To bug on her fifth birthday

Bailey,

Five years ago today, I sat in a room filled with boy clothes, all of which had cars, dinosaurs and said boy on them in some way. There were classic airplanes painted on the wall and your bedding had them as well. I was sitting on the floor (not smart, just as an FYI, is hard to get back up) folding little tiny blue clothes when I had this funny thought. I'd bet this baby is a girl. It was Saturday the 17th of July and you were due on Monday the 26th. I laughed at the thought of this, because two ultrasounds had said boy. You were going to be our Ian. Ian Nathaniel most likely, although the middle name was still a bit up in the air. The doctor had said, I am so sure, that if I were a betting man, I'd go to Vegas right now. I am 100% sure. Okay, good to know doc. Boy it is.

Never the less, that second of a thought, that you might be a girl, gave me pause for a few minutes. Then I brushed it away and continued folding little blue clothes.

On Sunday, your dad and sister and I went to an all day BBQ party at your Granny's house. We swam in the pool, we ate way too much and in general we had a great day. I think it was about 8:30pm when we finally went home. At 9:22pm, my water broke. I hadn't until that second had a single contraction and was in a bit of shock for a minute. Until the first contraction hit. And then the next one. Then another. One right on top of the other. Your dad picked up your sister, who he had just gotten into bed and basically threw her into the car. He literally told her to buckle her car seat herself as he helped me get into the car. He called our doctor and your granny in two minutes time, telling them both this is happening WAY to fast. We are on our way to the hospital now. Get there, now. Your daddy has a way with words.

The rest is a blur really. It's not something you want to hear about anyway. Lets just say, you were determined to be a Cancer, not a Leo. Had you been born the following day, you'd have been a Leo. That's my theory and I'm sticking to it. Also, because I will tell you this when you are my age and having children, you were the one kid that I had, without the joy that is the epidural. Trust me my lovely girl, this is not the way I wanted things to go. But it was too late. By the time we got upstairs and into a room, I was ready to push. This is the other thing I will tell you one day...you were the baby I had to push the longest with. Your sister was a good 16 minutes of pushing, your baby brother a good 30ish minutes of pushing. You? Over an hour. Way over an hour.

You were born at 11:47pm, July 18th, 2004. You were, as you know, a girl. The doctor goes, oh...oh hmmm, after you were born and I started to freak and then he goes, well it's a girl. A perfect little girl. I laughed and laughed that night. I found it to be the most amazing surprise. Also, as you know and love to tell everyone, you were flipping off the ultrasound tech those days. You don't know what it means yet, but you love telling people that.

Tomorrow my beautiful girl, you will be five years old. I am not sure how it happened really. I feel like it was just yesterday that you were this teeny newborn with no name. This tiny girl with a bedroom full of clothes that had to be taken back.

Now you are big. You tie your own shoes. You brush your own hair. You are even close to being able to wash it yourself. In the past two weeks you have learned to ride a bike without training wheels. You write your name on everything. While we are discussing this, stop it. We all know your name. I am tired of it being written on EVERY surface. Thank you.

You are brave, opinionated, stubborn and about the sweetest child I've ever met in my life. A lot of people tell me that you are my mini-me. In some ways, this is true. It's likely the stubborn, opinionated part of you though. Also, the knack for inserting humor into a conversation in the exact moment it is needed. You have a great sense of humor and an even better sense of timing. In a lot of ways though, you are nothing like me. See, you are brave. You try new things. You don't get scared very easily and you have almost none of the anxiety that I have. I hope you are always like this. I don't need you to be my mini-me. You can just be you, that is my greatest wish for you.

You adore your daddy, your siblings and pretty much everyone you meet. But, I am and always have been your favorite. You have a special love for me and me alone. I don't know that I could explain it to you if I tried. I hope it never goes away and then I'll never need to try and explain it to you. You love nothing more that to hold my hand, intertwining our fingers. You love to play with my hair, sit in my lap and generally be all up in my personal space. If you are outside playing, you will come back in every so often and tell me you love me and give me a hug, before going back outside. If I am laying on the couch, you will lay on top of me and say, mama there is a bug on you. Because we have always called you bug. If you are somewhere else for the day, when I come to get you, you always say to me, mama I missed you so much this day. When I lean down to pick you up, you always put your hands on either side of my face and ask, how was your day mama. That's the other thing. Except when you are pissed off at me, you ALWAYS call me mama. When you are mad, you call me mother. Which is very funny. Your sister started calling me mom at two years old. Mama was too babyish in her mind, but not yours. You are a mama's girl all the way.

Four has been an interesting year for you and I. Filled with attitude, tantrums and a bit more attitude. Did I mention the attitude? We've definitely had our moments where I wasn't sure you'd survive to see five years old. You have tested every limit and then tested them again, to make sure the limit hadn't been changed. But here we sit. Tomorrow you will be five.

Five means big things according to you. Kindergarten, which you are both thrilled for and scared of equally. The new found privilege of riding your bike up and down the street with your sister, instead of just four houses down and back. (Which really has more to do with the no training wheels thing, but I won't tell you that yet.) The ability to hold up your whole hand when people ask you how old you are. And the knowledge that you will learn to read very soon. Very important things dear heart.

Just remember that being little isn't so bad. Try to make five last for me, okay? I am not ready for you to be so big yet. I know there's not a darn thing I can do about it, except accept it. But? I am still hoping that you'll stay my little girl for a bit longer.

I adore you my girl. Happy fifth birthday.

Love Mama

I'll take a little random with my random, please

If I don't start writing, I may just stop altogether. I've tried to come up with something to say for nearly a week now. I have nothing.

But this blog and I are good at this. The being inseparable when I have much to say, the separation and nothing-ness when I have nothing. It comes and goes.

I think the best I can do is try for a little bit of randomness. See where that goes.

-The sixth Harry Potter movie is coming out next weekend. In this house we are huge, no make that HUGE Harry Potter fans. We own all of the movies and are currently reading book three to the girls at night. We will be watching a movie a night this week and then I think we will see the new movie at some point on Sunday. We were going to go Friday night, but instead I think we are going to camp with family Friday night and go tubing on Saturday.

-Bailey is going to be five *sob* on Saturday and she really wants to do this tubing thing. She heard some cousins talking about it and she thinks it sounds like a blast. I am just happy I don't have to deal with Chuck E' Cheese (Parental Hell), which was her first idea. Tubing on Saturday, Harry Potter 6 and Cold Stone Ice Cream cake Sunday. Sounds like a good birthday to me.

-I managed to get all of the girls school supplies purchased yesterday. Seems awfully early to be doing it, but school starts the 14th of August (squeeeee) and Morgan is very particular about what she gets. Clothes will wait until the last week prior, because I am incapable of not letting them wear them. If I wait and buy them, the week before or a few days before, they won't ask everyday to wear them. I've learned.

-I am emotional, very emotional in fact about Bailey turning five this week. Five seems so old. Kindergarten in a month seems so insane. Where did my tiny baby bruiser go?

-I am sick to death of my husband working 14 hour days all of the time. I am sick of him reminding me that when the girls were little, I did the same thing, while he took care of them. I think it sucks being a single parent, when you are MARRIED.

-I am tired. Tired of arguing with my daughters about which toys can't be left on the floor. I am in a throw it away mood and I'm likely to start tossing anything the baby gets a hold of, if they keep it up. Tired of coming up with meal ideas. Tired of grocery shopping. Tired of laundry. But mostly, I am just tired.

And that's all she wrote.


Oh wait, one more thing. If you are going to BlogHer, will you let me know in the comments here. Just wave or something. I am trying to make a mental list of people I want to meet and anyone who visits here is on the top of that list.

Not complaining

Last night I wrote a post where I basically complained about everything. It felt kind of nice to write it down. Get it out, if that makes any sense. Although this morning, I'm glad I didn't post it. Not because you guys can't handle it, not because I didn't need to complain about petty nonsense last night, but mostly because this blog has become so depressing that I'm just thinking that it would have made it worse.

