Desperately Seeking Balance

You can't win 'em all.

2011-07-19T11:16:00.003-05:00

Last Friday was my brother's birthday. He turned 42...nine years older than the queen herself. *curtsies* And like the rest of us, the Sunday following his birthday was declared the official day of family celebration and all splurging goodness at my parents' house; dinner, drinks, gifts, cake...the whole nine yards. My family's awesome like that.

So along comes the week before my brother's birthday, and I'm gently informed by my Mother that as it is indeed my brother's birthday and not mine...my brother has decided that he would like to invite my ex-husband to our family celebration of his birthday. Did you just do a double take? Yeah I expected that...but read on...it gets weirder. So my brother extends the invitation to my ex-husband, which was exceedingly convenient for my brother as they live in the same house, and the invitation was accepted...I cringed...but the world kept spinning and everyone went on with their day. Weirder, right? I know!

So Hubby and the girls and I arrived at my parents' house on Sunday bearing gifts and a card, looking forward to celebrating my brother's day with him and the rest of my family, and prepared to put on our best "this isn't awkward at all!" smiles for my brother's sake. Greetings were exchanged, a Mike's Hard Lemonade was placed in my hand, and we all proceeded into the living room to deliver verbal birthday wishes to my brother, as after all...it was his day. I knew, just from basic deduction that he wasn't anywhere else, that my ex-husband would be sitting in the living room when we entered, but you see...I still found myself slightly unprepared...to find my ex-husband's new girlfriend seated on my parents' couch beside him. I know...just when you though it couldn't get any weirder...there it is.

And I truly must say that I really actually like this girl quite a bit...she's been good for us all as she's kept him happy and occupied (and off of my back). From what I've heard, she's a teacher, and a kind, smart person. Big almost always puts in a request to her Dad that the girlfriend join them for the day on the mornings he picks her up, so I figure she can't be all bad because little miss fussy britches likes her (that's Big, FYI). On all accounts, she makes my little girl very happy and treats her nicely, which is really all I care about, so in general she goes down in my book as "acceptable". Excellent. But that doesn't detract from the fact that my ex-husband and his girlfriend are sitting on my parents' couch at a family function. Maybe it's just me...but I'm more of the opinion that it would just be better for all if they just took their party elsewhere and enjoyed each other's company over at her parents' house, mmmmkay? I mean, seriously.

But we made it work, the adaptable and accepting homosapiens that we are. She sat at his side silently and stayed in the living room almost the whole time, and I roamed the house loudly and drank more than I ever have at a family function to dull the awkwardness. But you know...same, same. Dinner was eaten, happy birthday was sung by the choir, cake was eaten, kids slip n' slided to their hearts greatest desire...and then Hubby drove us home so as to avoid that whole messy Mommy getting picked up for a DUI unpleasantness. The normal family stuff. What, you mean this doesn't happen to you?! Huh...

And so maybe I didn't pass the test this weekend. Maybe I did go ahead and give the girlfriend the impression that I'm more of a binge drinking lunatic than I am a responsible 33 year-old mother of 2...but in the end what do I care? Life is full of unexpected tests and roadblocks set up to give us pause on an otherwise fine and dandy summer Sunday afternoon. Sometimes you finish the marathon and come out the winner...sometimes they find you laying drunk in the gutter half way along the race path. You can't win 'em all.

At least we're all on the same page...

2011-07-11T22:05:00.006-05:00

Ok, it's been a great weekend of birthday goodness and joy, but it appears that it's time to get back to reality. I resisted any and all housework for as long as I could, but the sink full of dishes and sippy cups was relentless with it's eyeballing me every time I walked through the kitchen this afternoon. Eventually I caved...which coincidentally coincided closely with the time that Hubby would be arriving home from work. Odd. Nothing like sweating over a pan of steaming hot dishwater, cleaning sippy top valves to knock a pseudo-queen down from her pedestal. Ah, well...it was nice while it lasted.

Speaking of reality, I suppose this is a good time to address my most recent doctor appointments and the impending lymph node elephant in the room. I did go to meet my sister's doctor last Thursday afternoon for a second opinion of sorts on everything that had been explained to me about my enlarged lymph nodes, my need for a biopsy, chances of lymphoma, and the possibility of getting lymphedema as my reward for having surgery. I can only imagine the horror she felt as I added more and more history to my story, but her poker face remained, and in the end I liked her. She was kind and funny and she listened thoughtfully while I recounted my entire ridiculous medical history, and took notes as I detailed the CAT scans from the past few months. She definitely seemed to be taking in each word rather thoughtfully, which made me feel like she was really in tune with the urgency I was feeling over making a decision about the
biopsy and my chances of having lymphoma. It probably took me a whole 30 minutes to bring her up to speed and explain to her why exactly I was sitting there in her office at 4 o'clock on a Thursday afternoon. It took her approximately 60 seconds to tell me what she thought; that I really need to just have the surgery and get the biopsy done and shut up about it already! Ok, she didn't say that, but it was implied, or maybe I was just saying it to myself. Either way, blerg...the end.

Fast forward to this morning when I went to see my rheumatologist for my long standing quarterly check-up. It's been 4 years since I started seeing him for my Sjogren's syndrome after Little's birth, but this was my first appointment with him since all of this lymph node business so rudely invaded my life. I had hope going in that he would be able to offer great insight on the situation, as enlarged lymph nodes and runaway immune systems are sort of his thing and, as expected, he didn't disappoint. He was able to tell me that my lymph nodes, while rather large, don't feel like lymphoma stricken ones, and that my chances of getting lymphedema are most likely much lower than the 30% that the surgeon estimated they would be, and that my lymphocyte count was normal in my last round of blood work that he had ordered 3 months ago...all very encouraging things. But he still recommended that I go forward and have the surgery. Blerg, blerg! But on the other hand, this was a positive thing as well.

For the first time since I got the news about my second failed CAT scan almost a month ago, all of my doctors are in agreement...no more conflicting stories and recommendations, and that's a huge relief, even if it wasn't what I had hoped to hear. I have the wisdom to acknowledge that upon having children, I gave up the ability to take chances with my life...the luxury to "wait and see" in situations like this...so I've decided to just suck it up, stop whining and have the damn biopsy done. My appointment with my second opinion surgeon is scheduled for July 18th, one week from today, in hopes that she will be of the opinion that a needle biopsy would be thorough enough, as side effects of that are far lower than actually removing an entire lymph node, but even I realize that the chances of that happening are low. (Triple. Blerg. To the max.) But lest yee feel sorry for me, I must say that whatever happens, I'm a tough cookie, and I have no doubt that I'll get through it. And to end on a positive note,, at least we're all finally on the same page about what's going on and what I need to do next. That has to be worth something.

Queen for a day...or weekend.

2011-07-10T08:06:00.006-05:00

OK, so I'm 33...and so far it's the bomb diggity. It's true that it's only been 24 hours, and not everything has been perfect (duh) but with each year that I gain an age number (since I turned 30) I find that I celebrate cautiously, waiting for the inevitable terrifying realization of oldness to set in. So...24 hours into age 33...no terror. And that's my report.

I believe in my last post I mentioned the concept of Queen Jenny Day as a new representation of my birthday, which began jokingly because I love my birthday so much and sort of took flight once Big and Little caught wind and jumped on. Well, I'm proud to say that this year's inaugural Queen Jenny Day celebration has not only been the best thing everrrrrrr, but it's morphed into a weekend of celebration as well! On Friday night, after many an hour of anxious toe tapping on my part, Hubby arrived home from work with the most beautiful dozen roses ever! and declared that Queen Jenny Weekend was beginning. God, I love that man.

So Friday night we had pizza and movie night with the girls, and I pretty much got to sit on my big fat duff while he hummingbirded around getting drinks and serving pizza with truly amazing speed and dexterity. Awesome.

Saturday morning brought out the true hero in Hubby as Saturday was the actual Queen Jenny Day. As usual, the girls awakened far too early and headed in to climb into bed with us for snuggle time, it's our daily routine. Hubby awakened and declared that snuggle time would be cut to 5 minutes for the day. Snuggling commenced. They evacuated. I passed out. I was awakened a few hours later by Hubby with a taptaptap "Hurry up and look in the kitchen!" that oozed such excitement that I was just the tiniest bit worried that I might find the curtains on fire (except that we don't have curtains, but I was still half asleep so logic escaped me). But I didn't find fire. Instead, I found 2 very excited girls, who serenaded me with Happy Birthday before I even made it through the doorway, and breakfast! Awwww. So we ate together, while Hubby did his hummingbird impression again. Big made sure that I tried some of the orange juice that Little had concocted and she had stirred (so they totally made it) and for those few minutes I reveled in the moment, because all general crappiness had ceased and life was perfect.

Post-breakfast time quickly became cards (which were homemade from the girls and OMG, practically brought me to tears they were so freaking awesome!) and present time, and then get-ready-for-the-beach-time, which I did help with lest you think I'm a birthday sloth. Little butts were wiped and swimsuit straps hoisted over oddly folded arms, sunscreen applied...and around 10 (an hour later than we had hoped) we headed out for our hour drive to the beach. At first we had a little mumbling discontent about the length of the drive from the back seat, but one wave of my magic hand over the DVD player in the van improved the situation greatly. Man, I love that thing.

Shortly after Rapunzel and Eugene escaped the tower, we arrived at our sandy destination. Excitement was abundant...and then waned as we made it to the sand and got our first look around. See, the unfortunate thing about the beach in Wisconsin is that it's lake beach, which in most cases is great because of the lack of annoying and nasty salt in the water, except in our case yesterday it just meant that there were 8 million tiny dead fish floating in the water and washed up on the beach. *barf* It looked to me like a mass poisoning scene in CSI:aquatics...hundreds of little silver fish, laying there in the sand just kind of just staring at us motionless..whispering "run, ruuuuuuun!!!" in their ghostly fish voices. We females of the family were...umm...skeeved. To say the least. But once Hubby convinced me that we weren't all going to catch some rare form of deadly fish disease (which honestly took more than a few minutes) we did eventually plant ourselves in a fishless spot and commenced Operation Introduce Offspring to the Beach. Overall, a great experience. Sand castles were erected poorly, small waves were jumped, shells collected (I totally didn't know that lakes had shells either! I know! Weird!). Hubby even made a sand sculpture of sorts to impress us women folk, and 4 hours later we were all beached out and headed home...making sure to bring a little bit of the beach home with us in the girls cracks for posterity. What's trip to the beach without some crack sand!? All in all, I'd say we effectively checked the block. Awesome.

Home arrival brought shower time, a few over-tired tears (no, not from me surprisingly) and a quick accidental nap from Hubby and I. (The girls are fine, I swear.) At some point Hubby and I discovered that we both had done a rather reckless job of applying our sunscreen and would be paying the price for a few days. (So...that aerosol spray sunscreen? Yeah, make sure you do rub it in...even if the bottle says you don't have to. Otherwise it may just blow off in the wind, make random contact with your body parts, and leave you with a swirly, checker board type, hot, painful sun burn. Just sayin'.) But even that didn't stop us from getting gussied up and hitting the town, or, er...my favorite restaurant for a night out.

Grandma arrived. We left the house at 7:30, and arrived home at 9. OMG, we're so ooooooold! But we had great time being out alone...and not putting the girls to bed for one night (thanks Grams!). I consumed birthday cookie dough ice cream to conclude the day's celebration of Queen Jenny Day, declared to Hubby that I was wayyyyy too full of birthday, and promptly passed out on the couch next to him around 10. Pure awesome.

So it's Sunday now. I was awakened by the sounds of screams and cries from Little that Grandma had gone home and it was now just us, you know her parents, who were inhabiting the house. Oh the humanity, I know. Big crawled in bed with me, and Hubby was nowhere to be found. (I did find him later laying sleeplessly on the couch. Nightmare...poor guy.)

Little did eventually crawl into bed with Big and I, but her unsoothable screaming sobs, chased us out all too early. So here I sit. Big has gone off with her Dad for breakfast, Hubby is presently sitting on the couch reading the newspaper, and Little has ceased crying for the time being, mostly because I promised that I would drop her off at Grandma's in a few minutes so Hubby and I can go to church in peace. (Sorry God, but that kid isn't stepping anywhere near your home today. You'll totally thank me later.) It's now time for me to step away from this computer and get my prayer-on for the day.

Today will bring the closing ceremonies of Queen Jenny weekend, which shall include dinner and cake at Grandma's house, followed closely by a parade with lots of throwing candy that was enthusiastically dreamed up by the girls. Lots of laughs will ensue, I'm sure...and a good time will be had by all. I'm pretty sure that when all is said and done, the inaugural Queen Jenny Weekend will go down in history as the best weekend everrrrrrrr, only to be topped by the possibilities of next year's festivities. Hubby set the bar high...I can only hope he knows the corner he's painted himself into for the years to come. God, I love that man.

Catching Up

2011-07-07T10:20:00.002-05:00

Aaaaaaaand once again, I'm back from a long hiatus. One of these days I'll get into the whole sticking to something thing and not throw my hands up and walk away every few months...one of these days. In the meantime, I'm still 32 (for a few more days anyway), still married to the fabulous Hubby, still mommy to Big and Little...in that regard not a whole lot has changed...but in other ways I feel as if my entire world has transformed in the relatively short time that I've been away. For example...

Hubby...is great. OK, not entirely. His job sucks. And he's miserable. So that part is not so great. In fact, tomorrow we find out if he'll be graced with employment for another month at XYZ Up Yours Company, Inc. It's completely up in the air. And the funny thing about all of this (because it's totally not funny in any other way) is that Hubby is most likely the hardest working, most dedicated employee I've ever known...like seriously, I'm not just flattering him. He works HARRRD! But he's in a sales position at XYZ and let me just get it out there...God did not create him to be a salesman. Not that all salesmen are slimy bastards, but the ones that Hubby works with are, and that's literally the only friggin way they're making any sales right now in this horrible, terrible, no good, very bad economy. Hubby on the other hand is honest, genuine, thoughtful...and so many other characteristics that give him a serious disadvantage in the sales field. Hence...the impending doom of the end of his sales career. The only question really still hanging out there is whether he will find alternative employment before he finishes up at XYZ...stay tuned...I know we all are.

Big...is, well, big! She'll be 6 years-old next month and will be starting first grade on September 1st. Ohmygod, I just fainted a little. Part of me is sobbing and screaming "When did she get so biiiiiiiiiiiig? Why?! Whyyyyyyyyyyyy?!" while the rest of me is so very pleased that she's learning to read and learning to swim, and just so very excited for her. Clearly I'm conflicted. Otherwise she's pretty much the same kid. She's my sassy, independent child, that's for sure...but she's also my sweet, snuggly, little momma's girl as well. And so it goes.

Little...isn't that little anymore. She's 3-1/2...and so darn smart and silly! Her communication skills have jumped through the roof in the last few months and she now says and does the craziest things! The other day she was playing with her Thomas the Train engines when Hubby gave her a sweet little kiss on the cheek. Her reply? "I love ya Dad, but I'm busy working here!" That's my Little. She's also my squeeling, run around naked kid, my I want to help you do that kid, and my hitter. All in stride.

Little's heart is doing great. Her last appointment was in May and they did do an echo (during which she was amazingly still and well behaved, especially for a 3 year-old) and everyone at the HHC at Children's was just so thrilled with how healthy she is. To say that we're thrilled would be an understatement, truly. She really is our little miracle.

And as for me, I'm ai'ight. My 33rd birthday is this coming Saturday, and I'm just the teensiest bit excited for the extravaganza that we have planned. Big asked me yesterday morning what a beach was...seriously...which threw me into a relatively small bad parenting spiral. In order to resolve said spiral, we're packing them up on Saturday morning and driving up to a beach about an hour from here to let them roll around in all it's sandy, lakey, picnicy goodness...then taking them home and showering them for an hour each. This will all take place after some birthday Starbucks, of course. (Of course, you say.) And the festivities will culminate with a night out to dinner with Hubby...at the restaurant of my choice...alooooooone. Squee! Oooh! And I dare not forget to mention the planned parade-like festivities that Big and Little have planned in my honor, during which they will throw candy (at me? possibly.) in grand 4th of July fashion. Should be awesome. Is it any wonder we've been referring to Saturday as Queen Jenny Day?? I think not.

As for the not so fab updates, I've had some rather negative doctor appointments lately of the freak the crap out of me nature. Cliffs notes version...CAT scans in April and June reflect that I have some enlarged lymph nodes in my (I like to say underarms but the doctors officially and eloquently refer to them as) armpits. They're not getting any bigger (yay!) but they're not getting any smaller (boo.) so I'm sort of in the middle of a big ole crap storm of advice right now. I do have an autoimmune disease (Sjogren's remember?) which could totally be causing the lymph node enlargement and would be no big deal because we already know about that. My rheumatologist has said that I could totally wait a few months and have another CAT scan to just make sure they're not getting bigger, which would reflect the nothing more than the autoimmune crap theory. On the other hand, I met with a surgeon last week who told me that it "was time" for me to have a lymph node biopsy...which turned out to be just a tad more involved that I had anticipated. Can you say a 20-30% risk of me ending up with life long lymphedema!? So, I panicked...then I cried...and then I made an appointment with a new doctor. Heh. My PCP (that's primary care physician for those of you who don't have to go to the doctor 15 times a year) was just seriously a big fat loon, which I suppose is just another way to say that I don't trust her to make life and death decisions on my behalf. So when we started talking about me having Lymphoma...I felt the need to umm...run as fast as I could in the other direction and try out someone else...namely my sister's doctor who she loves. Said appointment with new loved by sister doctor is this afternoon...stay tuned on this as well. And cross your fingers for me if you can. Thanks.

Finding Happiness

2011-01-04T14:52:00.007-06:00

For countless years previous to 2010, my New Year's resolution had monotonously remained the same: This year, I will find happiness. And yet for every one of those countless years (and we're talking closer to 10 than 5), I was just as unhappy on December 31st as I had been on the preceding January 1st. Every single year, I failed. Miserably. I tried on profession after profession (massage therapist, financial assistant, personal trainer, day care teacher, etc), one identity after the next (responsible student, careless party girl, strong independent woman, etc.), bending myself into origami-like postures just waiting for one that felt "right". Until all of a sudden on December 31st of 2009 I had an out of the blue epiphany that my seemingly never-ending quest for the unattainable had ended, all while I was busy not worrying about finding myself at all. Funny how that happens.

It's hard to say what exactly brought about the change for me, as the preceding few years had all been full of life changes and revolution...but if I had to guess, I would say that the powerful combination of divorce and self-confidence, Big and sweet motherhood, Hubby and finally knowing true unconditional love, and Little and gaining true appreciation for life and family all culminated to become my personal prescription for dissatisfaction, and brought to me that final piece of myself that I had been missing for what felt like my entire life. On December 31st of 2009, I finally found my place in this world, amongst these 3 silly, sassy, amazing people that I have the privilege of calling my family each and every day. My place in this world is with them, just as I am, and now that I'm here...life has never been so good.

5 is the new 2

2010-10-20T14:47:00.009-05:00

Big is 5 now. She's been a toughie since...well, some might say since she first entered this world, but I'd say since she turned 18 months and the terrible two's began to settle in. By age two, she was great at independence and tantrums, and by the end of age two, I was grasping at hope for an improvement in behavior and better toddler/mommy compliance. Sadly, three years later I still find myself grasping! And with each passing birthday I'm continuously reassured by fellow parents that the behavior does get better this next year, whatever age Big happens to be turning at the time, and I believe, people. With all my might I believe, but it just. doesn't. happen.

The three's were supposed to be better than the two's because between ages two and three children learn to communicate better and are able to follow directions better and listen more. And I will agree, Big definitely learned to communicate better! At three, she was much more able to tell me WHY she wasn't going to do what I had asked of her, rather than just yelling "Noooooooo!" and writhing on the floor, as she had the previous year. An improvement? Maybe. But not exactly what I was hoping for.

And the four's? OMG, I was told the four's were glorious! Such cute stuff! Really sweet. Behavior is so much better! And not all of four was bad. Big was really cute. Starting school was a big deal and that was a really great part of her life at the time. She made little friends and held their hands walking in to class in the morning. What's cuter than that?! But still? When she wasn't happy, which coincidentally was a lot of the time, she spewed revolutionary, independent phrases like a Midwestern union president! And trust me, if she had known what a strike was, she would have been on one at least 3 times a week. More sophisticated warfare? Definitely. Better? Not-so-much.

And now she's five. Well five is great, I was told! Kids say the funniest things at five! It's just all school days and pure joy! And all I can say at this point is REALLY?! Because while my child is quite hysterical (hysterical I tell you!) and the number of things that she's learned in the last year is awe-inspiring, I'm not really feeling the joy. In fact, in the last week I've pretty much determined that my 5 year-old is actually an (undersized) undercover international spy who has been sent to kill me with her carefully trained weapon of selective listening and pure, unabated hell raising. This small, warm, soft, beautiful being, who I have raised since breath first filled her lungs when she came into this world, might just be the death of me.

Please, God...Buddah...Pocahontas and your colors of the wind, give me strength to get through age five. Because I've heard six is awesome.

It's Ladies Night Out!

2010-10-14T11:20:00.004-05:00

And by ladies night out I mean that I'm meeting my BFF at Panera Bread for salads and paper-cupped sodas after work tonight. Very extravagant. But to me, it's as if I'm jetting off to a tropical island for 2 hours, just my friend and I...alone. Ahhhh... 2 full hours of girl talk, kid talk, husband talk (*insert evil laugh here*) and an uninterrupted meal. Heaven.

Hubby isn't quite as enthusiastic about my mini-vacation as I, but he tries really hard to pretend that he is...for my sake. He came to the horrific realization this morning that tonight...while I'm gone...the girls will need to have baths before they go to bed. (*cue psycho music*) He's bathed Little by himself before, but never both of them together, so it's safe to say that he's completely terrified, but he tried to hold it together outwardly in front of me. I made sure to reassure him that I have the utmost confidence in his ability to clean our children without maiming them, though I am just the tiniest bit concerned...more for everyone's mental well-being than anything else. Our girls are tough. And he has a *teensy* bit less patience than I do...so I've promised that I will make it home before anyone is tucked into bed...more for my own peace of mind than anything else. (Everyone in one piece? Anyone need comforting, or band aids? Or a beer? Check. Check. Check. Nighty-night.)

Isn't it crazy how much worry accompanies you as a mother (or parent, let's be Equal Opportunity, here) when you leave the house for any amount of time alone? Are they crying? Are they eating? Do they miss me? Have they gotten into poison in the garage? Has anyone accidentally lopped their arm off with a kitchen knife? Are they bleeding in the corner somewhere?? (but really, Hubby...I totally trust you *ahem*) And how about the hours of prep work that must be put in just to have 2 itty-bitty hours of me time once a month? Insanity. But the craziest part of all? That those warm, soft, smart, silly, sweet little beings are worth every single second. Every tiny piece of me is so completely theirs...just not for 2 hours tonight.

Are You a Breather or a Panter?

2010-10-12T11:54:00.009-05:00

Well, I finally did it. I dusted off my Jillian Michael's Shred video and brought my hand weights out of the closet...and I worked out last night. It's been 4 months since I suddenly dropped the workout routine that I had grown so accustomed to in the previous 6 months, and yesterday I cursed myself every single second of that 25 minute video for ever having done that. Technically, it was a forced break that I took back in June, since I was physically unable to workout the week that we took the girls to Disney World (it was 104 degrees, yo)...but afterward? That was pure laziness. And very, very stupid. I have no excuse for that.

I must admit, I restarted my workout with my BFF Jillian and her all-too-joyful heathens Natalie and Anita at Level 1, and used my trusty 2 pound hand weights rather than my more challenging 3 pounders, but I still felt like I might die the entire time. I was miserably out of breath by 15 minutes in, and my whole entire body was shaking by the time my DVD player said I had 5 minutes left...which, considering I was practically one-handing Level 3 a mere few months ago was just a bit terrorizing...but, whatever, I finished dammit. (So there Anita, with your smile never faltering during the lunges and squats.) And now I need to find a way to fit exercise into my schedule on a regular basis.

My buddy Jillian swears that everyone can find 30 minutes to workout 4 times a week (while pointing at me threateningly)...but in all honesty, Jilly, if we include the 10 minutes of post-workout doubled-over wheezing, and the shower that...really, I must take so as to not offend anyone within a mile of me...it's technically more like an hour commitment I'm making here. Still? Not a huge amount of time for someone who doesn't have tiny human beings imitating mountain climbers and stealing their hand weights mid-workout...but me? I'm not that person. I have both of those! So my question is...with all of these balls in the air, how does a parent find time to breathe three times a week, much less pant along to a video alone?? And here's where I think I'm onto something. I think the answer is...they don't. I think as parents of small children, we have to choose whether we will breathe OR pant during our scant amount of free time, because right now, there isn't time for both. While Little is napping, on Mondays and Fridays, and after work on Wednesdays I will need to make the choice whether I will sit and breathe for an hour (AKA: fold laundry or make dinner), or I will pop Jillian and her evil bitches into my DVD player and get my sweat on. I have this nagging fear that God just didn't create me to be a career panter, but I'm trying Jillian! I'm trying.

A Day of Celebration and Thanks

2010-10-11T07:48:00.013-05:00

This past Saturday was the 33rd Annual Brigg's and Al's Run Walk for Children's Hospital here in Milwaukee. It was also the third annual gathering of Team Maddie Boombaladdie for the event, and it was wonderful.

