about a relationship but, God, at that moment I was TOTALLY BREATHLESS!!

Then I had a moment. The hill was what I've been dealing with. The hill is what I'm still climbing. The hill SUCKS but it's totally necessary and completely worth climbing because the top is just so nice and rewarding. I really had to push myself up to the top of the hill. I was breathing hard and for a few moments I felt bad about myself. But I realized that I was at the top. I had made it. I had not turned around and quit. I climbed the hill and I never stopped. I kept walking....I don't know what song came on next. I think it might have been "Overkill" by Collin Hay, but I'm not sure. I kept walking.

I walked past where our pool was supposed to be built. I walked past the house we were supposed to buy. The one with the giant deck and the gorgeous basement. The one we would not have moved into until our son was more than a year old. I had no regrets about not buying that house. I kept walking. I walked down streets that hold houses that look just like ours except their doors are green. I walked past houses that are lived in and houses that are not. I walked past the house that our next door neighbors were to have bought and it made me think. What if we had bought the house with the basement and what if they had bought the house they originally wanted? What would be different? How would things be now? Would we still be in the same place we are now? I don't know the answers. Honestly, I don't know the answers because I can barely answer the questions that surround the current situation. How could I possibly answer the 'what if' questions?! I kept walking.

I came to end of the developed part of our development. I came to the construction part. And here is where I reveal an "interesting" part of me. The song that came on my iPod was from the movie 'Enchanted'. That's right. That movie that every 11 year old girl loves with McDreamy and Amy Adams. From that movie. The song is upbeat and happy. It was the perfect song for that moment. I was feeling melancholy. I was feeling sad in that moment. I was confused and unsure. Then the song came on and I started down the rocky hill back towards our part of the development. I could see EVERYTHING that the land in front of me had to hold. I saw houses beyond ours. I saw open land and trees and fields and the mountains. I saw it all and it was really beautiful. In that instant I was ok with living where we live. It was gorgeous. Seriously beautiful. I kept walking.

I walked the same steps that we had walked last night with the boy and the girl, as a family. I navigated my way down the hill through the small rocks and the big rocks. I stepped carefully and made my way back to our street. I walked around our cul de sac and made it back into our driveway and back to our door. Listening to "Love Song" by Sara Bareilles. I entered our home and I was upbeat. I had left our home looking for some exercise. I had left looking to take a break and wanting to listen to my iPod. I had left wanting to get off on the right foot to get in shape. I got all of that. I also got the chance to think. To reflect. To almost see how things could be different and ask myself if I really wanted them to be different.

Things are hard right now. Really hard. I hate PT. I am having trouble dealing with my accident- that happened in OCTOBER. I never processed it. I get anxiety when I drive by the spot where it happened. Some days I even start to cry. I hate the effect that this whole thing has had on our lives. I'm tired of not having money. I love my job, I just wish it paid more. My husband loves his job, we just wish it paid more. I'm ready for grad school to be done- I've done it for 2.5 years. I'm not always happy where we're living for many reasons. I have unresolved anger. I'm sad some days. I can't stand going to doctors anymore. I hate that my child has lived a medical drama in his short three years. (I think it's wonderful that he is better and doing so GREAT!) I sometimes just need a break. But you know what? Other than the unnecessary bad crap, I wouldn't change it. The crap makes me stronger. All that we've been dealing with makes us better. It teaches me lessons and shows me what is important. It sucks a lot of the time but the more I live it and come out on the other side, I see how vitally important and necessary all of it is. I see how it makes me a more compassionate and understanding person. I see how it gives me strength and determination. I do my very best not to let it all break me. It hasn't yet.

Instant Replay

First, tequila in the late afternoon is delicious. I am sitting here sipping a margarita getting ready to start dinner and I feel pretty good! I've never been a Big Spring Cleaner but this week I've been turning over a new leaf. We moved a bunch of furniture, granted it was last night around 11pm. We repaired a bunch of nail pops on our walls, courtesy of the blasting they were doing to make room for new homes. I cleaned out our front closet and organized it and put a bunch of stuff aside for either donation or Ebay. And I have almost all of our laundry cleaned and folded. I've done an excellent job of avoiding all of my school work and work work. Sounds productive to me....margarita well deserved!!