I'm trying. Trying to get it together. Trying to not be so pessimistic all the time. Trying to not be depressed. Trying to not be this complainy (yes, is word), whiney, pain in the ass that I have become lately.

It's not really working for me so well. But at least I'm working on it.

Instead of whining about things that really don't matter outside of my head, I thought I'd give positivity a try. See how it works for me today. No guarantees on tomorrow, but it's worth a shot today.

I love the 4th of July weekend. My husband won't be working for three whole days. (Truly, I am forgetting what the man looks like, he works so much these days.) We have BBQ's to go too, swimming to do and tons of great food to eat. I adore fireworks, now that Bailey has stopped being terrified of them.

I found the business cards I am going to get for BlogHer. They are cute and I loves them.

My excitement of BlogHer is starting to out way my fear of it.

Harrison is cute and fun and the best baby I could ever hope to have. Nine months, really is a fun, if not a bit exhausting age. Although his idea of morning being 5am, needs a bit of work.

Bailey is almost five and while it makes me sad, I see the big girl she is becoming and it's awesome. She's awesome. The funniest, most honest baby girl I could ever hope to have.

Morgan has decided that she likes clean clothes enough to help me with laundry. Have I told you she's my favorite today? She is. At least in this moment, when she's being so dam helpful. Seven is an awesome age.

I love the Internet. Well I love you guys. Yes there are haters, trolls and asshats. But real life has them too. But you guys keep me entertained on a daily basis and I adore each of you for it.

Oh one more thing, my friend, the lovely Anymommy, had a beautiful baby boy on Sunday. Nathaniel. He's big and squishy and absolutely adorable. He has red hair!!! Squee. Please go and congratulate her.

So, how'd I do? LOL. Don't need to answer that. Is okay.

The good enough mother

I have read about this whole good mother/bad mother/SAHM/WAHM/WOHM thing for weeks now on the Internet. Some of you have discussed it and beautifully, I might add. It all fascinates me, this thought of what a good mother is supposed to be. I've pretty much ignored it, because honestly, I know I am a good mom. I also know I am a bad mom. In my world you can be both.

Today, after reading Mom 101's post about type B mom's, I can't seem to get this subject out of my head. I said this in Liz's comments and it is completely true: On my best day, I am only a B- mother.

But who says that is a bad thing? What makes a mom a perfect mom? Whose opinion matters about that, except your children's? We all think we are being judged and sometimes we are. I know I've been judged, many a time. However, I'm sure I think I am being judged way more than I probably am. Maybe a B- mom isn't such a horrible thing.

We all share on the Internet what we want too. This was something that Mom 101 was saying in her post. We tell each other what we choose to tell each other. Some are more honest than others. We are given a glimpse at each others lives, because we choose to share about it in this public space. It's only part of the story really. A small part for most of us.

Let me try this honesty thing for a second.

I, for the record, have never breastfed my children. Not because I see anything wrong with it (in fact, I find it to be beautiful), but because it wasn't something I felt I could do. I was a young mother, maybe that has something to do with it, maybe not. It just wasn't something I choose to do.

I sent my daughters to daycare at seven weeks old. I worked fourteen hour days sometimes in the early years of their lives. I know what it's like to work full time and wish I was at home with my kids. I also now know what it's like to be at home all the bloody time and wish I was elsewhere. I'm not sure that I'm good at either of it honestly.

My kids watch too much TV; they eat too much junk food; I consider french toast a dinner**; my son hangs out playing with spoons and Tupperware lids on my bed, while I play on the Internet; and some days I go and buy everyone new underwear, just because I don't want to do laundry.

My kids have ridden their bikes without a helmet a time or two because I got tired of the argument. They have gotten sunburned a few times because I was dumb enough to not put sunscreen on them. We do not have a safety net around our trampoline. I have yelled at them for having meltdowns and then realized I don't remember the last time they ate. My kids are not friendly when hungry, much less logical.

Somedays I yell at them, because of nothing. I regret those days. Other times they need to be yelled at and I let it go, to try and make up for the days where I yell too much.

My seven year old has way too much knowledge of the Internet and how to use it. My almost five year old can take the parental restriction off of the cable, without even trying. They both have iPods. They know what the menus at most restaurants have on them without needing to look anymore.

My girls are the most unscheduled kids in the neighborhood. In fact the only thing they've been scheduled for this summer is swimming and last week, they told me they just wanted to be able to just swim, not learn anything. So? I took them off of the list for the next set of lessons. There is no ballet, no gymnastics and no t-ball this summer. I should do those things, I am sure, but I just can't seem to make myself sign them up, because truly, then I'd have to get out of the house and take them.

I worry about all of this and much, much more. I wonder what my kids will remember from this time period of their lives. If they will remember that I took them to Disney and the beach this summer; that we slept in, stayed up late and went to the park every few evenings to swing in the dark. Will they remember me reading Harry Potter to them each night? Will they remember Sunday mornings spent in Jammies, having wii bowling and golf tournaments? Or will they remember that this was another summer where I was short with them too often, where I cried too much, where I sent them outside to play too often.

I wonder if they spend too much time at my BFF Kate's house. I wonder if they will one day prefer her, because she is that mom. The mom who does art projects. The mom who bakes things. The mom with all the patience of a saint. I am not that mom, although I adore that she is. I am thankful for her every single day. Is it okay that my kids spend so much time with my best friend? It has to be, because that's the way it is right now.

There is no rule book. They didn't come with an instruction manual. Trust me, I looked. And who says a B- mom is not enough? Who gets to make that judgement call? Who says a C mom isn't good enough? Because lots of days, I am only a C mom. A solid C even, no plus sign attached.

Some days I think my kids are the amazing people they are despite me. Some days I think it might be in spite of me. On occasion I think, dam I am doing something right.

My girls are kind to friends, strangers, animals and especially their family. They think highly of themselves and each other. Self esteem: they both have it. Self doubt? Yes, they have that too, but a lot less then I did at their ages. They are honest, strong, brave and inquisitive. They are everything I could of hoped for in daughters and everything I hope their brother gets too.

We all have days where we think we are horrible at this parenting gig, right? Those who say other wise are lying threw their over whitened teeth.

I? Am a good mother and also a bad mother. Maybe, I am the good enough mother. But that has to be okay too.


** Okay, here is another thing. We say things on the Internet, then realize that even in a post where we are being brutally honest, we choose to fib a bit. The truth is, my dinner default idea is currently cereal. I stole the french toast thing from my lovely friend Liz (also know as @elizzieh), because it sounded better than saying my family currently lives on cereal. French toast is actually her default dinner, not mine. Liz, who I have to thank for um everything, was kind enough to read this and not yell at me about stealing her idea. In fact had I not brought it up, she is so awesome, that she may never have said a word. See? This honesty thing is hard.

The story of the door slammer

What seems like a zillion years ago, although it was actually around this time five years ago, is where our story begins.

A certain little girl, known here as Morgan used to throw the most magnificent tantrums. If there was an Academy Award for tantrums, this child would have a house full of them. At some point, she, upon being put on her bed, stared slamming the door over and over again. This bugged her mother and father endlessly. One day, the mother made the mistake of asking her teeny tiny crazy ball of joy why she slammed the door so much. You do it, was the childs answer.

Oh. Yeah. Sheet.

Of course the mother had to explain to the father what the kid said. There was then a three slam rule made up on the spot. It went for everyone in the family, because the dad claimed that more than three slams of a door gave him migraines.

The rule was as follows: in a fit of um anger or whatever, said door may be slammed three and only three times. If said door is slammed more than that, the door will be removed from the frame, by the father, for as many days, as their was extra slams.

I'd like to tell you this ends well. That no one ever forgot this rule. But I'd be lying through my teeth. My door has gone missing more than one in the last five years. When he takes mine off, I have no idea where he takes it too. I've never been able to find the dam thing.

Somehow the big child and I have the same problem, although through the years we have gotten better about it. (I prefer to throw coffee mugs. Kidding. Sorta.)