A few years ago, while Little was in the Pediatric ICU following one of her surgeries, Hubby and I were walking back from the cafeteria to Little's room, where we were planning to stay the night (which is a whole blog post of its own...Hubby slept sitting upright in a wooden rocking chair...seriously) when something on the wall grabbed my attention. Hanging in a frame outside the PICU was a newspaper clipping from 1977 of the very first Al's Run for Children's Hospital, a fundraiser that was started by the, then, basketball coach from Marquette University, Al McGuire. I don't know what, but something about that article, that picture of 10 thousand people running through the streets of downtown Milwaukee called to me, and it was at that moment that Team Maddie Boombaladdie first formed...in my head anyway. It wouldn't be until about a month later, when Little was out of the hospital and thriving, and I was bursting at the seams with appreciation, that I would actually sign us up for the event and begin sending out my emails of plea for everyone on the planet to join us in giving thanks. The first year we had 10 wonderful, brave, giving souls on our team. The second we had 30! And this year we had 25 supportive, eager, wonderful, generous souls walking the 3 miles at our side, honoring our very special, strong, amazing Little and her awe inspiring team of doctors and nurses (can't forget the nurses!).

To say that the event makes me emotional is an understatement. There's the tear inducing appreciation I have for our team members who give from their pockets and piggy banks and sacrifice a Saturday morning to come and walk with us, some from hours away. There's my drop-to-my-knees-and-thank-Jesus appreciation to Children's Hospital and it's staff for saving my precious, wonderful Little girl, and giving us every single minute of these last 2-1/2 years to watch her grow and change. There's the sorrow and heart wrenching bit of reality that slaps you in the face when you walk amongst tens of thousands of people, all there to support a place that dedicates itself to sick and injured children...some in memory of..and the deep, overwhelming sense of gratitude that we aren't one of those teams. The whole experience is a bit of an emotional rollercoaster, but one that leaves you changed for the better.

So this year, the veterans that we are, we stormed those streets together...talking and laughing and appreciating (and sweating *ahem*)...and when it was over, we did something new. We all headed to Grandma's for a first annual Team Maddie Boombaladdie after-party of appreciation. Children played and danced and giggled, and ate macaroni and cheese and candy. Adults ate Grandma's awesome chili and drank various amounts of alcohol, and we all feasted upon a sinful array of dessert bars provided by my friend Kara, who works for the best local bakery. And when it was time to go home, smiles were abundant, jokes had been told, children had been oooh'd and ahhhh'd over, and our mission had been accomplished. There will not be another year without an after party.

After our guests had departed, Hubby and I bathed the girls at Grandmas, and put them in Grandpa's t-shirts for pajamas (which happen to make the best, silliest little girl nightgowns by the way) and plopped them half asleep in the car after the sun had already kissed the sky goodnight. They were both asleep by the time we arrived home (10 minutes later) so we gingerly scooped them up in our arms and took them inside, tucking them in a little tighter and kissing them goodnight with a little more appreciation than ever before, and as we walked out of their room and closed the door behind us, we closed the book on this year's Team Maddie Boombaladdie walk for Children's Hospital.

The countdown to next year has already begun.

The Tummy Ache Saga

2010-10-08T07:15:00.007-05:00

Can anyone explain to me this crazy phenomenon where children wake up with the sunrise on days that they don't have to be anywhere...and yet we have to wake their little sleepy heads 15 minutes before the bell rings on school mornings? I hate that phenomenon...and I've fallen victim to it this morning. So, like any good mother, while the little ones are occupied with Hubby in the bathroom, the first thing I did was get up and make coffee, and then jump on the computer to blog. Don't worry, I turned the TV to the Disney channel first, I'm not completely crazy.

So, anyway, we didn't have to get up early this morning because I'm keeping Big home from school. She has her first appointment with a GI doctor today at 10:05 (they book in 5 minute increments??) and while I could send her to class after the appointment, I've made the executive decision that we ALL deserve to just take the day together enjoy it. Except poor Hubby, who will still be making valiant attempts to sell corporations the Cadillac of security systems...because that's what he does now. And, dude, it sucks, but that's a whole other blog post. Back to the tummy saga...

About eight months ago Big started telling me that her tummy was doing strange things at night, around bed time. She would describe it as her tummy "going around and around" and then a few weeks later she added the words "and up and down" and honestly, internet people who won't tell a soul this, we thought she was lying. It was bedtime, yo...and what kid doesn't try to get out of going to bed, am I right? So we told her she was fiiiiiiiiine and that lying isn't nice and she should get some rest because she had school the next day. But it continued. So a few weeks later (*cringe* yes, weeks) I finally called her pediatrician and they told me that her complaints did indeed sound credible and that I should bring her in pronto...which of course made me the Mother of the Year. So I took her in that morning and they examined her and told me that it was most likely reflux and put on on Prevacid tabs (Oooh! They melt in your mouth! And taste like strawberry!) and we went on our merry way.

Flash forward about 6 months, about 2 months previous to today, when the rest of her strange tummy complaints began. Again, the complaints were suspicious...tummy aches at meal times this time. But after being scorched by the flame of disbelief last time, I was not about to just dismiss these new complaints. None the less, I did find myself earning my Private Investigator's license with each episode. I mean, what's more convenient to avoid eating than a good old tummy ache? It's classic childhood fare, right? I was conflicted. Until the heartburn began, and then the sudden gut wrenching gassy tummy aches...so I called the Pediatrician again. This time he didn't offer to see us, he instead offered me this: "Since she's already on Prevacid and still having trouble, this is beyond my scope of practice. I suggest you take her to a GI specialist." Awesome. Add a GI specialist to our team of cardiologists, ENTs, and orthopedic doctors (Seriously...what is with my children???) and a few weeks later...away we go.

Neither of us has any idea what to expect, really, and we are both nervous about what might go down in there. Big has asked me nearly a thousand times if the tummy doctor gives shots. I keep telling her they don't. What I haven't mentioned is that they may put the needle in and do something crazy, like...I don't know...pull some of her blood OUT...but we'll just leave that up to silent possibility for the time being.

And, yes...we're taking the rest of the day off.

Different Kid, Same Hoops

2010-10-06T15:12:00.004-05:00

Wow, it's been so long since I've blogged that I find myself writing things about my second child that I previously blogged about in reference to my first child, and they are 2-1/2 years apart. That is quite a break, my friends. But here I am again, thanks to my friend Tiffany who encouraged me to get back at it. I enjoy writing, but struggle with choosing what exactly to write about. My life is very ordinary in the I'm a mother of two kids, married to a member of the opposite sex, live in suburbia, work part time kind of way. But we do have quite a few quirks in our life that not many people have, I suppose, that might be fun to write about. Or maybe it's that total "normalness" that will make things I write interesting to others in that "I totally identify with that kind of way". Or maybe no one will find anything I write about even remotely interesting. Who knows...but all I can do is write. Record my present, as it will all too quickly become my past and I've love to have some record of it.

In kid news...which I'm sure I'll have a lot of here...we celebrated an event of monumental importance in our household this morning. Little had her first bit of pee pee in the potty success. As Hubby would put it, the Eagle landed sometime between Big eating her typical banana bread breakfast and me getting my shoes on to head out the door. I overheard some hullabaloo in the living room between Grandma and Big, celebrating the urinary success of the smallest member of our family...but I wasn't buying into it that easily. Not until Hubby confirmed it did I begin to scream and cheer and gush pee pee potty success to Little, who beamed proudly at all of us in all her half naked glory. Priceless. So what did I do? What every mother does when potty training; I rewarded her with sugar flavored crack (candy corn) and promptly purchased a Sam's Club portion pack of Disney Princess underpants...which she won't actually be able to use for another 6 months or so, when she has a light bulb moment and realizes that she has control of this whole pee pee in the potty thing...but it's good motivation, right? A little bribery never hurt anyone.

It all started out rather lovely.

2009-07-22T12:06:00.028-05:00

"They have a butterfly garden," she said, "The girls would like that, wouldn't they?" We agreed that they would, and made the plan; Hubby and I would make the hour drive on Saturday to meet my in-laws at a local botanical garden for an afternoon visit. We hadn't seen them in over a month, and it was time. Kids grow too fast.

A few days later we arrived at the gardens at about 3 PM, hours later than we had planned of course, and quickly unloaded our gear and our girls and headed on our way...first to meet up with the in-laws, then on to the butterfly portion of the gardens. Excitement was abundant.

The butterflies were graceful and beautiful...and mostly various shades of orange...dancing over our heads and landing once on Little...which she didn't much appreciate. Big spent the remaining amount of our time there chasing after the rest of them, trying to convince them that she, also, was a sufficient landing zone. Sadly, they didn't care. The rest of us watched and pointed and oooh'd and aaahhhhh'd with the masses as we walked around the swampy, humid indoor area, discovering that, really, humid does nothing for odors in a room full of people. Lovely. At one point we wandered upon a glass enclosed chest that was filled with various species of butterfly chrysalises, and even a few newly hatched butterflies waiting quite patiently to be released, and hit the jackpot. A volunteer approached at just that moment, allowing us to be there while she unlocked the glass doors and let the hatchlings fly out into the world for the very first time. It was beautiful, and the girls adored it...but 30 minutes of flying bugs was enough for them, and I concurred, so we moved on.

The outdoor area was lovely, and large. I couldn't even tell you how many varieties or even colors of plants there were to gaze upon. Big galloped a few yards in front of us, ever the independent one, while the rest of us hung back and mosied along in a more relaxed kind of way. Little, the luckiest of all, hung out in her stroller and allowed herself to be pushed along the path. No screaming, lots of smiles, pretty flowers...it all started out rather lovely. At one point, about fifteen minutes into our stroll, we came upon an Asian themed area with a large golden temple-like building. There were stairs leading up to the building, and stairs on the other three sides leading down into various zen-like displays, some with still pools of water, some with flowers and benches, all very much right up Big's alley. So she ran and the rest of us sat and watched and just generally occupied ourselves while she burned off a little energy, you know, the usual. At some point, a few minutes into her routine, I joined her up on the building platform and sat on the steps while she showed me her very impressive physical abilities. I smiled, and then I noticed her pulling at the crotch area of her pants. "Potty," I thought, because I had seen this all before, and I figured that it was time to head back to the entrance, where the bathrooms were located. It was a fifteen minute walk from where we were, remember, and there was nary a port-a-potty to be seen amidst the dahlias and daisies. It was time to go. In what seems now more of a formality than an actual gesture of inquiry, I walked over to Big and, as I ushered her toward the steps of the building to head back to the path, I asked her "Do you need to go potty?" And of course she said no. She always says no, especially if, at the moment, she is entertained. I ushered her anyway...a mere three steps down...when all of a sudden she had a change of heart. "Yes, Mommy! Yes! I need to go potty!" she said, but it was already too late. "I'm going!" she said, as I cringed and quickly grabbed her under the arms and moved her off of the steps onto the grass, waiting for the streams to trickle down the insides of her legs and the puddle to appear beneath her...but there were no streams, and no puddle was forming. I was confused at first, thinking that maybe it was a false alarm and she could, indeed, hold it until we made it to the building, "Don't go!" I gasped, "Hold it! We'll go to the bathroom really quick!" I told her, but again she told me it was too late, she was already going...and suddenly the wind turned and blew in my direction, and it all made sense. Horrible, horrible sense. Dear Lord, it was a number two.

So there we were, at the far end of a public garden, a fifteen minute walk from any bathroom, more than an hour from home and Big had an obviously large, stinky poo hanging out in her underpants. "Hubby!" I yelled in a hushed tone, "Hubby, come here!!" and I think that by the look on my face he knew there was no time to mess around. He quickly ended the conversation with his parents and headed right over to my side, where I let him in on the secret. He cringed, and we began discussing our options. The best option, of course, was to make the trek back to the building, where I could take Big into the bathroom and clean her up...but as we stood there, commiserating, she got tired of watching us whisper and decided she was going to walk away from us, and that put an end to option number one. I wouldn't even call what she was doing "walking", it was more of an open-legged waddle at .01 miles per hour. Obviously uncomfortable, and gross, it was both horrible and hilarious at the same time. Clearly, we weren't going to make it more than ten feet from where we stood, so Hubby grabbed the diaper bag and the three of us headed up a little secluded path, which Hubby would later tell me was called a "serenity path"...oh the irony, to get down to business. A few minutes later it was anything but serene back there.

My portion of the clean-up was to take care of Big...Hubby's was to take care of the rest. At one point I looked up from my cleaning duties to find Hubby standing a few feet away from us, holding as little fabric between his thumb and forefinger as possible, staring at the dangling pair of soiled Littlest Pet Shop underpants with disgust and wonder. "It looks like a sling shot!" he declared, and at that point all composure flew out the window. It did. It looked like a puppy decorated, sparkly, white cotton poo sling shot, just dangling there between his fingers, as we stood out in the middle of a public garden...our little girl's dimpled bare buns exposed for the world to see...with the tour tram's speaker noise growing ever closer, threatening to expose our horrific, secret mission to the unsuspecting elderly who had climbed aboard expecting a G-rated botanical tour...and damn it, it was funny. So we laughed, gut busting laughter, for a good two minutes...and then we went back to work.

About a thousand wipies and a few minutes later, Big was all cleaned up, dressed in new clothes and happy as a clam, as she skipped, tra la la, back down the path to where my in-laws had seated themselves on a bench, with Little, while we went on our alternative adventure. Hubby and I, on the other hand, hung back behind the bushes for a few additional minutes, bathing our digits in copious amounts of anti-bacterial liquids, staring off into the distance in a sort of shell shock over what had just taken place. Only us, we thought, as we gathered our soiled belongings and made our way behind Big back down the path to rejoin our group...and it was then that it occurred to me. Something was missing. "What did you do with the poo?" I quietly asked Hubby, expecting that he would have placed it in the ziploc bag with the undies for us to discard in the nearest trash bin...but alas, I was holding the ziploc bag...and in it there were pants and terribly funky undies...but no poo. "Well," he began, "I needed a place to put the pants...and I didn't really think that we needed to pack up the turd and take it home with us, so..." I cringed, and prepared myself for the rest. "I tried to shake it out, but it wouldn't budge, so I grabbed a stick and impaled it, and it kind of made like, a poopcicle? So I took it and I tossed the whole thing over the rocks as far behind the bushes as I could get it." And I died a little bit inside.

"You left it there?!" I gasped...and he simply nodded. I mean I guess I could see his point...we did only have one ziploc bag...and the thought of packing an actual poo in with our daughter's clothes and taking it home with us was kind of horrible...and we were sort of out in nature, where many species had littered the ground with poo long before us...or so I told myself in order to alleviate some of the guilt I was feeling over the incident. If only we had packed some sort of orange flag, or warning sign in our bag as well, for the unsuspecting gardener who would soon be wondering how on Earth someone had smuggled a dog into the gardens. My sincerest apologies to that gardener...and to everyone who happens to travel that previously serene path in the next few days in general. Leave it to us to take a trip to a beautiful botanical garden and totally shit upon it...umm...literally. That's us...destroying the ecosystem one poopcicle at a time. Heaven help us.

The story of us.

2009-07-16T12:42:00.027-05:00

I was married once before, when I was 25, and divorced three years later. It was a really ugly, unhappy period of time for me, nothing I enjoy looking back on. If it weren't for Big, I would say things like "I wish I had never...blah blah." but getting Big out of that relationship makes the fact that I went through all that I did OK, as long as in the end I got her. In fact, it was having her that finally gave me the courage to set out on my own, knowing that she deserved a better life than the one I could give her when I was married to her father. So in a sense, having her saved me too. My little blessing in baby's clothing, I am thankful for her each and every day.

So, on our way we went...Big and I. She was about nine months old and I was a first time mom...green as could be. If it weren't for the support of my friends and family I'm pretty certain we wouldn't have made it out on our own. But we did. In the nine months that we were on our own, we managed to grow together...happy and healthy and strong. She was a joy. And at the end of that nine months, I met Hubby.

I had dated before him, after my divorce, but meeting him was different than anything I had ever experienced before. For me, HE was different...good different...and though I didn't know it then, he was my one.

Totally gun-shy from a previous marriage that ended in divorce, he wasn't quite as sure about me as I was about him. I knew he was nervous, distant even, because of what he'd been through...not looking for any kind of anything solid, he put it out there for me from the beginning, and I was unsure...but he continued to pursue seeing me, and I allowed it to go on because I enjoyed my time with him and I figured that, if nothing else, I was having a good time dating. So we dated. For about two months. And then it happened (or I should say, and then she happened). Already falling for him and his brilliant blue eyes and witty wisecracks, I did that thing that mother's tell you never to do as a young woman, you know...that thing I knew better than to do. I gave myself to him. Once. And though I went into it with my eyes wide open, and it seemed as if nothing had really changed in the morning light, from that night on everything changed. A mere two weeks later we discovered that there were now four of us where there had previously been only three, and two lines where I had prayed so hard there would only be one. And I cried. And he panicked. And for a few minutes the world stopped spinning for us, while our heads began spinning with the realization of what we'd done, what we'd created so accidentally one night, and the fear over how our lives, still so separate, were going to change as that "thing we'd made together" grew between us for the next nine months. And then, as if nothing had changed, the world began spinning again and life went on. That was in May. By July we had fallen in love. It was truly the most preposterous thing, but it was the truth. Amid the pressure of an unplanned pregnancy, and the baggage we were each carrying from our previous failed marriages, and the social pressure surrounding us to make a "go" of something we weren't even sure existed...we fell head over heels, ass over tea kettle in love with one another. And that was it for us. From the very first time that he told me he loved me, I was his, and he was mine in an unwavering, absolutely no doubt kind of way. We were married the following New Year's Eve.

As my belly grew over the months, so did Hubby's relationship with Big. From the very minute that he met her, I knew he loved her. Following her around my house with a Dora doll as big as she was, trying everything he could think of to get her to speak to him...it was almost painfully obvious to me that he was instantly smitten. Much to my relief, in no time at all, it was clear that she was equally taken with him, referring to him more often as "her prince" than by his name. She was soon informing me that she was making plans to marry him when she grew up, and I knew that she meant it. It was love in that "you're the best daddy-figure ever" kind of way, and just as it was with me, from that day forward she was his, and he hers in that same unwavering kind of way. As if by magic, there suddenly stood before me a family of three where, until recently, two very separate, broken families had stood. It was a miracle...undeniably God's plan for us..and we were thankful and happy. My heart was full for what seemed like the very first time in my whole life. Things went on that way for a few more months; snoring on the sofa on Sunday afternoons and sausage biscuit hugs on weekday mornings...life was simple, and simply wonderful. And then along came Little.

Little was born on a very cold, dark January morning. A planned c-section, we arrived at the hospital very early on a Tuesday morning for our "appointment" and in no time at all, with fear in our hearts and tears in our eyes, Hubby and I together embraced our newest little girl. Prepared for surgery and a complicated hospital stay, but having no idea of the terrifying, twisted and yet wonderful path that lay ahead of us in the next year, we held and caressed our soft, beautiful baby girl. Ten perfect fingers and ten perfect toes...and one tiny broken heart, Little fought her way into this world with a spirit previously unknown to me...strong and so fragile at the same time. So perfect and so vulnerable, Hubby and I loved her from the very moment we gazed upon her beautiful little face. That cold morning, before anyone else had a chance to lay eyes on our newest tiny member*, so very suddenly, we became a family of four.

And that's how we came to be us; Hubby and Big and Little and I. Aimlessly adrift in the sea of life, we found our way to one another and unexpectedly became one, the four of us together. Our family, my dream come true. That is the story of us.

*Excluding medical personnel, of course.

The Definition of Amazing

2009-07-15T12:41:00.004-05:00

18 months ago today my Little entered this world. Right from the get-go she came in kicking and screaming, letting everyone know that nothing was going to keep her down and no one was going to hold her back. Isn't that the truth. It's impossible to describe just how much I've learned from this little person who grew inside my body...coming into this world imperfect, fighting for her life from her very first breath, she's never wavered in her strength and determination. She is the definition of amazing.

Happy 18 Months to my strong, silly, smart, amazing Little girl. Mommy loves you and thanks you for just being you.

I Love Being Wrong...

2009-06-19T11:26:00.006-05:00

I had a minor electronic gadget emergency the other day. I define this as an electronic gadget emergency because the emergency was that my cellphone kept turning itself off randomly and refusing to reignite in any way shape or form until it was damn well ready. Really? Not an emergency, but in this day and age being without your cellphone feels like an emergency, especially when you've given up the good ol' landline in favor of the portable variety, and no one can get a hold of you without it. So after a week of being ready to run to the AT&T store and then having the damn thing magically heal itself, I had had enough. The phone was only a little over a year old and hadn't suffered any trauma...to my knowledge anyway, I suppose with phone loving little ones running around you never truly know...so into the store I flew, on my lunch break, and by the time I got there, I was not. happy. FEAR ME.

Cellphone salespeople have taken on a certain type in my mind, pretty much the same type as the used car salesman. Anyone who shouts at me and tries to sell me something as I'm walking through the mall with my two children, juggling goldfish, a sippy cup, and a leaky lemonade immediately goes on my shit list. (Also on my shit list? The nail file and hand lotion toting salespeople at the mall...but that's a different post on a different day.) I just knew, before I even entered the building, that I was going to be told that my phone was worthless, no longer under warranty, and that I was going to have to buy a new one. Knowing that I was not yet eligible for a "free" phone, as my contract isn't up yet, I was preemptively internally seething. Scam artists!! I thought, and I reluctantly walked up to the service counter and waited.

A few minutes later a not-really-noteworthy looking guy walked out of the back storage room and asked if he could help me. I hoped that he could. I told him the symptoms of my emergency and, taking note of his immediate frown, dreadfully followed him to his desk. A couple fiddles and faddles with my phone later, my worst case scenario was confirmed. Upon investigation, it appeared that the "moisture sensor" inside the battery compartment shined a brilliant shade of hot pink, which immediately told us two things: 1. somehow my phone had gotten wet inside and was dying a slow death (drool anyone?) and 2. the warranty on the phone doesn't cover this problem, and I was SOL. Lovely. So I swore. I really didn't mean to do it, but when the guy told me that I wasn't eligible for a free phone and that the warranty on my current phone was done-for, I let one slip. Yeah, the guy said to me in agreement, and for a second I questioned my automatic tagging of all cell salesmen as bad. Maybe this guy was decent...and then he talked some more...

Guy: Hey Girl, (I can't remember her name, but she was a salesperson sitting at the desk behind him) can you look this account up on your computer and tell me when her husband is eligible for a free phone?

Girl: Sure, it's October.

Me: Ughhhh. So I'm January and he's October. (knowing in the back of my mind that a new phone just really isn't in our budget at the moment. Crap.)

Guy: Umm, yeah. Hmmm...

Girl: Hey, you know, an older gentleman brought in a phone yesterday because he was having trouble hearing on it, it should still be on your desk. Works fine...doesn't have a battery cover though, so it's in a case.

Guy: Oh yeah. (finds the phone and picks it up.) If you want to use this one until October you can do that.

Me: *warily* What do you mean it doesn't have a battery cover? Cuz...uhhhh...I have small kids... (visions of my cellphone battery being tossed around the room filling my head...walking into the living room to find Little chewing on it...hmmmm)

Guy: *Laughs*Yeah that wouldn't work. I bet I could find a cover in the back...

And with that he got up and walked back into the rear store room, emerging a few minutes later with the phone...with a cover on the back. For me. FREE.

Guy: It doesn't have a camera, but you could have it until you can get a new one for free in October.

Me: *feeling guilty about only minutes earlier pegging him as a swindler* That would be great!! Thank you!!

Guy: OK, the I'll transfer your contacts over...just take a second...

And that was it. I walked out of there without them trying to sell me a single thing, with a phone that works fine, and a big smile on my face...and it didn't cost me a dime. Sometimes I LOVE being wrong.

Let Us Define Emergency...Shall We?

2009-06-14T10:43:00.004-05:00

Well, the girls sleeping in the same room experiment has proven to be deceptively successful. Hubby and I had braced ourselves for a disaster of epic proportions when we moved Little's crib into Big's room a few days ago, but after 17 months of having her in our room, we knew it was time to bite the bullet and justdoitalready! Little is seriously the worst sleeper in the whole wide world, and we were just sure that she was going to wake up a dozen times a night and take Big's sweet, dream-filled slumber to hell with the rest of us, but that's not at all how it's happened. Contrary to our hypothesis, Little actually sleeps better in the same room as Big than she did when she was in our room, essentially going to sleep on her own. Color me shocked...and *delighted*! The first 2 nights of the experiment, they both fell asleep without making a peep and...wait for it...slept all.night.long. We're the people who only get to sleep through the night 3 times a week, remember?? I'm seriously still in shock. Warm, fuzzy, well rested shock. Sweeeeeeet.

The third night wasn't quite as good as the first 2. Little woke up around 10:30 in hysterics and refused to settle down on her own. Hubby (because he loves me and I was already in bed) got her out of bed and rocked her for 15 minutes. It was our first attempt at rocking Little to settle her down. Yes, ever. We braced ourselves...expecting the worst...and were overwhelmed with delight when it seemed to do the trick. She went back to bed without complaint and slept the rest of the night without a peep. Wonderful. Really, could we ask for more?? Didn't think so.

Gleefully, we allowed ourselves to cross our fingers and hope that we were headed into some sort of new and improved bedtime routine with the girls, in which everyone gets to sleep through the night and Hubby and I get to have our room back to ourselves. Three nights in a row without major incident, it was going so well...but it's what happened on the fourth night that really took me by surprise...it went like this...

Everyone went to bed on schedule. Teeth were brushed, stories read, and two little girls went into their beds without complaint. All was quiet. Hubby and I joined them in slumber a few hours later, and passed out in our usual exhausted way. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

At approximately 3am I heard cries over the baby monitor that I keep next to my side of the bed. It was Big, and she was frantically calling for me. My stomach turned. When Big wakes at night, it's usually something pretty serious, and for her to be calling for me, knowing that Little was asleep in the bed next to her, I knew it had to be bad. In a fury of worry and fear, I leapt out of bed and ran to their room across the hall. Filled with dread of what I would find when I opened the door, I took a deep breath and turned the knob. I looked to my immediate right and saw that Little was, indeed, awake in her bed, but as of yet still laying down quite sleepily. All seemed OK with her, so I moved on to Big.

First things first...a quick survey of her and the bed proved to show that she hadn't had any kind of bodily fluid spill (as all parents know are the most frequent and most dreaded cause of middle of the night awakenings). I breathed a sigh of relief, and then knelt down by her bed and began the interview.

