Single Mom REVEALED

Phone Pix Part Deux

2011-05-30T10:21:00.000-05:00

Phone Pix

2011-05-26T22:26:00.001-05:00

Since my good camera is in China, I have to make do with my cell phone. Because we all know I can't go 12 days without taking pictures of the baby...

Wyatt is being a protective big brother.

Mycah recommends bicycle kicks to stay fit.

Exhausted after her morning workout on the baby gym.

Does this dress make my head look big?

Hello, my name is Mycah, and I'm a binky addict.

First night in her crib.

A little screen time with the bro.

If those things were hanging over my head, I'd make that face, too.

And last but not least...

Tanner and Johnny wanted to be burritoed, too. :)

5 Weeks and counting...

2011-05-25T09:18:00.003-05:00

Yes, it's true. I've been at home for 5 weeks now and have only posted...once? twice? It's not that I don't have time. I'm home all day - I can't play that card. It's that nothing zaps your creativity like a newborn. A few times I've thought: "THIS would make a funny blog post." but to actually spend the energy to compose it didn't seem worth the time and effort.

Mycah has been a great baby - I've been able to get so much done during this time. The basement and garage are on their way to being organized. I still can't get the cars in the garage but we can walk through it without danger of losing an appendage or a child. It's progress.

I've kept the house clean and laundry done - a feat for which I feel a huge sense of accomplishment. Do you have any idea how much laundry 5 people accumulate?! I'm realizing that we have way too many clothes. I shouldn't be folding six large loads of laundry and still see overflowing hampers in all the bedrooms. At any given time, the washer or dryer (or both) is running, and there are multiple full baskets dotting my bedroom. Not the decor I had in mind for the room that is meant to be a haven to rest my weary head. Staring at endless piles of clothes is so not restful.

I haven't done so well on meal preparation. When the frozen casseroles and meals-for-moms ran out around week 3, I wanted to cry (I think maybe I did). I hate cooking, and I hate it even more when I'm tired. The problem is, I have chosen a dietarily high-maintenance man, who likes (and needs) his healthy, well-balanced food. Thankfully, he is quite capable in the kitchen but I'm not gonna lie: I haven't cooked one single time since he's been in China (for the past week), and it's been wonderful. Frozen and boxed meals are my friends.

I've become a scrapbooker. I couldn't find a baby book that I liked, so I decided to make my own. As luck would have it, scrapbooking paraphenalia was 60% off at JoAnn's recently, and I stocked up. I haven't scrapbooked since Tanner was a baby, and it's kinda fun. But it also takes me FOREVER, so I don't see this as a lasting hobby. But for now, it's something to do in between loads of laundry and feedings, and while watching crappy daytime TV.

One thing I haven't done is nap. Whoever said "sleep while the baby's sleeping" obviously didn't have a family or a home. If I slept when the baby was sleeping, we'd be living in squalor and going naked and hungry. It's just not gonna happen. The few times I've laid down for a nap, I've eventually given up with a sigh of resignation, and headed to the coffeepot. I also can't seem to get to bed early. I'd like to, but it never happens. The result is that I've discovered that I can function on 5 to 6 hours of sleep and not completely fall apart. At least for now. I think going back to work is going to kick my butt if I keep that schedule.

Going back to work. Ick. I have loved being at home in Blissful Babydom. Yeah, the 3 hour feeding routine gets a bit tedious sometimes, and yeah, a 5 week old isn't exactly a stimulating conversationalist, but I could so do this for awhile and be perfectly content. I can't imagine keeping up on all the bloody laundry, and making/cleaning up dinner, and keeping the house clean, and meeting the baby's needs, and being present to my boys and my fiancee when I have to spend 9 hours a day in a stupid office. People do it so I guess it's possible. We'll see.

So there you have it - 5 weeks in a nutshell, minus the gooey, gushing stories of how amazingly beautiful my baby is. She is perfection. What an incredibly blessed person I am - I just can't believe it. I can't believe that Jason and Jayden and Tanner and Mycah are mine. I can't believe this is my life.

But it is. Wow.

One Year

2011-05-14T00:09:00.001-05:00

When my neighbors invited me up for dinner one Thursday last May, I had no idea it was a set up. They said another friend was coming over, too. A nice guy they thought I would like. Somehow, I didn't connect the dots that they meant like and not just...like.

It wasn't until he showed up with a bottle of wine and acted extremely, umm...nervous...that I realized this was more than a casual dinner affair. Once it dawned on me that I was being set up, I groaned internally and prepared myself for an awkward evening of making nice. I plotted my early exit while I made polite small talk and gulped wine.

I'd like to say that Jason wooed me from the beginning, and that night was the start of our beautiful life together, but it wasn't. He was nice, and he was cute. He played on an adult soccer team that I was really interested in joining. Other than that, sparks failed to fly.

But the next week, there he was, knocking on my door and asking me out to dinner with him and the neighbors. Not taking no for an answer. I went, because dinner out with adults sounded like fun, but thinking it could get weird when I had to tell him I wasn't interested. We went to Outback Steakhouse, and the waiter came to take our drink order.

He ordered a gin and tonic. He had my attention.

As we talked, we began to uncover a lot of commonalities (not related to cocktail preferences), and I began to give the guy a closer look. He broke so many of my dating rules. In fact, I think he broke all of them, and yet....after that dinner I began to wonder about this man.

He showed up again the next week, and this time he came bearing gifts. He brought tiki torches for my patio, with a million dollar line that hooked me: "No need to thank me. I consider these an investment in my future." Ha! Little did he know...

We spent our summer nights talking for hours by the light of those tiki torches. It wasn't long before I was a smitten kitten, and no one was more surprised by that than me (except maybe him). Neither one of us was looking, and neither of us expected the other to be The One. And yet, here we are, one year later...

There's a song by The Script out now that is a perfect melody for our relationship. After our eventful first year together, it often feels to me like Jason and I have been together for much longer than we actually have. Has it really only been one year?! We've packed a lot of life-altering changes into a very short time, and this song is spot on for our relationship: For the First Time.

