Christmas simplicity

In the hustle and bustle of the holiday season, I've again become the blogging slacker woman! However, some Christmas simplicity set in a few nights ago. Gabrielle was praying before dinner and at the end of her long-winded prayer, took a breath, and then said "And Jesus, thank you for being born and dying on the cross for our sins." Silence followed. Thad and I were a bit stunned at what she had just said, and both of us sort of hung our heads in shame at the innocent perspective she had put on Christmas.

Why is it that adults get so consumed in things that truly don't matter, all year long and especially during the holidays, when kids seem to have it down pat? Does it really matter if you didn't order NEARLY enough Christmas cards this year and had to cut your list short? Does it matter that you have not wrapped any gifts yet and Christmas is a few days away? Does it REALLY matter that we have forgotten to do our Advent calendar about every other day this year. Oh and that our Christmas lights have decided to stop working entirely and we still haven't finished putting our decorations up?

Everywhere I look, everyone seems to have their act together. Their perfectly cleaned and organized homes, their regular "schedules" they follow, their homemade healthy meals prepared, their kiddos who they never seem to lose their tempers with. Everyone that is, but me. I somehow feel like I'm always out of breath, and always playing "catch up." I'm the mommy who forgets my kid's backpack at least once a week, and has to run back and get it.  I'm the one who somehow "missed" the December preschool newsletter so realized at the last moment there was going to be a gift exchange. So my perfectionism goes into overdrive during the holidays to try and overcompensate for always feeling like there's "one more thing to accomplish."

I'm not sure if Gabrielle "fully" understood what she was praying about that night. I'm not sure she really knows what "sin" is yet (although when asked, she explains it pretty succinctly). But her prayer touched our hearts deeply because she KNEW that Christmas wasn't about us, or the presents, or the lights, or the treats. It was about Baby Jesus.

Another little precious moment that happened last night at dinner was when it was about time to eat, Corinne said "G" and looked at sissy, bowed her little hands and head, closed her eyes and started whispering. Little Corinne was ready for sissy to pray for the meal! At 23 months old, we thought it was pretty sweet.

This holiday, my biggest prayer and "wish" is simplicity and peace. This includes finding ways to simplify and continue to help those less fortunate. It also includes making time to continually reflect on all the positives we have in our lives, and how truly fortunate we are. I need to fully internalize the fact that I can't control everything, and that God knows what he's doing.

Enough of the Mommy Guilt!!!

Something struck a cord the other day. If there is one area someone could possibly show vulnerability, it is that of being made to feel like an inadequate mother. A friend made a post on Facebook insinuating that moms who work full time are not raising their own children, but rather allowing daycare centers or sitters to do so. While the comment was not directed at me, it stung. Deep. There are seldom topics that affect all people the same way, but one that feels so very personal about your availability to your children, most moms would feel square between the eyes. 

I love being a mom. It is hands down the most challenging and rewarding job I've ever had. But I also enjoy working, and feel fortunate that I get to do what I love most for a living - write. The two jobs: that of being a good, attentive mom and that of being a productive working professional, are not mutually exclusive. Many women juggle both, a career and child rearing, whether due to a desire to have that balance or due to income necessity. 

Growing up, I longed to write children's books, filled with adjectives so alive, they forced you to use all five senses while reading them. In high school, I envisioned one day becoming a teacher; getting the privilege of witnessing "light bulb moments" daily and being rewarded with hugs and big toothless grins. In college I had aspirations of a becoming a journalist, getting the chance to interview interesting people and write feature articles that make people view the world in a fresh, new way.

While my goals and aspirations shifted and expanded over the years, I still have always pictured myself as a working professional. I also knew from the time I was very young that one day I wanted to become a mother.

The reality is, it is tough to find a job doing something that you love that still allows you to be emotionally and physically available to your children. I feel beyond blessed to have struck a great balance. So while I have had a few "patches" of time here and there where I’ve gotten to experience fully being a stay-at-home-mom, the bulk of the time I've spent trying to balance both motherhood and a career. Which is no easy feat.

Whether a working mom, or a stay-at-home mom, there is one quality we moms all have in common. Mommy guilt. I have yet to meet a mom who doesn't know the meaning of those dreaded words. In this country and society, we have the term down to a tee. If you work, you feel guilty that you can't be with your children more, witnessing more of their milestones and just enjoying their presence. If you stay-at-home, you worry constantly that your kids need more social interaction, that you need a sanity break from them, and that you may have difficulty keeping your professional skills sharp in order to re-enter the workforce one day.  

I think as moms, we all need to drop the Mommy guilt, so it frees us up to be more emotionally available to our kiddos. I am working on this myself…and find writing therapeutic because it keeps me accountable. Whether a mom works outside her home or stays at home with her kids is really not a fair gauge to determining whether she is adequate in her role as a mother.

As I came to pick the girls up from the sitter yesterday, watching both girls squeal with joy as they took turns jumping in the pile of leaves Miss D was repeatedly raking up for them, I smiled. My girls are healthy, happy and surrounded by so many positive people who love them. I honestly don’t have a play-by-play account of every element of my girls’ day, since they are at the sitter while I work. But each day I try to find a way to make a memory with them.

Yesterday, on the way home from church choir practice, Big Sis and I were practicing our arpeggios together, laughing and just enjoying each other’s company. That night, we were both equally exciting to read on to the next chapter of her “Junie B. Jones” book and laugh about the trouble that the main character always manages to get herself in. I know for certain that during these moments, Big Sis and I are bonding, creating memories and connecting. Whether a working mom, or one who has made a career out of motherhood, what matters most is forming that connection, every day, with your child.

A Morning from Hell at the Dept of Health

No one looks forward to their children having to get shots. As a parent, most of us would so much rather take the shots for our kids than seeing them fearful and in pain. It is just one very yucky thing about parenthood. But I must say, the infant shots are much easier to handle than the Kindergarten shots, because the 4-5 year old child understands exactly what is going to take place, so the fear factor is involved as well.

I had been dreading this day for a few weeks now because both Big Sis (who is 4 ½) and Little Sis (21 months) were scheduled for their shots. Daddy and I had decided since they would get their flu shots in October, we may as well get the rest of the shots they needed then too, rather than waiting until Spring to get Big Sis’ Kindergarten shots. Initially we wanted to get half of Big Sis’ shots today and wait to do the other half right before she entered Kindergarten. However, this time, with her being as fearful as she was, we wanted to lessen the drama by doing it all at once. That went completely against my initial urge to split these shots up, especially because she needed some of the “biggies” like MMR, Hib, and polio.

Since our insurance does not include vaccine coverage, we have always gone to the county health to have these administered. That makes the shots affordable since at the doctor's office they can run over $100 a pop. Thus far, we had not experienced any issues with the county health dept. We have always gotten the shots Little Sis needed and the people who work there seemed thorough enough. But today was an entirely different experience altogether.

The process at the health dept is you leave your name up front so they know you are there for your appointment. A nurse then calls you back to a room to go over the child’s medical history, ask pertinent questions, discuss which shots they’ll be getting, provide education on side effects, and collect payment for the services. A nurse called our names very quickly today after checking in and my husband decided to sit with  the girls while I went with the nurse to handle the paperwork.  The nurse who took me back must have been newer since I had never seen her before.  Big Sis had never been to the health dept for shots before because we lived in Arizona the last time she received shots (when she was 18 months old) but Little Sis had been there since she received her first set at 2 months old.

After I first sat down, in the nurse's station, the newer nurse, AJ, had a chart at the desk in front of us and let me know it was Big Sis' chart and were "reminding me" what shots she had received at 2 months, 4 months, 6 months, 9 months, etc. I cut them off and told them she had never been to the Dept of Health before, and in fact, had never had any shots in Illinois at all, except for the seasonal flu vaccine, since we lived in Arizona when she was an infant. The two nurses acted as though I didn’t know what I was talking about and again insisted “we have her chart right here” and continued to go over the mistaken chart, insisting it was hers, and acting as though I was losing my marbles.