Do you ever think about what you would have said? What you would have done? I enjoyed the move "You've Got Mail". Meg Ryan talks about how she wishes she could say the perfect thing at the right time and then she does and she feels terrible. She's nasty to the Tom Hanks character because his company is taking over her mom and pop shop. She at first feels victorious at being able to be so snappy and quick tongued and then feels bad. Her emotions and character get the best of her and she realizes that she has spoken as someone that she is not. She shares this with the Tom Hanks character before she knows that he is the one she has been instant messaging with. He comforts her and they move on.

I often think about what I would have said or could have done or said in previous situations. I replay things in my head forever. I am terrible at forgetting. That whole forgive and forget thing. Yeah.....doesn't always work well for me. My best friend and I were talking about this during the past week. She and I are very similar in the fact that we have a very hard time forgetting about what people have said and done in the past. And it's not always the bad things that stay in our heads. We remember the good things. I'll never ever forget the kindness that people showed us when the boy was in the hospital. There are things that I think about surrounding that whole time and I wish I had said or done differently. I wish I had shown more gratitude to F's sister. I wish I hadn't been in my head so much thinking about the next thing or next medicine times or things like that. I wish I had stopped for a moment and recognized the kindness of her actions in the moments that they were occurring. Don't get me wrong, I thanked her, I cried, I appreciated all she did but there was a part of me trying to move back to talking to the resident and getting medicine in the boy. (All things that are completely understandable but I just wish I had stayed in that moment for a little longer.)

Then there are the bad things, the sad things, the anger filled things. The times when I wish I could have said things differently. The times when I wish I had stood up for myself more and said what was on my mind and heart rather than what people wanted to hear. The times when I wish I had stopped it all and said enough was enough. I wish I hadn't accepted all the blame. I wish I had pointed out what I felt others did to make the situation worse. I wish I had taken a little bit more of the responsibility off my shoulders and just said what I wanted to say and moved on. I wish I could have expressed my feelings better, or at all. I didn't want to rock the boat. I didn't want to deal. I thought I was wrong. I thought it would create too many problems and I didn't want to deal with any of it.

Now it festers. Now I instant replay it like the worst call in a football game. Now I sit and I pick apart the arguments and the discussions and everything else and I see what I wanted to say and what I should have said and it festers. I get upset because there's so much more I want to say. And I can't forget.

Instant replay makes it impossible for me to close the door and move on because I'm so focused on the plays that don't matter anymore. I'm engrossed by what went wrong and how it could have come out differently because instant replay is in my head all the time.

For some reason that scene from the Lion King just popped into my head where Rafiki smacks Simba on the head and Simba gets annoyed and says, "What was that for?"
Rafiki replies, "It doesn't matter, it's in the past."
I only wish it were that simple.

I COMPLETELY forgot!

I totally forgot that Girl at Fertile Mertile tagged for a fun and easy meme last week and since I've been such a slacker, I totally neglected it!! Bad me! So here it is....

Post 7 random facts about yourself. The Rules:

1. Link to your tagger and post these rules on your blog.
2. Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog, some random, some weird.
3. Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blogs.
4. Let them know they are tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

And we're off.....

1. When I was a child I fell off my bike and the bike and my face kept going along the curb. I ripped off a lot of skin from my lip and under my nose. It could not be repaired with stitches. The scar that was left is just underneath my nostril and it looks like I have a booger hanging out of my nose.
2. I used to work for the guy who does Bracketology on ESPN, Joe Lunardi. He was my boss during college when I was an intern in the university communications office.
3. I am DEATHLY afraid of deer. Seriously. Bambi scares the shit out of me.
4. When we found out we were pregnant with our first child, I really really really wanted it to be a boy.
5. I can't stand the word p@nties.
6. I can put my entire fist in my mouth. I discovered this at a young age and found that it was quite the party trick in college.
7. I brush my teeth in the shower.


Ok, now I get to tag 7 of you......