What a crazy, surprising year we've had. Here's to many more, hopefully less eventful, years to come.

And they keep on coming...(Kidisms - Part 256)

2011-05-04T09:33:00.001-05:00

"God, please help me not to drop Mycah on her soft spot so that she becomes handicapped."

"Mom, I know you're not pregnant anymore, but you're still kinda...."
Kinda what?!
"Big."

Tanner, will you sweep out the garage for me?
"Nah. You need to slim, Mom. It can be your exercise." Jerk.

"Mom, are you going to go to Jason's soccer game?"
No, not tonight.
"But Mom! You should! It'll be good practice for becoming a wife!"

Two Weeks

2011-05-04T09:04:00.002-05:00

Life is settling into some sort of rhythm now that the New Baby Whirlwind has passed. I go through my day (and night) in 3 hour cycles...and it's amazing how time just melts away. Days disappear before I know it, and I wonder how many hours I've spent just watching Mycah's sweet face contort into all kinds of hilarious grimaces and grins, or sleeping so peacefully in my arms.

I'm healing. I'd forgotten about the discomfort that ensues after childbirth. But it's manageable, with a steady diet of Colace and Tylenol 3, and the occasional glass of wine. I'm not as exhausted as I expected to be. I thank my gall bladder for that. My body had adjusted to sleepless nights long before the arrival of the baby. I'm sleeping more now than I did for the last 3 months, thanks to my snoozin' Tulip!

She is an eating, sleeping, pooping rockstar. You could set your watch by the schedule she's got herself on, and as long as her basic needs are met, she's charming and adorable and QUIET. We have yet to experience a really grueling screaming fit, and while I know it's inevitable, I'm so grateful that for now, she's been completely consolable with boobs and clean diapers. That's my girl.

She's still so tiny - at last check she was 5lbs, 14oz. We're working on that, but while she's barfing up at least half of what goes in, it may be awhile before I can get some meat on her bones. I will say that my new perfume, Eau de Regurgitaire, is not the nicest smelling stuff in the world. I might have trouble marketing it. The Scent of Motherhood. Ew.

We were told to keep her inside for the first two weeks and limit visitors...um yeah. That didn't happen. There has been a steady stream of friends and family in to visit - so many that we briefly considered charging admission. And I'm just not one to stay inside 24-7. I can't do it. At 4 days old, she was cheering for Tanner at his soccer game. At 5 days, she was dressed to impress at church for Easter, and then egg hunted with her brothers. She's also been shopping with Grandma and me and lasted 5 hours and as many stores. (Not sure if that's a good or bad sign....) She visited Daddy at his office and went to Open House for Tanner and the Spring Program for Jayden. She's a girl on the go, and she handles it wonderfully!

Of course, my tiny princess just HAD to see the Royal Wedding! She had her first Girls Night Out at 9 days old when we had a sleepover at my aunt's house for The Event of the Season. She was as unimpressed with the first kiss as I was, but she loved Kate's dress.

So has been our first two weeks together - happy, busy, and alarmingly fast. If only I could hit the pause button...

As promised...

2011-05-01T22:21:00.000-05:00

It was a dark and stormy night....

Not really. It was another busy Monday at the office. Busy, knowing that that day could be my last day for 8 weeks, if the full moon did her thing. I was feeling lousy, but who doesn't feel lousy in their ninth month of pregnancy? I didn't think much of it. I just tried to focus on work and not on nursery paint colors. It was a struggle.

Around 3, I realized that it had been awhile since I'd felt the baby move. She did not do her usual gymnastics practice after lunch, and as I thought back through the day, I began to wonder if I'd felt her move at all. My heart raced as I frantically tried to remember feeling my somersaulting baby, and I couldn't...

Shakily, I called my doctor's office. "I'm sure I'm being paranoid, but I don't think I've felt the baby move today. I can't remember, and I just now noticed." (Mommy Guilt begins early.) Of course, they told me to come in right away to get on the monitor and check things out. I quickly told my supervisor where I was headed, grabbed my purse and bolted for my car, terrified that the baby's life was in danger and I hadn't noticed.

Once in the car, I called Jason to tell him what was going on. He offered to meet me at the doctor, but I told him to wait. I'd call if there was an issue. And so I drove, trying to breathe and convince myself that it was nothing. As I drove, I felt a little something...

I should've gone to the bathroom before I left, I thought. This is just great. Now I've peed on myself. And then...another something, not so little this time. Hmmmm...

I called Jason again. I told him he might want to call his mom to make sure she's available to pick up the boys, because either I've completely lost all bladder control, or my water was leaking. Both equally possible at this point. His response? "Ewwww!!!" Yeah, try sitting where I am, buddy.

I arrived at my doctor's office building and headed for the public restroom, still thinking that I'd peed on myself. All the stalls were full, as luck would have it, and so I waited. As I stood there, a stream of water began pouring down my legs. There's no way that was pee.

Only a very small percentage of women have their water break on its own. Mine has broken twice now, and both times it was a big, dramatic gush.

This time, the gush came as I walking in the door of my doctor's waiting room. I looked like someone had just thrown a bucket a water at my crotch. My jeans were completely and visibly soaked. I waddled to the check-in desk, where they were expecting me.

"Just a minute, Erin, and we'll get you back to get on the monitor."

"Okay. But also, my water just broke."

The look on the nurse was priceless. Her head snapped up from her computer screen and she looked at me in disbelief.

"What?"

"My water just broke. As I was walking in here. I'm soaked."

"Like, right now? Are you sure?"

"Well, it's either that or I just peed A LOT."

"Um, okay, welll....hang on a second." She went running down the hall to find my midwife and let her know there was a gusher in the waiting room. The other nursing staff was cracking up, still not really believing that my water had just broken.

She opened the door to take me back, and saw my jeans for the first time.

"Oh!" she exclaimed.

"I told you!" I said. "There's no way that's all pee."

And it wasn't. I sat on the monitor (the baby was fine - just packing up and heading out) and gushed water while my midwife checked me and confirmed that I was in labor. The hospital is next door to the office, and they sent me over. I sat in my car in the parking lot making all the necessary calls and texts while I tried in vain to dry out my pants before walking through the hospital. It was 5pm. Jason left the office and went home for our bags, which were packed and ready.