Me: What's the matter sweetheart? Why are you awake? (stroking her head)

Big: *sleepy whimpers* Mama, my feeeet! (points to her feet)

(And by this time Little is standing up in her bed waiting for her turn to converse with Mommy. Jumping. Cooing. The whole 9 yards. Great.)

Me: But what's the matter, honey? What's wrong with your feet?

Big: They're uncovered, Mommy! Look! (more pointing)

And sure enough...they were. Peeking out from under the covers were Big's ten little painted toenails, staring at me. So I covered them back up. And that was it. She woke us all up and called me into her room at 3am, because her feet came out from under the blanket. Seriously.

So, the emergency was averted, toes were once again covered and, aside from some crying from Little as I left the room, everyone was alive and fine. A few minutes later, the world went back into happy, sleep mode, and I once again joined Hubby back in our bed. Awake and worried, he asked me what had been wrong with Big...and when I told him, we both laughed until we were gasping for air. Ah, yes...life and death I tell you, those cold feet. Quite the emergency.

So Hubby and I have been in talks, and I think we're going to put out some sort of memo defining what constitutes an emergency in the middle of the night...maybe follow it up with some TPS reports on the subject. I'm just sayin'.

Oink!

2009-06-10T20:47:00.002-05:00

Well, I suppose it was inevitable the we would eventually run into someone who would have come down with the H1N1 (aka swine) flu. My poor niece Mari came down with a high fever and cough on Monday after school, and has felt completely miserable ever since. A quick nasal swab at the pediatrician's office this morning confirmed it...she has the dreaded swine flu...or at least that's what we've been told. My pediatrician's office was quick to point out that it takes 2 days and a visit to a lab for a diagnosis of the swine flu to be confirmed. Technicalities, the other pediatrician says. I'll be safe and go with her.

So aside from feeling horrible about my niece's misery, this diagnosis also sparked something else within me...fear....anxiety...and all out panic. The diagnosing pediatrician recommended that my sister call me immediately and tell me to get my girls into our pediatrician for the Tamiflu vaccine, like STAT. I don't do well with STAT. Due to the fact that we had been with my niece on Saturday at the infamous birthday party (that I was so cool at, ha!) we've now been exposed. Oyyyyy. Given my girls ages and Little's cardiac history, they very easily find themselves in that danger zone for flu complications...which is why I always get them a flu shot...except when it's a completely new strain of flu and there IS no freakin vaccine. Then we're just SOL. Supposedly this Tamiflu stuff is supposed to help lessen the effects of the swine flu, should you be exposed and come down with it and be on the list of people with possible complications, like children under 5, and those with chronic cardio issues...see me hyperventilating??? Now...to get my hands on some...

So, that's how I spent my first day back at work after our little vacation...endless hours on the phone, 2 calls to the pediatrician, 3 calls to my sister to get details and facts that were requested by our pediatrician, and 3 calls between myself and one of our cardiology nurse later...we're not getting the Tamiflu. After all that, whyyyyy???? you ask? Well, because our cardiologist says that since Little's heart is working so efficiently and she is so healthy now, she feels completely confident that if we did come down with the oinky flu at our house, that Little would have no problem getting rid of it just like any other healthy kid. ::insert triumphant smile here:: You hear that world??? No special circumstances!!! No pre-existing conditions!!! I really don't think I've ever been so happy to be shot down!

As for the rest of us, both doctors that I spoke with today assured me that this flu is really nothing more severe than a normal viral flu strain...nothing that our bodies couldn't handle getting rid of on their own...especially Big, whose body has always been strong like bull. Excellent news...stupid media circus. In addition to that, we're currently more than 96 hours post exposure and *knock on wood* so far we're still healthy. This is very good for our anti-flu odds. I'm hoping that if we just keep knocking of wood, and crossing our fingers, and most of all praying like crazy, we'll all come through unscathed.

As for my niece, she's feeling much better already...now if only the rest of her siblings can go without... Ack. Siblings.

Go away oinky flu!!!

Still Around

2009-06-09T17:39:00.003-05:00

Yes, I'm still around. I know I haven't blogged since writing about my craft project plans and, well, I didn't want anyone to think that it had killed me. The hair pins actually turned out really cute and were the hit of the 10 year-old partay! (if I may say so myself *ahem*) And it actually only took me 2 hours (9pm-11pm) to make 25 of them! Who's shabby? Not me apparently! All fingers are still accounted for and only one of them suffered any burns, which is absolutely a new world record for me. So, aside from the fact that I discovered that 2 hours of non-stop hot glue fumes make me wanna barf, all was well. As for pictures, I was too lazy, er ahh, busy to take any before we got to the party. I've been promised a few to be emailed to me by my sister, but we'll see if that actually happens. (she has 4 kids, yo...some things don't happen, who can blame her?!)

So what have I been doing that's kept me away, you ask? Well Hubby and I just got back today from taking the girls to an indoor water park hotel for 3 days and 2 nights. It! was! AWESOME!!! for Big! She literally ran around the place and stuck her head/face into every stream of water available. She was my idol. Little was like, "eh...the water gets in my eyes and that's kinda uncool, man...meh." and Hubby and I were like, so in love with our children that we braved the nights of interrupted sleep, the flying elbows in the face from Little at 4am (when God sent us a thunder storm??? REALLY God????) and chasing Big and Little in different directions all over that freakin frackin place for what felt like an eternity...but it was all worth it to see their beautiful smiles. Of course leaving didn't come without drama, but we expected nothing else. It was very likely the best 3 days of Big's life to date...them's the hard parts. Right now Hubby stinks like chlorine, and my hair is supremo greasy from the pool water and all the extra washing...but that too shall pass...

So what do crazy people do when they get home (exhausted) from taking their 3 and 1 year-old's to a water park for 3 days??? Move the baby into the older sib's room, of course! Dear God, why?????? you ask? Because we like pain...and crying...lots and lots of crying... OK, we don't...but yes, we're really moving Little into Big's room today!!! We figure that they shared a room for the last 2 nights, so this is a window of opportunity to keep it going rather than having it be something totally new and weird. So, here we go...just shoot me now...

I'm SOOO not crafty.

2009-06-05T11:35:00.006-05:00

I'm just not. Never have been actually. The realization that my sister got the crafty gene and I didn't came early to me in elementary school art class. My sister's projects? Made it to the shelves and walls in my parents' house. Mine? Didn't...except a few that had mercy display written all over them. It's just not who I am. I am not artistic, I've embraced it. But sometimes, in a moment of insanity, I forget the details of my 30 years of past artistic failures and attempt to take on a craft project...like today.

Tomorrow is my niece's 10th birthday party. She's at that awkward age when kids get difficult to shop for...too old for a toy, too young for make-up...I believe the popular word for it these days is the tweens. Well I'm apparently not good at shopping for a tween, because I have no idea what to get her for her gift. Until now, I've always been the cool aunt, who loaded the little ones up with nail polish and stylish clothes at an age when nail polish and brand name frocks weren't something my sister would consider buying for her own kids...but now, it's not so easy! I try to win them over with a mini-mani and my nieces look at me all oh nail polish? That's so, like, last year auntie Jen...and all of a sudden I find myself dangerously close to no longer being the cool aunt, but more the aunt who thinks she's cool...you know that one? EEK! But I'm only 30 dammit, I'm still way cool...and to prove this to everyone, I've decided to take on a bit of a project (aka potential craft disaster) as part of the ultra cool birthday present I'm giving my niece tomorrow: hand made embellished bobby pins. Random you say? Ah, yes...it would seem that way, but this morning when I discussed potential girl gifts with my sister, I was informed that my niece had only recently taken on the habit of putting such decorative items in her hair as a new hair style (see what I mean about the whole tween thing?) and it's such a recent style development that she really has none. SWEET! I thought...perfect! gift!...so, off to Target's hair accessory aisle I went, to search the rows and rows of hair thing-a-majigs, and when I got to the end of the aisle...no embellished bobby pins...wtf? Wasn't it only, like, 2 years ago that everyone was wearing those in their hair?? Well, apparently Target thinks it's a trend that's passed (and been replaced by the weird beady double comb up-do thingy? Whatever, Target!) which brings me to my grande scheme to win back the love and admiration of my niece...I'm going to make some!

So, crafty I am not...but I can totally hot glue with the best of them. (Can I do it without burning the crap out of my fingers? No, but who can really?) So what I decided to do was to buy a 90 pack (!!) of plain bobby pins and then take my sorry butt to the local craft store, where I would purchase a variety of glimmering, fancy, girly embellishments to hot glue onto said bobby pins, and voila! I'm back in the inner circle. So that's what I did...this morning. Embellishments purchased...extra hot glue sticks secured...and a 90 pack of bobby pins just waiting for me to burn the crap out of my fingers while I pathetically attempt to decorate them. Did I mention that the party is tomorrow? And that I have 90 bobby pins? And did I also mention that I have a history of getting grande ideas and biting off more than I can chew? Something tells me it's going to be a long and painful night...

...next blog post to include pictures of the finished product...and a detailed description of my niece's reaction. Pray for me.

Sometimes I Just Don't Understand

2009-05-29T11:24:00.005-05:00

I'm going to a funeral tomorrow...for a baby. 24 hours from this moment I'll be there. I'm sick to my stomach already. I've never seen a small coffin, and really, I wish that I could go my entire life without ever seeing one. I wish that this could be a world where all babies are born whole, full term, and healthy...like they're supposed to. I wish that no one ever had to learn that, in real life, not everyone gets the happy ending that they should, and that sometimes even the youngest, most innocent of us all is taken too soon. And it's in these cold, hard moments of reality that I wonder why life has to be so terribly cruel. Parents should be allowed to look into the eyes of their child with joy and exuberance, not fear and anguish. They should be able to write chronicles of their child's life in a baby book, not an obituary. As a mother, my heart aches for any parent who has been through this and, more-so...in all honesty, my heart begs to never be one of them.

Since Little spent her time at Children's, I've become so painfully aware that no matter how much you love your child, no matter how hard you pray, no matter how completely you devote yourself to your family, regardless of what kind of person you are, regardless of economics and everything else, sometimes you lose. And that's just a really difficult thing for my heart to swallow. I know that all of life is uncertain, but this, more than all other things in life, keeps me up at night. Why does this have to be part of the plan; the loss of children. And despite my hours of contemplation on the subject, I've yet to come up with a single reason.

How dear my babies are to me. How closely I hold them to my heart each and every day. How tightly I wrap them in my arms and kiss their soft heads. Today I will do it a thousand times more.

Embracing Exhaustion

2009-05-28T14:24:00.005-05:00

I don't really have much to add to my blog today, just that I'm tired - as Little was up most of the night last night for unknown reasons. I have no idea what time she initially woke in the night, but after hours of having her toss and turn and whimper and cry between us, at 4:22 we broke down and gave her a bottle (I know the exact time because I'm the lucky one that got to get up and make the bottle. Sweet.). And when she was finished? She slept, which was wonderful...for 30 minutes...when she woke up crying again. So finally at 5:30 AM, at exhaustion's door, Hubby and Little and I passed out together, face down in a row, and slept the deep sleep of the dead. I don't even think I had the energy to dream. I remember nothing...until at approx. 7 AM when Big tapped me on the arm and asked if she could join us. Why not, right? Yes, scramble in, quick! And be stealthy...we don't want to wake Little!! So in she hopped...and I had no sooner gotten the covers over her when up popped Little, ready to play and thrilled with the arrival of her role model. A moan of disbelief was shared by Hubby and I. We did our best to play dead for the next hour or so, while the girls hopped and crawled and trampled on us, pretending to be horses and cats and a seemingly random variety of other barnyard and domesticated animals, until there was no denying it anymore, it was getting late and I had to get up for work...damn adult responsibility.

So that's my story today. I grumbled when I got out of bed this morning. I'm exhausted and undeniably cranky. And while it's tough...really really tough...to operate on such little fuel, I still find myself taking a moment to acknowledge how totally fulfilled and blessed I am to be at the point in my life when all 4 of us still fit in the same bed. I know there will be a day all too soon when our morning snuggle sessions will come to a very teenage attitude-y end...like eww, Mom, don't kiss me in front of my friends...so for now, I'm embracing it. Even if it means that I don't get to sleep through the night for the next 5 years. So be it.

My Latest Find...

2009-05-22T09:25:00.003-05:00

Do you see this picture?

That's my bathroom in the condition it was left shortly after Hubby and I put the girls to bed last night. Messy? Uhhh...yes. But also...it SCREAMS a little girl and a baby RULE this joint...and so? I love it.

Sometimes right in the middle of a mess is where you find your joy.

When Life Gives You Lemons...

2009-05-20T14:40:00.004-05:00

...get a really cute Medic-Alert bracelet and wear it while you make lemonade.

I'm in the market for a Medic-Alert bracelet for Little...for her pacemaker and such...and I was led here, to Lauren's Hope, by a friend of mine. (*MWAH* Sue) All I have to say is that if I were a little girl who had to wear a Medic-Alert bracelet 24-7, I would beeeeeggggg for one of these!! And if I were the parent of such a child, I would shell out the cash to buy her one, because really? Wouldn't it be wonderful to turn something they would potentially feel awkward and embarrassed about into something they could feel pretty wearing?! They are recommended for kids age 6 and up, so when Little gets a little older, you can bet we will be visiting this site and ordering one for her.

This company gets my big time, kudos, 5-star, you're a genius award (I just made that up...but really?...love it!).

For now, I ended up ordering her a plain, old stainless steel one with her name engraved on the front and the words "Complete Heart Block, Pacemaker" on the back...except they insist on engraving in all caps so it really says "COMPLETE HEART BLOCK, PACEMAKER" which seems a little !!!!!! and over the top to me, but hey, who am I, right? Maybe I should have added "HANDLE WITH CARE OR MY MOM WILL MAKE YOU WISH YOU WERE NEVER BORN!!" ...you know...to be polite and give them fair warning and all. Darn. I'll have to make a note of that for her next one.

A Product I Love!

2009-05-13T10:02:00.011-05:00

Hello friends. Meet my new favorite product...the Bibbity by Kiddopotamus. Everyone say hello to her...I'll wait...

Hands down, BEST bib I've ever tried. Made completely of rubber, there is no laundering this bib. All you have to do is wipe it down after each meal (when you're cleaning up the high chair tray anyway) and VOILA! clean bib ready for the next meal! (Can anyone say less laundry makes Mommy very happy??) I know what you're thinking...isn't a rubber bib kind of awkward and uncomfortable? Well, at first, I'll admit, I thought I had wasted my money, as it is a bit awkward to put on your child...kind of stiff and wobbly at the same time...weird...but if you press on through the initial awkwardness and use it a few times, I really think you'll soon find yourself all how did I ever live without you?? at which point the wobbly stiffness ceases to matter. As for discomfort? Little doesn't mind wearing it at all. In fact, I think she's clearly more bothered by my taking pictures of her during meal time than she ever was by the bib. She's all whatchutalkinboutwillis at me. (See below.) Nice.

And finally...the very BEST feature of the Bibbity...the pocket. ::angels heard singing::
In all honesty, I kind of stumbled upon this fantastic find when I was (aimlessly) wandering around our local Babies R Us one day (as I'm known to do because, really? Who knew pacifiers came in so many colors! And the rattles?? Gah!). I was merely looking for a cloth bib with a pocket for my little stain magnet whocan'tseemtokeepherstrawberriesoffherlap, when all of a sudden there it was! Since it's made of rubber, the pocket stays open creating a near impenetrable trap into which the renegade food pieces must fall. It seemed a little "Available on TV Only!!!" to me, but I thought, what the heck...I'll bite, and I bought it. Let me just say, Goodbye strawberry stains! You will not be missed. ::celebratory dancing:: See? It works! (Actual Goldfish and graham cracker demonstration seen below. Doesn't she have great eyebrows??)

And? My favorite part? (yes, there's more!) After the renegades fall into the pocket? Little reaches in and retrieves them...and...eats them. If fact, one day when Hubby found it next to impossible to get Little to eat a. single. thing. for him, he (in a moment of genius!) threw some Goldfish crackers into the pocket...and??? she ate them. Now tell me that's not worth $6!

So...for a mere $6...I'd say if you have a little one who requires bibs and haven't tried one of these yet...go out and get one right now! It will make you swoon. Promise.

(note: If it doesn't make you swoon (which I would find extraordinary but, you know, maybe you're not as easy to thrill as I am) don't even bother suing me...unless you really want a couple of half burned jar candles and a stick of string cheese...cuz, really that's all I have to offer. The Bibbity is not up for negotiation.)

One Too Many Episodes of "A Baby Story"

2009-05-11T13:44:00.000-05:00

My 3 year-old has a birth plan. Yes, a plan all mapped out for the day that she'll give birth to her first child and make me a...*gulp* Grandma. And I won't be allowed in the delivery room. She informed me of all of this yesterday as she was sitting at the kitchen table while I prepared her lunch. All of a she sudden blurted out:

Big: I have a baby in my tummy, Mommy.

Me: Oh, you do?

Big: Yep. My babies are in my tummy, waiting for me to grow up and meet my prince so I can get married and have my baby.

Me: Oh, uhhh...oooooookay.

(Trying to think on my feet. What do you say to this, exactly? Explain birth control at age 3...you know...until the right prince comes along?! Explain how babies are made and why she doesn't have one in her tummy...but then have to explain why Mommy did?! Explain that sometimes princes turn out to just be ugly frogs who have a lot of hopping to do, so maybe settling down with the first one that comes along isn't a good idea?! So, I said nothing. Someone needs to give a class on these things. I suck.)

Big: Are you going to see my baby when I have her?

(apparently it's a girl, though she told me that there are actually 3 of them in there right now...2 girls (named Rose and Daffodil) and a boy (named Dave)...who knew?)

Me: Yes! I'm going to want to see your baby just as soon as she's born!

Big: Well, Mama...she's going to be red when she's born...and cry.

Me: Oh, she's going to be...ahemmm...red?

Big: Yeah. And she'll cry. You can't come in when she's red, but she'll get washed up and then you can come in and see her.

Me: Uhhh...ok. I'll pencil that in.

Big: Ok. **smiles triumphantly**

Me: **runs in and turns off the Discovery Health Channel**

So, I guess at least I'll be prepared when the time comes...you know...to not be allowed in the delivery room and stuff. Glad we got that potentially uncomfortable conversation out of the way...20 years in advance. And how great of her to be...umm...so...prepared! Wait...I do have at least 20 years, right?? Maybe I should go make sure that that's part of the plan...

Normal

2009-05-07T14:02:00.002-05:00

What a boring word. The implication of it simply suggests that something is average, not extraordinary, not exciting...you know, boring. And in most cases, simply put, boring is crappy...in most cases...but not in all cases. I'll use the non-boring form of the word "normal" in a sentence to demonstrate, ok? Ready?

Little's heart tests today showed that she has normal heart function.

And another...

Little's echocardiogram showed a normal, healthy, just-like-everyone-else's-heart, heart.

Can you even believe it? No more heart failure. No more function issues with her pacemaker. No more oral medications to improve her heart function. Her heart function is normal! I mean, sure, she'll still need her pacemaker for the rest of her life, but as long as her actual heart muscle is healthy, she should be able to live a totally normal life! Thank God for normal!!

Somebody pinch me, I must be dreaming...

Because Sometimes I Just NEED to Be Mad

2009-05-06T10:30:00.005-05:00

Yeah, so this really isn't my best week. I'm a big, crabby, assholey mess inside...and I'm not even up for changing my mood. I am, instead, wallowing in my funk. Kind of counter productive. Meh.

So of course part of what's bothering me is what's going on with my Dad. He does seem to be doing well after the surgery and has already passed the "which toe am I pinching" test put before him by some of the surgical staff, a good sign that he's getting the feeling back in his legs, (and thank GOD for that), but, unfortunately, I have one more mountain to climb yet this week and I'm struggling just a wee bit.

Little's quarterly cardiology and pacemaker check-up is scheduled for tomorrow morning at Children's Hospital, and I am all sorts of nervous about it. My pretty girl hasn't had an echocardiogram in nearly 6 months, and tomorrow she will be having one to check on the function and health of her heart in a way that can only be done with an echo. I seriously can hardly breathe in anticipation. And it's silly, really, for me to get so worked up about it, as the last echo she had showed nearly *normal* heart function...which was truly more than we could have hoped for at the time...but 6 months have gone by since that last test, and my head knows that in that amount of time, anything could have changed in there.

It was only a little over a year ago that we originally found out that she was in heart failure in the first place, and less than a year ago that she had her last surgery and things started to improve for her health-wise. All of it recent enough for me to remember every grueling detail of what took place between those two dates, though I suspect that I'll never forget. And while, most days, I'm able to stay really positive about things, reminding myself how truly lucky we are to have a, now, healthy Little with us each. and. every. minute. of. each. day, some days I just can't help but get pissed off about all of it. When I read articles about how Complete Heart Block only occurs in 1-2% of all pregnancies in mothers who have autoimmune issues (so that's an even smaller percentage of the population), and that only a percentage of that 1-2% of babies will require a pacemaker, and only a percentage of those babies will go into heart failure (and it's like, 5% people, not 50%...which makes her, what? Like 1 in a million??) I just can help but get pissy that all of this happened to my otherwise perfect little girl. My beautiful, spunky, sweet little girl.

If only I'd known that I had an autoimmune issue, maybe we could have been under the care of a rheumatologist who would have been on the lookout for the early symptoms of her condition...if only I'd had my ultrasound at 20 weeks instead of 18, maybe we could have caught the heart block sooner and stopped it from becoming so severe...if only we could have fallen into that other 98% of autoimmune pregnancies whose babies turn out healthy and fine...if only so many things. And sometimes, I just NEED to be mad that my little girl is the 1 in a million, because it's really not fair and the sheer bullshit factor of it all just pisses me off...and that's where I am today. Be warned.

So tomorrow we'll begin the routine, that we've come to know so well, of getting Little ready for her sedation and her echo. And we'll take deep breaths as we sit by her bedside, watching the reds and the blues of her blood flow flash up on the ultrasound screen, while the tech. measures and the doctors evaluate, and we'll pray like hell...as we've become so accustomed to doing...and we'll wait because that's all we can do. And I'll be hopeful. And I'll stay positive. And I'll take whatever news the doctors give us with as much gusto as I can fathom...tomorrow. But today...I'm just going to wallow and be angry.

Prayers for the Big Guy

2009-05-05T09:43:00.007-05:00

Ok, not the Big Guy, but my big guy. My Dad is having spinal surgery today, and I'm all sorts of fidgety nervous about it. It's not like he hasn't had surgery before, probably more than the average person actually (two knee replacements, an ankle replacement, and an eye surgery in the last few years) but this one is different. Today the stakes feel much higher.

Imagine the most stubborn, hard headed, independent person you know...I'll wait...got one?...OK, now multiply that stubbornness and independence by 50. That's my Dad. A good old fashioned, macho, hard shelled, tough as nails, pride filled, hard headed man. The kind of man who refuses to use a walker during the recovery for his knee replacement surgery because, really? A walker? He'd rather not. That kind of man. So when my Mom told me that a few months ago he had electively stopped driving because he didn't think it was safe anymore, I knew something big was wrong.

A few weeks later Hubby, and the girls, and I went over to my parents' house for a regularly scheduled Sunday dinner to find my Dad using a walker to get around the house. It was then that I really found out what was going on. My Mom told me that my Dad's legs were going numb, and threatening to give out when he was up and about, so he had decided that it was probably better for him to just use the walker. Except I knew that for my Dad, there was no just using a walker. I *panicked* but didn't let it show. They made him a doctor appointment. That was about a month ago. Since then things have only gotten worse.

Following the doctor appointment, my Dad quickly went from walker to wheelchair...wheelchair. Essentially too proud to ask anyone for help previously, my Dad now found himself unable to really do anything without the assistance of someone. He went downhill so fast. The reality of it all was written all over his face, almost like embarrassment. It was almost too much for me to even meet his gaze, for fear of seeing the look in his eyes. Horrible is really the only word I can use to truly describe it.

The MRI reports showed that the nerves that run from my Dad's spinal column to his legs are being pinched by a malformation of bone in his spinal column (caused by osteoarthritis), causing almost all feeling in his legs to be cut off, hence the weakness and numbness. The only way to fix this is to go in surgically and "clean out" that extra bone formation, un-pinching the nerves and *voila* giving him feeling back in his legs. If all goes well, once he recovers from the surgery, he'll be able to get up and go and do whatever he wants again. However, since he's been unable to be active for quite some time now, the recovery process may turn out to be a little more drawn out than usual in my Dad's case. In fact he mentioned the words rehab facility...and frankly it's too soon for me to be able to wrap my mind around that.

Of course, when I talked to my Dad last night he made no big deal of what lay ahead of him today, talking mostly about how he was dreading getting up at 5 AM to get the ball rolling. I tried to talk to him a little bit about the surgery and he quickly changed the subject and asked me what the girls had been up to in the 24 hours since he had last seen them. When I told him that Little had taken 5 steps in a row for the first time last night, his voice filled with sparkle and pride, as he gushed about how my daughters are "really something". Just like him to avoid the topic at hand if it has anything to do with him suffering. He really is such a stubborn man, but it was nice to hear him smile.

So as I sit and therapeutically type this post, I wait. I've already heard from my Mom once this morning, to find out that my Dad has been taken back to the surgical room. That was almost an hour and a half ago. We should have about another 30 minutes to wait before we hear how everything went. And of course, I'm anxious to find out, but also well aware that that's not where the nervousness ends, because then we get to wait and see how the recovery goes, and whether the feeling will return to his legs. And really all I keep thinking in the meantime is please, God let it be good news...

Update, 12:09 PM: He's out of surgery. Surgeon says things went well and he's stable. He'll be in recovery for a while, then move up to his room. Good news!