At this point, I was starting to get angry. This just shouldn’t happen.  Just last week our pediatrian’s office had called me, letting me know they had my oldest daughter’s “test results.” I was completely confused and came to learn that they were disclosing the test results of another patient, with the exact same first and last name! Huge huge huge violation of privacy, HIPPA, etc. Ironically, today, the exact same thing was happening. The odd thing is Big Sis doesn't even have a super common first name. 

When I finally got through to the nurses and they took me seriously, the realized they had made an error and needed to open a new chart for Big Sis, since this was her first time there. I was sure to let them know how unprofessional and unacceptable this error was. They should always check date of birth, social security, address, SOMETHING to verify they are talking about the right patient with the right person.

After we moved past the wrong chart tobacle, we started to talk about the shots Big Sis would receive that day. I wanted to ensure it was okay to give her all of the Kindergarten shots on the same day since it was quite a few. I asked the newer, younger nurse “So is it okay to combine all of these. You haven’t noticed any huge side effects.” And she responds “it is totally fine and what people typically do.”

Then we went over the flu vaccine, which is always one of the shots that I have a high amount of worry about due to the thimerisol. For detailed information on why I have the "concerns" I do refer to my previous blog. 

“Is the thimerisol-free version available” I asked the nurse, A.J. She looks unsure, but the more seasoned nurse standing behind her heard us and responded “We only have thimerisol-free shots for ages 3 and under. Since she is 4 she can get the shot which does have a small amount of thimerisol or she can get the nasal vaccine which is a live vaccine but thimerisol free.” That was not the answer I wanted to hear. I did not want the live vaccine but I’d rather have that than the one with thimerisol. So I questioned again “so there’s no way at all I can get her the same one the children under 3 get?” Are these available for kids over 3 anywhere, or are all the doctors' offices giving the nose spray too?”

The more seasoned nurse, Sue, asked “are you worried about side effects like fevers and rashes?” I responded “no, no, not at all.” Sue then inquired “Does your child have asthma or is she on a steroid of some type where her immune system is compromised?” I again responded, “no, she is 100% healthy, it is nothing like that.”

At this point the younger nurse, AJ, looked like she was getting frustrated.  “What exactly is your issue then? What are you afraid is going to happen?” she asked. 

I paused. I knew what my opinions were on vaccines (again, refer to my previous blog for more detailed information on my opinions) but I also knew the opinion of almost all medical professionals. I didn’t want to get into semantics with them. I had done my own research and knew there was a lot that none of us—not myself or these nurses—knew with absolute certainty regarding vaccines.  

AJ looked annoyed and was looking at me, waiting for a response. Finally I said calmly, “I really don’t want to get into my opinion on vaccines but the short answer is the link between thimerisol and autism.”

She smiled really big and said, sarcastically, “well we can thank Dr. Wakefield for that. Causing mass hysteria even though all of his research has been disproven and he lied and is totally not credible.” She had lost me. I didn’t even know who Dr. Wakefield was. She then started writing documenting more information on the girls' charts while almost mocking me, “It is so interesting how many people have fallen for Dr. Wakefield’s false findings.” You could tell she was baiting me.

At this point I was becoming increasingly aggitated. I felt violated. I was at a public healthcare facility to get my girls their necessary vaccinations. I had been badgered into giving this woman a hint of information regarding why I had the concerns, just to be followed by mockery and sarcasm.  

“I don’t even know who Dr. Wakefield is and am not familiar with his studies,” I told her. “I have done my own research.” Again, AJ chuckled, mockingly, “So you’re saying you’ve read actual medical journals that say ‘vaccines cause autism.’”

Urrr….I knew this was going to go in a bad direction. Why did she back me into a corner and force me to say what my “fear” or “issue” was with the thimerisol in the first place!!!

I try to keep my cool. “I have not read medical journals but…”

She cuts me off “oh so you’ve googled it? I’d be careful what you read from things you google.”

At this point I was mad. She was belittling me. I was hot, angry and just about ready to blow up. It was almost like I was in a cloud, floating above the situation, and COULD NOT BELIEVE it was taking place. Right in front of the seasoned nurse. In a public health care facility. I was being FORCED to believe a certain way or mocked for having my own opinion, which I might add, she didn’t even bother to find out exactly what my opinion was!

I responded “It is not from google research. I have read books written by doctors” (which is indeed true...spent many afternoons in the library picking up books...one that really enlightened me was What Your Doctor May Not Tell you about Children's Vaccinations, which was written by a medical doctor.) I didn't bother to share with her the titles of books I had read. She was on a mission and nothing good could come of it. Again she says, attackingly and with the same repeated statement, “Oh so you’re saying you’ve read medical journals where it says that vaccines cause autism.”

I respond “I’m not saying that….you know what….I feel as though you are attacking me! I do not have to defend my position to you. I just want to finish the paperwork so my girls can get the shots and we can go.”

She says under her breath, while looking down at the paperwork, and filling it out, “that’s fine, we can finish your paperwork, but I’d just be very careful what you read. 

She looks up and asks me, "Does your pediatrician think your children should be vaccinated?” I respond “Of course she does.” AJ responds “So you’re going to believe what you read on google over your own daughters’ pediatrician?” I again insisted “I don’t want to talk about this with you anymore. I want to finish the paperwork and get their shots.” But she goes on “You know, so many people choose not to vaccinate and it aggravates me because they get their information from unreliable sources and then it puts all the other children who have chosen to be vaccinated at risk.”

I ask her “First of all, who is saying we are not choosing to vaccinate…I’m here aren’t I? Secondly, how does it put other children at risk if they’re vaccinated?” She responds very angrily, “My son cannot be vaccinated yet, he’s not old enough!”

At this point, I was not going to be able to have any further conversation with this woman. She was on a tangent and was going to force me into agreeing with her or continue on her soapbox that I am wrong, although, she didn’t even know what my opinion was exactly! I had had enough.

I tell her, “I need to work with someone else at this point. Is there someone else I can work with?” A.J. answered “no, everyone else is busy.” I again pressured, “I really need to find someone else I can work with to get these shots done and get out of here. My husband is about to be late for work.”

The other nurse, Sue, then walks in and A.J. tells her, again in a mocking way, “Is there anyone else who can work with her….she’s mad because she thinks vaccines cause autism and I’m just telling her the facts.”  Sue obliges to work with me and she was (thankfully) extremely professional and apologetic for what I had just experienced.

I’m still in shock this happened. In this country? To be that highly pressured by a health care professional to think a certain way? How completely inappropriate and unprofessional. A public health care setting should be set up so that questions are welcomed. The health care professionals there should be able to provide you with the facts and if there is something they’re unsure of, admit that “I just don’t know.” It should not be a place for heated debate on topics that no one knows the “for sure” answers to. It certainly shouldn't be a place for feeling strong-armed into sharing your opinion, or made to feel badly for what your opinion is. 

My husband and I will be taking the necessary steps with this situation, starting with speaking with the supervisor at the health care facility. We want to ensure that no one, including ourselves, experiences this type of situation again.

To Vaccinate or Not to Vaccinate...THAT is the Question

Those who know me well understand that I’m a questioner. Some use other words to describe this such as “rebellious,” “stubborn” or even “difficult.” However, I think it can be a major asset to question things. It leads to learning more information, or other seeing other sides of an issue.  It also, in my opinion, leads to being able to make more informed decisions.