We got checked in and settled in our delivery room. We strolled the halls of labor and delivery to get my contractions going, and nothing happened. After awhile, people started arriving to be there for the birth - first my mom and then my sister....our cell phones were exploding with good luck texts and requests for status updates. Hours passed, and still...NOTHING.

Jason and I tried to sleep. He did. I couldn't - I was too edgy waiting for something to happen. At 4am, 12 hours after my water broke, they started pitocin to induce labor. I had hoped to avoid that, but after 12 hours of only mild contractions, I was frustrated and anxious to see my baby.

Pitocin SUCKS. I went from no labor to hard labor with nothing in between to prepare my body. Suddenly, contractions started coming hard and fast, and my body felt like it was being split in half. The jovial mood disappeared as I fought tears and the urge to scream nasty things at anyone and everyone. However, modern medicine is amazing, because just when I thought I couldn't handle another contraction, the Epidural Man showed up, and I'm pretty sure he was wearing a halo.

Shortly thereafter, I was numb and tingly and exhausted. It was around 9am. After a brief scare when the baby's heart rate dropped, I was put on oxygen and told to rest because in a couple of hours, it would be time to work. I complied, and fell fast asleep.

I woke up a couple of hours later. When the nurse came in to check on things, I told her I was feeling some pressure, and she might want to check and see where I was. She lifted the blanket to prepare to check my progress, and said:

"Oh my gosh, we need to call you midwife RIGHT NOW."

Apparently, once the baby had decided to come, she didn't bother to wake me. Her head was visible and I hadn't even pushed yet. Immediately, my room was filled with nurses, and chaos reigned while they quickly prepped the room for delivery. My midwife arrived within minutes and we were ready to go. Except for one thing....where was Jason????

At the last minute, we decided we wanted my sister to be there for the birth, and we asked her to take pictures for us. He went down the hall to the waiting room to get her and bring her back into the room. My midwife was ready to give him the plan of attack, and he was no where to be found. But they both showed up just in time, and he rolled up his sleeves. He'd asked to be the one to "catch" the baby, and so they told him what to do. I wasn't sure he'd be able to do it - I thought he'd get woozy, but he didn't. 15 minutes and a few pushes later, he delivered his daughter and I had my new baby girl on my chest.

Everyone wanted to know her name, since it had been such a huge secret. I could hardly spit it out.

"Her name is Mycah Naomi," I said softly as I looked into her precious, squished up face. She was perfect.

She's here!

2011-04-24T00:04:00.000-05:00

The full moon did her thing - I was in labor mere hours after my last post. I'm going to write the whole story sometime soon, but until then....

Kidisms x 2

2011-04-18T10:13:00.002-05:00

Double the kids, double the unforgettable quotes!

Tanner: "I'm starving!"
Jason: "How can you be starving, we just had dinner an hour ago?!"
T: "Yeah, but I went poop since then!"

Jayden [riding bikes at the skate park]:
"I can pretty much do anything on this baby. I'm awesome."

Me: "Jayden, what do you want to be when you grow up?"
Jayden: "I know, but I'm not telling you!"
Me: "Why not?"
Jayden, shrugging: "That's just how I work!"

Tanner, during prayers:
"...and God, take good care of Jesus..."
another time...
"God, thanks for working so well with Jesus to get things done."

Jayden, during prayers:
"....and take away that bad stuff my dad spit out the car window today, so he feels better."

C'mon, Full Moon!

2011-04-18T10:03:00.002-05:00

There's a full moon tonight. I'm counting on it to light a fire under Baby Girl and entice her to head on out. (Pun intended).

I feel like I'm finally ready, or as ready as I'll ever be. My house isn't clean enough, but I'm realizing that it's a lost cause. Work stuff is about as buttoned up as I can get it. The nursery, although not totally decorated - is totally functional which is the most important thing. The final peice, an awesome glider/rocker from Jason's parents, really makes it look like a nursery. The boys seem ready and excited to meet their baby sister. Jayden wants to name her Tulip, and Tanner just wants his normal Mom back - the one who has the energy to play with him and not be tired and cranky all the time. Jason seems as ready as he'll ever be, and is diligently plowing through our endless to-do lists as time allows.

The bags are packed, the name is chosen. My maternity shirts barely cover me anymore. I can't walk without the attractive 9 month waddle. I can't run an errand without having to take a potty break. It's time.

I have spent a lot of time thinking about what clothes to take to the hospital, and have ended up with a week's worth for a 24-48 hour period. You just never know! I found a maternity/nursing nightgown that doesn't make me look like an 80 year old woman for only $3. Oh, it's still heinous, but it'll be better than a hospital gown and it will be in the trash before we leave the hospital. Jason asked me why I had to buy a nightgown, because I was complaining about the selection so much. Why couldn't I just wear some of my pajama pants? Um, you can't have a baby wearing pants, honey. Maybe we should've taken those birthing classes...

I did prep him with the best authority on childbirth that I know of - Bill Cosby. I made him watch the childbirth sketch from Bill Cosby Himself, so I think he's good to go. :) Push it out, shove it out, waaaayyyy out!

Yes.

2011-04-12T14:07:00.009-05:00

Of course it was assumed that Jason and I would eventually get married. We're having a baby together, and we've spent the past several months blending our lives and families. But that assumption, that certainty, doesn't make the question "Will you marry me?" any less heart stopping than it is for anyone else. I am 32 years old, and I've never been engaged. I've waited a long time for the moment when the man I love drops to his knee and slips a ring on my finger.

We knew we wanted to get married [to each other], but since our established timeline for our lives was obliterated months ago, we really didn't have a specific vision about when it would happen. We talked about it some, looked at rings, and then focused on the more immediate major life event - the birth of our child. Wedding talk was, for the most part, stashed away to be addressed some other time. Some other time when we weren't up to our eyeballs in family blending and pregnancy.