Update to my update, 3:23 PM: He's in his room, awake and on pain meds. So far so good. YAY! OK, no more updates. :)

Signs of Summer

2009-05-04T11:01:00.010-05:00

Hand Picked Flowers in Vases

Teeny Tiny Painted Toenails

The First Popsicle of the Season

Little Girls Planting Flowers with Grandmas

Hubby Passed Out on the Couch in the Middle of the Day from Tree Pollen

Ahh...yes. After taking her sweet time, I think she's finally here. Sqeeeeeeee!!

Teething and Hooha's and Baseball and Such...

2009-05-01T10:29:00.006-05:00

Yes, friends...today is a variety post. One that will be filled with small snippets from the lives of me and Hubby and the girls...because really? Nothing BIG is going on. So, there it is. Let us begin.

Little...is teething. Or least that's the word that's been used to account for the random stretches of vicious crankiness and sleepless nights that have been ongoing in our household for the last 11-1/2 months. At 4 months old, when this whole craptastic mess began, I took Little into see her doctor...fearing that something must be wrong with my sweet little girl for her to be acting this way...and was told that her gums were swollen and ripe (eww!) and it appeared that the horror we were experiencing was all attributable to good old, run of the mill teething. Excellent. No drugs for that. So, holding tight to the pediatrician's reassurance that she would soon be getting a tooth, and all of us a little relief, we bravely soldiered on through the sleepless cranky routine, waiting for the day that the freakin frackin first tooth would appear and save us all. And then it did...approximately 8 months later. Yes, 8 months, friends. Dear God. And in the last 3-1/2 months, since the first tooth popped through, we've seen the arrival of 4 more front teeth and all 4 of her first molars...and have nary had more than 3 nights in a row of sleeping through the night. In 11-1/2 months. And really? It's killing us. Slowly. But I have hope. Since the discovery of the final molar's first point this week...I have new found hope that we are nearing the end of this phase of torture they like to call teething. Three more molar points, a few bottom teeth, and 4 eye teeth and we're done with this part of the gig...and my heart will leap with joy upon their arrival! So, you know, we should be sleeping great in about another year or so. That's reassuring.

And now...our next topic...Hoohas. As the mother of 2 young girls, it is inevitable that I will have to deal with some Hooha issues at one point or another, so it is unfortunate, for all involved, that I suck to it so much. Really, at the mere mention of the function and/or technical names of any one of the many girly bits we are all brought onto this planet with, I blush like a 12 year-old. I fumble. I stumble. And I embarrass myself during each and every conversation about these things. It must be really fun to watch.

Without going into too much detail, Big has has something similar to a diaper rash for a bit now and it just isn't going away. I've tried this and I've tried that and finally, when she started crying about it, I decided it was time to call her doctor. The first time I called, about a month ago, I got a nurse who made a comment about how little girl Hooha's are different than our Hoohas in that our girly bits are so much looser than theirs (and yes, she used the technical names). And all I could think was "Did she just comment on the condition of my girly bits?? Together with her girly bits??" because, dear Lord! I'd rather prefer that my girly bits not be generalized, thankyouverymuch! And now? I'll never be able to look her in the face again...especially now that I know what I know about her most private of areas. It just isn't right.

And try upon try, hope upon hope, none of this nurse's *sage* advice has made this issue go away...and Big was in tears again last night...so I sucked it up, and called her Dr. again this morning. This time? I have to bring her in. Joy. When I informed Ms. Big that we would be heading to see her Dr. this afternoon so that he could help make her owie not so owie anymore, I was met with an exasperated response. "WHAT?!" she said, "He can't look at my butt!! My butt is dirty Mom!!" and it was at that point that I was reassured that this is going to be one big, fumbly, embarrassing cluster *&^%. I can only imagine what she'll say in his presence...and I can can only wish that I'll be able to handle it without dying. Should be fun.

And our final topic...baseball...sort of. Tonight...if I live through Big's appointment this afternoon...is date night. Oh thank GOD!!! Yes, it is with great anticipation that I've been waiting for the arrival of this day. Hubby and I are going to Miller Park tonight to watch the Brewer's play baseball...alone...at dinner time...and we won't be home until loooooooong after bedtime. Can I get a Hallelujah?! Grandma, being the brave soul that she is, has agreed to come over and not only feed the girls dinner...but also...put them to bed...both of them. And I suppose that unless you've been present for bedtime at our home before, you're wondering what the big deal is. And then I would have to explain to you how, for some reason, as the clock strikes 7, our wonderful, beautiful, precious, girls hit the wall at 60 miles per hour, and turn into...well...tired, mischievous little heathens...and I can say that because I gave birth to both of them. So tonight, I'm going to sit in my plastic-y stadium chair, and have a drink, and watch some baseball with Hubby...and I will enjoy every. last. minute. of. it. All hail Grandma!

The End.

I'm So Friggin Proud

2009-04-29T12:02:00.000-05:00

Big: *waves an imaginary magic wand over Little* Bippity Boppity Boo! You're a friggin reindeer!

Me: Did you just say she was a friggin reindeer???

Big: Yeah.

Me: Oh...uhh...OK. Just checking.

Big: *smiles*

Me: *horrified*

Lady Wha? Wha?

2009-04-28T09:35:00.006-05:00

I happened to be driving in the car this past Sunday when the American Top 40 Countdown reached the number 1 song. Usually, I find this a rare, but fortunate occurrence...usually. The number 1 song in the whole entire country last week was this one. Really America? I mean, it didn't make my ears bleed or anything, but I was under the impression that a song needed to contain actual singing...call me old fashioned.

And while I'm at it, why does this song get so much damn airplay? I can plug my nose and sing "oh babah, babah" a few dozen times if that's all it takes to make a million! And that fake laughing part? Makes me want to take a pencil and poke. out. my. eardrums. Seriously.

And I realize that everyone is different. Maybe these songs give you some sort of urge to shake your booty...I've never been one to frequent the dance clubs so my booty pretty much doesn't get that urge...not in public anyway. The only urge they give me is the urge to change. the. station. Fast. And yell "lalalalalalalalalalalalalala" until they're gone.

I'm getting old aren't I? Next thing you know I'll be shouting things like "Turn down that racket!" and calling people whippersnappers. Lovely.

Beware...the fog!

2009-04-27T10:41:00.005-05:00

If I've learned one thing through becoming a parent, it's that you should never expect things to go as planned. Ever. Everevereverever. If at some point you actually find yourself on schedule, it is at that very point that you should stop what you're doing and take a mental survey of the scene around you...because you know that at some point very soon...the shit is going to hit the fan. For example...say it's a regular Monday evening...a bath night. Your children are squealing with glee at the idea of said upcoming bath, and you actually find yourself with plenty of time to complete the pre-bedtime to-do list that you've mentally layed out for yourself. Too good to be true, right? Indeed. And so I discovered the other night...

Everything was going well...pretty much as described above. The girls were in the bath together...bath time rituals were well in progress...shampoo in Big's hair...rubrubrub...rinserinserinse...whinewhinewhine...a little soap in the eyes, and little water in the mouth, rinse and repeat. You know, the usual, and then it was Little's turn...and here's where my "on schedule" evening went incredibly astray.

I had no sooner dunked Little's wash cloth in the bath water and turned to grab her shampoo, when I turned back to see a strange fog of darkness, and field of buoyant debris suddenly surrounding her. "Oh, dear God" I thought, and I knew immediately what it was. It was that which I had been dreading since deciding that giving the girls baths together was a good idea. It was poo fog. Without thinking, I gathered as much breath in my lungs as I could muster and screamed "SHIIIIIIT!!! Hubbbbyyyyyyyy!" and then moved into action as fast as I could to try to minimize the collateral damage. I grabbed a stunned Big under the arms and tried to lift her out of the tub as fast as I could, before the fog made it's way over to her side of the bath water. Not yet sure what was going on, she initially resisted my efforts at being removed, and it was at that point that the emergency mode switch flipped inside my head and the urgency in my voice became apparent to her. She looked up at me questioningly and, without thinking, I looked straight into my 3 year-old's face and yelled "Get out! Get out! It's pooooooooooooooo!!" which got her moving just a little bit faster. Heh. (Desperate times, you know??) Hubby then came running into the room to see what was wrong (As I don't normally scream expletives in front of our children. Really.) and upon entering the room, stopped on a dime and joined me in my utter sense of horror as, for a moment, we paused and stood in solidarity at the edge of the tub...looking on in awe and disgust while our smallest family member smiled and cooed up at us from a bathtub full of dietary disaster. Disaster, indeed.

What happened next is sort of a blur. I know that I wrapped Little in a towel and handed her to Hubby to quarantine her while I searched my soul for a way to somehow, someway clean up the mess. Taking a deep breath, I reached my hand into the toilet, I mean bath, water and pulled the drain plug...watching as the frighteningly identifiable floaty pieces of filth made their way down the drain. Big wrapped herself in a towel and sat in a crumpled pile at my feet on the bathroom rug, repeatedly bringing various parts of her body to her nose and sniffing them, while begging me for reassurance. *sniffsniff* "Mama, do my feet smell like poo?" she said. *sniffsniff* "Mama, my legs smell like poo." *sniffsniff* "Mama do I have poo on my hands?" I held back my giggles as best as I could, while reassuring her that she, in fact, did not smell like poo and was going to get a shower really really soon..."Just as soon as I find a way to remove this bathtub, destroy it, and bring in a new, clean tub that has never been violated to the likes that I witnessed this evening" I thought. But in the end, that just wasn't practical...so I cleaned it up...which went something like this: rinserinserinse, bleachbleachbleach, gaggaggag, rinserinserinse, and repeat...and after about 10 minutes, we were back in business.

So back into the tub Big went for a shower, while Little (rather joyfully and obliviously) waited, covered in her own filth, for her turn to be de-germified. Big was a champ, Little would prove to be more difficult.

You'd think the story would end here, really, in that "isn't that bad enough??" kind of way...but such was not our luck. It seems that all that silly waiting around stuff had taken it's toll on our Littlest girl's mood, and by the time we were able to get her into her second round of bathwater, she had had it up to here *points to eyebrows* with this whole fiasco. As her bath chair had been violated minutes earlier in poo-gate 2009, it was no longer an option for me to use to keep her from having a tantrum and drowning herself, as she was threatening to do in her own "I can't talk yet, but you know exactly what I'm saying" baby way...so I called in the big guns. I asked Hubby to come in and help me. Sensing my desperation and Little's quickly deteriorating mood, Hubby cut to the chase and decided to forgo the whole trying to hold the slippery baby under the arms routine and instead rolled up the legs of his jeans and bravely climbed in to stand in the tub next to Little. His mission: to get a firm hold on Little while I suds'd her up and rinsed her off as fast as I could so we could get her crabby, tired little baby buns to bed. Easy enough, right? And then he saw it...

Hubby: What's that?

Me: (in a dismissive tone) What? *scrubscrubscrub*

Hubby: THAT! *points emphatically to a teeny tiny, but quite obviously present poo flake floating ever-closer to him as he stood, ankle deep, in the bathwater. Every move he made to thwart it, instead brought it that much closer.*

Me: *Trying not to lose my poker face* Uhh...that's poo residue! *shudder*

Hubby: (grimacing and visibly dying a little bit inside.) Oh, sonofabitch!!!

And it was at that point that I actually started to laugh. REALLY LAUGH. And Hubby did too, really! Because in a crappy (excuse the pun) situation like this...you have two choices...you can either get all crazy frustrated and cry about it, or you can find someway to laugh about it. We choose to laugh. Because really? The day we lose our sense of humor is that day you may as well call up the insane asylum and tell 'em to reserve a couple of beds and a game of checkers for Hubby and I. There's just no other way to survive this parenting gig in our household.

And by the end of the night everything had eventually worked itself out anyway...everyone was clean, the girls were in bed asleep (albeit an hour later than we had planned), toys and bath seat had been restored to pristine poo-free condition, and we found that we had a brilliant new song to sing to crack each other up...made up by my fabulous composer of a Hubby and sung to the tune of "Stuck on You" by Lionel Richie, it goes...

"I'm Stuck on You

I'm a little piece of doody that came out of your poo

Yeah I'm ooooooon your leg

It's been a nasty day."

Yep, still makes me laugh. Thank God.

Sister Love

2009-04-25T11:33:00.000-05:00

My girls really love each other. Sure, they're 2 years apart, at a time in their lives when 2 years makes a world of difference...but they really do love each other. How do I know? It's the little things that make it obvious to me...like the way Big does everything she possibly can to make passive aggressive quiet/loud noises in our bedroom during morning snuggle time (AKA, Big is a super early riser and neither Hubby nor I have the energy to peel ourselves out of bed at that ungodly hour, so she climbs in with us until we're alive) to wake Little up...quiet enough to not get in trouble for making noise but loud enough to maybe, possibly wake Little...or the way she sits straight up in our bed each and every time Little breathes loudly or makes little body noises as she's turning over...hoping upon hope that it's a sign of her wakefulness. That's love. There's also the way Little cries big, salty, pitiful tears every. single. time. Big walks out the door into the vast outdoors and leaves her for any reason and any period of time, regardless...and then the smile that tears across her face as she endlessly bounces and squeals with glee upon Big's return. That's love. Or the way Big asks to have Little ride in the same car as her in the rare instance that Hubby and I need to take 2 separate cars somewhere...and then tries to hold Little's hand in the backseat when we're on our way to said destination. Love. But the most recent evidence I have of this, obvious, all consuming, makes a Mommy thankful to be alive sisterly love, is the way that Big leaned over to Little this morning in the living room, and planted a big red lipstick-y kiss smack dab on Little's rosy cheek...leaving the evidence of her love right there, in the open, where Hubby and I could both admire it. Now that's love. How on Earth did we get so lucky?

Spring Cleaning?

2009-04-24T11:20:00.005-05:00

What is this urge to "spring clean" that everyone is talking about? I don't recall ever getting one...ever. No, really...E.V.E.R. I get the urge to spring shop for new clothes and fun flippity floppity sandals. I get the urge to spring play outside with the girls. I get the urge to spring start projects around the house that I'll get halfway through and then curse myself for starting them. And I totally get the urge to spring drive with my windows down and sing at the top of my lungs. Lots of other spring urges going on here...just no urge to clean. I guess I just didn't get that gene. I feel slighted...so does my house...and most of all, so does my husband. Damn you Mother Nature!!

The hiatus

2009-04-23T10:43:00.005-05:00

I know...it's been a while. OK, more like forever in bloggy years, where you're supposed to update your blog everyday in order to keep an audience, or whatever the standard is that's been set by the serious blogger people who, like, do it for a living. But you know what? That's just too much work for me...and pressure. And really? That sucks. So as I came to this realization a few months ago, I kind of did a symbolic kick to the curb motion and abandoned my blog in a sort of figurative "eff that!" kind of thing. *ahem* (sorry blog) But during my latest blog hiatus I've come to the realization that I was maybe a bit too harsh with my decision making, and I'm just coming back to say that I've reconsidered my tone, and I'd like to resume my previous position of editor and author of this blog...if the internet will have me. **bats eyelashes** I mean, really...in the vastness that is the internet, what is this one blog? Nothing. Probably just one of a million mommy blogs, nothing that's going to impact the way the world turns...but whatever. It's my teeny tiny, insignificant blog opportunity. And I'm taking it. So I'm back...love me, hate me...resent me for taking a hiatus (but please don't)...I'm back.

XOXO,
Jenny

No good deed...

2008-10-08T10:57:00.004-05:00

A SUPER annoying guy tried line jumping in front of me this morning when I stopped for coffee. I call him SUPER annoying because I saw him get in "line" right next to me instead of behind me (hence, the whole line theory?) while looking right at me. "HMPH!" I thought, and I stepped forward one step...my silent protest to his advanced rudeness. I saw him glance at me out of the corner of my eye and thought "oh, good! Maybe he got the hint."...but then...he started talking to me.

Guy: They aren't going very fast today are they?

Me: No...heh. ("Ughhhhhhhh" I thought "Don't talk to me...just get in line!!" but he clearly wasn't gifted with the power of telepathy...so I looked up and gave him a courtesy smile while I tried to give him a non-chalant flash of my wedding ring. It didn't work...he continued...)

Guy: They need to have a separate line for people who want just regular coffee...those fancy coffee drinks take so much longer.

Me: (thinking "you're going to feel like a total ass when I order a latte Mr.") Yep. This is true.

Guy: ...but you're in front of me...

Me: No that's OK...I'm getting one of those fancy coffee drinks. (laughing)

Guy: Oh, I've offended you already.

Me: (giving another, more obvious flash of my wedding ring) No, it's fine...coffee is faster, you go ahead...(hoping that he would just leave me alone and step ahead)

Guy: Well, thank you!! I usually wouldn't care, but I showed up late and I have these people waiting for me...

Me: No, it's no problem...really. (and really, by this point, I didn't care...if I were just getting a 30 second cup of coffee and had to wait in line for 15 minutes for other people's lattes, I'd be annoyed too. The decent thing to do is to let him step ahead of me, so I motion for him to go ahead and make peace with my decision.)

Another register opens and he shoots right up to the front of that line and orders his coffee...

Guy: (to register guy) I'll have a medium coffee...and...*looks back and points to me* whatever she wants...

Me: ... (*blushing*)

I tried protesting, but he wouldn't hear of it...and at that point, super annoying coffee guy turned into super decent coffee guy. So I ordered and thanked him, and we went about our separate morning schedules, *la la la*, never shared another word. How random.

Not a monumental event in my life, for sure, but a nice little reminder that some people actually do appreciate a nice gesture now and again. Sad that it's so rare these days, in a world where road rage has become a regularly used term, but awesome when you actually stumble upon a gracious person. Maybe we each could try to be the gracious person a little more frequently, to breathe a little life back into that old cliche that no good deed goes unrewarded. I'm not saying that you have to buy something for someone who does something nice for you, but how about making a point to say thank you a bit more frequently, or give a nice wave of thanks to the driver behind you when they let you squeeze in in front of them...you know, small things. Certainly couldn't hurt...might make someone's day. It's worth a try, no?

I'm Stuffed.

2008-10-05T22:49:00.002-05:00

I'm stuffed. Can't even think of eating another bite. After eating all of the words that I wrote last Friday, I may never eat again. Seriously.

The trip was fabulous. Both girls were practically angels in the car. My in-laws were fun, and funny, and generous, and loving...just like they always are...and I just totally suck for ever not wanting to go up there in the first place. Don't get me wrong...packing and loading the car made Nightmare on Elm Street look like an episode of Barney and Friends...but within the first 15 minutes of our arrival, I knew that I would be writing this post. Taking the girls up to see my in-laws was worth every sweaty brow, cursing under my breath, trip preparation moment. We're going back for Thanksgiving. They rock.

Excuse Me While I Grumble

2008-10-03T08:58:00.006-05:00

Psst...it's me. I have to whisper while I'm here today, because I have a bajillion other things that I'm supposed to be doing right now, and instead...I'm blogging. Don't tell, mmmkay? See, we're heading up to visit Hubby's family a few hours away today and neither of the girls nor I am packed yet. We're leaving in 4 hours. Heh. Hubby's at work until noon, so I have a little time to sit...but I really shouldn't. (You'll understand why by the time you get done reading this.) Anyway...can you keep a secret? I suppose I can tell you...I'm not really looking forward to this trip...umm...at all. Usually I'm pretty stoked, or at least neutral about heading up to see them, as I got really lucky in the in-laws department, but the pure complication of this trip, and oh the friggin effort involved in packing for it is enough to make me never want to leave our home again. Wanna know the short list of equipment that's required for us to take for Little, alone? Not really? Well I feel the need to list it anyways...

*Bumbo chair and tray-So she has somewhere to sit other than on the floor. Will there ever be a moment when someone doesn't want to hold her while we're there? I'm not sure, but I feel the need to bring it just in case they all have something to do at the same exact moment at some point. It could happen...

*Strap on booster seat-No, silly...not that kind of strap on. The kind that's a mini high chair that buckles to a chair, so she has somewhere to eat and can join us at the table when we eat.

*Double stroller - Or "The Pig" as hubby likes to call it because of its sheer weight and annoyance factor...but we both admit that we'd die without it. Anyway, if we dare take both kids somewhere at some point, it is a necessity.

*Collapsible Bassinet - This will be Little's bed while we're there. Nuff' said.

*Baby Bjorn - In case we get somewhere and just don't have the energy to deal with the Pig...or we go somewhere that Big can walk...it's just much easier to pop her in there and go...but oh my achin' back! Perfect for short trips...long trips leave me in traction.

*Play Mat and Assorted Toys - Self explanatory, no?

*Baby Bath Seat - Blow outs happen people...even hours from home. One must be prepared at all times that their little one may need a bath at the drop of a hat...or the drop of a spoonful of sweet potatoes...which is more common in our household.

*Breast Pump and Accessories - Technically this is for her, right? I mean, it's not like I do it for fun. Seriously, people.

Not to mention bassinet sheets, jammies, clothes, dipes, wipes, 5o jillion different snacks and foods (because we're at a really intense point in her speech therapy and she needs a bunch of different tastes each day), 7 bottles, insulated bottle bag, bibs, can o' formula (which totally needs to be redesigned for aerodynamic/packing ease purposes. I'm thinking about writing my Congressman.), and a partridge in a pear tree. And did I mention that we actually have two children to pack for? Hubby is actually contemplating busting out his roof top storage unit...just in case there isn't any room for the 4 of us to sit once we've loaded all of the above into the car. Ridiculous, I tell you. Call me rude, or mean, or ungrateful if you will...but I think that there are just some points in your life (a la now) that it's just easier and more convenient for the grandparents to come to you for a visit...sans the required 8 million pound load of kid stuff that we need to haul to go to them. *sigh* But I'm sure that when all is said and done, it will be Sunday and we'll have had a great time and I'll be forced to eat my words...but for now, excuse me if I grumble just a teensy bit while I get back to packing.

It's not you, it's Little...

2008-09-24T09:48:00.000-05:00

Our visiting nurse is trying to break up with me. That is, she thinks that Little is so healthy and is doing so well that we don't need her to come anymore. I'm not sure how I feel about it all. On one hand...it is so, wonderful...so truly, truly exciting that Little seems to be doing so much better since her last surgery. This really is the kind of news that the parent of a child with health concerns dreams about getting, so I really am happy...but...on the other hand...I'm scared! I'm not sure I'm ready to go out on our own just yet, with months between cardiology visits and no one checking up on Little in between! Eek! I think I feel a panic attack coming on!!

Mostly it's Little's continued struggle with eating that worries me. I sometimes find myself living for that every two week home visit from our nurse, so that I can be reassured that I am, indeed, NOT starving my child and that she IS still gaining weight, though sometimes I wonder how. Ack! Maybe this is somewhat comparable to being addicted to crack (go with me here, people)...in that once I'm able to wean myself off of the home visits I'll be able to feel secure in going it alone for months at a time? But I'm thinking that the whole weaning part is the key! I mean, no one expects a crackhead to just stop cold turkey...well not without medical and psychological support anyway! If so Betty Ford would be long since out of business!! Even smokers have the patch to get them through the rough spots! ::wheeze:: But in the end, it just isn't my decision to make...so I guess we'll just wait and see what our cardiologist thinks. I suppose getting branded as too healthy to have at home medical care can't be all bad, right? I just pray that they're right.

A Walk in the Sun

2008-09-23T14:42:00.006-05:00

Remember that fund raiser I was telling you about a few weeks ago? The walk for Children's Hospital? Well, it has officially come and gone, and my life is a little quieter now. Ahh. It was this past Saturday, the 20th, and, really, it turned out great! The weather was a bit warmer than expected...like, you know, 20 degrees hotter than the meteorologist said it would be the night before, but who's counting? **coughcough*me*coughcough** It's funny that I never really noticed how huge a difference there is between 62 and 82 degrees...until Saturday...when I had all of us dressed in long sleeves and long pants... and we arrived at the walk location and were already sweating from just getting the stroller out of the car...before even getting the kids out of the car...and long before the walk even started. It. was. awesome, the way that stepping on a piece of glass as your walking along the beach is awesome. Yep, loved it.

Know what else was awesome? Organizers of the walk had shuttles set up to get everyone from the finish line (where you would, of course, park your car) to the start line of the race, for our general convenience. Totally awesome...that is if there had been enough of them to get everyone there before the start of the race...so everyone didn't have to stand out in the blazing sun, holding our hot, whiny children for an hour...getting hotter and stinkier by the moment...in order to eventually pack (and I do mean pack) ourselves into school buses for the 3 mile ride. Friggin. Awesome. Favorite moment? Standing in line for the 50th bus that pulled up in front of the crowd while everyone tried to push their way to the front of the line to get on (did I mention that this was a charity walk? To benefit a children's organization? I did. Ok. Just checking.) when a volunteer who had obviously never been given the power position of holding the megaphone before, loudly bellowed at all of us "Not everyone is going to get on this bus." Really? Cuz I thought we'd all just pile in and do lapsies! No? Someone take the megaphone awayyy from the woman, before she hurts herself...or someone (who is really hot and crowded, and holding a wiggly baby in the sweltering sun) does it for her. Ugg.

Anyway, bitching aside, it really was awesome to see thousands of people storm the streets of downtown Milwaukee in order to raise some well deserved cha-ching for an amazing organization. Little wore her red "Champion" shirt, setting her apart from the masses as a child who has received care at Children's, and napped most of the way. Big ate popcorn, drank lemonade and enjoyed pointing out the various canines in attendance for the day. Local cheer leading teams and bands alternated lining the streets in order to keep walkers motivated and entertained as we made our way along the path to the finish line. Surrounded by thousands of other families, friends and champions alike, it was truly a sight to behold. Worth every. drop. of sweat. Truly.

We ended up with 17 people walking with our team, and almost $700 in additional donations from our friends and family who couldn't make it to town for the event. With great pride, I must say that we really have the most wonderful and supportive friends and family!! A big thank you to everyone who gave their time and money to make this event possible. I can't think of a more worthy cause.