1. Lunanik
2. The Sports Mama
3. The MomBabe
4. Kelly
5. Kelley
6. Momo Fali
7. Mr. Lady

Easter Randomness

I just ate an Reese's Peanut Butter Egg for breakfast and it was so damned good that I may have another. Maybe not. It was so worth it.
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I have Spring Break this week. I have so much crap to do it isn't even funny.
On the top of my list? Juice boxes. We are OFFICIALLY out of juice boxes! I have two children that live off of juice boxes and we have none. Do you have any idea what mutiny feels like? I'm beginning to know!!
In addition to getting juice boxes I have close to 300 papers to grade, most of them term papers, the rest are tests and quizzes. I have grad school work to get done....yuck. I have a house to clean because once you give children candy instead of juice boxes they turn into saccharine soaked versions of Linda Blair from the Exorcist. I am well aware that there are people out who claim that sugar has no effect on children's behavior. I think you're wrong. I think that the candy or whatever food it is that has sugar in it, increases the child's blood sugar which, in turn, increases their energy output. Once the energy output goes up, the parent's patience decreases and bedlam ensues! And that is why my house looks like a pastel colored candy flavored bomb went off!
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I really enjoy doing laundry. I enjoy the sense of satisfaction I get once all of those clothes are clean and folded and put away. The problem I have is actually getting motivated to do said laundry. Hopefully, my motivation is building.
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I hate when people don't return emails. And I'm not talking about the initial email. I'm talking like you've been emailing back and forth a few times about a couple of different topics and all of a sudden then just stop. It's like walking away in the middle of a conversation. Annoyingly rude.
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I took my kids to daycare this morning. That's right, I'm on break and my children are currently at daycare. Go ahead, condemn me, I don't care. I have things to get done and I have an appointment with my masochist of a physical therapist and bringing children is frowned upon. I felt bad dropping them off. My son cried and cried and cried. I felt terrible. My daughter smiled and laughed and was fine. My son wanted to come with me. I felt bad walking out the door of the daycare and leaving them there but I know that if I took them with me, nothing would get done. I also know that my son does better when he is kept to a schedule, albeit a loose one, and daycare is scheduled. He knows that he goes to school on Mondays and he's having more fun there than he would be with me!
So, I took my kids to daycare this morning and while I did feel bad at first, once the laundry gets folded and the kitchen gets cleaned and my papers get graded and those darned juice boxes are back on our shelves, I will feel MUCH better!! And they'll still love me when I pick them up this afternoon....
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I make cheesecakes. Special occasions occur and I make a cheesecake. I need something to bring into work for a potluck or faculty dinner/lunch and I make a cheesecake. I enjoy it. I hate cheesecake. I rarely, if ever, eat it. I love baking and cooking. I sometimes wonder if I could ever cook/bake for a job. Don't get me wrong I love teaching and I want to do counseling but I really enjoy creating through baking and cooking.
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This randomness was boring today. I'm bored with it and I wrote it and lived it. Laundry and my shower are calling my name and soon my PT will be, too. Hopefully, my brain will go back to functioning on a high level within the next few hours...I think the candy needs to wear off.

A Letter to My Daughter

Dear Daughter,

You will turn one this week, Thursday to be exact, the first day of Spring. As I sit here recovering from a weekend full of planning, cleaning and entertaining to celebrate your first year of life I cannot help but think back on what has been the most amazingly crazy and wonderful 20 or so months of my life- our lives.

I often tell people you were a very BIG surprise, and you were. But more than that, you are and were a miracle. All children are a miracle but you were an incredible one. You came along after being told we wouldn't be able to have more children. You came along after a staggering medical diagnosis. You came along after a radiation treatment that I was sure would either kill you or disfigure you. You survived in my body for months that were riddled with doubts and fears and depression and endless doctor appointments . You lived and grew and thrived through endless amounts of medications and medical tests. Until finally it became too much for you. Finally, they dropped me off my medication because it was slowly starting to strangle you. Then came the bed rest, the weeks and months of bed rest. Then, just after I thought you would be born on St. Patrick's Day, you were ushered into this world with lots of pitocin on the first day of Spring.

I will never forget the moment that I knew you would be coming. It was a Monday. I went in for another doctor's appointment and when my doctor walked in the door and told me that I looked like shit, I knew it was time. I knew my body couldn't sustain you any longer and I knew that you were ready to come out. You would be small. There was a possibility of problems. It would be scarier than your brother's birth. I left the doctor's office and called your grandmother. I called your father. I text messaged everyone who was awaiting word. We were going to the hospital and you were going to be here very soon. I was 35 weeks pregnant.