My husband and I have always been “hesitant” with vaccines. By that, I don’t mean we are “anti-vaccine” by any stretch of the imagination. Vaccines are wonderful things in that they protect against diseases that can make people ill and, in often cases, be deadly. By “hesitant” I just mean we do research on each and every vaccine before the girls get it, delay shots often, and separate shots from time to time. So when they have a “combo” shot like Prevnar, we sometimes ask that the girls get those combos separated and space some time between them. 

People have often inquired about if I have a certain “fear” or am worried about the slight fever or rash they may get the next day with vaccines. I understand that the “short term” effects may include a fever, slight rash, soreness, etc. That does not scare me. It is the potential long-term effects and also the “unknown.”

Any medical doctor, especially pediatrician, you ask about vaccines, will tell you their opinion is you should get them all, exactly as scheduled. That is their opinion and that is why the shot schedule is set up as such. Therefore, many “common people” (AKA—non doctors and nurses) will say “the doctor has gone to school for a  long time and the medical field has a ton of research backing up this vaccine schedule, therefore who am I to question the authority.” This type of thinking can be a slippery slope and really scares me. Especially when you are talking about children. As your child’s biggest advocate, you should certainly care about vaccines and question whether the way everyone else does things is “right” for you and your family.

It is interesting to me the amount of full and complete trust people have in the medical field even after it has proven that it, like most anything, is fallible. Has anyone heard of the Gardisil vaccine? The one several states have now mandated for all girls entering 6^th grade and above, in order to prevent cervical cancer? Yet by last January there were 49 “unexplained” deaths in girls and women following the Gardisil vaccine. Hmmm….is that a coincidence? Maybe, and if I was the type of mom that did things without question, I’d be “drinking the Koolaid” and getting my girls that one before entering 6^th grade –it is what we’re supposed to do, right? What about the rotavirus vaccines Rotarix and Rotateq vaccines which were “contaminated with parts of a lethal virus that infects pigs - porcine circovirus 2 (PCV2)?” Those vaccines were included as the normal sequence on the INFANT vaccine schedule. As a mom I was made to feel like my kid would get Rotavirus and die if I didn’t have that vaccine and then, low and behold, it was recalled for being contaminated with this lethal virus.

One of my biggest hesitations with some vaccines is the possible link between thimerisol (a mercury preservative in some vaccines) and autism. Everyone has their “opinion” on this topic. I will preface mine by saying that I’m not a medical doctor, and I don’t have the time to do countless hours of medical journal reading and other research on the topic. However, I do know the facts are the rates of autism in this country have gone up, increasingly, over the past decade. That is a fact. Mercury is hazardous to humans and can have a number of negative side effects. The rates of autism just “happened” to increase at the same time as more childhood vaccinations that contained the thimerisol preservative.

Also, I have been following the case of Hannah Poling and her family, who just won $1.5 million last month from the government for her problems associated with the development of autism, following childhood vaccinations. That story can be found here: http://www.newscientist.com/blogs/shortsharpscience/2010/09/family-win-15-million-in-autis.html

So am I saying I believe that anyone who gets a shot containing thimerisol will develop autism?  NO. I don’t know the answers and I’m not saying I believe anything CAUSES anything. Autism is complex and there is probably not a single cause, but rather many. I’m a writer, not a medical researcher. However, I DO know from the research I have personally done, there are some strong correlations between the two things. Strong enough, that I am cautious when vaccinating my child. The benefit needs to outweigh the risk for me. And, like I said, it doesn’t have to be as black and white as “vaccinate” or “don’t vaccinate.” By delaying vaccines and separating out combo vaccines, you can be a bit more cautious, which is the route we’ve chosen to take most of the time.

Look, I realize the medical field is like anything else, imperfect. I just get tired of doctors and nurses acting like it is not okay to question and research on your own, and in turn, form your own opinion. I get tired of medical professionals strong-arming people into thinking the way they want you to think. It is always okay to question because that is how things evolve and change can take place. I will always encourage my girls to do the same.

The Peanut and the Va-J-J

Never thought I'd be blogging about this one but...it is a memory none-the-less. One that she'll hate me for telling when she's a teenager I'm sure...

The dreaded day had come. Not that I hadn't put thought into it, or expected it would arise at some point, at least when Big Sis started school. I will admit I had been pondering the topic for over a year....well, ever since Oprah brought Dr. Laura Berman on her show (you know, the sex therapist). I had even pestered my closest friends asking "what is your opinion." The topic I'm referring to is giving the body parts a "title" to your child. Saying the "real" names of the male/female parts. To me it was awkward and sort of taboo to actually use the real words.

I think a lot of the level of comfort individuals have with the "real names" stems from what their parents taught them as a child. I grew up with one sister and no brother. In fact, out of 9 cousins (including us), 7 are girls and 2 are boys. My sister and I were taught the word "pee-pee" and "privacy" for our parts. It sort of included any type of part, regardless of gender. I don't remember wondering what the boy parts were called as a young child because, I didn't have any brothers so the topic just never came up. So, it was quite natural for my husband and I to also teach the girls the term "pee pee" and "pee pee area" (Big Sis has always decided to just shorten it to just "area.") I didn't figure she needed more information than that.  At least not while she's young and not even school-aged yet.

When I went to pick Big Sis up from her sitter yesterday to take her to preschool, Miss "D" pulled me to the side and said "I need to prepare you in case it comes up. One of the other kids saw me changing a diaper and asked me 'what is that squiggly thing he has?' I responded with the real word. Big Sis was right there, taking it all in."

I gulped. I knew that the wheels were now turning in Big Sis' head and I'd better be ready to respond. It is time she learned the proper words anyhow. I figure if Dr. Berman says it is best to teach kids the actual vocabulary, she must have studied the topic long and hard and therefore must be right. Besides, everything you see on Oprah must be true....right???

Fortunately yesterday came and went without a single mention of the incident. As I went to bed last night I thought, "Whew, surely she has at this point forgotten about the entire incident...or maybe she didn't even hear Miss D respond."

Today we were driving to Nutcracker practice, singing choir songs in the van and watching the rain. Big Sis, out of pretty much nowhere says, while chuckling "Mama did you know that Emma wishes she had a peanut just like AJ?"

I turned the choir music way down, trying to keep my hands on the wheel and think straight. My inner voice is going a mile a minute...

So she had the right concept but the wrong word. Now I have to tell her the real word. You can do this, you're an adult. If Miss D uses the real word, you can too. She is a big girl now...if she's asking, she's ready for the information. God won't give you anything you can't handle. Besides, you can't go on letting her think it is called a Peanut.

I cleared my throat...."Wow, that's interesting. Well, Emma doesn't have one because she's a girl. ALL boys and daddies have one but it isn't a peanut, it is a ____." (I still can't even type the real word.)

She sat quietly. I wanted to be prepared, calm, and give her just enough information but not too much.

Well goodness if she now knows the male part she should certainly know the word for a female body part too...so she at least can refer to hers properly. You can do it...we're almost done with this conversation. It's just like ripping off a Bandaid...this is part of being a parent.


I continued, "And Honey, your part is not REALLY called a Pee-Pee either. All girls and mommies have a Va-J-J."  Yes, that's right...I chickened out and in true Oprah fashion taught her the word Va-J-J!  I just couldn't bring myself to tell her the real word for the female part. But I will be sure to correct this at some point. Someday. Maybe. Or my fingers are crossed she forgets the entire conversation took place. Wishful thinking, I'm sure.

Out of the mouths of babes...

Big Sister definitely loves God and church and is a very "spiritual" child...she is always pondering a very "deep" and "spiritual" question or two. Like a few months ago when the sun was setting and the sky was turning a pretty orangish-pink and she pointed and gasped saying "Mama....there it is!!! Heaven!" Or the time she asked Daddy and I "How will I sleep in heaven without my Fancy Nancy blanket and pillow?" Or the time she asked if Grandpa Jack (who went to heaven the year before she was born) was okay in heaven or if his feet were going to stick out of the clouds when he lied down on them to sleep since he was "too tall."