Questions Unanswered

2008-09-16T14:50:00.000-05:00

We make friends in the strangest places. For instance, the friends that we recently made in the shared hotel, I mean hospital room that we inhabited during Little's last hospital stay. (It's the little bottles of shampoo and free packs of diapers that they pass out, it gets me every time...just like a Hilton I tell you! A little pricier though.) A shared room?!?! you say? Yes, that's right. Our children's hospital still has shared rooms for patients who don't require ICU level services. I won't beat around the bush, in most cases it sucks. Hearing that you're being upgraded from the ICU should be a great thing. Instead, upon being notified of your "upgrade" a feeling of dread washes over you as you begin to wonder such things as I wonder if our roommate will be loud (leading to the inevitable) I wonder if my baby will be able to sleep if our roommate is loud? Or I wonder if our roommate is contagious (its happened to us twice people...I am not just being paranoid), and I wonder if the parents of our roommate plan to have a veritable fiesta of some sort on their side of the room while we're trying to get some rest. You know, happy thoughts. Anyway, the last time we shared a room, we were pleasantly surprised to meet our roommates, the Grills, who not only made our 4 day stay that much more pleasant by being considerate, caring, responsible human beings (this is a bit much to ask for sometimes I've discovered) but also introduced us to caringbridge.org. They had set up a support site in order to keep their friends and family informed about their daughter's condition and had gotten much joy out of the experience. The day that we were both discharged from the hospital, Mrs. Grill gave me the web address to her daughter's site, and asked me to set one up for Little, so that we could both follow the other child's health and progress in the months to come. Eventually, I did. (here comes a big leap people...get ready for a big subject change...aaaaand...leap! Excellent.)

A few weeks ago, I logged on to the Grills' caring bridge page to read their latest journal entry and see how their precious little girl was doing. Instead of news on their daughter, I discovered an entry that pleaded with followers of their page to go to another child's page, in order to offer encouragement and strength to the parents of a little boy (who they had met during another one of their hospital stays) who "wasn't doing so well". So along I went, to this other child's site, in order to do what I could for these people who were, I assumed, facing some tough times with their child as he was recovering from an illness or medical condition...something that I felt I was fairly familiar with. Instead, I was found myself completely unprepared for what I found. It seems that just days earlier, the parents of a beautiful baby boy, whose handsome face adorned the welcome page of his care site, had been told that their little guy was most likely not going to make it. My heart about stopped upon reading just the first journal entry. Because I felt like I needed more information on what affliction he was facing and how this could possibly be, I decided that I needed to do a little more digging into past journal entries. I then quickly wished that I hadn't. Reading the loving, heartbroken, fearful words of this mother was nearly more than I could handle. I offered my love and encouragement to them, and then promptly called in to work and took a vacation day so that I could spend the rest of the day hugging and loving my daughters. I found myself a bit sheepish, unable to explain just why the struggle of complete strangers would turn my world upside down so easily, until that evening when I was discussing things with Hubby. "I can't explain it," I told him, "I feel strange about how much this is bothering me. I don't even know these people and I hurt so much for them." His reply? "Or maybe we know them all too well." Indeed. Because this is the exact situation that we work valiantly against everyday, watching Little like a hawk, calling her doctors and nurses at every slight sign of negative heart function, to make sure that this is somewhere that we never find ourselves, on the writing end of journal entries such as these. It all began to make sense.

No matter how hard I tried, or how much I was encouraged not to do so, I found myself unable to not check up on this family over the next few weeks. Hoping for a miraculous recovery, I would log on to their site, first being met with the handsome picture of the sleeping baby boy, so sweet and innocent...and then, inevitably, a disturbing, heart breaking journal update. Slowly, day by day, the little guy was passing away. I remember reading one particular journal entry in which the boy's mother wrote the doctors had told them that they believed that he would be passing soon, and that she and the boys father were as ready as ever for him to go, and hoped that it would be soon. I sobbed. I couldn't help but wonder what kind of emotional torture one must be subjected to in order to be ready for your child to pass away. Was it possible to know this kind of pain without going absolutely mad? I then quickly prayed that I would never find out the answer to that question.

Within a day of the previous entry, came another journal entry...one that I had been praying that I would never see...saying that the little guy had, indeed, passed away. Again, I felt a bit sheepish about how deeply affected I was by this news, but found myself completely unable to check my heart at the door, and I wept for them. I wept for the handsome baby whose face I had only seen in pictures. I wept for the parents who had gotten the kind of news that I don't even allow myself to contemplate as a mother. I wept for the grandparents and aunts and uncles who had seen this precious gift enter the world with so much hope, only to have to let him go so soon. I wept for all of them and, to be honest, more than two weeks later I am still unable to shake the heartache that began the day that I first wandered over to their web page. I wonder if I will ever stop thinking about them, and seeing that little guy's picture in my mind. I wonder if I will ever forget.

How does one go through something like that and survive? How does a parent get up everyday and face the sunrise after losing a child? Is it possible to ever be truly happy, to experience joy again after living through something like that? I don't even know them, and even I feel as if my world has been rocked by what they've been through. I wish I had some insight to offer on this, but must also admit that I am ever so thankful that I have absolutely none, and that I desperately hope that I never do. More than anything on this planet, and beyond...I hope that I never have the answers to these questions.

Happy 8 Months!

2008-09-15T16:06:00.002-05:00

Happy 8 months Little girl!! You are simply amazing, beautiful girl!! You blow me away every day with your strength and joy! You are an inspiration to me and everyone who has the fortune to meet you. What a blessing you are.

Love,
Mommy

BREAKING NEWS

2008-09-12T10:48:00.001-05:00

I just got a call on my cell phone from Big...she's at Grandma's house while I'm working. The conversation went like this:

Big: Mama!! I go'd pee pee on da potty!!!!!

Me: WOW, Big!!! Good job!! You're so big!!

Big: *silence*

Me: You're getting to be such a big girl! I'm proud of you!!

Big: Mama! I go'd two pee pees and one poo poo!

Me: *giggling* Wow!

Then she promptly lost interest in talking to me and hung up on me. *shrug* So, yes...it's official. All of the grousing I've done over the last...umm, what's it been? A year now? Yes, the last year, seems to finally be tapering off. We are officially potty training, ladies and gentlemen...and with some significant success. Praise the LORD! This girl is a tough nut to crack!! Talk about stubborn! We tried stickers. We tried candy. We tried potty training books.* We tried praise, and singing, and special treats...in fact, you name it, we tried it. It's been a year people.** I was starting to wonder if she might be wearing diapers under her wedding gown someday!! Wanna know what bribe finally hit the jackpot? Princess underpants. I put them on her under a pull-up, so she gets to wear her fancy underpants (that I let her pick out) but we also don't have the huge wet carpet, pee pee on the leather couch mess that you get from going without the pull-up too soon...not that I'm speaking from experience or anything *ahem*. Genius, I tell you...pure genius.

*She did show some interest in the book "Time to PEE!" by Mo Willems. It has lots of funny little mice in it and mouse stickers at the end of the book for use on a potty chart or the like. I won't totally discount this book from playing just the teeniest part in her motivation.

**Please note that I did not pressure my daughter to potty train everyday, all day for an entire year. Even I, a first time potty trainer (Is that at all like a personal trainer? Wait, then where did these thighs come from? *sigh* Nevermind.) know that all that pressure does no good. We started at age 2...then, after no success in a week tried again at 2-1/2 for another week and took a break, and have periodically been trying since then when periods of interest seemed to spark within her. I have very little explanation as to why this time is the time...but I'm taking it, and I'm running, baby...faster than I've ever run before.

Check Her OUT!

2008-09-11T13:55:00.012-05:00

This past Monday afternoon, our OT stopped by for our weekly session...or is it bi-weekly, or every three weeks? She needs exercise, people!! Oh, right, *ahem*...it was Little's first OT exercise session since she had her surgery on July 29th...that's right...I said July...I mean, could our OT have a personal emergency some other time...when my little girl hasn't gone 7 weeks without OT? URG! Aaaaaanyway, we were sitting there on my living room floor, discussing what kind of activity and development Little has been showing in ohhhhhh, the last month and a half (*deep breaths*) when I just decided to sit Little down on her play mat to show the OT that she (Little, not the OT) was doing pretty well sitting with my assistance, but not yet ready to sit on her own. Clearly, we had more work to do. So, I sat her in an upright position, legs in the "V" position out in front of her, and moved my hands off of her sides and about an inch away from her body so that I could catch her when she started doing her best "timberrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr" impression (as she is apt to do) and I waited...and waited...and waited some more (probably 60 seconds, but it felt like 60 minutes)...until finally Little started to teeter to the side a bit and I put my hands out to catch her...but then, she did something that she's never done before. She put her chubby little arms out to the side and she balanced herself...and sat back up on her OWN!! The next thing I remember, the OT was slapping my cheeks, waving smelling salts under my nose, telling me to wake up and get my lazy butt of off the floor. OK, not really...but, I don't think I could have possibly been more shocked. My little baby...with two heart surgeries under her belt...and a pacemaker...who is still having trouble rolling over because it hurts to be on her tummy...who hasn't had OT since JULY (oh, did I say that already? *grumble*)...who has nary sat up on her own evah evah evah...was sitting up all. on. her. own. I sat and stared. I glanced at the OT, who looked back at me with approval. I looked back at Little, who turned and looked at me all "la dee dah, I've been doing this for ages, where have you been Mom?," like it was just another day in uprightness for her...and then she smiled, a big proud smile...and my heart melted. *swoon* And she hasn't looked back yet. Suddenly, she's a "sitter".

Every day, I am so filled with pride, and glee, and wonder that my daughter, who has faced more challenges in her short 8 months on this Earth than I can even fathom in my 30 years, continues to be so incredibly strong and show us what she's made of. She is the most wonderful blessing a mother could ever hope to receive. Amazing, I tell you. Every day with her is a lesson in strength and perseverance. How lucky we are.

Aww, pshaw...

2008-09-09T12:04:00.006-05:00

Becca at Life with Boys has given me a blogging award...and I feel all sorts of unworthy. Isn't it pretty?!? *swoon* Thanks Becca!!

The award comes with these rules:

The winner can put the logo on their blog. Link to the person you received your award from. Nominate at least 7 other blogs. Put links of those blogs on yours. Leave a message on the blogs you've nominated. Write an acceptance speech in the style of the Academy Awards, thanking everybody’s mother, father, sister, brother, aunties and uncles and the kitchen staff at your favorite restaurant!

Whew! OK, so here goes...

I have to go ahead and give this award right back to Becca @ Life with Boys. Her blog is always funny, honest and well written!! Plus her boys are so dang cute!

Next I give it to Sue @ My Party of 6. Her blog is fun, smart, and often includes current event topics that I don't dare to blog about. It's awesome. Plus, again...cute kids! Can't lose.

My third recipient is Fuzz @ fuzzmartin.com. A local friend of mine, he's got the blogging thing down. I like his mixture of personal stories, politics, local news stuff, music, etc. Plus I like his sense of humor. Sweeeeeeeet.

Fourth, I nominate Andrea @ Southernville. I HEART Andrea and her wisecrackin', say it like it is attitude. She's also a wonderful Mom and an awesome lady. And she also has the cute kids factor going on. Rock on Andrea.

Fifth, I have to nominate Tootsie Farklepants @ Vintage Thirty. I literally laugh out loud every time I read her blog. I seriously look forward to each new post. The picture in her blog header alone is worth the trip over to her blog. Hysterical!! She's sarcastic, the posts are well written, and she's so damn honest about her life. And...cute kids. Love it!

Sixth, I nominate Ann @ Journey from There to Here. Having dealt with anxiety issues myself, I know how tough the battle is to reclaim your freedom and your life. The fact that she blogs so honestly about it leaves me in awe. Plus she's a damn funny chick (who has cute kids). Way to go Ann!

And lastly, I nominate Chris @ Notes from the Trenches. Her blog is smart, funny, and all around entertaining and informative. Excellent. P.S. more cute kids.

I'm not very good at getting on here to blog lately and I really need to make an effort to do so more often. This is my resolve...I shall return here tomorrow with a new post. Lord knows I have enough things to write about...crazy...*mumblemumble*...exhausted...*mumblemumble*...motherhood. Hee! Thanks again Becca!

P.S. Through receiving this award, I finally learned how to link to things in my posts. Sweet.

I should join the circus!

2008-09-04T10:37:00.005-05:00

Really, I should. No, not because I can grow a beard like nobody's business (heh, OK - I'm actually still facial hair free...whew!) and not because I think I'd be a great lion tamer (based on my ability to diffuse 2 and 3 year-old tantrums) no, not for those reasons...but actually because I have recently become a self-taught master juggler. OK, maybe not the kind of juggling you're thinking of, with flaming batons and bowling pins flying through the air while the crowd watches, mouths gaping...just waiting for that one.small.wrong.move. No, no. The kind of juggling I'm talking about is that of the "I have so many things to do/think about right now...its a miracle that my brain isn't blowing right out of my ears as I type this" variety. Sometimes, I have to remind myself to breathe.

Our schedule has gotten ca-razy busy lately. We have PT, OT, Speech Therapy (and all of the daily exercises that we need to do in order to continue working on all of the above listed therapies), a visiting nurse, my 3 day a week job, Hubby's full time job, doctor appointments, birthday parties, potty training (oyyyy!), *pant*, and my newest obsession, I mean scheduled event...a Children's hospital fundraiser.

Really, it's just a walk...a one day event. All I need to do is sign up, show up, and walk...no big deal. But could I really leave well enough alone and keep it simple like that? Would I be writing this post if I could? I think not. No, instead I decided to form a team for the walk,in honor of our Little's strength and bravery in being a patient at said hospital. But in forming a team, I then added to my plate the need to contact everyone I've ever known in my whole 30 years of life to try to get them to sign up and walk with us...oh, and Hubby's whole 33 years worth of friends, family, and acquaintances also. Yep, I sent an email yesterday to pretty much the entire free world. (It was actually quite impressive in that "I wonder how far around the planet this email will travel" kind of way.) So, why, you ask, would I purposely add something else to my already overloaded schedule when I already feel justified in whining about how maxed out we are? Well, either A. because I'm a nut, or B. because this fundraiser just that important to me. I'd like to think that the sole answer is B. but I'll go ahead and admit that it's actually probably a little bit of both A. and B.

In all seriousness, where would we be right now if all of this specialized care wasn't available to our children at a place like Children's hospital, or even if it was around, but wasn't as spectacular as it is today? Would Little be as incredible as she is today, pretty much doing anything and everything a perfectly healthy baby her age can do? Would we have received the awe-inspiring type of care for her that we have at our hospital at some other facility, or even at this facility if the funds weren't available to make it such an amazing place? Would our doctor have the resources to be in contact with doctors around the world in an attempt to continuously advocate for the best outcome for our precious girl? Would there otherwise be any chance that our little girl might possibly live a normal life some day? And really, most importantly, would we even still have Little in our lives right now if we hadn't been so fortunate to receive care there? I think about these things all the time, how fortunate we are. And to be honest, if I had to shave off an eyebrow and post my picture on a billboard in Time Square to get my point across, I would. Children's hospital saved our daughter's life...not once, not twice, but likely three times in the last 8 months. How could I not get out my address book, send a few emails, set-up a few websites, make a few calls to advocate for them in return...juggling as I type? It just wouldn't be right.

So, if you've recently received and email from me about the walk, or if I've called you or talked your ear off about joining our team, or donating anything you can to Little's team...and you now feel "bugged" I realllllly do apologize. I just can't not do everything in my power to make this event as successful as possible. I have them to thank for every kiss and every snuggle I'm able to enjoy with my precious Little everyday...something I'll never be able to repay them for.

If you're at all interested in walking with us or making a pledge to Little's team...please contact me at jenny_in_wi_07@yahoo.com and I'll steer you in the right direction. *wink* Thanks for putting up with me. I'll get off my soap box now.

We're Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!

2008-08-28T14:03:00.002-05:00

Um, hi. Remember me? No, huh? Well, I admit, it's been a long time...and I apologize for that, but I really wasn't sure that I would be able to come back to you all after all we've been through and offer you anything worth reading, so I just abstained. But I've changed my mind. See, what I've worried about is ending up with one of those disastrously melancholy, depressing, oh woe is me kind of blogs. The kind that you end up on after following the link off someone's blog you really like, only to find yourself immediately wishing that you could scrub your eyes and brain with Comet in order to permanently remove the drab content from your now damaged psyche. Sort of the "MAKE IT GO AWAYYYYY!!" syndrome. You know what I mean, we've all been there.

I originally started this blog to try to offer some lighthearted, fun stories about my life and my kids...a way to laugh at myself a bit and connect with my friends...maybe even vent a little when the days got tough...and I think I did OK at delivering that before, but to be honest...I really think that all of that is going to change. So, this will sort of be a Desperately Seeking Balance: Chapter II beginning. My focus now will be to just be real. I'm going to write about what the day had to offer, and to be honest people...some days here are harrrrrrd. Some days I do nothing but worry about my baby. Some days, I wonder where on Earth my 3 year old came from, because I certainly didn't have as much attitude at 13 as she does now, and I want to screeeeeeaaaaaaammmmm, and some days are wonderful, and fun, and *almost* carefree. And instead of trying to be fun, and pleasant and pleasing all of the time, something I've been tortured to do my whole life, I'm just going to write about it all as it comes. Even the messy parts. Somedays I feel like I'm holding on to my sanity by one small thread. My life, right now, is like the craziest roller coaster I've ever (or never) been on. Don't feel pressured to continue to read my blog if this doesn't end up being for you...there will be no quizzes handed out to my friends at week's end. But if you decide to stick around, it will be nice having you along with me for the ride with me, especially if you agree to hold my hand. *mwah!*

Running on Empty

2008-07-23T15:38:00.005-05:00

I seriously feel like I'm at my limit right now...and I need a rest. My heart aches so deeply just thinking about my poor Little girl and her health and surgery. My mind is continuously preoccupied with visions of our past and upcoming trips to the hospital. No words can pass my lips...and I feel as if I'm sometimes unable to catch my breath. I close my eyes and see the all too familiar walk over the foot bridge into the hospital, the IV cords streaming from her tiny little hand, the white metal crib sitting in a sterile room, with my baby inside. Feeling desperately compelled to watch her heart rate on the overhead monitor, searching for reassurance in the numbers as they flash across the screen, ready to run into the hallway for help every. single. moment. of the day and night. Sitting quietly in her hospital room, watching her sleep, waking at all hours to comfort her in my arms, holding her tight to me and rocking her...feeling the connection between us without so much as a sound. Feeling so much hurt for my child, my beautiful newborn creation...and so much hope for tomorrow. Struggling with so much desperation to hear an encouraging word slip form the tongues of her doctors...dealing with the disappointment of imperfection and reality. Remembering to breathe when I feel as if I've long since slipped beneath the water.

I just want to be able to take my child into my arms and hold her tight to me and know that she is going to be alright. I want to look into her face and see her beautiful smile and for once not have the joy that I feel over her be so closely followed by such tremendous worry. Ughhh, God... I'm not sure I can handle all of this sometimes. I am not that strong. I am begging you, please make her better.

A Bit of a Slump

2008-07-17T12:20:00.006-05:00

Yeah, so I haven't been blogging much lately. I know. I'm in a bit of a slump. Not that I don't have a million things going on this summer that are totally blog worthy...we had a fabulous Fourth of July, I'm planning Big's 3rd birthday partay extravaganza, I got to go on a shopping spree with Grandma the other day and now have non-maternity clothing that has no elastic in the waist and actually closes over my new "I've had 2 children and I'm nevah, evahhhh going back into those old jeans, so get over it already woman" body, my in-laws and some friends will be visiting us for like, the next 8 bajillion weekends in a row (one of which Hubby will be out of town for...heh), Big is now transitioning into her "I don't care what you say, I'm going to do it anyway as soon as you turn your back Threes"...which are similar to the Terrible Twos, but with far less crying and far more disdain for authority...really, life is still bustling!! See my smile? (she says through clenched teeth). It's more that every stinkin' time I sit down to write something and tell my brain to go ahead and start warming up...my train of thought goes ahead and derails itself faster than...well, faster than Brett Favre's public opinion nose-dived when he said that he wanted to come back and play for another year. And that's fast people. A sample of said derailing is as follows:

Oh, I have to write about that thing that Big did the other day...that was so funny, man she cracks me up!! OK, so how should I start? Ummm...*brain silence*...gosh...I hope Little does OK with her surgery. UGH! Focus woman! Back to the blog. So...I'll say that she...*more brain silence*...huh...I wonder how many days she'll have to stay in the hospital. It was 3 the first time...I hope its not more than that. I hope we don't get a loud roommate this time...I hope she can sleep OK while we're there. Grr! Concentrate! OK...so I'll write about the other day when Hubby was re-doing the bricks on the porch...poor guy, that was a crappy job...but I wonder if I should be staying the night with her this time...she may need me now that she's older. Yeah I think I will. I hope Big does OK at Grandma and Grandpa's house while we're in the hospital...what am I gonna tell her about Little's absence? I really hate all of this... Oh, the blog...is that still open? Eh, forget it.

And really, this just runs a constant loop in my brain. It's a small miracle if I'm able to sit for more than 15 seconds without thinking about Little's health...and *surprisingly* not in that OMG, won't this surgery be fun!! kind of way. I'm nervous about the procedure, I'm dreading the hospital stay, and I'm hopeful, yet terrified about the outcome. I'm a big, forgetful, stumble-y, unable to complete a thought, super crabby, mess of a person lately...and really, it's not my best moment. So, if you're wondering why I'm not blogging much lately, its because every. single. entry. I'd write between now and the day of Little's surgery would start out as something original and fun, and end up nothing more than nonsensical ramblings about baby hearts and pacemakers and surgeries, and even I don't want to read about that crap. So there you have it.

I do *hope* to be able to return to my normal IQ rather soon after the surgery, however...only time will tell. Thanks for hanging in there with me. Twelve days and counting...

My Little Miracle

2008-07-15T16:31:00.006-05:00

Happy 6-Month Birthday Little. You're the most wonderful blessing that ever wandered into my life. So unexpected, but so welcome. So much worry over you, but so much love in my heart at just the mere mention of you. My hear melts with each one of your abundant smiles. I can't imagine what my life would be like if you hadn't made your appearance 6 months ago, not that it's been easy...because it really has been so difficult...but you always come through so strong and resilient. So much pride and hope surrounding you, little fish. My perfect sweet baby. My blessing. My little miracle. I adore each day with you as it passes. Thank you for choosing me.

Turning 30

2008-07-09T14:14:00.004-05:00

Well, it's official, a new decade of my life has begun. I turn 30 today.

I have to admit, that there is a moderate amount of panic that comes along with this transition, but overall I really have to say that I'm feeling fine with turning 30. I'm a mom now and a full fledged adult, who makes adult decisions and has adult responsibilities intricately woven into my daily routine. I can acknowledge that without even the slightest hint of palm sweat. In fact, I'd even go so far as to say that I embrace the rigors of my daily life, and take a lot of pride in the life that I've made for myself thus far. I like where I am today...the wife of a wonderful, one of a kind man, the mother of two wonderful, sweet, smart, beautiful girls...and overall, a satisfied, happy woman. So in the grand scheme of things, I simply feel that, starting today, I'm making the transition into a happier, more mature period of my life, and really...what doesn't sound great about that?! Where my 20's can best be described as an irresponsible, selfish, confusing decade, my 30's will instead be a responsible, more fulfilling, family oriented decade. I'm looking forward to seeing where the next 10 years takes Hubby and I together, and am terribly excited to watch my girls grow and develop throughout the next decade, so I'd have to say that I'm pretty OK with it...potential wrinkles, gray hair and all.

So, tonight, as Hubby and Big sing happy birthday to me (while Little looks on) and I blow out the candle on my birthday cake, I'll bid my farewell to my 20's and embrace the beginning of the next chapter of my life, reserving hope that this will be the best one yet. Rock on 30.

Happy (In)Dependants Day!!!

2008-07-03T11:14:00.004-05:00

Yes, I know, I spelled it wrong...but I meant to. See, the 4th of July has been my favorite holiday (even more than Christmas!!) as long as I can remember. There was always just something about getting up early and going to the parade, then heading home for some sprinkler play and popsicles, and finally staying up late and eating snacks on a blanket while we watched the fireworks that made me giddy. It's my favorite day of the year. Seriously.

So what could possibly make this day better, you ask? Easy. Sharing it with my children...hence the misspelling above. The last two years that I've gotten to take Big to the 4th of July festivities have been some of the best days of my life. Granted, she cried through most of the parade last year because she didn't like the clowns...or the people dressed up in character suits (dammit Elmo, she's scared! Beat your feet!)...umm, or the motorcycles or firetrucks...or, well...anything really...but things went sharply uphill from there I swear!! Watching her teeny little bikini covered baby butt prancing around, splashing in the streams of water...practically erased the whole clinging to me for dear life incident from my mind. Then later having her snuggle up on my lap while we munched on popcorn and watched the fireworks...just priceless. And this year, I get to share it with two! Rock. On.

So tomorrow morning we will be getting up early (dressing the girls in their red, white and blue uniforms that Grandma purchased for them months ago) and heading out to meet my family at the parade. Then we're all (yes, all 13 of us) heading to a family friend's house for a little barbecue...complete with the traditional slip n' slide, burgers and brats, and cold drinks, yum! And we will finish the day by heading out to watch the local fireworks spectacular, after the girlies have had ample chance to nap and recharge their batteries, of course. I'm not that crazy. I have been looking forward to this day for weeks now...as has Big. She can't wait to see the fireworks this year. After we happened to catch a stray firework in the sky on our way home from Grandma's house last week, she's been all about the fireworks. I'm talking, following me around for days now whining and begging me to "take her to the 4th of July" to see the fireworks, as if it is a destination instead of a date. Hee! No explanation of space and time satisfies her. I'm at a loss. ::shrugs:: It just makes the anticipation of the actual even even I greater, I suppose.

So, this 4th of July, I hope that you all have a wonderful time with your families, and enjoy spending the day sharing your traditions and summer celebrations with your little dependants. I know we will!