Yesterday the middle child took up the reigns. I think she feels that since she is in the last month of being four, she must take full advantage of the four-ness, before it is gone. Also, it pains her that the boy is no longer a lump. Now he is everywhere and yeah, she has brother issues. The tantruming in public, being forced to nap, slamming door reigns. She did manage to only slam it three times in the afternoon.

However last night, at some point, she got pissed off at her father and got sent to bed. Then the door slamming started. Twelve times that door was slammed. Her father is a patient man, more patient than me. He waited until she calmed down and then he went upstairs and removed the door. On the wall next to it, he placed a sign, no door until this day. Which, in case you were wondering is nine days from today.

The big child was PISSED off, since the two girl children share a bedroom. I looked at her and laughed. Come on now, pot, kettle? Ringing any bells? Somehow, I do believe the middle child won't take five years to figure out this rule.

So that's my story of the day. Beware of the three door slamming rule.

A little bit of random...but hey, that's what I'm best at

It's been brought to my attention, that I am a bit odd. Shocker, I know. This was not news to those who know me and not really even to me, but I did find it kind of funny how it came up.

I guess not everyone reads the last page of a book before reading the actual book? Or needs to have a movie ruined for them if it is sad or scary, before turning it on? No? I'm not the only one though, right? You guys have to know someone else who does this? Hmmm, maybe I am alone in this. It's something that I've done for so long, that I forgot how weird it might sound to someone else. I found myself explaining it yesterday to a friend and the best I can come up with is that it's an anxiety thing. If I know the ending, I can enjoy it. If not, I fret through the whole thing. Weird? Yes, I will admit that. But it works for me.

Next week, we are going to Disneyland for a few days. Some cousins are going and I decided the second I heard about it, that I was going to go. A lovely brother of mine, who has now been written out of my will (ha, I've always wanted to say that), asked me how in the hell someone as neurotic and anal as me, could just plan vacations like that.

Really it's a logical question, but I am not that logical of a person. Trust me on this one. I can't really explain it, other than, I have been planning how to do this trip, since I decided to go. I am just crazy like that. It's part of my charm. It might seem last minute and really, it is, but I've already mentally packed us. I know where we'll go, how we'll get there and basically have an organized list in my head of the entire trip. Exciting, no? Don't answer that.

In other news, today is the last day of school for the summer. Can you hear my sigh from where you are? In some ways, I am so happy for school to be over. However, I don't have any preconceived notions that it will be an easy. The girls have a love/hate relationship. Either they adore each other and play amazingly well, or they are a nightmare. It can change on a whim. Hopefully the kid sharing scheme my BFF and I came up with will work out well.

Bailey is a bit nervous about Kindergarten. She hasn't slept well in the last few days; having nightmares and crawling into bed with us at some ungodly hour of the morning. I think it's our fault, we may have talked up being a kindergartner a bit too much. She isn't my anxious kid, not normally at least and we tend to forget that she is still a little tiny thing. I am a bit sad about having her no longer being a pre-schooler. I also know, that she is so ready for kindergarten and she'll do phenomenal. Muh babee is getting big though. sigh.

That's all I've got today, I guess. It's going to take me a bit of time to remember how to do this again. It's been so long for me, that I'm kind of like, wait how in the world do I do this again. I'll get there, I promise.

Blast from the past

I spent most of the day at the graduation and subsequent graduation party of a cousin's daughter. Nothing makes you feel older than going to the graduation of a beautiful young woman, who you've known since she was a bouncy four year old child. We had an absolute blast, but I am tired and sunburned.

Since this weekend will probably be dead on the Internet, I thought I'd post something from my original blog. One of our cousins has a 20 month old and it reminded me how much fun that age is. Bailey will be five in July people. Five. Like five years old. I look at her and it shocks me how big she is. I still picture that little toddler who I wrote this post about, instead of my big girl, who will be done with pre-school on Wednesday. So, here we go.

My assumption is that this was originally written sometime in Fall, 2006.

The things I love about two year olds

You know, two year olds get such a bad rap. Yes I know they deserve it a lot of the time, you know with the constant tantrums and no's and never seeming to know what they actually want...unless it is cookies and jelly beans. All of this and way more give two year olds a bad rap, but there are things about having a two year old that I adore. I thought I'd share the loveliness of having a two year old.

I love toddlers dancing. Mine dances in the mall, the grocery store, in an elevator, in the car and anywhere else where there is music. Last night while waiting for our to-go order, she made me play the songs on my phone. She danced to all of them. She (and her sister) love to show me their "moves", which vary from actual dance moves to stuff she's made up to a lovely booty shake to gymnastics. Now both of my girls are great dancers and have complete rhythm, but even when toddlers don't, it is still cute.

I love the fact that everything can be made into a story and that stories don't have to end with happily ever after and be word for word like it does when you are four almost five years old. I can tell her a story about a woman with a cell phone talking to a dinosaur about which shoes he'd like to buy and even if I'm holding a Thomas the Tank engine book, she is okay with my story.

I love watching their chubby legs run. I love that they love their chubby legs and love nothing more than to have you tickle them and tease them about them.

I love the sing song voice they have when they are doing something they know you don't want them to be doing. "I doin nothin Mama", in a singsong voice cracks me up every time.

I love that they clap for themselves when they learn something new.

I love when they say, I hold you, because it means they want you to hold them and cuddle with them. I even love the words, I hold you, because it shows that they really know who it benefits the most.

I love slobbery kisses and bear hugs and how they wrap their whole body around your legs.

I love that they don't care if they match or if you give them a Pebbles hairdo every day.

I love shopping in the toddler section of stores. I will be so sad when I have to move to the slutty bigger girl section.

I love Jammie's with feet and clean toddlers in them.

I love that they still have some baby qualities, like rolly elbows and chubby thighs, but you are starting to see that they look like little people.

I love how they speak, not quite right, but getting the hang of it. I love that the middle of the ABC's are all lumped together and that they say things like Nem, Nems instead of M&M's. And they have no problem with you correcting them or deciding it is so cute that you repeat it.

I love that they are so active that you think you might have a heart attack trying to keep up, but when they crash they do it quickly, sometimes falling asleep sitting up.

I love that they do everything whole heartedly, whether that is a tantrum or playing.

I love that they love to hold your hand and sit in your lap, the second you need to actually be doing something.

I guess that's good for now. But I really do love two year olds. What do you love about two year olds?

Snippets

He crawls away from me, until he gets to the edge of the door which will lead him out of our kitchen and into the den. There he stops, turns around, looks at me and comes back to play with the Tupperware again. He hasn't found his baby wings yet. He hasn't realized that we are not one yet. I am still his person. At not yet eight months old, I am his world. He lights up when he sees me in the morning and cries when I walk out of the room without him.

This is the way it should be. Yes, he will get over his separation anxiety soon. Yes, he will one day leave the room I am in on purpose. But not yet. I will savor the time until then.

******************

Logan: Iss, I think we need to eat at home this week. He reaches for another hot wing from the container in the middle of the table.

Bailey: Daddy, we are eating and we are at home.

Logan: Did you coach her to say that?

Me: Nope, she got that one on her own. Babe, I'm doing the best I can. Dinner is still dinner, as long as we all eat together.

Logan: Pause. I never thought of it that way. So, okay, dinner at home, no restaurants this week. But I don't care where the food comes from. One week, lets just try it for one week, okay?

Me: That sounds like a plan.

******************

Morgan was as sick as a dog last week; food poisoning from some treat at the school. I've never seen her that sick in my life. Her long thin body, curled up on the bathroom floor in between retching. I sat with her, me and Harrison hanging with her on the floor until I finally decided to take her to Urgent care. I have been scared in my life; scared of many things. But nothing is scarier than watching your baby go as limp as a noodle from exhaustion and dehydration as you carry her too the car to take her to Urgent Care.

At 2am that next morning, she came into our room and said, mama I can't go to school today. I know bug, I do. But it's only 2am, I told her. Then I did something I rarely do, I pulled her into bed with us. She slept curled into me, nestled in between Logan and I for the rest of the night.