This morning, we were going through our normal routine of getting her dressed. Today is the day before the ISU Homecoming Parade and she wanted to dress "like an ISU cheerleader" in honor of tomorrow's special event. While I was trying to  piece together some things to try and accomplish the look she was going for, she was gazing at her felt board, filled with pictures of special friends and cousins. She carefully pulls off a wallet-sized photo of her cousin Isabella, who lives in Florida. The photo was taken several years ago when Bella was actually Big Sis' age. It is her dance recital picture and her hair is in a neat, tidy bun and she's wearing a beautiful pink tutu. Big Sis looks longingly at the picture and says "boy I sure wish I could have a ballet costume like Bella's." Then she pauses as though she's self-reflecting and says "wait, wait, God says 'don't want what's not yours'." This must be something she learned recently at Sunday School. She looked at me and said "Mama, it is hard though. I really really want that outfit but God does not want me to want what's not mine. I'm just not sure what to do."

Wow, this kid is deep...

As I thought about Big Sis' dilemma I thought about how as adults we continue to struggle with "not wanting what's not ours." Like the beautiful purse I saw in a catalog yesterday. And the much-more-expensive vehicle we thought about buying. I think as much as materialism runs rampant  in our country, it is important not only to try and keep our kids grounded, but to ourselves try and control some of those thoughts of always thinking we need "more." Because, as we've all learned as time passes, that one thing that you think at the moment will solve all of your life's problems or make you happier, is only temporary and never truly "fixes" anything. 

Santa's early surprise

I will start this blog with a rhetorical question: Are girls more expensive to raise than boys? It is a question I will likely never know the answer to since we've only been blessed with two little girly girls. But I will tell you...every year it gets a little bit "more" expensive. Advice to brand new parents: Take full advantages of those early birthdays and Christmases where your children don't know the difference as to whether you buy them something or you don't. If you feel guilty, just take the money you would have spent on a gift and chuck it away in a savings or college fund.  Before you know it, they notice things like that. I have a feeling our oldest is going to need to one day (far far away) marry a millionaire. She seems to think her only job in life is to be beautiful (and throw temper tantrums).

This year Big Sis has been cast in the roles of Baby Bon Bon and Party Child for the Nutcracker. She has talked a lot about wanting to be a party child since last year's nutcracker. "Mama, they get to wear the beautiful curls," she's said so many times. The "curls" she's referring to are fake "clip in" style hair that is long and in banana curls. She thinks it is the neatest thing! While it does look very cute, the price tag on these curls is anything but.

Another added "party child surprise" was the doll. We found out last week at her very first party child rehearsal that each child is required to bring a doll that they do their party dance with. Sounds easy enough....right? Afterall, neither of the girls are hurting from a lack of toys and dollies. I was wrong though...we've entered "Big Sis knows name brands" phase. Urrr...I was hoping maybe she would never notice those silly things. She came home from the first rehearsal wanting specifically An American Girl Doll "because everyone else has one." The girl wasn't lying...literally every other child had an AGD. We have told her for a while that when she turns 5 she may pick one for her birthday. Then I looked at the price tag. Do people HONESTLY spend $100 on a doll??? Apparently all the other little ballerinas' mommies and daddies do. Not me...I just can't bring myself to do it. Not yet anyway.

So after more research I found out that Target and Toys R Us both have their own rendition, knock-offs of "The American Girl Doll" for the much smaller price of $25. Believe it or not...it is hard to even tell the difference. Since she needed a "doll with hair" (and most of her dolls are baldies)...I figured that maybe Santa needed to make an early stop this year. But I wanted to find a way to make it a learning experience somehow.

I decided that since we recently had started sponsoring a little girl in Indonesia a few months ago (named Anastasia...she and Gabrielle are the same age and share almost the same birthday)...I was going to ask her to give the dolly she got at a garage sale to her. Granted, she was allowed to pick this doll because it was going to be sent there initially. But she had such a hard time parting with it that I just let some time pass before I tore it out of her hands. I really want both our girls to understand that giving is so much better than receiving. Or at least develop a joy for giving. So I decided to write a note to her from Santa...

Dear Big Sis,

I heard from some of my elves that you really  needed a dolly for Nutcracker. This dolly’s name is Sydney and she is a dancer like you. She is not an American Girl Doll, but is the cousin of one and needed a good mommy like you to care for her. I am giving her to you early so that you can have her for you Nutcracker. Promise me you’ll dance beautifully.

I need you to do me a favor. I need you to give your dolly from the garage sale to Anastasia. She has written me and really doesn’t have many toys and would love one to play with. Now that you have Sydney you should be able to give your other garage sale dolly to her so she too can be happy. Afterall,  Big Sis, giving is so much better than receiving.

Love,

Santa

After carefully folding the note, and putting her name on the outside in huge letters, I attached it to an oversized purple sparkly gift bag and put it right outside the front door first thing this morning. I then shouted up the stairs "Big Sis...do you hear that?" "Is that bells I hear?" "I can't stop hearing this jingling sound...it is so strange." Daddy and I really played it up.  "Big Sis will you check the front door...I just don't have any idea what it could be" She was puzzled but had the "problem solver" look on her face.

She opened the door and gasped..."It has my name on it mama" and lugged that huge bag in the house. Daddy read her the letter and right away she went to go get the garage sale dolly for Anastasia. She said "Santa's right...Anastasia needs this baby and now that I have Sydney to take care of, I think we should send it."

My fingers are crossed for dance rehearsal tomorrow....I hope and pray none of the older kids really reinforces that it isn't a "real" AGD. That is why we made sure Santa let her know it is a "cousin" of one (wink:). 

Here are the girls with Sydney, her new, faux AGD

Little Sis, looking quite adorable

Big Sis, thinking she needs to "pose" for everything (and dressed as Quinn from Glee today she notified me).

Teachers...A Walk Down Memory Lane

Moving back to your hometown after 5 years of living 1,800 miles away in the Valley of the Sun can certainly bring back memories. Some of them good, some of them bad, but none-the-less, they remind you of your roots and where you've come from. I had the unexpected pleasure of running into two of my past teachers over the past few weeks.

The first time was in church choir practice, when our regular Worship Pastor was unable to lead practice, so Mrs. Robinson filled in for him. As soon as I walked into the choir room I thought "how do I know this person...I have not been singing in church choir long...think, think, think." Then it clicked! She was my high school choir teacher. The interesting thing was she had not aged a bit. She looked, acted, talked, everything, exactly as she did 12 years ago in high school choir! What a great experience to get the opportunity to again learn from an outstanding teacher.

Then, last week, Big Sister had her first preschool field trip to the dairy farm. I had volunteered to be a driver and chaperone. Another volunteer was the grandma of a little girl in Big Sis' class. The woman looked so familiar but again, I couldn't place it. I just had to ask her name because it was going to bother me all day. When she told me her name, "Mrs. Chapman," I knew that she had been my 3rd grade teacher! The other ironic thing is she co-taught that year, meaning she taught us in the morning and another teacher taught us in the afternoon. The afternoon teacher is now the principal of the grade school Big Sis will attend next year so I look forward to meeting him next year. I wonder if he'll recognize me without the powder pink glasses I wore back then?

I really thought a lot about running into those teachers after it happened and about what a huge impact the teachers I had made on the formation of my character and my love of learning. I know that is the whole point of going into such an important but thankless career as teaching is to "make an impact"...afterall, that is why I had to take a stab at teaching a few years back. I wanted to share a love of learning with children and help them discover their potential.