Woot!!

2008-07-02T11:43:00.002-05:00

Well, it's official! Little is a roller!! Of course I was on my way to work when it happened-grr...the plight of the working mother!-but from what Grandma tells me, Little rolled from her back to her tummy all by herself, three times in a row this morning! She was, understandably, extremely pleased with herself...for a minute or two...and then she was just angry that she was stuck on her tummy. Huh. Next item on the agenda: Figure out how to roll from tummy to back.

Sadly, when I got the call, the first person I wanted to call was our Occupational Therapist, who has spent numerous hours working with Little on the whole "roll over" trick. (Hmm...sounds kinda canine.) Anyhow, the OT will be proud...but instead I called Hubby, so we could gush over our Little girl together. And gush we did...or, well...we do...often. He always looks at her sleeping at night and then says to me (while practically beating his chest with manliness) "We made that you know?!"...and I do. And it still amazes me.

Way to go Little One!! You're such a blessing.

From the Mouths of Babes...

2008-07-01T10:40:00.006-05:00

Big has a fantastic vocabulary, really she always has. She started talking at a little over a year and has kept right on truckin' with new words each and every day. She says things like "Mommy, I actually want to wear those shoes, because they match my dress." and "This one is for me, you're going to get one for yourself? Grandpa has one for himself?" Or maybe that doesn't seem all that amazing to anyone but Hubby and I, but her vocabulary and the way in which she uses expressions just floors us...especially all of the new ones that she comes up with every day. Here are some recent ones...

*I was washing bottles (which I now spend a good 40% of my life doing these days) when Big walked into the kitchen and greeted me with "Hey there good lookin'" Umm, what? It's a wonder she didn't walk up behind me and pinch my rear! I must find out who taught her that one...

*We were eating dinner in the kitchen together (a rarity in our house) when Big, thoroughly enjoying her first ear of corn on the cob for the season, announced "Mmmmmm...This is awesome!". I've always loved the word awesome...but I love it even more coming out of my two year-old's mouth. Hee!

*We were riding in the car together the other day, having our regular dance party to the music on the radio - people driving around us must think we're a bunch of nuts - when she suddenly announced "Rock on Mommy" I have no idea where that one came from, but I love it. Gotta love enthusiasm!

*Big was sitting on her little potty after having a totally unavoidable accident. I was less than pleased, but not angry, yet I was still grumbling a bit as I cleaned the pee up with a towel. As I left her room with the tainted towel, I caught her eye and she blurted out "I'm sorry your highness!" Now who can be upset with that?! Hee!

*A while back I was performing the dreaded task of washing Big's hair during her bath. She hates to get the water in her face, but what can you do? I have her hold a washcloth over her eyes, but the reduction in screaming is minimal. As I was finishing up with the rinsing of her hair, the screaming came to a halt and she said to me, in her most distraught voice, "Mommy, you broke my wink!!" Heh. So I wiped the water from her eyes and fixed it...and had a good chuckle once she was in bed.

With all of the terrible surrounding the two's...its lovely to actually enjoy an aspect of this age. I'm soaking up every last laugh she gives me with gusto.

21 More...Motherhood Lessons Part 2

2008-06-29T10:05:00.003-05:00

*Sleep is most definitely not overrated. It is necessary, delicious, and never to be taken for granted.

*Wonder bras are ingenious. They are also worth every. single. penny. those swindling bastards at Victoria's Secret charge us.

*Epidurals are directly from God.

*Food tastes better if it flies into your mouth like an airplane.

*Sweat pants and no make-up days increase in correlation with the number of children you have.

*Baby smiles are contagious.

*It is time to end the bath, hastily, when the baby starts tooting in the water.

*Maternity clothes can be worn long after the baby has been born. They are a long term wardrobe investment, spend accordingly.

*Poo goes through some sort of sensory metamorphosis (and not the kind that leaves it a beautiful butterfly in the end) when it's in a potty chair as opposed to being in a diaper.

*Diapers should never be opened if the baby is still grunting.

*Cups and bubbles are the best bath toys ever.

*Some dance parties start at 7AM.

*Baby breath is never stinky, in fact having it blown in your face is actually one of the sweetest, warmest sensations on the planet.

*If an electronic toy doesn't have a volume control button and/or an off switch, do not buy it.

*It does not matter what you wear to a party, as long as your children are dressed adorably.

*Nothing says I love you like cleaning diarrhea out of a potty chair.

*There is nothing more satisfying in life than having your baby smile and coo when you enter the room...except maybe having your toddler say "This is fun, Mom" when you're simply sitting together on the couch.

*Popcorn is a grain and carrot cake is a vegetable.

*Repeatedly pumping breast milk does actually result in a strange urge to moo.

*When it comes to choosing between being a mother and having an "a baby never stomped all over this body" body, there is absolutely no choice to be made. (motherhood wins, by the way...in case that wasn't clear)

*Parenthood is the hardest job on the planet, but also the best part of life...

21 things that motherhood has taught me...

2008-06-28T11:22:00.003-05:00

*Kisses and glittery shoes make any boo boo all better...for girls anyway.

*Disciplining your child in order to teach them a lesson is harrrrrrrd, but worth every excruciating minute when your child finally learns the lesson and becomes a better, happier person in the end.

*Hand sanitizer must be carried at all times, even when you think you'll only be gone for a few minutes and don't plan to leave the car. If there is something gross to be found, children will not only find it, they will rub it all over themselves.

*Time flies.

*Watching your child accomplish a goal is so much more rewarding than accomplishing something yourself...like, say...folding a load of laundry.

*Because I said so is a totally legitimate reason to be told to do something.

*Love for your spouse grows exponentially while watching them care for your children.

*Keeping a sense of humor makes sleep deprivation and...well...just about anything bearable.

*Every parent deserves and needs time alone. Said time should be guiltless, as it actually benefits the whole family.

*When your parents told you "This hurts me more than it hurts you," they were telling the truth, even though it seemed as though they had to be full of crap.

*Clothes hangers, princess magic wands, and bead necklaces are easily converted to weapons.

*Having a sick child in the hospital is one of the most difficult things a parent will ever experience.

*Sometimes alcohol consumption is necessary after children have been put to bed.

*Dirty dishes will wait until nap or bed time. Snuggles and kisses and silly comments from your children won't.

*Food half eaten by your child does not contain calories.

*It is possible to love more than one child with your whole heart.

*The following body liquids do not contain germs if they come out of your child: drool, snot, spit up, pee, eye goo, sweat, and tears.

*Poo and puke will never fall into the germ-free category, no matter whose kids they come out of.

*Naps are necessary, even for grown-ups sometimes.

*Half eaten granola bars on the ground may suddenly appear appetizing to a toddler.

*Snuggling under the covers with your children is by far the best Saturday morning activity on the planet. Previous childless trips to breakfast or for coffee were wayyy overrated.

What would I do...

2008-06-27T12:26:00.004-05:00

...without all of my great friends? Really, I don't think I'd make it...at least not with any sanity in the end.

I walked into work this morning and found an envelope on my desk...and a card with the above picture on it was inside. The inside of the card said "Take comfort in knowing somebody's having a worse day than you." Hee! A totally welcome laugh erupted from within. Sweet.

Just one of my friends letting me know that she's here...and that I can be a complete asshole around her while I'm crabby and down in the dumps, and she won't care.

How is it that I am surrounded by so many amazing people? I love my friends.

Or not...

2008-06-26T18:38:00.007-05:00

Why do I bother?

Well, we went today for Little's echo and we didn't get good news. Her heart appears to have gotten a bit larger...showing a worsening in the function...and they're talking surgery now.

The good news is that the surgery they will do is to put another wire onto her heart from her pacemaker (to the right side of her heart, whereas just the left side is paced right now...it's called bi-ventricular pacing) and they think that it will really help increase the function of her heart...possibly even make it all better...but let's not get our hopes up now. (We've all seen what happens when we do that ::insert eye roll here::) But we do have hope, because...you know...we have to.

I'm not sure when exactly the surgery will be, as the cardiologist has a few surgeons that she wants to talk to before scheduling it (because Little is the youngest patient she's ever seen be a candidate for this kind of pacing) but she said definitely in the next 6 months. We told her that if they make the decision to go ahead, we want the surgery ASAP, like in July. She thinks that the sooner we have it, the more likely it is that the damage to her heart will be reversible and/or give her a lesser chance for needing a transplant down the line. (Umm, can we have it tomorrow in that case?!) We should get a for sure yea or nay next week.

I think someone up there needs a hearing aid.

Dear God, it's me again...

2008-06-25T10:07:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow is a big day for us. We're taking Little to Children's Hospital to see her cardiologist for the first time in 2 months. It's the first time we've gone longer than a month without a check-up, and while I thought that I would have panicked and called our cardiology nurse 50 times by now, I really haven't. Little has been growing and developing and doing so well with her OT and PT exercises...we've had little reason to contact them with concerns...so, thank you for that. In fact, she's been doing so well that I've gone and done something I really shouldn't have. I've allowed myself to have just the tiniest bit of hope that her heart is getting better. And, really, I know better than that.

The last time we had her in to see her cardiologist, I was giddy. Little seemed to be growing and doing so well, that I just knew that her heart had to be functioning better...I couldn't wait for her doctor to tell me how much better she was, except...the information downloaded from her pacemaker showed that she actually wasn't doing any better after all. And while she wasn't doing worse, either, I left the appointment devastated. Silly, really...because stable is good...but in all honesty, it just isn't good enough. And, really God, I don't mean to be greedy...she's doing so well, and growing so well, and she's such a happy and beautiful baby...we are truly blessed...and I am sooo thankful for that...but every once in a while, when I allow my mind to go there, I wonder what life might be like for her if her heart doesn't ever start to function better. Her dysfunction is mild, and the pacemaker has corrected her arrhythmia, which really should help her live a good life...but I worry about things like; will she be able to run and play with the other kids at recess? Will she be able to participate in gym class, or will she be the only child in her class who has to sit out? Will she need to take medications her whole life? Will she be able to carry and give birth to babies? Will we have to watch her this closely for the rest of her life, as terrified as we are now that her heart function might be declining? Because I am absolutely fall to my knees grateful that she is stable and that she's doing so well right now but, God, I am terrified at the thought of being this afraid for her for the rest of my life. I really could use your help with this one.

So tomorrow morning, we'll head to Children's for the sedative and the echo...then the reading of the echo with our Doctor. I have sweaty palms already just thinking about the test results. Please, God, make my Little girl better...and give her Mommy the strength to get through this with some sanity and a shred of stability...because Big needs a strong Mommy too, and sometimes I feel like I really could fall apart.

An Ode to My Chai Latte

2008-06-24T10:52:00.006-05:00

Oh, chai latte
How I love every last sip of you
Even on the days that Big refuses to sit on her pottay
You help me feel a little less blue

I like you with soy
No water please
Because having you skim and watered down
Feels merely like a chai latte tease

I've had to give you up a time or two
And I was an unhappy girl
Partially due to the caffeine within you
But also because when I was newly pregnant, you made me want to hurl

And though you're pricey
And I can't have you every day
That occasional taste of sweet and spicy
Is sometimes more satisfying than a roll in the hay

And so, chai latte
I beg you to stay yummy as you I reheat
Because I only like to drink you hottay
And spoiling before I get to finish you, really isn't neat.

::sip:: Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh...

By 30...

2008-06-21T14:19:00.000-05:00

In honor of my quickly approaching 30th birthday...19 days and counting...ack!...I'm pulling out an old favorite of mine, written by Pamela Redmond Satran...hope you enjoy.
___________________________________________________________________

By 30, every woman should have:

*One old boyfriend you can imagine going back to and one who reminds you of how far you’ve come.

*A decent piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone else in your family.

*Something perfect to wear if the employer or man of your dreams wants to see you in an hour.

*A purse, a suitcase and an umbrella you’re not ashamed to be seen carrying.

*A youth you’re content to move beyond.

*A past juicy enough that you’re looking forward to retelling it in your old age.

*The realization that you are actually going to have an old age—and some money set aside to help fund it.

*An e-mail address, a voice mailbox and a bank account—all of which nobody has access to but you.

*A résumé that is not even the slightest bit padded.

*One friend who always makes you laugh and one who lets you cry.

*A set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill and a black lace bra.

*Something ridiculously expensive that you bought for yourself, just because you deserve it.

*The belief that you deserve it.

*A skin-care regimen, an exercise routine and a plan for dealing with those few other facets of life that don’t get better after 30.

*A solid start on a satisfying career, a satisfying relationship and all those other facets of life that do get better.
___________________________________________________________________

By 30, every woman should know:

*How to fall in love without losing yourself.

*How you feel about having kids.

*How to quit a job, break up with a man and confront a friend without ruining the friendship.

*When to try harder and when to walk away.

*How to kiss in a way that communicates perfectly what you would and wouldn’t like to happen next.

*The names of: the secretary of state, your great-grandmother and the best tailor in town.

*How to live alone, even if you don’t like to.

*How to take control of your own birthday.

*That you can’t change the length of your calves, the width of your hips or the nature of your parents.

*That your childhood may not have been perfect, but it’s over.

*What you would and wouldn’t do for money or love.

*That nobody gets away with smoking, drinking, doing drugs or not flossing for very long.

*Who you can trust, who you can’t and why you shouldn’t take it personally.

*Not to apologize for something that isn’t your fault.

*Why they say life begins at 30.

The In-Laws are coming! The In-Laws are coming!

2008-06-20T09:49:00.008-05:00

Have I mentioned before that I adore my in-laws? I do. And I'm not just saying that because I feel the need to chap anyone's hiney with smooches or anything...they are oblivious to the existence of this blog. They really are great! They've never been anything but sweet and kind to me...even the first time I met them...when I was 2-1/2 months pregnant with their first grandchild. ::wheeeeeeze:: And you'd think that after going through a situation like that and coming out feeling welcome and all warm and fuzzy and stuff, that I would be over this "nervous in-law" thing...but I'm just not. Each time they come to visit (*ahem* tonight), it throws a fury of panic through me. I want to run and, with my 5 extra hands, clean the bathroom, and wash the dishes (even the clean ones in the cabinets), refold and put the laundry away, etc. I want to make the best illusion, I mean impression that I'm a good homemaker, and a proper wife and mother to this family. Must. make. believe. that. our home. is. in. order. It's only for 3 days...I can keep it up that long, right? ::panting:: Right?!?! ::sob::

I'll let you in on a little secret...our house is not in order. It is instead, overloaded with stuff. I bought my teeny tiny, two bedroom house when it was just Big and I looking for a place to call home. For us it was perfect. Small, but cute and cozy...nicely sized for two people. But then, just when I thought that Big and I would be alone for a while, lo and behold, along came Hubby with his sweet face and charming ways, and...umm...his household full of stuff. And so we made room...in our hearts and our home (and garage and attic) and we did OK with the space issue after all. But then, because of that sweet face, and charming personality...heh...along came Little (an even bigger surprise!). ::gasp!:: And making room for her in our hearts was truly without effort...but making room for another person in this house was a feat! We packed some things away and donated lots of others to charities...leaving small spaces in each room to put Little's cute little baby things. (And who can complain about adding cute little baby things? Am I right?) All in all, we're making it work...but now, our house is bursting at the seams and we are done. No additional people will be allowed to enter this family until we buy a bigger house. ::knocking on wood:: As long as God, and...ummm...my birth control cooperate.

So, back to the in-laws *ahem*. They'll be arriving late tonight, and will be here until Sunday afternoon. They haven't seen the girls (or us, but let's be honest, its not like they're coming to see us anyway) since early May, so I'm certain that a majority of their time will be spent wooing one child or another...which really just makes me love them more. And I'm sure that, even though I'm feeling a rush of panic right now, as they're heading out on Sunday it will feel as if their visit has been far too short. But in the meantime, I need to seize this quiet moment of opportunity and get started ~~shoving things into closets and sweeping dirt piles under rugs~~ organizing and whatnot. Please pray that I don't end up suffocated under a pile of laundry somewhere...I would appreciate it.

The girls' new tricks...

2008-06-19T11:31:00.007-05:00

Why do kids have to grow up so fast? I mean, there have been certain stages that I wish would have passed a little quicker...like...ohhhh...the terrible two's that actually started at 1-1/2 in our house, maybe? But now that the horror that was that stage finally seems to be clearing out of our house ::knock on wood::, well - for a year anyway...it seems that I've simply blinked and both of my babies have grown up! They both have added a few new tricks to their repertoire. They are as follows...

Big has one new trick this week. It's called peeing on the potty...and the floor from time to time...but ya know, she tries. Yep, it's official...she's in training. (And absolutely no thanks to my evil plan by the way. Just had to get that out there.) She has gone on the potty twice a day for the last two days now and has gone in her diaper fewer times than she went on the potty! (yes, I know that means she's only peeing 3-4 times a day...we try several more times a day than that...the girl is a camel) So, what did Mommy do? Well, besides singing every "proud" or "congratulations" potty song I could think of (or make up quickly) I went out and bought her a pack of Disney Princess Pull-ups. I know reviews on these things are really hot and cold, but Big looooooves the Princesses...so we thought we'd give them a try. Fortunately, Cinderella has only been peed on twice now...so we're clearly making some progress. I've now coined the phrase "You don't want to pee pee on your Princess, do you?" I mean, clearly princesses are too fancy to get peed on, right? This results in a contemplative look from Big, and then usually a hurried trip to her little potty to "try" to go. She really does love them...the Pull-ups that is. Last night I was putting her jammies on, and in the process, I grabbed a diaper to put on her, thinking that if she did wet her diaper overnight, we might need more absorbency than a simple Pull-up can offer. I can only say...what was I thinking? A mere peek at the diaper resulted in the loudest, girliest screech I've experienced to date, along with some full body "get that crap away from me" wiggles. I was then informed that she does NOT wear diapers anymore...she wears "big girl unddapants". Copy that Houston...no more diapers. This is a good sign right? Or is it just a sign that my diaper expense just doubled in size? (stupid Pull-ups and their fancy price tag...stupid Princesses...) We shall see...

Little has a few new tricks too. The first one is called waking Mommy and Daddy up twice in the middle of the night to eat. Well, OK, this isn't a new trick, but she hasn't done it for a month or so now, so it feels new all over again. Ughhhhh...which leads us to her second new trick: spitting out and not eating rice cereal. Yep, after the third night in a row of waking twice, Hubby and I decided that it was time to load her up with some cereal before bed in an effort to get her to sleep longer...that's the myth you know? "Feed the baby cereal before bed and they'll sleep longer." You've heard it, right? Well, it doesn't work here...mostly because our child has a finicky palate...this we already knew...and refuses to open her mouth for the cereal. I swear, her tiny lips are like Fort freakin' Knox! Last night I, reluctantly, found myself sneaking spoonfuls of the, apparently vile, stuff into her mouth each time she parted her lips to complain about it. (bad mommy moment...what can I say?) Yeah, I don't think she cared for me much at the time, heh. Next step...adding it to her bottle? You know, I hate to mess with her bottles, after the fiasco we went through to simply get the girl to drink them...but something has got to stop this getting up twice a night. She's 5 months old for goodness sakes...that's a long time to go without more than 6 hours of uninterrupted sleep!! (Keep in mind that I can't even caffeinate myself in the morning to get through.) So that one is kind of a work in progress.

Little's third, and final, new trick is a bit more on the TMI side... It involves holding her poop for three days...as opposed to her previous habit of going each time she was fed...and then filling her diaper the likes of a new Guinness world record. It's the formula...it's gotta be the formula. Right? Anyway, this trick usually sends one (or both) of us (Hubby and I that is), running around the house like headless poultry in an often fruitless attempt to minimize the explosive damage. It also often results in the following...an impromptu bath, draining of the wipie box next to her bed, depletion of the stack of diapers on my dresser next to her bed, changing of her bedsheets, sanitizing of her hands and feet (she moves so quickly, its hard to keep them out of "it", you know?!?!)...and so on. And the stink! Good God! You think the stinky butt lullaby was true before?! Ugh. I find myself speechless sometimes, trying to explain how one itty bitty person can make so much mess and stink...but that's our girl. Hubby is secretly very proud...umm...when he doesn't have to change the diaper. Even he has limits, people.

And in all seriousness...Little has been making great progress with her Physical and Occupational Therapy lately. She allllmost rolls over all by herself now, and is practically sitting alone. Note: I said practically. She still does end up in a doubled over heap most of the time, or flopping over to the side like a "timbering" tree...but she's working on it. She's also so great at reaching for objects and grasping them and getting them to her mouth. Oooh! And holding her head up when she's laying on her tummy, that's a big one for us!! And dammit, she's still the happiest baby I've ever seen. Such strides they're making...we're so proud. ::sigh:: Kinda makes the rest of this motherhood gig worth it, you know? It just all goes so fast...

Owie!

2008-06-18T17:54:00.004-05:00

Well, as it turned out, my Monday would only get worse from where I left off. The rest of the daylight hours weren't so bad, the usual 2 kid to one parent chaos...except for when the occupational therapist showed up at my door for a previously scheduled appointment and I answered the door in my pajamas...at 11:30. That was fun, and not embarrassing at all...heh...I need to start checking my calendar every morning dammit! Anyway, it was much later, after the sun had set, that I found myself in a new kind of hell. Bacterial boob-itis (AKA Mastitis) hit me...BAM!...just like a Mack truck...sometime between sunset and Tuesday morning sunrise. I went to bed whining about how sore I was (and not just my boob either...parts of my back and shoulders, and...well...my whole body were achey and just downright excruciating) and I woke up Tuesday morning in a very messy, twisted, horrified heap on my bed. Miseryyyyyyyyyyy. So I stayed home from work and Grandma watched the kids, and I heat packed, and I slept and I pumped my guts out and still...nothin'. No relief. Argh! So, 24 hours and two pitiful calls to my OB's office later, I'm finally on antibiotics and...ummm...wishing that I could say that I was feeling better. heh. Because I'm still not...but I'm confident that relief is on the way...and that if the yeast infection and other fun side effects of this anti-biotic don't kill me in the next 14 days, I should be a new woman, with a far less painful boob, right quick. ::glaring at the right boob only:: Bastard.

It's SO Monday

2008-06-16T11:33:00.003-05:00

I'm tired today...really, really tired. I've been staying up wayyyyy too late at night pumping and making bottles so that I don't have to pump in the middle of the night (and so my boobs don't explode sometime before the morning light from my not pumping in the middle of the night. You know, it's win-win.) I've been getting to bed at about 11:30 each night, and waking with Big at a little before 7, and this simply isn't enough sleep for me. Add one, sometimes two night time feedings with Little and one additional trip to the potty (my bladder doesn't know I'm not still pregnant, I wish that someone would tell it!) and you have one unfulfilling night of sleep. This brings us to this morning...where I was laying on my pillow, desperately grasping for one more moments rest, when Big walked into my room. (insert eye bulge here) How she managed to wake up, get out of bed, open her door and come into my room, all without waking me is a total mystery...I'm going to start calling her Houdini. So, anyway...I heard her walk into my room and, unfortunately so did Little...so now all 3 of us were awake...and far too early for my liking. Excellent. The day was off to a stellar start...but you know it's going to be a good day when the first words you hear for the day are "Mama, I pooped on my bwanket. You hafta change my sheets." Aaaaaaaaaand now we're talkin'. ::sigh::

Here's to a stellar day all around. Grr.

Sprucing up around here...

2008-06-15T20:14:00.003-05:00

Well, I decided that I needed to do a little sprucing up here...new background, new header...you know...and, umm...stuff.

BIG thanks to Tiffany at http://www.miragreetings.com/ for the header...she has mucho talent!! You MUST check out her invitations and announcements if you're in the market!!

Anyway...its still Father's Day, so I need to get my butt off the computer and go do the dishes (cuz Hubby's doing them instead and that just ain't right).

Hope everyone had a great weekend and wonderful Father's Day...or Fadder's Day, as it's called in our home. heh. Hasta le...something!

Mommy's Evil Plan

2008-06-13T09:00:00.003-05:00

I feel like we've been doing this forever, this potty training thing. Really, I have no right to complain. I'm not doing it full time, I'm taking the more laid back approach. I ask, offer and bribe...but I don't force and I don't punish. See, if you know Big, then you know that if I tried to force her to use the potty, she'd finally agree to be potty trained sometime around age 25, when she discovered that there was some obvious benefit to her to stop wearing diapers...she's about as stubborn as they come (I have no idea where she gets that from *ahem*). Anyway, we have a sticker chart, we have three different kinds of potty reward candy...and yet, each time I ask her if she'd like to use the potty, she tells me "no". We've been at a standstill for quite some time now...until this morning.

This morning, as usual, after she got out of her bed, I asked Big if she'd like to sit on her potty and try going pee pee like a big girl, to which she auto-responded "no". Fine, whatever...we moved on with our morning...la dee dah...nothing unusual. A few minutes later, however, she came up to me with a distraught look on her face, and announced that she'd gone poo poo (it was really pee pee...we have yet to master the distinction, btw)...and then she told me "You hafta change my diapew Mama." Hmm...OK. I consider myself a fairly attentive mother, so off we went to her bedroom to change her diaper...Big walking like a cowboy who had just come home from a loooong trip on her trusty steed, and me right behind her...and that's when it hit me. She's been asking me to change her diaper a lot lately...actually coming up to me and asking...and, so I've been changing her, she's my child that's what I do...but maybe, just maybe I've been a little too quick to get those uncomfy diapers off of her. The ideas are flying...an evil plan brewing in my head...I've got it! mwahahahahahahaha!

I believe we may be having a potty training breakthrough. Clearly Big doesn't like the way the wet diapers feel...either that or she's been moonlighting with the local rodeo while Hubby and I sleep at night. And while anything truly is possible when it comes to Big, I'm gonna go with the diaper theory for the sake of this post. So, my thinking is...what if I don't change her diapers immediately anymore to give her time to think about how much she doesn't like them?? I'm not talking an hour here, people, but maybe 2 minutes? Five minutes? Just long enough to maybe give her incentive to go on the potty more often. That's not too evil, is it? Is it? Well, I hope not, because starting tomorrow, I'm going to try it...cross your fingers that this doesn't blow up in my face...umm, please?