So on Saturday, when I turned around to find Jason on his knee with a little box in his hand, I couldn't have been more caught off guard. It was unexpected and perfect for me, just like he is.

We started off the day with Tanner's soccer game. It was beautiful - warm and sunny - and they played a great game. Afterwards, Tanner went over to a friend's house to play, and because Jayden was visiting his mom, we found ourselves looking at a full Saturday afternoon where we could just be together. Just us.

Since both of us are practical, we chose to spend the day running errands and checking things off of our to-do list. All afternoon we went from one place to another. It's amazing how pleasant errand-running can be when you're in great company.

We got home late afternoon and were sitting on the floor in the baby's room, enjoying our last few minutes together before we had to pick up Tanner and had friends arriving for dinner. I got up to put something away in the closet. When I turned around, Jason was there behind me, on his knee and visibly shaking.

"Today was a perfect day," he said. "And exactly what I want the rest of my life to be like. Will you marry me?"

There was no drama, no big scene, nothing to mark the moment other than my complete and utter certainty that my dreams were coming true, after so many years of patiently waiting. The scene, our baby's room, was the ideal setting for his proposal. His sincerity, his nervousness, the love in his eyes....It was exactly what I have always wanted.

Of course I said yes. Because it was a perfect day, on the heels of a not-so-perfect week, which made me see that we have already weathered some serious storms together, and when they pass I feel closer and more in love with him than I was before. When you feel that thing with someone, you don't let it go. The storms do pass. We have coped with a lot in our first year together - the kind of stuff that could've easily split us up. But it didn't. Instead we've been brought closer together, and that's why I said yes. Not because of the baby. Not because of the house or the security or cards we were dealt. I said yes because after this year and all we've had thrown at us, I feel like we can take on the world together. I feel like there is not another person in this world I want on my team. For the rest of my life.

Planning for Childbirth

2011-03-28T16:31:00.001-05:00

As I inch, and I do mean inch, toward my due date, I find myself thinking more and more about labor. Specifically, the part where the baby inevitably comes out.

Oh.

I've done this before obviously, and I'm trying to decide which is worse - knowing what to expect, or not knowing? When Tanner was born I was clueless, but my labor and delivery with him was easy - relatively speaking. Thanks to modern medicine, I slept through the better part of that miraculous experience (after barfing on my labor coach), choosing to take other people at their word that it is indeed miraculous. I wasn't interested in miracles. I just wanted anesthesia.

That position hasn't changed - I am still jonesin' for those drugs. But I am thinking that this time I might try to labor a bit past the 4cm mark which is where I was with Tanner when I started demanding to be taken OUT of the equation. I'd felt more than enough labor by that point to be satisfied. I could easily make up the rest of the horror story to guilt trip my son later in life. He doesn't need to know that I slept peacefully until an hour before his grand entrance into this world.

There are a lot of decisions to make regarding labor - a Birth Plan, they call it. Which is funny to me because the word plan denotes an ability to anticipate a set of events and organize or map out yourself and others accordingly - which is so not childbirth. At least not the kind that happens naturally. You don't know when, or how, or for how long. You don't know squat, actually, other than the basic principle of childbirth which is: what goes in, must come out. Somehow.

So my Birth Plan looks like this: Have a baby. Preferably in a hospital.Take her home.

I have no idea if I'm going to want to walk around, or take a bath, or sit on a birthing ball. I don't know if I will want to listen to the awesome playlist I'm creating for my ipod, or watch Anthony Bourdain feast on things previously believed to be inedible, or make small talk with nurses about my summer vacation plans and what sports my boys play. I can't plan for this! There are just too many unknowns.

But I do know one thing. I do NOT want my birthing experience to look like this one:

Losing Steam

2011-03-23T15:47:00.001-05:00

I know that everyone gets tired of being pregnant at the end. Everyone gets uncomfortable. Everyone just wants the baby out and in their arms. But I feel like I'm starting to go a little bit crazy. I don't think I can endure relentless stomach pain 24-7 for another month. It's getting worse, and I don't know if that's because I have the regular 9th month discomfort on top of the stomach pain, or if it's actually getting worse. I can't even tell - all I know is it hurts so bad that I have a hard time thinking about anything else. Ever.

I'm tired of powering through it. I'm tired of the "I'm okay" front. I'm tired of constantly being afraid of what's going into my mouth, and what it will do to me. I'm tired of waking up 10 times a night with stabbing pain that I can do nothing about. I'm tired of feeling like making dinner or doing a load of laundry or playing with the boys might just make me fall apart because I am so physically and mentally exhausted from hurting all day long and trying to work in spite of it.

I'm just so done.

I just wish there was a way to take the gall bladder out and keep the baby in. But since there's not, I want the baby out. Now. It has very little to do with being anxious for her to be here. I'm excited to see her, but I want her to cook as long as possible, and we're not ready for her yet. There's work and showers and shopping and organization to be done. If she came now the timing would mess up our summer plans. But I have to have some relief, and there's simply none to be had. I have no choice but to deal with this, and I've been trying to do it as gracefully as possible, with as little complaining as possible, but I'm losing steam. I don't know if I can handle 4 more weeks without becoming some crazed woman with wild eyes and a raging temper.

It's getting ugly in Pregnancy Land. Might want to steer clear for awhile, until I can have some real food without writhing in pain as it digests, and sleep without being sharply awakened every half hour of the night.

It's all good.

2011-03-21T10:02:00.002-05:00

We've been stressing. A lot. We have properties - yes, plural - that need to get rented out pronto. We're having a baby. We have boys that are learning to live together. We have precarious job situations and lots of uncertainties in our future. We're utterly exhausted.

Life is stressful.

I needed a good day. Bad.

Lately, I've gotten several of them. Thank you, God.

I'm now in possession of a beautiful new camera. I can hardly wait to post some pics!

I have gotten two calls from people interested in renting my condo on a two year lease, and one willing pay more to do month-to-month! If any of those work out, it will be a huge load off of us. All three showings are this week - keep your fingers crossed!

We got to hear Baby's healthy heartbeat last week - always an awesome thing. And we've decided on a name. She's going to be Baby. No last name - just Baby. Catchy, no? Very Dirty Dancing.