The next few hours were filled with waiting and anticipation. Endless amounts of paperwork. Endless amounts of monitors and IVs and medicines. Eventually we were moved into labor and delivery. The pitocin was started and I was determined to deliver without an epidural. That lasted until 2 in the morning. The pain and discomfort became too great. Your heart rate started to drop. It was time for some pain relief and comfort. The epidural helped me sleep. It helped you, too. Your heart rate, for the most part, stabilized. I awoke early the next morning, Tuesday March 20th. I was only 4 centimeters. You were not coming any time soon, or so we thought. We anxiously awaited your grandmother's arrival. I anxiously awaited another round of epidural. At 8am they checked me I was 5 cm and I received another epidural. At 8:20 I started pushing. At 8:25, 4 pushes later, you entered the world. Crying. Covered in vernix. Clearly unhappy to have been ripped from the comfort of my womb. Your apgars were great. You were a girl, after months of worrying that the ultrasound tech was wrong and we'd be bringing home a little boy to a hot pink room. You were breathing on your own. You were doing great.

The next few days were a blur. They were hard. You had no suck reflex so nursing never really worked. You developed jaundice early on and I could not imagine leaving the hospital without you, as we had done with your brother. You were immediately placed under the lights. You reddened up quite quickly but did very well. Your billi levels dropped, you ate and pooped like a champ. You started to develop your very own personality. And we took you home late Thursday evening. You got to know your grandparents and your brother. You experienced your first family meal. You slept- a lot. You found your niche in our family quite quickly and easily and we have not been the same since.

I was privileged enough to get to stay home with you and your brother during your first 5 months of life. I watched and worried as you slept endless hours of the day away. There were days that you would sleep for close to 22 hours. My concern lessened as you grew older and you ate more and began to move more and experience more. I watched as you were swallowed up by newborn clothes for weeks on end. I watched as we visited the pediatrician a number of times during that first month. I watched and listened as you would try and catch your breath at night, wondering if you were having trouble breathing. I watched as you very quickly learned to soothe yourself and put yourself back to sleep after your late night feeding. I watched as you and your brother came to know one another. I learned that being a mom to two very different children was going to be very hard but realized I wouldn't want it any other way.

You brought an immense amount of joy and wonderful chaos to our lives when you entered them first in August of 2006 and then again in March of 2007. Since you have been a part of our lives I have learned more, grown more and come to understand more about being a mom, a wife, a daughter, a sister, a friend and a woman. You have given me a new perspective on how things should be, as did your brother when he was born. You have taught me, as your brother did, how to live completely outside of my body and how to give my heart over to someone else. You have frustrated me and made me cry and made me laugh and even gave emotions that I cannot name. Your brother taught me how to be a mom initially. You have shown me how to be a better mom. A more committed mom. A more dedicated and understanding mom. You have shown me the importance of being a mom to a daughter and a son. You have also shown me that it is important for me to be who I am so that I can be the best possible parent to you and your brother.

Yesterday we celebrated your first year of life. We celebrated a successfully hard pregnancy. We celebrated a difficult first few months of your life and the growth we all experienced during that time. We celebrated you hitting milestone after milestone, sometimes a little later than other kids your age and sometimes a little earlier. We celebrated the love and joy you have brought us and that you continue to bring us. We also celebrated your first unassisted steps. They were brief but they were there. You stepped from grandma to me all on your own in your pretty little dress and I could not have been more excited or thrilled. We celebrated you yesterday and on Thursday we'll do it again.

Your birthday is the one time during the year when we recognize you alone but know that you and your brother are celebrated every single day of our lives. You were and are both miracles to us. You are miracles because you are pieces of us and your grandparents and aunts and uncles. You are miracles because you came from God at exactly the right moments in our lives and enriched them in such ways that you can never know no matter how much we may tell you. You are especially a miracle because you survived when many, including me, thought you wouldn't. You thrived when I was afraid you wouldn't. You are a miracle and I can only hope that as your mom I am able to show you that every single day.