Look out Vera Wang!

2008-06-12T10:11:00.002-05:00

This morning started like every other morning in our house. Hubby was running out the door to work, Little was soundly sleeping in her bassinet next to our bed, I was face down in my pillow, grasping for every last breath of sleep I could get, and Big was waking in her toddler bed in her room next door. I could hear her making little wake-up noises in the monitor, but was hopeful that she would bless me by contently playing in her bed for a bit so that I could relish just one more minute of my semi-conscious state. It was not to be. My hopes were quickly dashed when she began yelling "Maaaaaaaaama! I cawwin' youuuuuuuuu! You hewe me?!?! Mama! I cawwin you wiff my mouff!! You hewe me Mama?! Maaaaaaaaaaama!! I neeeeeeeeeeed youuuuuuuuuuuuu," and so my morning began.

As usual I dragged myself into her room and was met with an expression of complete joy and enthusiasm from my Big girl, she was ready to get up and go. So, bunny and blankie in hand, we headed into the living room, when it suddenly dawned on her that she needed to get dressed. Right that very minute. (And this child does not accept just any outfit...she is fancy. Dresses are her everyday uniform. Tights and headbands are her favorite accessories. And anything other than glittery dress shoes is a travesty.) So, we made a u-turn out of the living room and headed back into her bedroom to get her dressed. Not up for a fight over which dress would be weather appropriate for the day, I opened her closet door and stepped back, giving her complete freedom of choice. She stepped toward the closet, nothing less than ecstatic (she has 15 dresses in there people...there was a big decision to be made here!!). She looked over each one thoughtfully...touching each one...moving onto the next one, pausing for a second a few times, as if to contemplate that dress's worthiness of her...and then, after a few minutes, she chose one. She turned to me and said, "Hewe Mama, I weaw dis one today, because dis one matches my shoes and my puwse." I kid you not. And it did. The pink patterned dress she chose matched the pink glitter flats and pink satin purse that she was already sportin' for the day perfectly (keep in mind that she had been out of bed for exactly 3 minutes at this point). I was in awe. My 2 year-old is already fashion and accessory conscious, and damn good at it too. Can you imagine what 13 will bring us?!? I'm scared. Somebody hold me.

The cost of a nursing strike...

2008-06-11T13:48:00.038-05:00

4 Born Free bottles............................................................$40
(because our other ones had BPA-grrr)

4 Avent stage 2 nipples......................................................$10
(because soooo many people have gone
out to buy new BPA-free bottles that our
Babies R' Us was out of stage 2 Born Free
ones...but the Avent ones fit and are cheaper,
so who cares.)

1 bottle of lactose free Similac.........................................$15

1 small can of Enfamil Soy formula................................$15
(because the Similac gave her eczema)

6 Sassy MAM Ultivent bottles.........................................$24
(because 4 bottles just simply isn't enough
when your baby eats 8 times per day)

1 large can of Enfamil Soy formula.................................$25
(because the small can was gone and we
thought maybe she would like it eventually
if we just continued ~~forcing it on her~~ trying it)

1 small can of Similac Alimentum formula.................FREE
(TGFS! that's "Thank God For Samples")
(because she simply started refusing the soy...
heck, who am I kidding? Little would have picked
the bottle up and thrown it at me if she had the
dexterity and coordination. She hated the stuff.)

6 more Born Free bottles................................................$60
(because giving her 2 different kinds of bottles
may have been confusing to her, according to our
local lactation guru, so we had to limit ourselves
to one kind of bottle and nipple.
"Nipple confusion"...what an odd term)

2 Born Free variable flow nipples.................................$7.50
(because I'm an idiot and I grabbed the
wrong kind at the store...they look so much alike!!
I then boiled them and tried them once...so as to
make them unreturnable. I told you I'm and idiot.)

6 Avent stage 3 nipples.....................................................$15
(because I thought we'd try a faster nipple -
maybe that would help?)

1 small can of Nestle Good Start formula......................$15
(because the Alimentum made her gag and our
Pediatrician was out of ideas, so he told us to
suck it up with the eczema and try another milk
based formula)

1 bottle of Fenugreek pills................................................$15
(AKA: the pancake medicine...because if she
wouldn't take the Good Start, we were completely
out of formula options...and I would need to boost
my milk supply)

6 more Avent stage 2 nipples..........................................$15
(because the stage 3's leave half the milk in
her tummy, and half on her bib)

1 large can of Nestle Good Start formula......................$27
(because the small can is gone and she actually
seems to like this one? ::knocking on wood::
And pssssst...no eczema!!!)

1 new bottle brush.............................................................$4
(because the other one was just getting icky
from being used 1,000,000,000 times per day)
_________________________________________________
Finally finding the right combination of
bottles, nipples, formula, and breast milk
so that Little will eat again..................................PRICELESS

My Life in Pictures

2008-06-10T12:56:00.018-05:00

My heart would not beat without them...they are my life. This is my family...

The things kids say...

2008-06-09T09:33:00.006-05:00

Big was bored this morning while I was pumping. The Suite Life of Zack and Cody, just wasn't holding her attention (yes, I'm that kind of mom, when I have to be) so she decided to rifle through a Target bag that was lying on the floor nearby. She was mildly interested in the Father's Day card that I picked up for Hubby yesterday (it had a jewel on it, so it was fancy)...but what really got her attention was the two packs of new underwear that I had picked up for myself. Before I knew it, she had them unwrapped and was taking them out of the packaging. I didn't figure they could be used as any sort of weapon (maybe a slingshot?), so I let her go ahead and entertain herself with them, as I walked out of the room and into the kitchen to make bottles. Just to make sure that I hadn't made the wrong decision, I peeked my head out of the kitchen and spied on her for a moment...at which point she caught my eye. She was holding up two pair of the underwear (now completely out of the packaging) and she said to me:

"Hewe Mommy!! I got deeze out fo you. Hewe's yo new sheet (holding up one pair)...and hewe's yo bwankie (waving the other pair around in the air)."

Dear Lord, she thinks my underwear are bedsheets. So, ummm...maybe its time to get back on the weight loss bandwagon? ::slaps forehead:: Crud.

Anatomy 101 (for 2 year-olds)

2008-06-08T15:56:00.006-05:00

Setting scene: Big walks into the living room carrying her beloved pink bunny in her arms. He is wrapped up in her blankie (like a baby) and she is carrying a dolly baby bottle in the other hand. I am sitting on the couch pumping (imagine that....its my #1 pass time these days). She walks over to me, observes what I'm doing (nothing she hasn't seen 80,000,000 times before) and speaks...

Big: Hi Mommy

Me: Hi Big! Whatcha got there?

Big: Its bunny. He hungwy. I gonna feed him.

Me: Ohhhh, OK...sounds good. You're such a good Mommy Big!

Big: Yeah. (she says, showing obvious pride in her fabulous mothering abilities)

She then raises the bottle to bunny's mouth and pauses, looking at me very thoughtfully for a minute. I can see the wheels turning, but she doesn't give me any sign of what she's thinking...I wait for her to speak.

Big: (puts bottle down) Mama, bunny wike my miwk...he wanna dwink my miwk, wike (Little).

"Oh!" I say, a little taken aback by the fact that she's going to attempt to breastfeed her bunny, but its not like she hasn't seen me nursing her sister and pumping for the last 4-1/2 months, so I decide that this is a good thing. I decide that I'm proud of her for being so observant and open minded, in fact, I think its great that she finds nursing nurturing, and thinks of it as the way that mommies feed their babies. "She really gets it." I think, admiring how smart my little girl is, and also proud of myself for teaching her that there is nothing offensive or awkward about breastfeeding your baby. It was a win-win moment for me.

So I watch her, as she puts the dolly bottle down on the table and raises her dress up over her head to get in prime nursing position. I'm glowing with pride as she takes bunny out of his blankie, thinking about how I can share this great moment with my daughter, and tell Grandma about it later when we see her. "She'll be so impressed," I think, as I watch her raise her bunny up and start to nurse him...from her belly button. I swear, I nearly died stifling my laughter. Suffocation was a mere 3 seconds away...I needed a paper bag...or something to shield my face while I laughed hysterically...anything...STAT! I thought I would burst.

Sooooooo, it looks like we may actually have a few more anatomy lessons ahead of us, which is probably a good thing since she's only two. Either way, my Big girl is a very good mommy to her bunny, and it turns out that bunny didn't mind her nursing method at all...he even let out a nice resounding burp when he was finished. She was very proud. So was her mommy.

I like pancakes and all...

2008-06-05T13:52:00.005-05:00

but I have no desire to be Mrs. Butterworth. Seriously.

Little's feeding issue has resurfaced. ::sighhhhhh:: Actually, it only resolved itself for one day...then it started up again, first with her not finishing her bottles, and now we're back to struggling to get her to eat more than 2 ounces at a feeding. She's almost 5 months old, two ounces just isn't enough. I'm at the end of my rope. (I thought that was nicer than saying that I'm about to flip my shit...but either is absolutely accurate.) I decided I needed more help.

Soooo...one more (frustrated, panicky, exasperated) phone call to the pediatrician later...I have a few new ideas. I went and bought yet, another kind of formula...that makes 4 now in case you're keeping track, cuz I know I am...to try to mix with breast milk in her bottles. And its a milk based formula...because we've tried all of the alternatives and there just aren't any more. The doctor told me that while her eczema is annoying, it isn't life threatening, so if she eats the regular stuff, we should just suck it up and deal with the eczema (more salve, sweet!). Grr. But, here's where it gets interesting...to me at least. Little's doctor suggested that the best thing for us to do is switch her back to all breast milk...which requires me to somehow increase my supply by almost 10 ounces a day. If you've ever breast fed, you know...this is not an easy feat...not something you can snap your fingers and accomplish. So, at the pediatrician's suggestion, I then made a visit to my local health food store, a place that I've never actually been to before, for Fenugreek. No, it's not a sorority, silly, its an herb that supposedly regulates blood sugar levels (mine are fine thank you), but also just happens to increase lactation in some women as a side effect. (I wonder what it does to men...huh.) Now, generally, I'm not a herby (that's like a Treky-except with herbs). I like my FDA approved medications, thank you, but right about now I'd suck on shoe laces if someone told me this feeding strike/refusal/fussiness/pain in my arse would end with Little eating again...so I bought some, and I'm trying it. Reluctantly, maybe even skeptically...I'm trying it.

Here's the deal with Fenugreek...I bought 350 mg capsules...I have to take a minimum of 7 of them per day (gulp!...literally) in order to have any chance of this working. Possible side effects, in addition to lactation apparently, include nausea and diarrhea (umm...what? Geez, Little...do I love you...) and my favorite...smelling like maple syrup. Hee! Is this not the most bizarre side effect you've ever heard of? I mean, I guess its better than smelling like raw sewage or something, but maple syrup? How random. It's a good thing we all like pancakes! Well, I guess I'm not really sure whether Little likes them yet or not. Hmm. Has anyone ever prayed that their child would like pancakes before? No? Well, let me be the first then...

So, I've popped two capsules already today, and I've been told that it will take 3-4 days for me to see a difference in supply if its going to work. I figure that the day I wake up and mistake myself for Dolly Parton when I walk by the mirror, I'll know that my endeavor has been successful. In the meantime, we wait, Hubby and Big and I, breathing deeply, practicing our zen face, playing hot potato with the screaming baby at night...its super!! Please, oh please, God...let the pancake medicine work...

Amen!!

2008-06-03T16:29:00.003-05:00

After 6 days of not eating, 5 different kinds of bottles, 3 different kinds of formula, 3 calls in to the pediatrician's office, 1 eczema outbreak, thousands of minutes spent pumping breast milk, millions of tears shed, and countless hours of screaming...Little is happily eating her soy formula/pumped milk concoction. Thank the Lord.

I'd like my vacation to start now please?

Mother's Pride

2008-05-29T18:03:00.012-05:00

I found myself with an unexpected day off...I'll get into that in another post, at another time...and since Grandma had already made the trip over to our house to watch the girls while I worked, we decided that we should use this bonus day of fortune to take the girls to the zoo. We have been trying to pick a day to go there for weeks now, but have otherwise been thwarted by bad weather or some sort of appointment. But today, the skies were mostly clear, the temperature was in the high 60's, and there were no appointments to be found...so we went.

We arrived at the park at around 12:30 and, at Big's request, we headed almost immediately for the elephants. She was excited to see if they would squirt her with their trunks. I was leery. The last time we faced these giants (about a year ago), we ended up making a hasty retreat, Big covering her eyes to shield herself from the horror that was the elephants...in fact most of the animal exhibits ended that way; the giraffes, the aquarium, the bears...etc. I was afraid that we might see a repeat of last year's trip...but it was not so. As we approached the elephants from a distance, she saw them, and immediately got excited. (This was a good sign. I let myself get just a bit hopeful, while still cautiously awaiting screams and tears.) We pulled up next to the railing of the elephant exhibit and, to my amazement, there was no screaming. She wanted closer. In fact, she wanted in the exhibit so she could pet them, instead. (duh, Mom!) I was impressed! And that's pretty much how she reacted to all of the animals that we saw. She wanted to touch them all...even the cheetah, who Grandma assured her would eat her if given the opportunity (gee, thanks Grandma). I was so excited for my big girl, that she was having such a good time and was so happily taking everything in, and then...despite my doubt that it possibly could...the day got even better.

Grandma: Wanna ride a pony Big?!

Big: Yeah! Yeah, Gwamma!!

"Hmmmm...," I thought. I was skeptical...sure that she would ideally like to ride a horse...but felt certain that there was no way we were going to make it through this one without some sort of meltdown and hasty retreat. A knot appeared in my stomach. I hoped that this wouldn't ruin our day by turning her into a tearful, disappointed, frightened, snotty mess.

Grandma: You're gonna ride a horsey?

Big: Yeehaw!! (Apparently that means yes in "cowgirl")

"Ughhhhhhh, great," I thought as we went up to buy her ticket. I only hoped she wouldn't leave the line damaged and sad...but then...it was her turn...and she did it. She really did it, all by herself. I don't think she's smiled as much in her whole entire lifetime as she did during those four rounds around the ring that she made on her pony, Norman's back. She wasn't even the tiniest bit hesitant to go up and hop right on when it was her turn. Her joy was priceless, I wanted to cry. I was so proud. Sometimes I am only able to sit back and look at her with wonder and amazement at how she approaches things in life with so much gusto and joy. I really admire that in her, my little girl who is getting so big before my eyes. ::sniff:: She blows me away sometimes.

And, at the end of the day; 4 chicken nuggets, 2 elephants, 2 giraffes, 6 different species of felines, 2 hippos napping in the water, at least 10 different species of African animals, 1 pony ride, 1 train ride, 2 merry go round rides, and 1-15 minute ride home, Big lay her sleepy head down on her Disney Princess pillowcase and slept soundly in her bed...dreaming of her first pony ride, and her buddy Norman, I'm sure.

Little's Lullaby

2008-05-28T21:19:00.006-05:00

Hubby made up his own song for Little. He started singing it to her when she first same home from the hospital, when we were up with her in the middle of the night and he was changing her diapers. Right now you're thinking "Awwww! That is SO sweet!!" right? Yeah, it goes like this:

My little stinky butt girl

My little stinky butt girl

You make my nose hairs currrrrrl

My little stinky butt girl
_________________

My little stinky butt girl

My little stinky butt girl

You make your daddy wanna hurrrrrrrrl

My little stinky butt girl

(then it changes to humming and starts again at the beginning as many times as it takes for her to fall asleep)

I laughed when he made it up, after all it is true, she has a very stinky butt...and it was much needed comic relief during those newborn sleep disturbed nights. But now...now this song has become part of her nightly routine. This is the song she demands when she goes to sleep each night. This is what she immediately calms to when she's fussy. This song, about her butt, is Little's lullaby.

Little: 1 Mommy: 0

2008-05-28T09:41:00.003-05:00

Yep, that's right. She won. My white flag is up in the air and waving. I give up. No more nursing. Every time I even begin to put Little into nursing position she gives me her best tornado siren impression...except louder...and angrier than any tornado siren I've ever heard. I've been pumping full time for over a week now and I just can't keep it up anymore. I'm stressed about fitting it in to my daily schedule, about making sure that Big doesn't burn down the house while I'm trapped with both hands holding plastic containers on my boobs for 20 minutes 7 times a day (sounds sexy, no?), about whether I can keep my supply up enough that I can meet her feeding needs and all that goes with that (upping fluid intake=extra trips to the potty...like I have time for that), about making sure that my pump pieces and bottles are clean after each use so that I have them for the next use...and I just. can't. do. it. anymore. So I gave her a bottle of formula last night. ::sniff:: And I know there is nothing wrong with formula. It's formulated (hee) specifically for baby nutrition...it's good for her. And she liked it, drank it right up...which was a relief...but I still have this feeling of emptiness about the whole thing. ::sniff sniff::

On a "well isn't that ironic" note...I'm still pumping for the time being, to transition Little to formula and to transition myself from dairy cow to just regular cow (I have plenty of hind quarter)...and wouldn't you know it, when I pumped this morning I got 11 ounces of milk...more that I have gotten during this whole stupid pumping thing. My supply is finally up, just in time for me to shut down the factory. Figures.

Update

2008-05-28T09:39:00.002-05:00

Weighed myself again this morning...lost all 4 new pounds AND an extra 1/2 pound. Now, had I done anything yesterday to warrant a 4-1/2 pound weight loss, I'd be ecstatic...but I assure you I didn't. My body is wacked. Weird.

The Sugar Battle: Summarized

2008-05-27T10:00:00.005-05:00

Well, it's official. The week has come to an end. I haven't blogged about my sugar battle for the last few days, so here's a summary of the rest of the week:

Day 4: Had a cyst removed. It was disturbing. That creepy scraping sound just about drove me to the edge of sanity. ::shudder:: I drove right from the doctor's office to Culver's and got a malt. I then spent the rest of the day feeling guilty. Dumb.

Day 5: I was good. I was back on track. I even resisted Hubby's Peanut M&M's at the movie theater. It was dark in the theater. No one would have known about my indiscretion but me (and Hubby, but he was the one offering them, so he wouldn't have cared). I knew this. I resisted anyway. Go me!

Day 6: Stressful day. Little's still on her nursing strike so I'm pumping 8 fricken fracken times a day, while managing to wrangle two small children at the same time. I'm not one for patting myself on the back, but OMG, I think I deserve a weekend trip to the spa as a reward when all of this pumping business is done. Anyway, I got Big and Little both down for their naps, finished pumping for the 4th time of the day and finally had a moment to myself...so I ate a cookie. And then another one. Crap.

Day 7: Memorial Day. Family cook-out. Lots of fun. My dish to bring? Brownies. D'oh! So Big and I stirred up a nice batch of triple chunk brownies and threw some frosting on them. They looked harmless enough...but, well, I thought it best to try one to make sure they weren't poisonous before anyone else ate one. I'd hate to be the one responsible for a family-wide illness epidemic....and stuff. And then I ate another one. And, umm...one more. Dude.

Sooo, I have to admit, I certainly wasn't perfect...but in all honesty, the amount of sugar I consumed this week was about one tenth of what I normally would have consumed. I'm irritated that I didn't make it one measly week without breaking, but I still feel pretty good about how much I decreased my sugar intake. I also have to say that I can definitely tell that I'm no longer a slave to the cane. I still enjoy sugary foods (like brownies-*ahem*) but I don't get crabby and irritable if I don't eat them. I find it much easier to take it or leave it. So, yay!

And now to the big stuff...I faced the moment of truth this morning with skepticism. I know I wasn't all that great at resisting sugar, but I did do a lot better this week than I have in months...and I didn't replace my sugar junk food with other things either. No chips or other snacks were shoved down as a replacement in my moments of weakness...so I thought that I may have still lost a pound or two. I got on the scale in the bathroom with just the teeniest bit of hope...took a deep breath...and...looked down...to discover...that I...gained 4 pounds. Umm, what?! You must be F'ing kidding me. I haven't gained 4 pounds since I was pregnant!! Ridiculous, I tell you. Maybe it's someone telling me I need more ice cream. Grr.

Sweet Whispers

2008-05-22T13:34:00.005-05:00

Little is on a nursing strike. I can hardly contain my enthusiasm. (note sarcasm) And she's not on a passive, "I'd rather smile and coo at you" strike, she's on a full blown "if you put my face near that boob I'm going to scream until the glasses in the cabinet shatter" kind of strike. Its SUPER! Anyway, one such strike episode was going on last night, shortly after Big had been put to bed. She clearly hadn't had time to fall asleep before the screaming began and soon was yelling for me from her bed. Hubby went to the rescue. She told him that she wanted to come and help with Little and make sure she was OK. heh. Hubby quickly saw through her thinly veiled effort to get out of bed and told her that we had it covered, her sister was just fine, and she should go to bed. He then tucked her in again and closed the bedroom door. A few minutes after walking away, he heard her talking in her room again, so he went and stood outside her door. He heard her whispering this:

Big: It's OK Little. You no cwy. Hewe, I move my bwankie. I make woom fo you. (rustling was heard) You can way down wiff me wiiiiight hewe on my bed. No cwy Little. It's OK.

He told me this story with a giant smile on his face. My heart melted. I guess she's over hating her baby sister. My sweet little girl, you're such a good Big sister. ::sniff::

The Sugar Battle: Day 3

2008-05-22T09:59:00.005-05:00

Dude. This is only day 3?! Ugh.

I'm of the opinion that weight loss needs to be more instantaneous. It is in the heat of the moment...when you're faced with your child's half finished vanilla malt...that you desperately need to see some weight loss results for encouragement...not 2 weeks later! Who came up with this system!? Seriously.

So, it's day 3, feels like day 353, but I'm still on track. No sweets were eaten yesterday. Pants are still tight. Maternity sweater that was supposed to be long and concealing actually ended up resting on my "butt shelf" (you know, when your butt sticks out enough that it creates a place for your shirt to rest...vindictively accentuating your already ample rear) making me squirm every time I stood up yesterday. I don't think my clothes even fit me this badly when I was pregnant...and huge. Now I'm just medium huge. What's the deal?

OK, trying to be positive here...I did make it through yesterday without cheating. I came this close to eating a bite of Big's strawberry bon bon ice cream, (umm, yum!?!) but didn't. Whew! That's about it. Overall I'd say its getting a bit easier to not want sugar every minute. This is encouraging.

Now, back to watching the floor around me. I'm waiting for the first pound to hit the deck...any minute now...aaaaaaaaaaany minute now...whelp!

Note 12:10 PM: Whoever said that you should load up on water in order to curb your appetite must have been sadistic. Water makes my stomach feel absolutely empty, and ravishingly hungry. Idiot.

Note 12:12 PM: After re-reading my post I realized that it appears that I'm weighing myself, ohhhhh, every 5 minutes or so. And I'm not. I won't weigh myself until next Tuesday. I'm giving it a whooooooole week. ::groan::

The Sugar Battle: Day 2

2008-05-21T10:33:00.007-05:00

Well, since yesterday I've learned quite a few things about this battle, things that will help me stay strong and give sugar the boot.

First, and most importantly, I've learned that cutting sugar treats our of your diet makes you very, very crabby. Hubby has, unfortunately, learned this lesson too, poor guy.

Second, I've learned that A LOT of people are going through this same thing at this very moment. Oprah, for one (who knew??)...but also a lot of my friends! Had I not come out with my declaration of war, I may have never known what a common issue this is! Thankfully, I am in good company.

Third, and finally, I've also learned that I can make it through a whole day without consuming sweets. And a really bad whole day too. Sweeeeeeeeeeeet (Note to self: find a new expression of enthusiasm to use, as that one makes me think of cake.). I did have a handful of chips before dinner, and a regular soda with dinner, but no chocolate, no candy, no cake (I made hubby eat the intruder cake), and none of the very delicious lemon cupcake cookies that I unknowingly bought the day before yesterday. ::slaps forehead::

So, we're almost halfway through day 2 and, aside from wanting to shoot lasers out of my eyes at the drop of a hat, I'd say that this is so far a success....for me...not such a happy experience for those around me. heh. Hopefully that will pass.

Note 11:02 AM: I'm suddenly wondering if Little's refusal to nurse (yes, still!) is related to my kicking the sugar habit. Maybe she only likes chocolate milk? Poor kid.

The War Rages On...Let the Sugar Battle Begin: Day 1

2008-05-20T11:22:00.013-05:00

The war against my waistline that is. Ughhhh...it's not even really been a war lately, more of a massacre. I haven't been trying to watch what I eat at allllll...unless you count watching the fork full of cake as it goes from the plate to my mouth. (heh) It's now been 3 months since I've lost a single pound of after baby weight, and that is just crap. The good news? I've got my boxing gloves on and I'm finally ready to do some battle. As of today I am NOT allowing myself to snack on sweets. No after lunch chocolate. No after dinner cake. No convenient cookie stops at the mall. None. After reviewing my diet, I think I might single handedly be responsible for the depletion of the sugar crop around the world with all of the sweets I eat!! And if I can do away with that part of my diet, the price of sugar should go down by about 50% AND I will be way closer to winning this stupid war and actually stepping out of the maternity section sometime in this decade. I really do love my elastic waist pants, with the built in fabric panel...ahhhhhh...comfy (it's like wearing jeans and sweat pants at the same time! To work!) but the reality is that that panel is there to allow for baby growing room, not cupcakes...and there is no baby in this belly anymore. Thus, its time to get a move on and get back in my "my body is not a vessel anymore" pants.

So...I weighed myself this morning (I won't share that part with you ::eye roll::) and my goal is to do this for ONE WEEK and see what happens. I figure that if I can make it through the first seven days, the second week will be easier...here's hoping.

Ready? Set. Go! Day one in progress...