When I was in California, she slept with me two nights in a row. The two nights following my losing the baby. Those two nights, I felt guilty for, because she was there to comfort me. Now I know it works both ways. It's okay for her to be a comfort to me on occasion, just as it is for me to be that for her. That's what makes us family. Yes, she is seven years old, my first baby. But she is getting so big too. Big enough that we are starting to become friends in some way.

I want that, to be friends with my kids. Their mother first? Always. But friends too.

*******************

My Mom: So, Papa** and I are coming out mid-June. We're hoping to find a house to buy while we are there.

Me: Really? That soon?

Mom: Yeah. I've already started working on my book and he's pretty much finished with the practice. Jordan has a handle on it, he's been there for nearly two years. The practice runs itself these days. We're ready for the change. Ready for the new chapter in our lives.

Me: Mom, you know there is a house for sale down the block from us.

Mom: You'd want us to look at that? It wouldn't be too close?

Me: No, not at all. We'd love it.

Mom: Oh I'm so happy to hear that. Ok, well pull the phone number, so I can call on it, okay?

Me: I will call them for you.

Mom: You know it's funny, but so many people don't get to say that their grown daughter is one of their best friends.

Me: I know, that's just sad. God, I hope the girls and I are like that one day.

Mom: I know it will be like that for you.

**We call my step-dad, papa. Have since they got married when I was eight.

******************

Kate: Are you guys sending the girls to summer day camp?

Me: I don't know. Maybe? We go back and forth on it. Morgan wants too, but Bailey doesn't at all.

Kate: Yeah, Aidan doesn't want to either. If we send him, you know he'll fight me every single morning. It's almost not worth the trouble.

Me: Yeah, I know. I want the time with them, the freedom to sleep in. Ha. But the reality is, I don't know that I want to entertain them, or listen to them fight all day every day for the next 10 weeks.

Kate: Well what if we share the kids? Take turns on certain days? Split them up on certain days and then have a day a week where we all do something together? Then we can both say, have a day a week free and the rest will work itself out.

Me: That is awesome. I'm in for sure. Can I have Friday off?

Kate: I knew you'd ask me that.

Me: At least I'm consistent.

Kate: Um huh. Consistent, pain in the ass maybe.

*****************

I wake up late/early one night to the bed shaking. He's sobbing, all 6'4" curled up around a pillow, with his hand shoved in his mouth to be quiet. I comfort him and calm him down and then ask why he is so upset. I wanted that baby. I wanted that baby so bad that it hurts. I wanted you to never have to go through this again. I couldn't fix it and I wanted too. You needed time to grieve, I had to be the one to not fall apart.

Well now it's your turn I tell him. Babe, we will have another baby, I tell him.

I can't even tell you how much I wanted to have another baby, he says. That baby, our baby.

We will. That one wasn't meant to be. But there will be another try, another chance. If not through us, we'll adopt. We'll find our baby. The one that is meant to be in this family.

There will be another baby. I know it. I feel it. Not yet, I need time. But sooner than one might think, I'd bet.

*****************

It's a crazy life, it keeps me on my toes, but it's my life and I wouldn't give it up for anything.

Not the mother I thought I'd be....

Eight years ago, Logan and I decided to stop using birth control and see what happened. We had grand ideas about being parents. We'd been married two years, we were both on our second to last year of college, we owned a condo and we were ready. Ready to be parents. Ready to change our lives forever and make a family. Really if you think about it, or well, if we think about it, it was an excuse to have lots of unprotected sex. Lots.

More than that though, I always knew I wanted to be a mother. From a very young age, I knew I wanted kids. We argued about how many we'd have, but we both knew we wanted kids.

I'm not exactly sure we thought it would happen so soon; the getting pregnant part. They say a year at the very least when you've been on the pill for a while. "They" are morons, whoever they are. I was pregnant within a month.

We planned and organized as we got ready for our baby. Our baby girl who we were so thrilled to be pregnant with. We painted our second bedroom, bought little onesies and sockies, baby proofed our entire condo and went through a name book, name by name. We dreamed big dreams. For her and for us. For our family, the little family we were creating. Huge dreams about what she'd be like. I don't think this is so out there, I bet there are tons of first time mothers who dream about what their children will be like. We hope for the best and pray for the amazing. We envision perfect lives for them. Lives without fear, hatred, uncertainty or loss. Lives that are full of sunshine and flowers.

I had an idea about what kind of a mom I'd be. That, I'd be spontaneous, fun and never impatient. I didn't believe being a parent would be all sunshine and roses, but I had a bit of a skewed idea of motherhood. I wouldn't be big on bedtimes, schedules could be made up as we went along and I'd never force my kid to eat when they didn't want too. If the food of choice was hot dogs, I'd go with it. The things Logan and I would do with said child, danced in my head. We wanted to travel the world, take our baby with us. Travel the US, see everything and anything. Just get in the car and go. I had great plans for the way my child would be, as well.

Then I was handed this teeny baby. And she was teeny, having been born a month early. She was also nothing like what we'd imagined. Not at all. Don't get me wrong, she was ours and she was perfect in our eyes. Our beautiful baby girl. God we adored her from the second she came into the world.

She was also great birth control, for tons of other people. Morgan is the kid that makes people go, maybe we'll start with a fish. She was a screamer, from pretty much birth on. She had colic so bad that we literally had to massage her stomach after every time she ate. She wouldn't breast feed, so I gave up within a week. It was okay, because I was open to whatever, but also because I needed to be able to give her to other people to feed. She had to be held at all times, non-stop. But only a certain way, which changed often. She wanted her way, all the time, from a very young age. She was a good sleeper at night, I will give her that. She started sleeping though the night at six weeks. She wasn't a good napper. She was not an easy baby, nor an easy toddler. In fact, nothing about her was or is easy.

My grandiose plans went right out the window. Our ideas of traveling the world with her as a baby, were dashed by the second day of her life. Morgan, even now at, seven and a half years old, is a child that needs a strict schedule. Bedtimes are a must, meals need to be at the same times, changes from the schedule must be explained over and over, for it to go off okay. Even then, it doesn't always work out for her. She has trouble with transitions, change, deviations from the way she knows it to be. Or wants it to be. We talk about what will happen in her day tomorrow at dinner every night. Over the past few years it has shrunk to: this is the basic plan type of a thing. It used to include great detail: you will wake up, you will eat breakfast, you will get dressed; a full timeline of her day. It wasn't for us, it was for her. We did it because she needed it.

This is just how my daughter is. It's a part of her, a part of her that frustrates me to no end some days. I also love it about her. She has changed my views of the world. She has shaped the mother I became. If Bailey had been born first, or even Harrison; I'd be a different mother than I am today. I might be that mother that I thought I'd become. The care free mom.

I am not that mother. I am not the mother I thought I'd be. I am a better mother than I would have been. I know this to be true. I have the rest of my life to travel the world, to see the sites, to live moment to moment. I may not be the mother that I wanted to be. However, I am the mother they need me to be. A mother with rules, who enforces bedtimes, a mother who makes them read half an hour out loud a night, one who makes them eat vegetables and brush their teeth. I don't make up elaborate art projects, nor do I cook from scratch. But I've found people who will do that stuff with them. I am not as patient as I thought I'd be....but I'm more patient than my mom was with us, so that's an improvement.

I can be spontaneous; the fun mom, who can let rules go for a night. I can run around and play at the park with them, pretending to be a fairy princess; build complex mazes out of pillows on my floor, to avoid the hot lava monster. I can let them go wild in a candy store every now and again. But the next day, I become mom again. Their mom. Morgan, Bailey and Harrison's mom.

I may not be the mom I thought I'd be, but I'd not give up the mom I am to them in a heart beat. It's the thing I'm most proud of in this world.