So, for all the ranting and raving people do about the failing education system (which is indeed not perfect and I'll save my opinion on that for another blog)...I can say from personal experience that the good teachers...the ones who truly care...leave their handprint on each child that lasts for a lifetime. They invest their time, energy, and knowledge in each little life they touch, and hope that each child/person is able to in some way make use of it. They don't always know each child's story or what they may be experiencing at different points. Little did Mrs. Chapman know what a rough year 3rd grade was for me with going through parents divorcing, moving houses, changing schools for the third year in a row. School was the one place I looked forward to each day because it was secure.

Here's to all my amazing teachers...thank you for investing in me! My prayer is that our girls have just as amazing of teachers growing up as I experienced so they too can develop a love of learning.

WORK…not always a four letter word!

(From a guest contributor…A daddy of Two Girls.)

Yep, while technically a four-letter word, it is also figurative.  It is one of those words we consider as dirty as all those words that earned us a liquid soap mouthwash as a child.  But not everyone considers work and the concept behind it to be all bad.  

Anyone who knows Big Sis is fully aware of the fact that she tends to march to the beat of her own little pink, sparkly drum.   She loves ballet, princesses, shoes (lots of girly shoes!) and is currently totally hooked on the Glee soundtrack.  Not the typically sports fan mind you, much like her Mamma, though they watch with Daddy to make him happy!

Considering the world this wonderful little girl lives in, the thought of attending a hot, humid soccer practice on a Saturday morning wouldn’t seem to be high on her priority list.  Heck, it’s not high on my list of things I’d love to do on a weekend either, and I really like what I do for a living.  But few things excite this little princess more than a Saturday morning soccer practice with Daddy.  We load up the car with snacks, juice boxes, a few Polly Pockets and a coloring book for good measure and off we go!

And, of course, as is always the case with Big Sis, the outfit is of the utmost importance!  She has long had a ‘work uniform’ consisting of blue wind pants and an official school t-shirt with the Sesame Street characters on it.  This year she has finally outgrown the original uniform but, never fear, Mamma, who is always a few steps ahead of us, had a brand new Addidas wind suit ready to go for this fall’s season.  This kid doesn’t go anywhere without wearing the ‘right’ clothes and work with Daddy just wouldn’t be the same without looking the part! 

She spends pre-practice treatments coloring, hugging Daddy (loves the reaction from the girls’ soccer players!) and watching me tape ankles, run rehab programs and stretching out sore muscles in preparation for a two hour workout session.  The guaranteed highlight of the day is the short ride across campus to the soccer facility on the ‘Gator tractor’ sitting on one of my student athletic trainer’s laps.  She spends most of the ride raising her arms and squealing with joy.  Once at practice we spend the next couple of hours jumping over cones, kicking a ball around, scoring treats from Coach B and trying to spend a few precious minutes with her first sports hero Patrice. 

Gabrielle and her sports-hero, Patrice (soccer player)

While all of the girls on the team, coaches and student athletic trainers find her to be absolutely precious and the cutest little thing they’ve ever seen she tends to shy away from the compliments and clings to Daddy’s leg.  But over the past three years my little girl has developed quite a bond with one particular athlete--Patrice.  She happily colors pictures for her, cheers every time she runs bye and has no problem wandering down the bench during games to sit down with her much older buddy while I attend to injured athletes during games.  During baseball season when Big Sis comes down and word gets out that she is on campus it’s not surprising to find the two of them sitting in my office watching a Disney movie on my computer. This is her first little role model, outside of mom and dad, and I couldn’t be happier with her choice. 

This little princess really is the talk of the team during her trips to work with me.  All the girls ask to take her home, are amused that Daddy can do (and redo—several times) her pig tails and "ballerina buns," and do a wonderful job of making her feel at home.  Two weeks ago as we left practice quickly to get to Nutcracker ballet tryouts Big Sis was given quite a send off and cheers of ‘good luck’ on the way to her audition.  She took in the adoration like a seasoned celebrity and casually waved goodbye to her much older fan club.  Of course Daddy was asked about the tryouts and if she got her part many times on Monday!

So that’s a typical Saturday at work for the two of us.  We enjoy a few juice boxes, watch some soccer and generally have a ball doing something that few find to be enjoyable, especially on a Saturday, --we go to work!

Playing with her animals at Daddy's desk

First Piggytails for Little Sis

So most of my blogs thus far have been about Big Sis because, let's face it, once kiddos can talk it is easier to tell stories about them. But that isn't to take away from the fact that Little Sis is a character with huge personality of her own. She is very independent and spunky, and has the lifelong mission to bring this big house tumbling down!

Her new favorite trick is with the fall weather approaching and windows open, she knows how to pop the screens out and tries to then herself tumble out. I have a feeling we may see many a stitches and trips to the ER with her. I hope I'm wrong.

She turned 20 months on Saturday (can you believe it)??? It seemed like a right of passage for her to have her first set of piggy tails to celebrate the occasion. She calls ponytails "pretties" since Thad always tells her "you're pretty" after I do her hair. Her "pretties" always stay in tact perfectly since the "hair gel" she chooses to use consists of peanut butter, banana goo, grilled cheese grease, and whatever else is in her grubby little hands during meal time. Each and every meal she takes those grubby little hands and rubs her ponytail down with them.

I love this little diva. Can't wait to see her personality unfold even more. We have our hands full!

Before the transformation

Couldn't get her to put "Snuggles" down for this one.

Ahhh, piggies at last

 

A Walk with Annie, Sandy, Daddy Warbucks and "Baby" Warbucks

Those of you who know Big Sister well, know she likes to pretend to be different animals, characters, and fairytale creatures most of the time. It usually is a surprise who she pretends to be from one day to the next. I want to clarify she knows clearly these are made up and has no form of multiple personality disorder. Honestly, when she is "in character" she behaves a lot better! :)

Well tonight she found her Annie locket in her jewelry box (like little orphan Annie) and you could see the idea as it was taking place....the lightbulb went off in her head and before the words could come out, she was rummaging through her closet, looking intently for the perfect outfit that Annie would wear. Out she came with her Christmas dress (red and black plaid) and a Christmas red sweater. She started assigning characters. "Mama, I'm Annie...Daddy you're Daddy Warbox (she can't quite seem to understand that it is Warbucks)...Summer is Sandy and Little Sis is....Baby Warbox!"

We decided it was a nice night for a walk so she had to hold Summer's leash, but of course called her "Sandy" the entire time which is very confusing to a dog. She wanted Sandy to "sit" and "wait" and all sorts of things and the poor dog was probably thinking "why me" the entire time. She started singing the "Dumb Dog, why are you following me" song from Annie but then remembered "we don't say that word" so we stopped singing that one.

Annie and Sandy. This isn't the best quality picture, but on the walk all we had was Thad's phone to take the picture. 

Big Sis didn't break character for the entire walk, using a certain accent/tone the entire time (her Annie voice) and acting in just the exact way Annie would act. The only time I could see her "real" personality come back is when we walked past a yard that the grass was dead (not a little dead...plain old dead) and she stops and says at the top of her lungs "Daddy this grass is BRRRRRRRROWN!" And yes, those people had their garage door open so I'm sure heard her say it:)

I wish I could have talked her into leaving the red sweater on and the sparkly black shoes on. It looked more Annie-ish but she was ready to be Big Sis again as soon as we got back home.