I've only gained 9 pounds so far. Yeah, it's because food tears me apart, and I'd gladly trade a few pounds to not have this issue, but still. It's nice to hear those not-so-scary-high numbers.

I had a lovely baby shower yesterday, and was abundantly showered with gifts. Among them, a car seat so Baby can actually come home with us (Thanks, Mamie!) and our entire nursery set (Thanks, Mom and Alsin ladies!).

Jayden returned from his Spring Break in Indiana, and it was awesome to see his little face at the breakfast table this morning. It was a quiet week without that little tornado tearing through the house.

So I'm refreshed. I'm ready to tackle the next round of pre-baby tasks. It's going to be a whirlwind 4 weeks, I have no doubt. The home stretch always is.

The Leprechaun Trap

2011-03-10T10:12:00.002-06:00

Tanner had an assignment this week to build a Leprechaun Trap. He was very excited about it, and I was very excited that I had Jason to help him do it. My Leprechaun Trap would've been pretty and festive - think green glitter, die cut shamrocks, and pipe cleaner. Jason's was black.

And it wasn't actually Jason's trap, it was very much Tanner's. A great thing about Jason is that his patience on projects of this sort is infinite. They spent an HOUR sitting at the kitchen table, planning the trap and drawing out a plan. He talked Tanner through his ideas, leading him to draw his own conclusions about what would work and what wouldn't. I was amazed. I would've said: "Let's do it this way!" And Tanner would've said: "Okay!" 5 minutes - done. But he wouldn't have gotten to go through the process of planning his design and then creating it...and he LOVED that.

Then they began to construct the thing. And 2.5 hours later, they had the finished product. 2.5 hours!! For a Leprechaun Trap! Jason's dad even joined in on the fun, and the 3 of them happily nerded out in the garage, plotting to catch a Leprechaun. I happily sat in a chair with a book and counted my blessings to be off the hook for this deal.

It is trapezoid shaped - get it? TRAPezoid? It's all black because, of course, you only trap Leprechauns at night and you don't want them to see that it's trap. The bait is a shiny silver bolt, because Leprechauns really like shiny things.

It's a pretty impressive little creation for a 2nd grade class project. And you know what the best part is? Jason has earned the privilege of overseeing ALL classroom projects from this day forth. I'm out.

A Gift

2011-03-09T14:33:00.001-06:00

An amazing thing has happened to me.

Most of my regular readers will remember The Great Camera Mishap, where my brand new (one week old), two thousand dollar camera went for a swim in a cooler full of water last May, rendering it completely and utterly ruined. I hadn't insured it yet, so it was a total loss.

I had used tax refund money to buy it - a pretty uncharacteristic move. I usually buy something fun with refund money, but most of it typically goes to catch up on bills or take care of necessities like contacts and dental work. Last year, though, I pretty much blew the entire thing on that camera, for one week of photographic bliss.

After that, I lost my Photography Mojo. I ended up selling the other camera I had and for several months now have been totally cameraless. It's sucked. I've felt like I've been missing an arm or a leg, and when I think of all the experiences that have not been captured....Ugh.

I had hoped to replace the camera I dunked with this year's tax refund, but life had other plans. There was just no room for the purchase of [another] $2K camera. But I couldn't bare the thought of being camera-less when the baby arrives, so last week Jason and I bought a cheap little point 'n shoot. Better than nothing, right? Of course. And I was content with that, waiting anxiously for it to arrive in the mail.

Yesterday I received an email. The email was from a friend that I've never actually met in person. She's a member of the online community I participate in for Single Working Mothers. I've been part of this group for 2 or 3 years now, and the women on there have become very good friends in spite of the fact that we've never met in person (some of them have!). They are from all over the country, and we even have a lovely Scot! Their stories vary widely, but we all have at least one thing in common, and that is that we are single moms, working our tooshes off to support our kids. We commiserate, support, encourage, and entertain each other - we have grown very close as we share the hardships and victories of our lives with each other.

The email from my friend had me in tears by the second paragraph:

We love you and we love your photography - we couldnt bare knowing that you wouldnt be able to take beautiful pictures of your baby. The SWMU ladies have come together - and we bought you a camera.

They bought me a camera. A very good camera. These ladies who struggle to make ends meet, and who have their own desires and needs to spend their money on, all contributed to buy ME a camera. I sat at my desk at work and bawled, completely overwhelmed by the kindness and generosity of these online friends of mine.

So very soon, I will have camera in hand again, and I am beside myself with excitement. I'm already thinking about posing Baby Girl for her first portrait session, and relieved to be able to capture my newly formed family in our early days of blending. Perhaps I will even be able to revive my portrait photography business...the thought makes me giddy.

Part of me is embarrassed that an object can mean so much to me. But really, it's not the object - it's the preservation of memories and the capturing of moments that I consider so invaluable. It's also an expression of how I feel about people - using the camera to make everyday moments beautiful. And now, every time I use that camera I will be reminded of those mamas who mean so much to me, who were so extravagant in showing me how much I mean to them. Each click of the shutter will humble me and motivate me to pay it forward in any way I can. To be the recipient of such generosity is inspiring.

The Maternity Shoot

2011-03-07T10:27:00.001-06:00

I have always thought belly pics were a little cheesy, but I have to admit, I kinda like these despite the fact that horizontal stripes were an unwise wardrobe choice. So what if they're cheesy - I know I'll be happy to have them someday.

Thanks to Kelly Downs Photography for capturing my curves!

Farewell, Cute Boots!

2011-03-03T10:03:00.000-06:00

I've been secretly quite pleased with myself that I've been wearing my tall, cute, heeled boots this far into my pregnancy. Just because I'm pregnant doesn't mean I have to be frumpy, right? So I've powered through wearing tights and cute shoes - in spite of the increasing discomfort.

But as I was standing in the kitchen preparing food the other night, my right cheek began to clinch - quite involuntarily. And then I felt pain shooting down my leg, and before I knew it, I was doubled over, kneading my toosh in a full-on muscle spasm.