No, actually you're not

Bailey: (Singing) I'm sittin in the car on the inside, Waitin for my ride on the outside, She broke my heart, in the trailer park, So I grabbed her skunk and runned away, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah (pause) nah, nah, nah, I grabbed her skunk and runned away.

Me: Noodle, what in the world are you singing?

Bailey: You know, the song daddy likes, the nah, nah, nah song.

Me: Morgan, please translate.

Morgan: Mom, she's singing The Bartender song.

Me: No. No, she's not.

Morgan: Oh, no, she is. Just um, not the right words. Actually her song is funnier. Grabbed her skunk and runned away...hahahahaha

Have you guys heard the Bartender song? Morgan isn't lying, Logan is addicted to it. However, Baileys version? So much funnier.

Dang it, I wanted to put it on here, but YouTube won't let me. You can see/hear it HERE if you so choose.

Friend's don't let friend's go to play dates

First off let me just say that if one of you lived here and we had a play date, I'm sure it would be fine.

I? Am not a play date type of a mom. I am spoiled. This is what comes from your best friends having kids at the same times as you. Built in best friends, second generation style. No need for silly things like random play dates with parents you don't know.

I should have known, should have remembered; that I'm not a play date person. I should have never said yes. This woman, whose demon spawn...I mean child, is in Baileys class, has been asking me to have a play date for a while. I don't hang out at the school much. I mean, I volunteer, but I don't spend the whole time my kid is in pre-school talking outside with the other mothers. Some of them do and that's fine, I'm just not one of them. Because when my girls are in school, I tend to have very important things to do. Like blogging.

So, this woman had been asking me for a play date and kept telling me that our girls play together so nicely, so I finally agreed. We went over to her house on Friday afternoon.

First, her demon child kept hitting my kid. Oh she had a cookie today, was the mom's response. Ok, because that is a great response to your kid whacking mine upside the head. Don't bother to stop her from doing it a few more times. A child who has had a cookie, can't ever be told to knock it off, I suppose.

Then she started talking, non-stop. The mom, not the kid. The kid is behind in speaking. Most likely because her mom talks incessantly. About absolutely nothing. No joke, she'd ask me a simple question; like, how old is your baby? Then she'd interrupt me two words in to tell me about some random story about her life. Because her kids were almost five months once and they... I don't know, ate a lot? Then it led to a story about when she was a baby and then about her mom's life. Also, every story somehow led to Scouts. I guess her son is in scouts. She must be the most annoying scout mom ever.

Small tangent here: I hate scouts. Every one of them, girl, boy, cub, whatever. What they stand for; their homophobic attitude; but mostly, I hate the cookies. I know, I may be the only person in the world who hates girl scout cookies, but I do. I despise that they are at every grocery store in the state right now, hawking those nasty cookies. Dude, if I wanted your cookies, I would have bought them from the 6 little girls in my neighborhood who each came by and rang my door bell early Sunday morning, for six weeks in a row. No, I don't want your dam cookies, now let me in the god dam store. End tangent.

So, I heard about the scouts. Then she went and on about her Unity church and how amazing it is. How rainbows shoot out of every ones asses after they go there. Then how she just can't believe we don't go to church. We don't go to church. Period. We don't belong to a religion. Period. And what the heck is a Unity church anyway? Wait, don't answer that. I don't care if I know. If I was planning on choosing a religion it would be one of the ones in my family.

I started getting desperate, so I sent out this Tweet from the bathroom:

Somebody save me. I am in playdate hell. Can one of you DM me and i dont know be in labor or have ebola? Something. Please 3:45 PM Feb 20th from txt

Then nothing. Crickets. Chirp.

I waited, hoping someone would see it. But nope, nobody was on to see it. Then I sent a text to my BFF Kate, saying pretty much the same thing. She texted me back, I told you not to do play dates. You never listen.

Am looking for a new BFF by the way.

Eventually we left and as we did, Bailey says to me, Mommy why did we go there? I don't even like that girl.

Great kid, just great. You couldn't have told me that earlier? Play dates are not for the weak at heart and they are definitely not for me.

You know, for a baby, he's not really so bad.....

My lovely son, these words were said to me last night by your older sister Bailey. I'm going to write this down for you, so you'll always remember. Because you may never have a real baby book, but you'll have these little things that I've written down on this blog. Dude, don't worry, I have a baby book, it's not all that interesting anyway.

One day, in February 2009, your sis said something semi-nice in your direction. Please remember it, because I doubt it will ever happen again. She loves you, she really does, she's just not that overly fond of you. Hopefully that will go away one day, but I can't promise anything.

No worries though, the rest of us adore you.

Cupcakes anyone?

Yesterday when I went to pick up Bailey at pre-school I somehow found myself committed to making cupcakes for their Valentines Day party. Back in the day, I used to go and buy cupcakes for my kids school stuff. I even bought the good ones from Sprinkles Cupcakes. Have you ever had sprinkles cupcakes? They are too die for. If you ever have the chance, please try one. But back in those days I had a pay check...man I miss the pay check days....anyhow, I'd go and buy the lovely expensive cupcakes, no problem. Everyone was happy and the world went along just fine. Time has changed though and today I make cupcakes. (Because honestly, there isn't a Sprinkles Cupcakes around here.) I made 62 cupcakes to be exact. No mix, by hand. With a recipe from Martha Stewart, the Sprinkles Strawberry Cupcakes recipe.

But I am no Martha Stewart. I can bake, in fact I am a better baker than a cook. But still, it's not something I do often. Unless the slice and bake cookies count, which I doubt they do. These cupcakes are not so easy either. They are very detailed. The frosting is the killer. It has real strawberries in it.

So the girls and I made cupcakes. Loads and loads of cupcakes. There was flour split, eggs dropped and milk somehow missed the bowl about four times. My girls, they love to cook. They get that from their grandmother, because it sure as hell isn't from me. But they got my absolute inability to use less than every dish in the house while cooking. Also the clean as you go gene, they are missing that one too. Then we made frosting, a gazillion tons of frosting. But the frosting doesn't really go on the cupcakes easily. Then the red hearts fell off. Then we re-put them on, basically squishing them into the frosting.

After we were done, my BFF Kate had the kids make Valentines at her house, which is great since I am not crafty. The ones in the box would have been more than fine, if I was doing them. In fact I send them to Kate's house often, specifically so they can do that crap at her house. (I'm not kidding. I've banned scissors from my house until Bailey stops cutting up full pieces of paper into shreds and leaving it all over the floor.) While they were gone I sampled a cupcake or two (have to make sure they are not poison) and cleaned frosting off of every surface in my entire freaking kitchen. Also, I'm pretty darn sure that Harrison is not allergic to milk or strawberries, because I'm sure he got a taste of frosting, since he was rolling around the kitchen floor. What can you do? He's a third kid. He's lucky we didn't hand him a BBQ rib the second he was born.

Later that night when Logan came home, he and Bailey had the funniest conversation. I am still laughing my ass off at it. The girls were sitting at the table doing "worksheets". I put that in parentheses because it's not real worksheets. Well it is, but not from the school. My kids go to a choice school. Basically they don't believe worksheets need to be sent home as homework, which I fully agree with. When Morgan gets homework, it's more hands on, more creative and not mind numbing. However, my kid is um special. I mean that in the best way, really I do. But people, she makes up her own worksheets. For her and for Bailey. Different ones each week. Bailey loves it most days. So anyway they were sitting at the able doing worksheets and I was doing yet another load of dishes when Logan walked in. She said all of this to him, without ever looking up from her sheet.

Logan: Babe, what's for dinner?

Bailey: Daddy, I think you should buy a new question.

Logan: (laughing) Oh yeah, what question should I have asked?

Bailey: You should say, honey, where am I taking you for dinner.

Logan: Thanks little girl. (Yes we call her little girl. Morgan will answer to big girl and the baby looks up if you say, the boy. They all have numerous nicknames.) Ok, honey, where am I taking you for dinner.

Me: Good question. I'm not sure, but somewhere with wine sounds like a plan.

Bailey: Daddy, that will be two dollars please.

Logan: What, why?