Note 2:16 PM: Just ate lunch at work, a Lean Cuisine flat bread. It was tasty, but I yearned for a Hershey Nugget chaser...which lies a mere 12 inches from me in my desk drawer. I resisted. It was hard. I'm only 14 hours into this thing and I hate it already. I'd better see some scale results next Tuesday!!! Grr.

Note 9:11 PM: OMG. I picked the wrong day to start this. Tonight Big was in rare form. First she spat at me, then used the word "hate" for the first time. In fact, it was used in this sentence: I HATE Mama. Umm...what?! I mean, she was angry with me because I was being super mean and all and not letting her have her way (insert eye roll here) but HATE? ::shudder:: I thought I had 11 more years coming before I heard that one! And to put the cap on my craptastic evening, after I finally got Big to bed, Little spent hour upon hour screaming at me and refusing to nurse...until I gave in and gave her a bottle of EBM. I've never had to give her a bottle before. ::sniff:: Not only do I want to eat the stupid piece of cake that's intruding in my fridge right now, but I want to drive to the store and buy a whole cake...and eat it in my car...in the grocery store parking lot. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK! P.S. I refuse to eat the stupid cake. Stupid cake. Grr.

Mommy Stripes

2008-05-19T19:31:00.003-05:00

I am earning my Mommy stripes today! I tell you...I have seen battle, and baby, it ain't pretty!! Ugh! The motherhood stuff is tough!! By the end of this day, I will totally be Sargent Major Mommy...or something like that...high ranking...yeah, that! Argh!

Genuine Happiness

2008-05-16T08:24:00.005-05:00

I posted some family pictures on a chat board yesterday (woot woot ladies!!) and one of the responses I received was that we all look so genuinely happy in the photographs. My immediate response was "We are!"...but then I had to take a contemplative time out to think about that for a minute. My realization: You know what? We ARE! We are a genuinely happy family! Wow! For so long I thought that I would never get there, to that happy family place that people talk about...but all of a sudden...I AM THERE! Don't get me wrong, our life certainly has its challenges...big challenges...and we're not perfect, but we do all genuinely love each other. We treat each other with kindness and respect, and darn it- we enjoy the time we spend together. No mumbling under our breath, no faking a smile to keep up appearances, instead we have real smiles and laughter, and talking!! It's like I fell asleep in prison a few years ago and woke up in paradise. And I am so thankful...

4 Months Ago Today...

2008-05-15T11:43:00.009-05:00

my Little came into the world. Hard to believe its been that long already, though in a way I'd like to put as much time between me and that day as possible. Not that it was a bad day, after all I met my little girl for the first time...something I had surely been looking forward to for many months...but it was a tough day, easily the toughest day of my life at that point...

We went into the scheduled c-section with fear. Fear over the surgery I would soon have. Fear over bringing our precious daughter into this world, not knowing how her heart would function once she was on her own. Would she need to have a pacemaker? When would we be able to take her home? How were we going to be able to spend enough time with her while she was staying in the NICU? And then there was the fear about how Big would handle being separated from us for 4 days. Would she feel abandoned? Would she cry for me? How she would adjust to being a big sister? So many fears...and then she was here.

She was so beautiful right out of the gate (or uterus, if you will). She had a full head of soft brown spikey hair, a teeny tiny little nose, long, skinny feet, and a pair of lungs that would put Tarzan to shame. She was amazing. I was only able to briefly gaze upon her face before she was taken to the NICU and I was taken to recovery, which seemed so unnatural and unfair to me, but I knew it was what had to happen. When I finally got to hold her for the first time that afternoon at her bedside, the world was right again. My baby was here.

The rest of the day is a blur. Monitors and cords, visitors and drugs, IV's and a fever, nurses and doctors and surgeons, bandages and consults, an anxiety filled midnight trip down to the NICU hold my baby...things that we were told to expect, but not things that we could truly prepare ourselves for.

As I look back now though, four months later, what sticks out most in my mind among all of the chaos of that day is my beautiful baby. Her soft, warm body and her newborn cry...and most of all, the amazing strength and spirit that she's shown us from the very moment she was born. How far you've come Little One. I'm so lucky to have you in my life.

Wanted: A New Hair Dresser

2008-05-14T11:56:00.009-05:00

I love getting my hair done. I'm not sure what thrills me so much about it. When I was sitting at the salon on Monday, having my chair elevated by foot pump, plastic cape draped over me, I took a moment to try to decide what it is about the experience that I enjoy so much. Is it the celebrity gossip mags that I get to read while my color develops? Is it chatting with a fellow adult while sitting, childless, in a quiet locale for a few hours? It's certainly not the actual process of getting the foil strips shellacked to my head with color goo, or looking like I could transmit a small, private radio station with my head for 30 minutes. Huh. I couldn't decide. However, by the time I was finished with my appointment, I had figured it out. It's the promise of walking out of the salon in a mere few hours, fresh color applied, hair swinging bouncily from a fresh cut and style, and feeling like a renewed woman. It's like a mini-makeover that I get to have every 6 weeks...and it makes me feel good...when things go right that is. This was not the case on Monday.

It started out well. I verbalized what I wanted to my stylist (my normal blond and coppery-red highlights to brighten up my blah brown hair)...she was receptive, color was mixed, foil was applied, US magazine was thoroughly scoured for gossip while I developed for 30 minutes...life was good. We washed and cut my hair, then dried...all on schedule...fun, fun, fun...and then it happened. I looked in the mirror, and my day went sharply downhill. I swear I heard the music from Psycho. Holy holy. Apparently when I asked my hair dresser to make my red highlights "a bit brighter" than she had last time, what she actually heard me say was "I want to look like the Little Mermaid. You know, I'd like my highlights neon orange please...in fact, make most of my hair that color...except for a few blond streaks, oh and leave the brown roots...cuz that's the sexiest look of all!!". My heart actually stopped beating for a moment...right before she asked me how I liked it with a large, satisfied grin on her face. My reply? "I love it!" Ughhhhhh, I suck. I lied...and then paid her over $100 for ruining my hair. ::insert sobbing here:: Don't I get it free if its ugly? For $100 I could surely find a wig to wear for the next, ohhhh, 6 weeks? No, huh? Damn.

Sooooo, now I'm a red head...or, well...let's be honest, I'm an orange head. A very unhappy, out a hundred dollars, still jumping every time I catch my reflection in the mirror orange head...and I'm in the market for a new hair dresser in the Milwaukee area...anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

Mother's Day

2008-05-13T09:19:00.007-05:00

I know it's a little late to be doing my Mother's Day recap but, just like every other day, my Mother's Day was bu-sy...allowing me zero time to blog. It was good busy; having coffee while playing with Big's Barbies, getting presents from Hubby and the girls (wheee!), running to my sister's house (an hour and a half late-d'oh!) to have brunch with my family...so much fun!! But when we arrived home that evening, my Mother's Day celebration really began, in kind of an odd way. It changed from "a day to honor me as a mother" to "a day to step up my game and be the best mother I can be." As soon as we stepped in the door Big and Little were both hungry. Both were tired. Big was all worked up from playing with my nieces all afternoon...it was truly a scene to behold. Imagine a Tasmanian devil, eating chicken strips and french fries over your living room carpet, while a teeny tiny fire truck siren goes off in your arms for 20 minutes while you try to feed it. It was something like that. heh. Nothing new in our household, but for some reason the fact that it was Mother's Day actually gave me a new perspective on the chaos.

There was no pity party that my Mother's Day didn't turn out to be a relaxing day of paying homage to my greatness. In a few years, my days won't be as hectic; Big won't require constant supervision during meals to keep her from lodging fish sticks in her trachea, and I won't be "trapped" in a seated position while I feed Little...but I'm not ready for that yet. I LOVE having little kids. I love (secretly) laughing at Big's reasoning and daily verbal contemplations. I LOVE getting huge smiles from Little every time I make eye contact with her, and stroking her soft baby hair with my cheek. I love that if I feed Big "like a kitty" and meow a couple of times, I can get her to eat just about anything. I love nursing Little and having her fall asleep in my arms, feeling her warm body against mine. I love when we all sit on the couch together; Big laying on one side of me with her pink blankie and Little in my other arm kicking and cooing up a storm, and just being together. I love where we are now. I don't want to rush this period of our lives. And yeah-with the good parts of motherhood also comes the dirty diapers, the spit-up, the sleepless nights and crack of dawn mornings, but soon enough I'll wake up the mother to two teenage girls who are too busy with their own lives to even acknowledge that they have a mother. That can wait a while. I'll take changing a million dirty diapers in exchange for one messy, strawberry lip gloss filled kiss from Big and one smile filled coo from Little.

So, in retrospect, this Mother's Day was far from relaxing. I wouldn't compare it to a day at the spa. I wouldn't call it leisurely...but I will say that I think that it was just as it should be. It was busy and hectic and loud...and I changed diapers, wiped noses and diffused tantrums, just like every other day...but this day I took the time to realize how much I enjoy being a mother. I wouldn't have spent it any other way.

Warning: this is not "new"

2008-05-10T10:08:00.005-05:00

Yep, here I sit...in my pajamas, with a nice hot cup of coffee next to me. The house is quiet, except for the washer and dryer noise (but to me that sounds like progress, not noise). I'm all set to have my computer free time, and I can't think of a thing to write about. I always get so mad when popular shows reflect that the show of the evening will be "new" on the channel guide...but then when you get all settled in with your basket of laundry to fold (and your snacks *ahem*) you find out that its a stinkin' recap show. That's not new!! Its clips of things I've seen already! Stupid *&^%#$! Well, in order to avoid that frustration, my friends, I'm giving plenty of warning...this is going to be an update post. Don't say I didn't warn you.

The rash: Yeah, it's eczema. We've been given a prescription for some salve (gotta love salve...the word just sounds greasy and disgusting) to use on it. It's now turned into big patches of really dry skin...umm, all over her body. Comfy! Eh, what can you do. She's still the happiest *coughcough*and cutest*coughcough* baby on the planet.

The swing set: Yep, still lovin' it! Big calls it her park. Hee! She wants to play outside eeeeevery day, which really is a good thing...except when I have to tell her no. But it HAS also proven to be quite effective in the bribery, umm...I mean motivation department. For example; "Big, if you don't eat those two chicken nuggets, you won't have any energy and we can't go out and play on the swing set!". Mwahahahahahahahaha! Oh, come on, every one does it! Don't they?

My family: They still rock! They can't get enough of Big talking about and playing on the swing set. I'm going to use this space to send a BIG appreciative shout out to Uncle Andy, who I hear devised the plan to surprise us with a complete swing set (and did most of the work). You. are. awesome. Uncle Andy's also going through some really stupid, unfair crap at work right now, so I have to also use this space to tell him that we love and support him 100%, and we're sending lots of thoughts his way.

My In-laws: They still rock too! They've apparently told Hubby several times how much they enjoyed having us come up and visit...which is nice because we enjoyed it so much too. Win-win. Doesn't get better than that! We will, in fact be seeing Uncle Frank at the baseball game here this afternoon...and maybe again tomorrow for some chill out time...although we secretly know he only wants to come and hang out with the girls, but that's cool! He's a wonderful uncle and the girls love him, so again...win-win.

Pink eye: As fast as it appeared, it disappeared. No antibiotics were even picked up from the pharmacy. Weird, no? Maybe the big guy really heard my plea...I can hope.

Big's Boo Boos: Like all first boo boos of the season, they're healing fine and going away. No more crying eruptions. No more neosporin was necessary. I'm sure we'll soon see another pair, such is the life of a two year old.

Aaaaaand, I believe that brings us to a close...unless you're wondering about my emotional instability...that hasn't changed, but I think that's just part of being a mother, and a wife...and a daughter...sister...friend...employee...nevermind just being a woman (oh the hormones!!). I'm not hoping for much improvement in that area. I have an AMAZING husband and family, two unbelievable daughters, and the best friends a girl could hope for to get me through. Thanks for putting up with me everybody!

Well, happy Saturday friends! I'm off to go fold some laundry, then feed little, give her a bath and apply salve, wash the dishes...you get the idea. Then we're off to Wal-Mart ::shudder::, then Grandma's to drop Little off, and then we're heading to the ball game! Go Brewers!

Don't forget to love your mothers tomorrow!! MWAH!

Popping a Seam

2008-05-08T10:07:00.004-05:00

No, not in my pants...well ok I did bust out one of the clasps on my new non-maternity pants already, imagine that...but right now I'm talking more about coming unraveled emotionally. I hate feeling like this. Too much on my plate! Too many directions to go in! Too much to worry about! Too many unpleasant emotions! Stupid, stupid...argh!

Boo Boo Season

2008-05-07T10:51:00.009-05:00

Well, it's official. Boo boo season is upon us. Poor Big. She got her first pair of skinned knees yesterday when she fell on the cement at the park. When she came home from being with her dad last night, the first thing she said to me, before the usual "hi" or "I want some candy" was "Mama, I got owies!". Indeed. Ouch!

My little girl never cries. Well, not never...but hardly ever in pain. When she falls down or bumps her head she usually just gets right up and, seeing the horror on my face, says "It's OK Mama! I'm OK!" as if to comfort me that she fell down. She's incredible. But this morning was no typical owie moment for Big. She was absolutely beside herself when she bumped one of her boo boos on the table. I'm talking drool soaking the carpet as it pours out of her mouth because she's crying so hard, crying. My poor baby. Kisses didn't help, she wouldn't let my lips anywhere near her boo boos...I was at a loss. Already late for work, I had an epiphany; Neosporin with pain relief! Let me just publicly thank whoever came up with this stuff right now. Give that man (or woman...I'm equal opportunity) a Nobel peace prize, because I can only imagine how many additional mothers have been thankful for the peace that concoction has brought their children. Pure. genius. If you don't already have this, run out and get some NOW! Right Now! Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiight...Now! Seriously, go!

So, I reluctantly left my sad little girl all calmed down, laying on the couch, sucking her thumb, snuggling her bunny, knees covered in Neosporin and a whopping 5 Dora band-aids. It's going to be a long boo boo season.

Dear God,

2008-05-05T09:46:00.008-05:00

Could you please give Little a break soon? She's dealt with so much in the 3-1/2 months that she's been alive. I know that she's a strong girl, and she can handle your challenges, but it would just be so wonderful for her to not have to deal with anything for a little while. She's such a happy baby, full of joy and smiles even though she's had heart surgery, and has a pacemaker. She's been a patient in the hospital twice and has had more IV's than I have in my 30 years. She's already had a blood transfusion and an experimental treatment, which most people go a lifetime without. She takes her 4 daily doses of medication with gusto, even though the taste of them made Mommy gag. She smiles at the nurses and doctors when they poke and prod at her monthly, examining every aspect of her cardiovascular system. She's managed to grow and thrive and be a joyous baby despite her discomfort and constant spitting up from reflux. She hasn't complained at all about the rash that's now covering her body and doesn't look very comfortable...or the pink eye that she mysteriously came down with yesterday. She's been smiling and cooing despite her obvious discomforts. She's such a champion. So, could you please cut her some slack and let her little body heal what it already has to deal with, without putting anymore challenges on her plate. Her Mommy would really appreciate it.

Thank you.

Best. Weekend. Ever.

2008-05-05T08:24:00.007-05:00

Freshly off the high of this weekend, I feel the need to recap. It. was. fabulous. Well, not all of it...Little went to the pediatrician on Friday and was diagnosed with full body eczema (and this morning her eye was crusted shut)...we took a 4-1/2 hour car ride with two babies, twice in three days...and both rides had their low points (screaming, crying kids, hearing Dumbo so many times that I could perform an impromptu one man version of the movie this morning)...but overall, it was simply amazing!

The amount of love, generosity, warmth, and kindness that we experienced this weekend is almost impossible to describe. My in-laws seemed to light up the moment we pulled into the driveway, and just gave and gave and gave all weekend long. From the wonderful homemade meals, to letting us sleep in while they took care of Big, to sitting and coloring with Big so that hubby and I could have an uninterrupted cup of coffee in the morning (even big, tough Uncle Frank got in on the coloring), to just the overall kindness, love and warmth they showed our children and us all weekend...I'm literally blown away. It's usually a nice feeling to head home from a trip, knowing that life will soon be getting back into a routine...but yesterday as we pulled away from their house, they were all standing outside waving good-bye and there was a definite feeling of sadness within me. I have the most wonderful in-laws on the planet.

Now onto chapter 2 of the best weekend ever...

As we pulled down 104th street, looking forward to the completion of our second long car ride of the weekend, we turned the corner and got ready to pull into our driveway-except we couldn't. Why, you ask? Because my sister's car was parked in the driveway, and my Mom's and Dad's and Brother's and Brother-in-law's cars were all parked on the street in front of our house. And all of them were in our backyard...putting Big's swing set together as a surprise for us. ::insert jaw drop here:: Big's reaction was priceless. She wasn't previously told about the swing set (so as to avoid the persistent questioning of when said swing set would appear in our yard, as is normal with two-year olds)...so to see "her friends" putting this together for her was almost too much for her to comprehend. She kept repeating "Oh, my goshes!! I can't baweeve it!!" It made a mommy's heart swell. It took 4 men (well 3 men and a big 10 year old boy) 10-1/2 hours to put the thing together...and I know that I don't get to judge this because it wasn't my time that was put into it, but if you ask me, it was worth every minute. The amount of joy that was experienced in the 1 hour that the kids (Big and my 3 nieces and 1 nephew-not Big and Little...cuz Little is, well...too little) got to play on it last night was enough for a lifetime...and we have a whole summer ahead of us!!

I just have to express my almost overwhelming feeling of fortune to have the people in my life that I do. Thank you to our families for being so wonderful and loving us so much. I don't know how we would have made it through the last year without all of you. We love you too!! MWAH!

Back away slowly...

2008-05-01T14:28:00.005-05:00

...because I may need to post a "quarantine" sign on our front door. We have a rash. (Well, Little has a rash, WE don't. I'm rash-free thank you.) And so the wait has begun to determine exactly what it is we're dealing with. Is this a rash, or is it a RAAAAAAASH? I'm on fever watch, which is nothing like Baywatch, by the way. No swim suits (thank GOD!), no beach...just me and Little and a terribly sloooooowwwwww digital thermometer. Loads of fun. My poor baby.

On a happy note, Big and I got to go and do something "alone" for the first time in months today! Grandma came over to watch Little while I took Big to the place of her choice to spend some time alone with moi! She chose the park. I tell you, watching her climb and jump and fly around that playground, I was beside myself. She climbed up to the highest platform and went down the 3 big kid slides all by herself. Last year I had to help her with everything; hold her hand as she walked across the wobbly bridge, catch her at the bottom of the toddler sized slide...but not anymore. *sniff* My baby is growing up. *sniff* I'm hopeful that this alone time might help improve her morale when it comes to Little. I haven't seen her stick her tongue out at the baby this afternoon...so...maybe? Big's a tough cookie, though. I'm not uncrossing my fingers just yet.

I LOVE this song!!!

2008-04-30T10:41:00.003-05:00

Random post...just had to add this to my blog because I LOVE this song!! I have to crank it up when it comes on the radio. Love it! Had to share...

P.S. LOVE the toilet paper/paper towel commercial that follows the video. Nothing like free advertising ::insert eye roll::. That reminds me, we're almost out. *adding TP to my shopping list*.

Poor Bunny

2008-04-30T10:15:00.004-05:00

Big has a bunny fetish. She loooooooooooves her bunnies, mostly "pink bunny"...he's #1 in her life. Pink bunny needs frequent baths because Big likes to chew on her bunnies' left ears...its an unexplained phenomenon, we just accept it. Anyway, pink bunny has been getting a bath for the last 3 days now (we figure he must have stopped in at the spa...or maybe we just didn't get to the laundry *ahem* either is possible) so she's had white bunny instead. For the most part, she's been fine with this, but this morning she decided that she had to have pink bunny back. The conversation went something like this:

Big: Mama...I have pink bunny today?

Me: Umm...yeah, Big. I'm pretty sure that pink bunny is all done getting a bath.

Hubby: Yep, he's in the dryer.

Big: Oh, yay! Pink bunny!! Hewe mama, I need pink bunny cuz dis bunny need a baff (aka bath). (hands me white bunny)

Me: White bunny needs a bath?

Big: Yeah. He weeeeewy (aka really) diwty...and stinky!!

Me: He's stinky??

Big: Yeah, cuz I toot on him a lot!!

Me: *speechless*

Hubby: *smiling ear to ear*

Huh. I guess even princesses toot...on their beloved bunnies no less. Poor bunny. *sigh*

Stop the Insanity!!!

2008-04-29T13:25:00.008-05:00

Mine, that is...my insanity. Heaven help me. My 2-year old is trying to kill me. She suddenly hates her little sister, and she's acting out. She's figured out that while I'm occupied with the baby (and we're talking feeding, changing diapers, necessities only here people, not playing goo-goo with the baby while I ignore her) that she can get away with just about anything because I'm trapped. And these things she's doing...they have no purpose. She's not running into the kitchen to steal scraps of bread because I won't feed her, or sneaking into her room to lay down because she's so exhausted and I won't let her nap...quite to the contrary actually. The things she's doing have me rubbing my chin in puzzlement long after they've been cleaned up. Here's a list of our recent "fun" activities. ::insert eye roll here::

Saturday Morning: (while I'm feeding the baby) Squeezes a tube of A&D ointment out all over her hands and rubs it on both sides of her bedroom door and door handle That was easy to clean up, ummm...no.

Monday Morning: (while I'm getting the baby up from her nap) Gets caught stealing and trying to open a biiiiiiiig bottle of lotion in the dining room all by herself. Mission aborted. WHEW!

(while I'm feeding the baby) Sneaks into the bathroom to play. Throws toilet paper roll into toilet. Turns on sink. Covers hands, forearms, shirt, and bathroom floor with hand soap. My toothbrush was also moved into a different hole in the holder...I have no idea what she did with it. Out of fear, I got a new one last night.

(same feeding...10 minutes later) Grabs an empty container of hand wipes off of the table in the dining room...dissatisfied that the wipes are gone, she decides to dump the left over anti-bacterial liquid all over the dining room carpet. (at least this one sort of cleaned itself up...hee)

(lunch time) Decides to pretend that her grilled cheese sandwich is a hair comb rather than eating it. Lovely.

(during Little's afternoon feeding) Takes a dime off of the end table right next to me (because of choking risks money is soooooo off limits in our house). As fast as she can, rather than give it back to me, she shoves it into one of the vent slots in my video monitor. Nooooooooooooooooooooooooo! Luckily, the monitor still works...as long as you don't shake it, or uhh...move it too much...ugh!

(while I'm changing Little's diaper) Goes into the kitchen, takes hot dog buns off of kitchen table and drops each package onto the floor...one by one.

And that's just in the last few days, with each of these incidents being followed up with a time out and serious talking to. I think she spent half of her day in time out yesterday! Seriously! Where is Dr. Spock when you need him? Or Dr. Phil? Or Dr. Seuss, for goodness sakes!? I'm at a loss here people. Somebody help me.

Take me out to the ball game...

2008-04-27T21:57:00.008-05:00

Today was a blast! We took Little to her first baseball game! Hubby and Little and I went to watch the Brewers play Miller Park with my parents and siblings and nieces and nephew (Big was with her Dad today). There were 11 of us total. We "tail gated"at our house before the game, due to crappy, chilly weather that kept us from doing it outdoors (boo), but ended up having so much fun anyway! Little was a complete angel! She mostly snuggled with me in the Bjorn (and slept through every, amazingly loud scream, whistle, clap, and round of the wave as it came around...impressive!), but also really enjoyed chewing on her hands and drooling while watching the game!! I think we may have a baseball fan (and an early teether) on our hands! Hubby couldn't be prouder.

On a "that would happen to me" note: I did plan on bringing a bottle of pumped breast milk with us to the game, but in the hustle to get out the door, I forgot. About an hour after we arrived at our seats it became apparent that I would need to breastfeed Little in my seat at the stadium (gulp!). Now don't get me wrong, this is the second child I've breast fed...I've certainly had to nurse in public before. I think the unspoken "deal" about nursing in public goes like this: If my baby is hungry and screaming, I'm going to feed her. I'll try to not flash you and you try not to stare at me waiting for my boob to pop into sight (or stare me down with evil, "I can't believe she's doing that" eyes) and we'll all be happy. K? However, as anyone who's been to a sporting event knows, there isn't much room in ballpark seats, and with the tiered stadium seating arrangement, my end of the deal gets a little more challenging. An indecent exposure ticket lies only one false move away. Regardless, Little was hungry, so I got everything all set, did a little calming meditation and, using a blanket to cover myself, proceeded to begin a very successful, covered feeding. Everything was going so well, when all of a sudden, I saw a camera crew...in our aisle...right next to our row. Hubby leaned over and rather loudly announced "Hey Honey! You get to be up on the big screen breastfeeding!" (Less than amused, I gave him my best evil eye.) It seems that a man one row in front of us and only 5 seats to my right was chosen to answer one of the jumbo-tron on-camera trivia questions. As the camera crew got ready to broadcast, I felt my eyes begin bulging out of their sockets in amazement and dismay. Hubby and Grandma both looked at me and then each other and laughed. Was my already larger than normal breast going to actually make an appearance on the larger than life jumbo-tron?! Say it ain't so!! I began to panic.

Much to my relief, the man got out of his seat and stood in the aisle, and the camera man turned around and set his angle in another direction. Breathing once again, I was able to finish feeding my daughter without worrying about accidentally raising the rating of the jumbo-tron video from G to PG-13. That would only happen to me. Sheesh.

Lofty Goals...

2008-04-24T09:44:00.008-05:00

Big is watching an episode of Dora...the topic is what you want to be when you grow up. Dora wants to be a doctor. Boots wants to be a baseball player. From the kitchen I hear this:

Dora: What do you want to be when you grow up?

Big: Uhhh...a PWINCESS!!!

I must admit that right now she is wearing her princess night gown, tights, Cinderella dress-up shoes, and a tiara. Hmm...she does fit the part. Oh, dear...