Jason helped me to the couch, where I laid half laughing, half moaning, and let the spasm subside. But as soon as it did, I felt the arch of my foot sharply contract in a Charlie Horse from Hell. Then, before we'd gotten that one taken care of, my other foot did the same thing! By that time we were cracking up even as I was writhing in pain, and I realized something.

It's time for Third Trimester Shoes.

Luckily, I went shopping the week before, in anticipation of this moment. I bought some flat, supportive, cushiony little Mary Janes to replace my favorite 3 inch heels. They're cute and relatively in style, so I feel okay about this. I'm going to miss my boots, though, and those 3 inches they give me. Now there's no masking the fact that I am short, with a circumference equal to a large beach ball.

The Fine Art of Blending

2011-02-26T22:37:00.000-06:00

I have spent the past several years defining myself. Who am I, and who do I want to be? What do I want, what do I need, what do I strive for... I have, over time, addressed all of these questions and found some sort of answer to them. I have embraced my single parenthood and worked hard to feel mostly happy and content with the circumstances of my life, and with myself. During that process, I became fiercely protective of my independence, my "me" time, and of the things that make me who I am. I created a life that worked for well for us. It was comfortable in that our little twosome could do whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted. It was smooth in that it was predictable and without major challenges.

Things have changed. Drastically.

It's not just me anymore. There's a man who wants to share his life with me. Keyword: share. It's not MY life, or HIS life....it's OUR life. And I love the sound of that. I love the idea of it. It's what I wanted more than anything. But I'm going to be completely honest and tell you, I don't love the implementation of going from Mine to Ours.

I'm not talking about deciding who has the highest quality bath towels, or whose brand of toothpaste is the best, although those have been recent discussions. I'm not even referring to those quirky little habits you discover in a person when you live with them (He saves every single Ziploc bag for reuse. Every. Single. One.) I'm talking about the elephants in the room - the ones that effect our daily lives and our family values.

Each compromise feels like I'm giving away peices of myself that make me the person I am, the parent I am. I have never co-parented. I have never co-habited. Hell, I've never co- anything! I don't do co-. I do ME. And I especially don't do co- when it comes to my son. I want to, I do, but that means completely re-programming myself. That means unleanring 8 years of single parenting survival skills that I've clung to for sanity and success. It means giving up a lot.

Right now, we are at a point where it's necessary to discuss and plan and negotiate everything, because if we don't a volcano of misunderstood expectations erupts. Our kids get mixed messages. We get defensive. Gray areas become a hot zone of conflict. It gets ugly fast.

So we are each giving a little here and a lot there, and we're starting to develop some standards that we both can live with. The good news is that most of the time, we share a common goal. The tricky part is that we have dramatically different ideas of how to reach those goals.

It's hard. It's emotional. It's exhausting.

But the reward is something really amazing. More and more, we have experiences where it's effortless to feel like a family. We have long periods where it feels like we started from scratch and have been together for years. The His and Mine lines are so faded sometimes that you can hardly see them. It's easy, and it feels right. To have those experiences just a couple of months into this journey is energizing. Those moments keep me negotiating, compromising, and learning to share. They convince me to try again to re-program, because the end result is that my family becomes a family. My peiced together, baggage-laden family that I wouldn't trade for the world will somehow find a way to be a cohesive unit who love each other in spite of where we came from and how we got to where we are. That is my hope, and two months into this mess, I really believe it's possible. I've seen glimpses.

Bump Evolution

2011-02-18T11:46:00.001-06:00

Gotta love the self-taken camera phone mirror reflection baby bump shots! I'm planning to have a real maternity photo shoot in a couple of weeks - hopefully those will turn out. I avoided cameras like the plague when I was pregnant with Tanner, and later regretted not getting over my body image angst to capture the experience. So, this time around, there is photographic evidence of my baby growing process.

Attack of the Killer Baby

2011-02-11T13:48:00.003-06:00

I was going to title this post "Attack of the Killer Gall Bladder" but a call from my doctor today renders that one inaccurate. Apparently, my gall bladder is not the culprit behind the past two weeks of relentless pain, as we all suspected. Which means that now I'm placing blame on this sweet, innocent, not fully developed baby daughter of mine. She is not starting out on my good side.

For the past few weeks, I've felt pretty awful. Some of that was the flu. Some was fatigue. Some was frustration and stress. And some was this uncomfortable, and sometimes rather sharp pain in my abdomen. I chalked it up to having no waist, and therefore not much room to house a baby. I assumed my internal organs were protesting their new roommate. I toughed it out.

But by last week, it really hurt, and I feel like I have a pretty high tolerance for pain. I fancy myself a badass, you might say. I'm definitely not a wuss, or a hypochondriac. If I'm complaining of pain, something hurts. So I mentioned it to my midwife, who immediately said "gall bladder." I was told to watch what I eat, stay away from fat, and was sent on my way.

But the pain got progressively worse, and I found that there was less and less I could eat that didn't end up shredding my insides. Eventually, I called the doc again, and they ordered a sonogram on my gall bladder. While I waited for the results, I did some research and pretty much assumed I had a gall bladder problem - all the symptoms matched up, and it's a common pregnancy issue. I was anxiously awaiting the results of the sono because once diagnosed, they could fix me. They could make this pain go away, and I would be able to eat again without breaking into a cold sweat and suffering for hours afterwards.

The results came in today. And...nothing. NOTHING!!! With the exception of some "sludge" in my gall bladder, they saw nothing abnormal. Take Tylenol for the pain, they said. Don't eat fat. Rest. And if you can't stand the pain, go to the ER. Um, for what, exactly?! To flush more money down the healthcare drain?!

It looks like I will be getting no relief from the most relentless pain and discomfort I have ever experienced. I'm down to eating once a day with a couple of small snacks if I can stomach it. Hopefully that's enough to grow a healthy baby, but somehow I doubt it. Supposedly, this will get better after the baby is born, roughly 10 WEEKS from now. The thought of enduring what I've felt for the past week for another 10 is almost unbearable.