Bailey: Because you bought my question. Now pay up.

Logan: Please.

Bailey: And thank you.

Me: Babe, the girls an extortionist, but you'd better pay her. Because she's right, you needed to change that question.


Later my BFF Emmy called me and after I'd explained my entire day to her, she said, you know you can buy that mix from Williams-Sonoma right? And you can, you can buy the mix for Sprinkles Cupcakes at Williams-Sonoma. However, as I so nicely told her, that would have been helpful six hours earlier.

By the way, today is not Friday. I didn't know that until I was completely done. So I have 64, no 58, um 54 cupcakes sitting in my fridge. burp.

Not sure when it happened

Last night, at say two thirty-four ish am (tentatively) Logan and I found ourselves with three sleeping kids, on the bathroom floor. Croup. Oh it's such a lovely sound. I knew they all had coughs, I'd been listening to it all day, but I didn't know how bad it was. At 1am, I found out. Bailey and I spent about 45 minutes on the bathroom floor with the shower on at full blast. Then the baby started the seal cough and Logan brought him in the bathroom with us. After another half hour Morgan woke up, came to find us, saw us all on the floor and went and got her blanket and pillow and came in and laid down in between us. All of this without a word. It was almost like she thought it was a slumber party and she was somehow missing out on it. Withing minutes she was asleep. Bailey was asleep in Logan's arms and Harrison fitfully sleeping in mine. Everyonce in awhile, they'd all start coughing. It was like being in a TB ward or something.

We sat there watching them sleep, listening to them cough for a while without talking. At some point, Logan asked me when it happened? When did what happen, I asked? When did we become the adults?

You know, I just don't know. I'm not sure when exactly it happened. When Morgan was a toddler and got sick in the middle of the night, I'd still look around for who this mommy of hers was. Why was she looking at me when she said it. I'm not sure when it happened, but I no longer look for her real mommy anymore. I am a grown-up. Logan and I are grown-ups. We have three children, a dog, a mortgage and car payments. In a month, we will have been married for ten years. We save for retirement and our kids colleges. We pay our bills on time and we get our carpets cleaned every now and again. We drink more coffee than alcohol and we enjoy going to bed at a reasonable hour. At some point, we became adults. We're just not sure when exactly.

I'll tell you a little secret though. I don't mind this life. The life of an adult with a family. In fact, I rather enjoy it.

The Lost Inauguration Commentary

Last night while watching the Inauguration and eating pizza and those tasty chocolate dunker things.

Morgan: There are more people there on the streets than at Disneyland on a Saturday.

*****

Bailey: Mommy you can't be president.

Me: Why not?

Bailey: Only little girls can live at the Big White House (The Big White House is what she always calls it) , they don't let little boys live there, cause they are too dirty and stinky. No Harrison's allowed.

*****

Logan: Michelle Obama is taller than Bush. There is a joke here, I'm sure of it.

Me: Yeah, but it's not short people friendly.

Morgan: Mommy, I'm the tallest in my class you know.

Me: Ok, fine then. It's not child friendly.

Morgan: What's that mean anyway?

Logan: It means I was going to tell a rude joke, but your mama is mean and won't let me.

*****

Bailey: Urethra Franklin has a crazy hat. Do you think she bought it at the Halloween store?

*****

Me: Oooohhhh I adore Itzhak Perlman. In my next life, I want to play as well as he does.

*****

Morgan: Why'd he stop saying the words?

Logan: Because the guy messed up and Obama knew it was wrong.

Morgan: He's a smart guy. He should have just said the right words.

Logan: That would have been rude though.

Bailey: And you are not aposed to be rude on TV.

*****

Logan: Iss, you really need to stop crying; you're worrying the baby. Look he's getting those little old man wrinkles on his forehead.

Me: He's POOPING. Here, you take him.

*****

Seriously, only five minutes later.

Me: Um babe, who's crying now?

Logan: I have an allergy. Yeah, an allergy to poop.

*****

At around 9pm, after she'd been asleep sitting up on the couch for half an hour.

Bailey: Is My Barack Odbana President now?

Logan: Honey, he has been President all day, remember? We clapped and jumped around for him? Your Mama cried.

Bailey: Okay, then I need to go to bed now.

Pause

Bailey: Daddy, my legs don't work. You're gonna have to carry me to bed.

*****

Me: Mariah really needs to find a new career.

Logan: Didn't you have her CD once.

Me: Yeah, when I was ten. You couldn't pay me to buy one now. Funny, but I think this song is from that same CD. Of course back then, she could hit half the notes.

*****

Logan: Babe, come here for a second.

Me: Give me a minute...

Logan: No, you've got to see this. Beyonce is wearing a whole dress. Girl looks good.

Me: I'll give her this much, she can sing. That is a nice dress though. Someone besides her mom must have dressed her today.

*****

Logan: Dam, Michelle looks hot. Oh shit, that was a good thing for him to say first. Yes, Mr. President, your wife does look dam fine.

Me: Ok, that's enough for tonight. No more fine babes for you.

*****

This morning:

Morgan: Mama, it was real, right?

Me: What was real?

Morgan: Barack Obama is our new president, right? It was real, not just a dream?

Me: Nah, it wasn't a dream, it was real. I promise.

Morgan: That's good. I'm proud of him.

Mme: Me too. Me too.

My least favorite age

Bailey has a true love for rolly pollys. She worries about them constantly. You know, because of the snow. They might be cold, maybe she should just go and find them and bring them inside where it is warm. (She doesn't seem to get the correlation between her keeping them in her pockets and them meeting the dryer.)

She draws elaborate pictures for us, where we are always on vacation with huge smiles on our face.

Each of her animals, babies and Littlest Pet Shop Death Traps have a specific name. She remembers all of them. Always. She also reads too them. Not always the right words, but she reads too them. She also sings too them and rocks them too sleep...not the little pet death traps, but the animals and babies.

She tells the funniest jokes; she's always been the class clown type.

She is an absolute love. Big on hugs and kisses and I love you's. Everybody who meets her, just adores her. Her teachers, her friends, all of my friends, people in supermarkets.

But for freaking sakes, she may not live to see five years old. Four is my least favorite age. Give me a tantrumy two year old or a crazy three year old any day, but I'd like to skip four. Just pass it on by. Skip right over and move onto five. Maybe even go back to three, because she was a great three year old. Six more months of four and she might not make it.

I don't want to be this way. I want to enjoy the wonderful side of her personality. Unfortunately she reserves that for everyone but family. We get the sneaky, wicked, mean, nasty, attitudy, bratty, know it all, spaz. The girl who walks by her brother, kisses him on the head and then smacks him. She is sneaking stuff; candy and treats, shows on TV. I find her watching TV or playing Wii when she's been told to clean up her room or quietly read on her bed. When we ground her from the Wii, she hides the remotes (the freezer being her hiding place of choice), so none of the rest of us can play. She throws screaming fits any time she feels we are being unjust. Oy ve the girl has a set of lungs on her. I finally told her tonight that every time she says, I hate you mommy or daddy, she is getting one toy taken away. It's going into the garage in a bag, until she can learn to at least use less offensive words.

Basically I want to ship her back. Return the crazy four and get back my sweet kid. If she's still in there, which I get the sense she is. I've been here before. Five was not the saving grace I was hoping for with Morgan, but it was surely better than four.

Four is just evil. Four is scary. Four should be skipped. I recommend you all with three year olds or under, skip four, if you can figure out how. And then, let me in on the secret, because I have four years before I'll be here again.

My best of 2008

I am not a big fan of New Years. I never really have been. One year I went to a rockin party and had an absolute blast. That was my favorite New Years ever!

I was eight years old though.

Truly, I'm not a fan of going out with the crazies, getting sloshed or the oh so lovely: see how many women are sobbing in the bathroom because they have no one to kiss at midnight.