Happy Birthday little girl, we are so thankfully lucky that you are with us each and every day!

Love,
Mommy

Blogginhg Begninngs and An Anxiety Attack

I started this blog for a few different reasons. People encouraged me. They thought I was funny and my stories about my kids and our lives were funny. They said should write them down, if for no other reason, I would have them forever. I'm not a diary or journal keeper. I've tried. When I was younger I tried to keep a diary because I thought it was important, I thought it was the cool thing to do. It ended up being things like, "Oh my god, I love Brian so much. He's so good looking. I wonder if he likes me?" You know, typical immature girlie crap. I stopped pretty quickly. It just couldn't hold my interest. It was not important to me.
When my children were born I lovingly chose their baby books. I searched high and low for what I felt was the perfect book for my then unborn child. I wanted something to chronicle their lives and the milestones. I found two that I loved and I try my best to write in as much as possible.
As their lives have progressed and I have returned to work much of my time, especially at work, is spent in front of a computer. This blog and my time in front of my laptop has given me the chance to create something not only for myself, but also for my children, that will hopefully last a very long time. I have been given the chance to chronicle my thoughts and feelings surrounding motherhood and womanhood. I have been given the chance to let out my frustrations about everyday life with my family and friends. I have been given the chance to share with anyone who reads, the love and devotion that I have to my family and friends, especially my children. This blog was begun because I thought I was funny and sometimes I am. This blog has become my journal, my outlet, my means of making new friends, my solace, my whatever I want it to be. And while I do hold back on certain things because something the repercussions in real life are just not worth it, I do share quite a bit on here and I am brutally honest. I hope that my children, one day, will see the value in this and treasure the thoughts and words that I have put down as they've grown and taught me how to be a mom, a wife, a daughter, a friend, a sister and a woman.

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I was going to write a letter to my daughter but I think I shall save that for a separate post because it's too important to me. Let me tell you about my night last night and how it made me realize just how much of a mom I am.

So, I went out after work last night with my friends H and N. They both live in PA, and not the close part of PA. I met H down by her job about 45 minutes from my job and we did a little shopping for the girl's birthday party and then headed another 45 minutes or so into PA to H's house. I hadn't been there since she and her husband bought it so it was nice to finally get the grand tour. As we were getting off the highway in PA my phone rings and it's the husband. Let me first tell you that he was WELL AWARE that I was going out last night. AND he was WELL AWARE that I was going down to PA. We had pre arranged this about two weeks ago and I made sure to remind him every other day about it. So, the phone rings....

Me: Hello?

Husb: Hey, you're getting the kids right?

Me: NO I'M IN PENNSYLVANIA! (Not angry more surprised than anything else!)

Husb: What?!? What are you doing in PA?!?!

Me: Husband, I told you! I'm going out with H and N tonight. They live in PA. Remember? (Getting increasingly worried at this point because it is now 5pm and the daycare closes at 6:30 and the husband works about 40 minutes away.)

Husb: Oh, that's right. I guess I didn't even realize! Sorry about that!

Me: It's ok...you don't have to be sorry. But, are you going to be able to get the kids? Do I need to turn around? (Knowing full well that even if I turned around and did 80 the whole way, I would NEVER EVER make it there by 6:30.)

Husb: No, I'm just a little behind. I'll get them. It's fine. Let me go and get things done. Love you.

Me: Are you sure? Ok, love you. Call you on my way home.