A Sweet Prayer

Last night, the girls and I were outside playing after dinner. Both girls were sitting on their little picnic table when I notice Big Sister is praying. She had her eyes closed, her head and hands bowed, and was whispering something, clearly not intended for me to hear.  Afterwards she said, “Mama, you want to know what prayer I just said”? I replied, “well sure, honey, if you want to share it.” She said “I prayed and sort of wished that God would let me go to Arizona to see my good friend Alaina. I also prayed that when we fly there in the airplane, we’ll see the moon and stars." As she's telling me this, my super-animated child has this big smile and huge, excited eyes like she was waiting for my response. I let her know I had a good feeling we'd be able to get to Arizona sometime this year.


This morning, as soon as she got out of bed, one of the first things she asked me was "when do we get to see Alaina and the moon and stars?" It was very sweet. I'm glad she has such a great memory of she and her buddy Alaina. Alaina was one of Big Sis' first friends as a baby, when we lived in AZ. They are four months apart in age (Big Sis is older) and her mom Brandi is a dear friend of mine. They flew out to Chicago about a year and a half ago (when I was about 8 months pregnant with Little Sis) and we had such a great time. Even though the weather was blustery cold (especially for AZ folk), we all loved riding in a horse drawn carriage and seeing the city's Christmas light-lined shops and windows. 

Big Sister's First Splinter

Well of all the "firsts" I didn't want to forget to write about this one. Big Sis got her first real splinter today and, as most things are with her, it was dramatic. She was outside helping me "dead head" the daylillies and pull out the dead "stick" things in them. We forgot to put her Dora gardening gloves on and she got a pretty deep and long splinter stuck under her skin. She screamed and screamed and kept saying "just let me wash my hands," thinking it could easily be rubbed off like marker, glue and the other common things that get "stuck" on her hands. She knew Daddy meant business when he came downstairs with the tweezers and a safety pin. It truly only took a minute but it was a dramatic minute with ear piercing screams.

I'm sure it hurt...I remember as a child HATING splinters. Everyone had wood decks then and it was very common to get them. She let me know after Daddy removed it that she never wanted to garden again. I told her that as long as she wore the Dora gloves she'd be fine. We'll see if my little nature girl gives up on the gardening over a lil old splinter. I hope not!

My final ride with Batman

When I learned Selena Gomez was going to be at Six Flags, I knew Big Sister would be super excited to go to her first concert. For those of you not familiar, Selena Gomez is a teenie-booper Disney singer/actress that little girls and tweens go ga-ga over. Quite honestly, she's a good little actress but cannot really hold a tune. At least "live" she sounded AWFUL. But, it was fun to go for all the hype.

I immediately knew who would be bold enough to go on this adventure with us....my friend Jill and her family. Just some background on Jill, I have nicknamed her "Disneyland" because every time you're around this gal, you can't help but have fun regardless of what you're doing or what you're thinking. She and her husband, Matt, are just very laid-back, easy-going people who know how to enjoy life and raise kids fairly stress free. They have three beautiful daughters who are the same ages as my girls, and we enjoy spending time with them. So me, Big Sister, Jill, Matt, two of their girls, and their 15-year-old cousin Jillian took a long, adventurous mini-van ride to St. Louis for the concert. We listened to Selena music most of the way up, taking a few breaks to watch some Disney princess movies.

After at least five dozen "are we there yets" from the girls, we arrived at destination Six Flags. Since the Selena concert wasn't until 4pm, we had a full day to ride on the rides, eat the food, and just chill. Did I mention it was at least 95 degrees that day? So yes, it was the wrong day indeed to go to Six Flags. On the bright side, the lines were extremely short all day since the smart people knew that a 95 degree day and Six Flags don't go together, especially when you add whiney 4 and 6-year-olds to the mix.

We started conquering Six Flags by going on the infamous Log Ride. Big Sis had never been to an amusement park (well outside of Disney but that's on a much different level) so was a bit nervous about the Log Ride at first but all the kids (and adults) loved it. After the Log Ride, Jill, Matt, and Jillian  decided to go on the Evil Kinevil rollercoaster and I happily offered to stay back with the kids. Even though I enjoy the "idea" of a rollercoaster--and I know the chances of falling out, the track breaking, or someone getting hurt are slim to none--my body does not handle motion well. So...remembering all too well the results of being dragged on rollercoasters as a teen with friends, at the local fair or at an amusement park, I decided to sit this one out. For me, it is sort of the same thought process many of us experienced in college. You know, the good ole "Is having one more drink really worth the hangover it will give me tomorrow morning?" I was thinking "Would trying this rollercoaster really be worth the risk of the severe vomiting at the end?" So...I stayed with the girls and we watched as the other adults went on the Evil Kinevil.

After the rest of the group was done with the rollercoaster, we headed down to the Tidal Wave ride to get some reprieve from the heat (water rides were our friends). As we're walking there, Jill and I were laughing about how we're the only other friends we have who will actually go on adventures like this and not think a thing of it. Jill brings up the good old Steve Martin classic movie, Parenthood, where the Granny gives the story about living live like you're on the rollercoaster, where you have a lot of highs and a lot of lows, but nothing in between. Basically, the jest of her story is to live life fully. Ironically, I too am a fan of that movie and have often reflected on that Granny's story myself. The rollercoaster is very symbolic. For me it is symbolic of living life to its fullest and "in the moment." It is also symbolic of youth. You know you're young at heart if you can still get on that rollercoaster.

We proceeded to ride the Tital Wave, which Big Sister did not enjoy. While the rest of us were laughing and having fun getting wet, Big Sis just thought the whole thing was too messy. She did not enjoy her sparkly pink skirt she wore "just for Selena" was drenched. And she couldn't seem to understand why the rest of us weren't upset about our clothes getting wet.

After a few more rides and a quick lunch of Papa John's pizza (which they had right there at Six Flags), Jill asks me if I want to ride on the Batman rollercoaster with her. I agreed I wanted to try it. So we left the three girls with Matt at the kiddy park while Jill, Jillian and I walked over to Batman.  As we're walking here is my inner voice...

You're young still, girl. You're not afraid of something as silly as a rollercoaster. You took that motion sickness pill Jill gave you a few hours ago. She swears up and down it is better than Dramamine. What is the worst that could happen...you feel dizzy?? Come on...don't be a wuss. Jill can handle it and she's a few years older than you. Seriously, are you really scared of a little ole' rollercoaster???


We get in line for Batman and I tell Jill and Jillian "I don't know if I want to do this." Jill reminds me it is 100% my decision there's no pressure from her to do this. But in my head, I knew I had to do this. I had to conquer Batman for my own self pride and my own ego. It was not a rollercoaster...it was living life to it's fullest. It was living in the moment. It was youth. And I'm not a quitter! I was not backing down. As we got closer, my the butterflies flapped harder. That little voice way in the back of my head started in again...

Actually, you will likely throw up. You always have thrown up on rollercoasters and you probably always will. You don't want to ruin the day so you don't see the Selena concert, which was the whole point of coming here on this blistering hot day. Plus, you have to be a responsible adult...you have a kid to take care of. And a long ride home with 3 girls. But you did take that motion sickness medication. Maybe that will make it so you don't feel a thing.


So I had told Jill and Jillian I was just going to step over to the other side and meet them when they were done.  It was their turn so Jill and Jillian sit in their rollercoaster seat and start pulling their seatbelt bar down when, alas, the new "spontaneous" me jumps into the seat next to Jill and starts pulling my bar down too. Jill looks over at me very surprised and says "Hey way to go, you can do it, this will be fun!" As soon as the rollercoaster-worker-kid finished buckling me in my prideful thoughts of "way to go spontaneous girl" quickly changed to "oh crap...what have I done! Get me out of this thing and quick. This is a huge mistake. Did I mention I just ate Papa John's pizza??? I will not live to see my 31st birthday for sure"


Then starts the 3-minute ride from hell. Jill is screaming words of encouragement like "kick your legs, you're free...how many other times can you feel like you're flying...isn't this fun?" I'm screaming back "I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I'm gonna puke!" I was just hoping I'd wait to puke until the rollercoaster stopped so it didn't land on some poor soul under us.