The thing I like least about New Years is the resolutions. The lists that people make of things they intend to be better about in the New Year. The reason I despise this practice is simple: People never stick to their resolutions and then about mid-February everyone feels bad about themselves and gives up. Basically making resolutions is just another excuse for us all to fell bad about ourselves. I am good enough at feeling guilty, I don't need to make a resolution to do so in a month or two.

Instead, I'm going to make my best of 2008 list. My favorite post, one (or three, whatever) for each month I've been blogging.

ISSA'S Favorites of 2008:

July: Things not to say to a pregnant woman. That's a decaf latte, right? Actually bitch it's not. I just heard this in Starbucks. Literally half an hour ago. Like it's any ones business. Today I decided that I can't do decaf anymore. I'm just not sleeping and I needs me some caffeine. So real coffee here I am, I've missed you.

August: The cracked ceiling. My babies are six and a half and four years old. One wants to be a Supreme Court Judge and the other a Transformer. Funny, yes, but dream big is what I tell them.

Last night Hillary Clinton made history; she changed history for the better and I thank her for it. I want a better world for my children, a world that is safe and free, a world where there is no limit to what they can be.

September: Happy birthday Babe. On this day, every year, for as long as we've been together, I send my mother in law a gift. I call her and thank her for giving me the greatest gift in the world, for giving me her son. Because she raised one of the best men I know and she deserves to be told what an amazing job she did.

Small Harrison update. And plus, I had to stare at my son. My son, so strange to say, but so awesome.

October: Harrison Thomas. Harrison Thomas was born at 8:08pm, September 25th, 2008. He weighed 8 pounds, 6.4 ounces, was 20 inches long.

November: Ha, November was a good month for me, so I had to pick three.

We were playing doctor, really we were. What you didn't think I'd post all sweet and sappy ones did you?

Bittersweet Victory. Today is a happy day for the US. I am happy, I truly am. But there's a bitterness there too. An angry piece of me, that has no outlet. I just want to shake the world right now and say, these two belong together, how can you not see that?

Long lost parenting tips. I did the only thing I could think of, I pulled her into the bathroom and made her open her mouth and I shoved a small stick of soap in there.

December:

For my favorite posts of this month, I'm going to pick two of mine and one of someone else's. One of mine is from this month and one from August I believe. They are both about ADHD and how it affects our family. I think more people need to see the face of ADHD. To know the realities and see the truth behind some of the behaviors.

Instamom wrote a beautiful post (and oh how I love her for it) the other day about her son, Aaron: Removing the stigma.

"Because he is exceptional. And perhaps his ADHD makes him more so. He is incredibly creative, always coming up with inventions or plans to make life easier. He will sit and read for hours at a time. His writing and vocabulary blow me out of the water. I sometimes struggle to follow his thought processes, but I know now that it's not because they are wrong, but because they are different."

I have this feeling that Aaron and Morgan would get along really well.

Reality. The reality is that the world sees my child as a pain in the ass. Not all people, not people who know her, not even people who have been around a child with ADHD and know the signs. But to the majority of people.


Medicate or not, this is the question You know that saying, when she's good she's very, very good? Well that was Morgan. On her good moments, she was a doll; sweet, caring, loving and creative. On her bad moments, the Tasmanian devil on crack. Trouble was, we never knew what we were going to get. Unpredictable to the core. You could look at her wrong and she'd melt into a puddle of tears; tell her to put her shoe on and she'd throw a two hour tantrum; she was out of control. This was the first time we considered medicating her.


This month has been a hard month for me. I lost my grandmother, which only made me realize that I've not really grieved for my grandfather. The reality of these losses is just beginning to sink in. 2008 has been a long year. There have been great things, the most notable in my family being Harrison. I can not even begin to tell you how thankful I am for this little boy. My little boy. I could say it all day, every day, but it wouldn't be enough. I adore every single piece of his rolly polly little self.

But there's been a lot of grief as well. This year we lost three people in our family, my grandparents and Logan's grandma. We also have family that is struggling to make it. One with liver cancer, one with breast cancer and one with a bum heart. We're trying to think positively, but there may be some losses next year as well.

One of the things that I am thankful for the most for this year, is all of you. You have supported me and helped me, more than you could ever know. I appreciate each and every one of you.

I hope you all have a great New Years Eve. I'll talk to you next year.

I have nothing

I am emotionally spent today. I have nothing in me to give. I need a three day nap. This being the week of Christmas, I doubt I'm going to get it. I'm sure I'll have more to say tomorrow, but for now I leave you with this:

Bailey: Mommy, wasn't that a good movie?

Me: Um sure it was.

Morgan: She slept all the way through it Bay.

Bailey: Mommy, you didn't? I can't believe you did that. It was the bestest movie in the world.

Me: Oh yeah? So did the mouse save the day?

Bailey: He did, he's the greatest mouse in the whole widest world. Mommy, we need a mouse. One who has big ole ears and can talk.

Me: He had big ears?

Morgan: Um mom, did you see any of the movie?

Me: I remember the preview for um...hmmm, nope, don't remember anything.



So I hear the mouse and rat making soup movie was great. Everyone should see it. At least according to my kids. It's also a great one too sleep through. Although in my defense, we went yesterday afternoon and I slept about three hours on Friday night and maybe four on Saturday night.

The best of the best...

Rebecca, also known as Girls Gone Child, posted over at Babble yesterday (still following me?), titled: Money Shots. She described it as this:

"For those of us fond of snapping photos of our spawn, there is nothing more exciting/rewarding/feel-goody than capturing THE photo. You know what I'm talking about: the hard-to-come-by money shot."

The photos she posted are fabulous. The comments have all been more great shots of beautiful babies and kids. I thought I'd post a few of mine. Some of these are older, some brand new. All capture my kids, the way they truly are. As a little old woman, these photos, more than any professional shot I've had taken of them, will remind me of my children as small kids. It will remind me of that moment, each moment, where I caught them off guard, where I managed to show the real them on film.

Both of the girls have always been hard to photograph, although for different reasons. Morgan has been a poser since birth and Bailey has been a photo avoider since birth. But here are my money shots. Might not be great shots to anyone else, but too me, they are priceless.

This one is Morgan, she was two and a half. I was pregnant, maybe seven months, with Bailey. She was looking at giraffes at the zoo.


These two were taken off of a role that the photo lab ruined. I saved them anyway, because it's not like you can get back your child's first week of life. They've become some of my favorite shots of Bailey.



This is the very first photo of my babies girls together. Bay was maybe 11 hours old. Morgan was still convinced a little brother was going to appear out of nowhere any second.


Bailey at about two and a half months old. Funny, but Harrison looks so much like her in this picture. Except she had almost no hair. What little hair she did have was super blond. But the eyes, oy ve those eyes kill me.


I think these next two were taken the same week. Spring, 2006.



This one was on vacation that same summer. This my friends is EXACTLY what Morgan looked like at four years old. All attitude, all the time. Please notice the chopped up hair. I think this was the second time she did it and sadly the third and last time was way worse. In the undershirt she HAD to wear, just like her daddy. Her little belly all sticking out. She did that on purpose for years, we though it was the cutest thing. Then one day, she stopped.


Taken on a school field trip, early Fall, 2007. This was the first day I'd been out of the house, out of bed in about two months. I only went because she begged me too. That day, I changed. I decided to be better. To try harder. For her. To me, this is the most beautiful picture in the world.


These you have seen. I took the one of the girls a couple of weeks before Harrison was born. And my boy. These are my money shots of him. I look in his eyes and I see the world. I see the future, possibility, my heart.


Anyone want to join me? Let me know if you do and I'll like to you on this post. I'm all about adorable photos of kids.

100 things

I have about five posts swimming around in my head right now: a post about being thankful; a post about my tiny boy being two months old; a post about my love of pie and a post about how I nearly killed a Best Buy employee today. None of which will probably get written. The problem is time. This is Thanksgiving weekend people. I have a houseful of people. My house is full of laughter, games, Wii competitiveness, shrieking little girls and food. Loads of food. We are a bit overstocked on food. We made an extra turkey, because my husband won one. It's Friday though and I'm already tired of turkey. Next weekend my baby girl is going to be seven years old and I've only half planned her party. We won't even discuss Christmas, because I'm likely to cry if I think of how much I have to do.