We hung up. I was a little shaken to be quite honest. Then my mind started reeling.....
What if he didn't get there in time?!?!
What if the kids were stuck at daycare?
What if they never got picked up?
Who could I call to get them?
What was I going to do?
Were we really becoming those parents that practically forget their kids at daycare?
How long would it take my parents to get up there to pick up the kids?
Should I call my parents now?
Was daycare going to call our emergency contacts?
Was daycare going to call DYFS if we didn't show? (This I knew wouldn't happen until an hour of not being able to contact anyone and then they call the cops.)
Should I turn around?
Oh my God....my poor kids...I could feel the tears in my eyes. I could feeling the tingling of hyperventilation starting. I could feel myself shaking. I was seriously worried. Was the husband going to get there in time? I could call my parents but a)I didn't want to put them out, b) I didn't want them to sit in miserable traffic on a Friday afternoon and c) I didn't think they would make it in time! Calling our emergency contacts was not an option. What was going to happen? I felt TOTALLY and completely helpless so far away. And then the guilt set in. If I had just come home after work and not been selfish and wanted to go out with my friends my kids would be fine and home and starting to eat dinner. They would not be sitting at daycare completely unaware of the fact that their mother was in PA hanging out and their father was running late worried about not being able to pick them up.
I arrived at H's house and told her what was going on. Then it hit me. My husband is 32 years old. He is perfectly capable of figuring this out. He knows that if he REALLY needed to he could call my parents. He knows that he needs to have someone there because daycare will call the other contacts and that can't happen. He knows that he needs to get his ass out of work and get to the daycare center. I should not feel guilty for going out on a Friday after a long week. I should not feel selfish for taking a night out to see two friends whom I haven't seen in quite awhile. I should not be hyperventilating over this, but I was.
H and I talked and chatted, she reassured me it would all be fine. It didn't help that neither of us had cell service at her house but at the same time it did. I wasn't constantly watching my phone waiting for a text or phone call from daycare or the husband but I was thinking that I was missing one. N finally arrived and we headed out. I got in my car and immediately called the husband. He was home. He had the kids. Everything had been fine and gone smoothly. I let out a breath and relaxed.
In that moment of relaxation after knowing that my kids were home safe and my husband was with them I realize that the moments when I don't feel like a mom for whatever reason, are fleeting. There are the days and moments where I can't comprehend the fact that I've given life to two children. I can't get over the idea that these two lives are mine and the husband's FOREVER. To care for and love and provide for as long as we live, no matter what. There are days that I don't like being mom. There are days when I don't feel like mom. There days that I just can't believe I am mom. But yesterday, I realized I am most definitely mom and I am totally and completely happy about that. Although the heart stopping-anxiety attack-hyperventilating moments I could do without!

Come Out Come Out Wherever you Are

First, there has been some speculation as to whether or not I actually work at said teaching job. This speculation has been spoken out loud by a few individuals, mainly in a joking manner, but I'm sure there are many more out there who have not spoken it and think it. Let me put your evil thoughts to rest- I do work. Actually, I work quite a bit. I get into my job, on the majority of days, quite early and I leave somewhat late. Two or three days a week I am here until 5 or 5:30 working a second job separate from teaching. In any given week I have more than 250 papers to grade and at least one or two tests or quizzes to create and give. I am continually doing lesson plans and creating exciting powerpoint presentations on the fascinating world of Church History. Tonight I will be at work until at least 9pm because of meetings and contractual obligations. Tomorrow I will get up and do it all over again. Partially, because I have to. We need food. We need heat. We need electricity. But a lot because I enjoy it. A lot because I like the kids and the connection. A lot because I enjoy sharing my faith, albeit not the history portion of it, with my students.
So, yes I work. But, as many teachers have, I have free periods and I take breaks and I occasionally give my kids busy work. During those times sometimes I will grade papers and do work other times I will blog or work on grad school work or simply go and talk with another teacher/friend. Your speculations are put to rest....you evil evil people! ;)

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Yay for finding the tilde....again!!

Many of my bloggy companions are asking people for questions to answer. I've decided to follow suit and up the ante. I am looking for a few things from my readers....
First, questions. Anything burning deep down in your soul that you just NEED to know about me or how I think or am in real life....ask away!
Second, I have questions for you.....Why do you read me? Why do you come here to see what I have to say? What brings you back and what would you like to see when you come here?
Third, what does or does not make you comment? I know I'm not garnishing the readers that many of my fellow bloggers are so my comment numbers aren't nearly as high but I do have a few quite faithful and dedicated readers. Why do you, all of you not just the faithful, not comment or sometimes comment or always comment?

So, come out wherever you are...you lurkers, you secret readers, you people that I know are there but keep your fingers to yourselves..come on out and share with us...introduce yourselves and ask your questions. Keep them pretty clean but know that you can ask me anything.

I must now return to work because my class has been waiting out in the hall for 20 minutes so that I could finish blogging........