When the ride stopped, it seemed like an eternity before the rollercoaster-worker kid released me from that God-awful seat. I rushed over to the nearest people-free area to begin the first of about 12 puke sessions. Jill was supportive the entire time, letting me know "it's okay, see don't you feel better now? You got it all out of your system." Only...I didn't feel better. I felt worse. It took us 20 minutes to walk all the way out of the ride area because I'd stop every two feet to puke again. I was reminded during this potentially weak moment, how rude and uncaring people can be. There were people who pointed and said things to me like "haaaaa!!! You should have known better. You're disgusting!!!" Goodness people, I am not drunk! I am disabled from that monster of a thing people refer to as a rollercoaster! I hope after you go on it the same thing happens to you, you jerks!

Jill was supportive the entire time...goodness it showed that she is really a friend through "thick and thin." She knew how yucky I felt. She'd say things like, as we walked through nasty puddles of muddy water "see, cool water, isn't that helping" and when we'd get a slight breeze "ahh, fresh air, isn't that better?" Poor Jillian, who had not met me prior to that day, was being as helpful as she could, while still keeping a pretty far distance so she didn't get vomited on. I don't blame her.

After about 45 minutes of me continuing to vomit, and at least 20 people stopping her asking if her friend was okay, Jill gets the Six Flags paramedic people to wheelchair me to their EMT area. One of the highlights of the day was the EMT people asking "so how did this happen, did you just not drink enough water, are you a diabetic, do you have the flu?" and my response being "No, none of the above....I am honestly *this* sick from riding Batman." For sure they had to be snickering underneath all that professionalism. I just knew they were. I would have been!

Fortunately, I recovered within an hour of resting and drinking water in the EMT booth and we rushed off so we didn't miss the 4pm Selena concert. But, we weren't in such a big hurry we didn't take the time for me to pose with Wonder Woman and Robbin on the way (I need to get that picture from Jill).

The Selena concert was fun but...Big Sis and I only made it about three songs in before she started getting a bit non-responsive and I could tell she was getting dehydrated from all the heat and not enough fluids. So I took her into an air conditioned area and we sipped lemonade. I was not going to risk another malfunction on this trip. I'd had more drama than I could handle for the day.

All in all, it was a fun day, with a super fun family. Jill chuckled as we walked to the car and said "well, we sure had some highs and lows on this trip" and I agreed.  I still think that Granny from Parenthood was right. The rollercoaster is the life philosophy to have. Life is full of ups and downs. If you play it safe all the time, you are usually safe, but not always fully alive. But it is a philosophy and that's it....the "rollercoaster ride" is life....not the Batman ride! The ONLY thing I proved that day was that rollercoasters still make me vomit....a lot. If that makes me "old"...so be it!

Posing by the Selena Gomez sign

The intriguing potty chair

Little Sister sure has been interested in the potty lately. And by "interested" I mean, interested in putting the potty on her head like a hat, interested in opening and shutting the potty lid, and interested in sticking her dollies, toys and other miscellaneous items in the potty. The funny part is when she sits on the potty she makes a "sssss" sound like she's peeing and grins from ear to ear and says "good girl" (which in Little Sis-ese sounds more like "goo gool"). Yesterday night in the bathtub she peed in the water (after sitting on her potty chair for 10 minutes with nothing). Right after you could see the water turning the dreaded yellow, she grinned and said "Mama, goo gool." She's got the ideas...just not put all together yet. 


She also likes to point to the different body parts when we name them. But when I mean "point to" she actually is sort of aggressive. When we say "eye" she will stab us in the eye with her fingers. When we say "nose" she shoves her finger up her own nose so far it looks painful. My favorite is "bebo" for belly button and "pretty" for hair. We realized a few weeks ago that she thought hair/ponytails were called "pretty" because every day after I'd pull her hair up into a ponytail Daddy would look at her and say "you're pretty."

1st Day of the Last Year of Preschool

Gabrielle was like a veteran yesterday, preparing for her first day of her last year of preschool. She knew not to argue with Mama when I asked her to pose by the picture table, proudly wearing her backpack. This year though, Sissy was in the picture with her. And Sissy had to wear a backpack too, of course.



Dropping she and her buddy, Ben, off at school went through without a hitch. Both hung their bags right next to one another's and went to say hi to their teachers. They seemed like pros! I try not to make a "big production" out of goodbyes, because that just gives her the idea she has a choice in the matter. So a quick kiss and "hope you have a great first day honey" will do. Her response was "Mama, I feel the butterflies fluttering in my tummy." I assured her that was normal and she'd make lot of friends that day because she's a sweetie. That was that...I left my pumpkin and already couldn't wait to hear the stories from her adventures afterward.

After school, she said she had fun but "two things were not good Mama." When I asked her what they were she responded with, "first of all, the boys on the playground pretended to be monsters and chased me." I told her that is what little boys do and it is their job. She let me know "they were meanies." Classic Junie B. Jones answer. The second thing that was "not good" I would have never guessed. "Mama, when we all took a potty break, I choose a potty without toilet paper and so I had to dribble all over and not even wipe." I had to explain to her that you just ask the kid in the stall next to you to kindly hand over some TP but that was just confusing to her. "Mama, my arms are not long and could never reach under so I'd still have to dribble if I got off the potty." As my mother in law would say, "that girl, she's a thinker!"

Love Affair

So, just like when you first start dating someone new (which that hasn't happened to me in about, well, 13 years), I am in a "new love" phase with my friend, Mr. Blog. Thad is a little jealous that I've been spending so much time getting to know Mr. Blog, but he will be beautiful when I'm finished! Thanks to a friend tonight I think I got the background issues straightened out and had a crash course on how to add pictures, etc.

Long gone are my blissfully ignorant 20s.

It seems like in my 20s I was blissfully ignorant. By that, I mean, there was so much I didn’t know or understand, but I didn’t realize it or maybe just simply didn’t care! During my 20s, I liked the freedom of “not knowing completely what I wanted to be when I grew up” because it meant I could sample a little bit of everything.

When I initially worked on this post, it ended up being about ten pages long. Since the initial intent and idea behind this piece was not to bore everyone into a coma, I decided to pair it down a bit. Trust me, be glad I did. So here I go with a flashback from my 20s (it ended up being sort of Marley and Me style).

Age 20-22:
College. Grades. Studying. Homework. Sorority. Choir. Internships. Networking. Friends. Parties. Honors Society. Part-time Job. Resumes. Interviews. Stress-and-excitement rolled into one. Engaged to high school sweetheart. Daydreaming of wedding plans. Planning wedding. Getting married. Cancun honeymoon. Relocating to Arizona. Newlyweds. Dirt poor. Lots of tuna noodle casseroles. Weekend hiking adventures. Sedona. Camelback Mountain. Happy. Content. Simple.

Age 22-24:
Hubby graduating from grad school. Missing family back home. First “real” jobs. Moving apartments. Meeting new friends. Climbing the ladder. Adopting a puppy. Spoiling the puppy rotten. Church involvement. Working on my master’s degree. Dog parks with the pup. Obedience training with the pup. Agility with the pup. Lots of free time.  Into home décor. Into scrapbooking.