My Precious Valentine

2011-02-10T09:18:00.000-06:00

Had to share the early Valentine we got from Tanner this week. Think this kid likes his new family status?! What a precious boy I have....

Throwing the White Flag of Surrender

2011-02-04T10:38:00.002-06:00

I got my butt kicked this week. I was bested by two small boys, the flu, and increasing pregnancy discomfort and fatigue. At one point during the week, I texted to Jason: "I WANT MY MOM!" That's right - at 32 years old, feeling sick and out of my league, I was crying for my mother. It was humbling, to say the least.

I realize that I have sung my own praises quite a bit on this blog about my parenting skills, and my success as a single mom. It's true that I have 8 years of solo parenting experience, and I have raised a great kid so far. And when Jason left town on Monday morning, I was completely confident that I could run the show and the boys and I were going to have a great week. The two v. one ratio did not bother me in the least. They are children, and I Am Mom.

What I failed to completely grasp was that my experience raising ONE child did not prepare me in any way for raising TWO children (or three...OMG). In fact, it has given me an inflated (and false) sense of parenting prowess. After this week, my cockiness has been replaced by the sheepish acknowledgement that I don't know squat about fighting siblings, managing routines for two, accommodating different personalities, and a whole host of other issues that have come up.

In my defense, because I have to defend myself at least a little bit, I feel terrible. I have been sick all week long, and not functioning at my usual level. I would like to think that at optimum health and full steam and mobility, things would've gone better. Maybe, maybe not.

The snownami that trapped us inside for 48 endless hours was both a blessing and a curse. The blessing is that it provided the opportunity for me to stay at home and nurse one flu-ish boy and my own flu-ish self. But it also meant that we had more togetherness than any of us really wanted. My vision of lazy days snuggled up with the boys, playing games, watching movies, bonding, and sipping hot chocolate never really got off the ground. Instead, I was breaking up fights, handing out punishments, and talking-it-out from sunrise to sunset. I was refereeing disputes over personal property, wiping tears and noses, and dispensing medicine. I was desperately suggesting one activity after another, failing miserably to find anything that both boys were interested in doing. And I was getting knocked off of my parenting pedastal one bloody battle after another.

At one point, after being sent to his room for about the 10th time, Tanner wailed dramatically: "I'm getting in trouble more than I ever have in my life!!" And it's true. I've never punished Tanner more than I have in the past few weeks - it just wasn't needed. But now, with the introduction of a younger sibling, my well-behaved and compliant Only is totally ill-equipped. It's not his fault, or even mine. We just didn't have to deal with anyone but the two of us - that wasn't our life. And now we do.

Is this what it's like having multiple kids? Is it constant crisis management? Or is this just a necessary phase of adjustment that we're going through? Were the problems magnified by illness and snow or was that my new "normal?" I don't know the answers, but I do know that I did not enjoy my kids this week the way that I wanted to. There was very little fun, very little laughter, very little bonding, and that's not how I want my family to be. I don't want to spend my evenings counting down until bedtime when I can get rid of the little monsters for a few blessed hours of peace. I don't want to constantly bark at them. I want to spend more time loving on my kids than punishing them.

But how do you do that when there's more than one, and they are ALWAYS in trouble for something????????

You know you've reached your third trimester when...

2011-01-31T12:12:00.000-06:00

When...
1. ...You have to rock from side to side to gain momentum in order to roll over in bed.
2. ...Putting on socks and shoes feels like a good cardio workout.
3. ...Your son tells you your lap isn't very comfortable anymore.
4. ...Missing a meal makes you cry.
5. ...You go to the grocery store for dog food, and come home with brownie mix instead.
6. ...You can no longer share an oversized armchair with your 8 year old child.
7. ...Pooping is cause for celebration.
8. ...You accidentally drop something on the floor and consider leaving it there so you don't have to bend over and pick it up.
9. ...You look in the mirror and think that it's someone else way fatter than you looking back.
10. ...Sneezing (or coughing, or laughing...) requires a change of clothes.
11. ...Your glovebox is stocked with snacks, just in case.
12. ...The maternity clothes you thought were so cute are now ugly and too small, and/or threadbare from frequent use and washing.
13. ...Everyone automatically reaches out their hands to help you up, knowing you need it.
14. ...The compulsion to nest is trumped by the desire to nap.
15. ...EVERYONE who sees you asks "How are you feeling?"

And so it begins.

2011-01-28T16:06:00.001-06:00

Jason and I have begun the process of blending our lives - everything from bath towels to kitchen appliances to the contents of our freezers. We're culling, organizing, piling, sorting, and tossing our separate lives - categorizing everything with names like Donate, Trash, Keep, Store Until Spring, For Cabin, Sell, Trash When Jason's Not Looking...

The children have, at some point, fallen under each category.

I'd like to be able to report that the transition has gone smoothly, and that we are blissfully united in every way, but this blog is about real life, and that's just not true. If it were, we'd be some kind of mutant step family because it doesn't work that way. This is a messy deal. That's not to say it isn't good, but it is messy. And it's very, very hard.

Moving is stressful all by itself. Parenting is nothing if not an exercise in patience and endurance. Relationships require constant care and attention. Pregnancy...oh, glorious, mood-swinging pregnancy! Shall we count how many times I've cried in the past 3 weeks? No, let's not. But suffice to say, it's easily more than I've cried in 3 years. Now throw all of those ingredients into a big pot of boiling water. Season the concoction with stubborn pride, some old demons, and a dash of short-temper, and you've got Our Life. Sounds like the Brady Bunch, doesn't it? What a crock that show was.

Thank God we love each other. And we do. This just would not have worked with anyone else. For all our differences, and there are more than I realized, Jason is that one person I want by my side more than any other.

In between the stress, and the arguments, and the to-do's, and the challenges, there are moments of pure happiness. The kind of happiness that fills you up and doesn't leave room for anything else. It's God's way of letting us know that everything is going to be okay. I am stunned into silence sometimes by a kind gesture from one of the boys, or a look from Jason, or some tiny random thing that actually went right, and I know that we can do it. We can, and we will, make this work. We'll iron out the bumps, and we'll find our stride, and we'll work out compromises. And in the process, we'll build a family.