Moving on...

I used to have a blog before this blog. A lot of you knew me then, some of you didn't. Maybe you know that I used to blog and maybe you don't. For those who had no idea, I blogged for about a year and a half. Then I disappeared for about eighteen months and now I'm at my 100th post. Again. I sort of wish I'd saved that post, but I didn't keep much. Mostly the things I kept were letters written to my girls.

I know it's tradition to write 100 things about yourself for your 100th post. Everyone does it, it's the new black or whatever. But I'm not sure I can come up with 100 choice items about myself. Unless I start talking about my love of sour jelly beans, which I doubt you want to hear about.

Basically I'm going to be a thief. Insta-Mom stole an idea from AnyMommy. The 10 x 10 post; 10 lists of 10 things. Really it's a great idea. I'm glad I read these lovely women, so I can steal all of their great ideas. So, here I go....10x10, 100 things about me.

10 things I am grateful for this Thanksgiving:
1. My son. I knew I'd love him as much as his sisters, I learned this the second time around. I knew he'd change our family forever in amazing ways. But I didn't know that I'd adore him as much as I do. That I'd want to stay home with him. For him.
2. My girls. They are amazing and creative and the sweetest little people.
3. My husband.
4. My family being able to come together and have a great time.
5. A drama free Thanksgiving.
6. That we had a table full of tasty ass food.
7. Our new president.
8. That we didn't have a blizzard this weekend, which would have made it hard for people to get here. (Of course I started writing this about four hours ago. We now have at least 6 inches already.)
9. My warm toasty house and my warm toasty sheets on my bed. (did I mention the snow?)
10. For all of you. For those of you who comment, those of you who don't and those of you who I consider true friends.

10 things about my children:
1. Harrison is a talker. He talks to us all day long. He also smiles and giggles. I've enclosed proof at the bottom of this post.
2. Harrison is in 3-6 month clothes already. There is a poll on how much he weighs. My guess is 14 pounds, 2 ounces. He is only two months and is heavier than either of the girls were at six months. He's a chunky Buddha baby.
3. Morgan steals my cell phone, goes in the closet and calls family. Just to talk.
4. She too is a talker. If she'd ask, I'd gladly give it to her to do this. But I find it funny that she steals it, calls and then returns it. I hear about it later.
5. Morgan loves complete darkness when she sleeps. Bailey loves three night lights when she sleeps.
6. They share a room.
7. Morgan's bed has sheets around it, like a tent in the jungle.
8. Bailey is the best Wii bowler in this house. That is sad, considering she is only four.
9. All three of my kids are the loves of my life.
10. Although all three of them seriously could be replaced with those sleeping in kids that you hear about and I'd be thrilled.

10 things you might not have known about me:
1. I have Strabismis, which is lazy eye, in both eyes. The docs are not sure why my eyes focus together at all. Right now, because I am so tired, I am only using the left one. I cannot wear contacts, they make me want to gouge my eyes out with chopsticks or sporks.
2. I hate shoes and socks, but I love to buy both shoes and socks.
3. I am a speed reader. Which is good, considering my attention span these days, is 2.5 posts.
4. I say I am a horrible cook, but I'm really not. I can follow any direction. My thing though, is I want to be able to cook by memory and just throw ingredients in. That too me is a true cook.
5. I am named after two great-grandmas.
6. I have a love of names. I would love to write a book about names. If I cold figure out how to do it, I'd come up with a way to name babies for people. Some people seriously could use help with this.
7. I love to people watch and make up stories about the people I see.
8. I spend hours of my day trying to eat the cheeks of my babies.
9. I am scared to fly, although I will do it. But I'd rather drive two days, with my children, than get on a plane.
10. I cheat at Monopoly, but I've never cheated on anything else in my life.

My 10, all time favorite movies: (These are not in order. I'd be hard pressed to do that.)
1. Mary Poppins
2. While You Were Sleeping
3. The Grinch (Not the Jim Carey one.)
4. Willy Wonka
5. Beetle Juice
6. Michael
7. Indian Summer
8. Ocean's Eleven
9. 13 Going on 30
10. Empire Records

10 things that occupy my time, besides my chillins and my man:
1. Um hai, blogging
2. Twitter
3. Checking my email
4. Chatting with Kim
5. Reading
6. Photographing my children
7. Sudoku
8. Watching NCIS
9. Going through, sorting, scanning old photos
10. Trying to figure out what the hell I'm doing with my life

10 things that made me fall for said man:
1. His smile
2. His ass (he made me say that)
3. His love and sweetness with his baby sister
4. The way he could crack the whole room up with a well timed joke
5. The fact that he thought before he spoke, so he was generally very thoughtful
6. His kindness and giving nature
7. The care and time he spent on his mother, grandmother and family
8. The fact that I could beat him at air hockey
9. That he was better than me at everything except air hockey and surfing
10. That he never cared that I was better than him at air hockey and surfing

10 places I want to see/do before I die:
1. Sydney, Australia
2. Walk the Golden Gate Bridge
3. Spend two weeks on a house boat in Lake Mead
4. Spend a month in a Tuscan Villa
5. Go to Greece with my mom
6. Spend a month on an island with just my husband
7. Go to the Summer Olympics
8. China
9. Ski in Switzerland
10. Find out where my dad's family was from in Poland and travel there.

The 10 songs that I am currently playing over and over again:
1. Days Like This by Van Morrison
2. Have a Little Faith in Me by John Hiatt
3. Where I'm From by John Michael Carroll
4. Lost by Michael Buble
5. Already Gone by Sugarland
6. It Won't be Like This For Long by Darius Rucker
7. Roll With Me by Montgomery Gentry
8. Piano Man by Billy Joel
9. Stay Down by Mary J. Blige
10. Here by Derek Sholl

My 10 favorite books off all time:
1. A Wrinkle in Time
2. All Harry Potter books
3. Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood
4. Fried Green Tomatoes
5. In the Time of the Butterflies
6. Their Eyes Were Watching God
7. Twelfth Night
8. To Kill a Mockingbird
9. The Lorax
10. The Giver

10 ways that I am probably a parenting oxymoron:
1. All three of my children were (are) only bottle fed. But I find breastfeeding to be a beautiful thing.
2. I swore no child of mine would ever sleep in my bed. Neither of the girls ever did. Harrison has since day one.
3. In LA I was prepared (and was) to spend a butt load of money on a fabulous private school. I thought it was so important. Here, my girls go to the "Hippie" public choice school. The programs? Not so different really.
4. I buy organic meat, dairy and veggies. But we have Oreo's, Cheetos and Fruit Roll-Ups in the panrty and my kids know the menu at way too many restaurants.
5. I want the kids to understand the meaning behind Christmas. We donate time, money and food. We pick kids off the Target tree and shop for them; we give to homeless people and we give our old clothes. However, there will be a ton of gifts for the kids.
6. I encourage them believing in the tooth fairy, magic and Santa Clause; but Santa only brings one or two small gifts. Mostly because I don't want that fat man too take away my glory.
7. I think education is a key. I am saving for college for each of my kids. But I went to college and I know the skills I've used in my career did not come from my education. They came from the college of life. If my kids choose not to go to college, I will support them in this choice. They will have to support themselves...but I'll be okay with their choice.
8. We use homeopathy, relaxation techniques and therapy with Morgan for her ADHD. I will medicate her, when and if it seems like the right thing too do, without a second thought.
9. I won't buy toys very often. In a bookstore, all bets are off. We have bookshelves throughout this house. They know I'm a sucker when it comes to books.
10. We limit sugar, TV, Wii time and encourage playing outside and sports. When they are being pains though, I hand them some candy and send them to watch some TV.

But hey, I think they'll be okay anyway.

See, my baby smiles: Harrison Thomas, two months and a couple of days old.


I hope you guys had a great Thanksgiving.