Age 24-26:
House hunting. Buying a house. Painting every room of the house. Repainting several rooms of the house. House décor. Packing. Moving. Settling in. Housewarming party. Subdivision. Walks. Neighbor friends. Cookouts. Landscaping project involving sprinkler installation. Doggy door. Goosebumps every time we pulled into the driveway because that little house was really ours. Repainting again. The sudden loss of my husband's wonderful father. Wind knocked out of us. Being with my husband through such a very difficult time. Wanting to take his sadness away but knowing I couldn't. The quest to have a baby. Fertility struggles. Two pink lines. Sheer joy. Morning sickness for five months. Wearing maternity clothes before I was showing. Student teaching with morning sickness. Alaskan cruise with morning sickness. A roadtrip to a friend's wedding in Vegas with morning sickness. Midnight cravings for blueberry muffins. Growing belly. Decorating nursery. Baby showers. Graduating with a Master’s in Education. New baby born 3 weeks early. Utter amazement. “Babymoon” phase where sleepless nights couldn’t bring me down. Lots of relatives visiting. Exhaustion. Painful breastfeeding. Colicky baby. Reflux. Non-stop screaming.  Marriage taking a backseat. Questioning why I wanted a baby so bad. Knew pediatrician by first name. First grins. First laugh. Portrait Innovations. Went back to work. Researching child care. Ear tubes. Sleep at last. Happy baby. Happy family. Bonded with beautiful child. Knew all the work was worth it.

Age 26-28:
Baby’s first steps. Baby’s first words. Outgrew little house. Bought new, larger, really-couldn’t-afford house. Repainted whole house. All new furniture. Went to town on the decorating. Hubby starting his own company. I took my first teaching job. Photocopying. Lamination. Preparing for my first classroom. Creativity. Garage sale books. First day of school. Sheer fear and excitement. Big hugs and smiles. Lightbulb moments. Going home with funny stories everyday. An audience that always forgives when you need improvement. Learning as much from 9 and 10 year olds as they did from me (probably more). Husband getting a job offer to move us back to the Midwest. Having to leave 1st teaching job after the first quarter. Sadness and excitement. Lots of tears between class of kiddos and me. Anticipation to finally raise our daughter near grandparents. Fear of not being able to sell new home with declining economy. Fear of ever being able to afford a new one.  Huge move. Penske truck. Scratches on new furniture. Moving into my mom’s house. Bugging our realtor every day to see if our AZ house sold. Family events. Family holidays. Daughter getting to know her relatives. Kindermusik. Trips to Chicago with cousin and sister. Seeing daughter's face light up when she saw snow for the first time. Girl’s nights. Catching up with friends from high school. Job offer to work from home. House in AZ sold! Getting to house hunt.

Age 28-30
Buying a house in IL. Packing. Moving. Settling in. Realizing I was pregnant after I moved all the heavy boxes and had a martini night with girlfriends. Daughter starts preschool. Growing belly. It’s a girl (again)! Doctor’s appointments.  First ballet class. Mom’s groups. Hosting family holidays. Baby shower "sprinkle". Deciding on a name. Water breaking 3 weeks early after a night of laughing so hard we almost peed at The Midnight Swinger who performed at the local comedy club. Birthing another beautiful baby girl. Excitement. Daughter met her baby sister. Feeling very warm and fuzzy. Maternity leave. More breastfeeding. More colicky. More ear infections. More strain on marriage. Sleepless nights. Exhaustion. Why us? Can you really have two colicky babies?  First smiles. First laughs. Ear tubes for baby at 8 months. 2nd set of ear tubes for Big Sister. Ahhh, sleep at last.  First dance recital for Big Sister. Baby dedication. First Christmas as a family of four. Sweet giggles of two little girls.

This blog will be continued as I write about my much more mature life discoveries and philosophy since turning 30 last December. By mature, meaning I’ve realized that with all this hustle and bustle…I have left few margins to actually live. But there’s still a lot of life left in me so here I go! Afterall, according to Oprah, 30 is the new 20 but, you know what, I don't even need it to be! 30 can be the new 30...I'm quite excited for the next 10 years in this phase.

A-Lee the Rock Star

Any of you who know Big Sister, would willingly agree she is a drama queen to the inth degree. Over the course of the past few months, she has developed an alter ego that to her is very "real." Her name is A-Lee (not to be confused with Allie...it is a long "a" here people). A-Lee is a "rockstar" like Hannah Montana or Selena Gomez. Typically when A-Lee emerges I don't know it has happened at first until Big Sister will huff and sigh "urrr....I am not Big Sister, I am A-LEE and I'm a rock star."

Mimi was over to go on a walk with us tonight, and when it was brought up she said she'd never heard of Big Sister transform into her alter ego. She thought it was funny. I told her to ask Big Sister who A-Lee was. Big Sister had decided on the walk she was "Kate, the daycare helper" and was pushing a baby doll in her dolly stroller. She sighed at Mimi and said "I am Kate right now so call me that. I have a baby I'm takin' care of here!"

Well sure enough as soon as Mimi went home and we got home from our walk, A-Lee decided to make her grand appearance. Big Sis announces "I am A-Lee and I'm a rock star and going to put on another performance. I'm very fashionable." Little Sis was her "audience" (along with Daddy and I) and we watched and listened as she belted out an A-Lee classic that goes a little something like this "oooo, it's hot in here. don't touch it....don't touch it. hot, hot, hot!!!"

If you laugh at her she will immediately turn back into Big Sister, melt down and scream "you're embarrassing me!!!" so we know to hold our giggles for later. I love kids with an imagination. Always have. Always will. It was kids like these that gave me mounds of entertainment during my very short-lived career as a teacher that pile so high I could likely write a book.

And my mom always tells me I had an imaginary friend named "Tracy" for many years of my childhood. I remember her well but didn't know until many years later that she was imaginary. Funny how "real" things are when you're a child. If only we could box that creativity up and save it for when we're adults, right?

Blogging slacker woman with some goals

So I really don’t understand why I update my blog so infrequently. I think since I write for a living I just want time away from the computer during my spare time. Anyhow, since it has been close to a year since any updates on the blog, I’ll start today. For sure there have been updates in our family…too many to probably remember at this point. So for tonight, I'll just reflect on some thoughts I've been mulling over.

It seems like I am undergoing a phase in life where I’m extremely “wiggly”. By this I mean…feeling like there is so much to learn and accomplish that I wanted to happen many years ago.  As the hubby i is relaxing and watches college football, I again realize that it would be a sort of considerate thing if I learned just a little bit about sports. I know I’ll never catch up with him in my understanding but since he works around and with sports for a living, the courteous thing to do would be to care about something he’s so deeply passionate about. So I stand here today and proclaim to the world…”I will learn more about sports this year!” And this, I’m afraid, includes not referring to the football center as the “hut, hut, hiker.”

In addition to sports, I think I may have missed every history class known to man. I have a few friends who are high school social studies teachers (Jess you know who you are) and I would for sure embarrass them with my lack of knowledge. If any of my old history teachers are out there…how did I get straight A’s in high school and college? Please tell me? Here is an example of my lack of history knowledge. My 4-year-old daughter loves The Sound of Music and we’ve watched it several times together. We love to sing along and she even has a dress (from Walmart) she calls “the dress the governess made from curtains”. We twirl around the house and sing and dance.  I was talking to a friend the other day about how we love that movie and she asks me if I knew there was a “real” Von Trampp family and they too escaped the Nazi regime. I seriously looked at her and said “no, that isn’t what the movie is about. There is not anything about escaping the Nazis in that movie.” I guess in the midst of all the singing, dancing, and dressing up, I sort of missed the entire focus of the movie! Needless to say the people who were listening in on my friend and I’s conversation got quite the chuckle!

Fortunately these are two areas, sports and history, the hubby is very well versed in. When we have date nights and never have anything to talk about other than how many words the baby can say or the next week’s schedule, I think we should open up some totally new topics. There is for sure a whole world of knowledge out there! I just wish I was a little younger than I am and showing interest…I feel like I’ve missed out a bit. And I’m sure the hubby would appreciate me showing an interest in what he does for a living as well!