If we don't kill eachother first.

The Parenting Game

2011-01-13T10:34:00.000-06:00

Progress reports came out last week, and my son had 9 tardies in the second quarter. 9!! I know I dropped him off late a few times (and I'm totally taking most of the blame since getting out of bed in the mornings has proven more difficult than usual these past few months). But something must be happening between the car door slamming shut and the classroom, because we have not pulled up late 9 times!

I suppose I should be embarrassed, or ashamed, or determined to mend my slothish ways, but I'm really not. My kid got there, didn't he? He's dressed (usually) appropriately, he's fed and watered and pottied, he's packin' complete homework assignments and lunch money. In my book, that's a success. Mornings have been going relatively well for us this school year, and I'm happy with that. Sure, I still get frustrated by my chronic slowpoke, but getting frustrated doesn't make things any better. Screaming at him only makes things worse, and more delayed. Perhaps it's resignation, or perhaps it's the realization that you can't win 'em all. Whatever it is, it's working for us. I will try not to get so many tardies this semester because I do think it's important to be punctual, but I'm not going to stress out about it. I have bigger fish to fry.

I put a lot of thought, effort, and collaboration into how I've chosen to parent. I read books. I've attended parenting classes. I've joined online forums, and I subscribe to several e-newsletters that I read faithfully. It amazes me how they always seem to address something I'm currently dealing with. Most of my friends have kids, and I often hit them up for advice on how to handle a tough situation. I even (gasp!) ask my parents what they think sometimes. I'm not afraid to try different approaches if what I'm doing isn't producing the results I want. I try hard, and I feel like I'm a pretty good mom.

I've raised my son mostly on my own for the past 8 years. I know he's missed having a dad around, and that we could've benefited from that in many ways. But all things considered, he's a well-adjusted kid. He's consistently well-behaved. He's very thoughtful of others. He's respectful most of the time to me, and always to other people. He does well in school, and I always receive positive remarks from his teachers. He's got lots of friends. He's smart and funny and really perceptive. And he's happy, which to me is most important. I look at my son, and I'm so proud of who he is. I feel like I'm parenting him well in spite of the various (and sometimes many) obstacles we've faced over the years. He's not perfect, but what kid is? Perfection should not be the goal, in my opinion. It's not about that. It's about raising a child who is equipped with the knowledge, confidence, and support to leave the nest.

I don't claim to be a perfect parent, nor do I claim to be solely responsible for how Tanner is turning out. It really does take a village, and so many people have contributed in various ways to our lives. I attribute most of my parenting victories to the wisdom of other people. But I do know that I'm a good mom, and at times I'm even a great mom. I think I will only get better as Tanner grows up, and I will never stop learning about how to be the best parent I can be. Every age poses new issues to consider, and new tactics to try out. It's a process, this parenting game. It's a process I enjoy so much, because I can look at my child and see the fruits of my labor.

Soon, there's going to be a major game-changer in my life. I'll have a dad, a baby girl and a stepson! I don't have a clue what it will be like with two more kids and another set of opinions, but it's bound to be interesting! I do know that raising my new daughter and son will be just as rewarding as raising Tanner has been. I was made for this. I'm ready. Bring it on!

The Nesting Nazi

2011-01-09T20:47:00.000-06:00

I'm sorry, I can't blog right now. I'm nesting.

I've got it bad. And there's nothing worse than feeling the compulsion (yes, it's a compulsion) to nest, but being unable to do your own heavy lifting. I'm not great at relying on (or waiting on) people to do things for me. Somewhere in the dark recesses of my memory, I can hear my dad grumbling under his breath:
"You want something done and done right, you got to do it yourself." His philosophy must've grabbed hold somewhere along the line, because that's kinda how I feel.

I remember not really getting the concept of nesting when I was pregnant with Tanner. That is, until I found myself on all fours with a toothbrush in my hand, cleaning the vents and cold air returns in my apartment. Huh, I thought. I don't think this is normal behavior.

This time, I know exactly what is happening, and I am powerless to stop it. I'm pretty sure Jason was baffled when I began sobbing over the current state of the garage and basement. Sobbing. And it wasn't even all that bad, but honestly, if I had to look at all that junk any more I was going to lose it. I needed it to go away. Nesting 101.

He played nice, and we worked on bringing order to the mayhem this weekend. I can breathe again, and he thinks I'm a candidate for a padded room. What can I say? I'm pregnant.

There isn't a single part of my body that doesn't hurt after our efforts this weekend, but I am clinging to the satisfying feeling of accomplishment I have right now. I know that it won't last long, because I will begin to obsess over something else in no time I'm sure. I sure hope my relationship survives this!

1.1.11

2011-01-01T12:12:00.000-06:00

New Year's Day...a day symbolic of a fresh start, clean slate, open road...a day where the only direction to look is forward. For me, it's the most optimistic day of the year. Anything is possible, any goal is attainable.

My list of resolutions has been made. After much thought, I made my resolutions with a focus on my own personal development/happiness/fun. Goals related to parenting, marriage, and family are going on a separate list. My resolutions this year are just for me. And here they are:

1) Relax. I used to be super laid back, but have somehow gradually morphed into a super worrywart. I like Laid-Back Me a lot better, and things always work out somehow, soooo...I'm going to make a consious effort to go with the flow and not freak out over things beyond my control.

2) Visit a place I've never been.

3) Be a better friend. I've sort of been wrapped up in myself for many months now, and I think I've neglected some friendships because of it. I want to shift my focus to beyond my own little world. There's lots going on out there.

4) Resume my creative life. This includes my pillowcase dress project, writing, learning to crochet, and coming up with way to supplement my income. Maybe finally get that Etsy store off the ground?

5) Find a way to meet the SWMU ladies.

6) Get back to church on a regular basis.

7) Ask for help when it's needed.

8) Spend less unproductive time on the computer.

9) Read a lot of books.

10) Seek professional fulfillment. This can be accomplished by making the best of my current job, or by finding a new job. Either way, it's an absolutely necessary resolution.

Help! I'm being eaten by post-Christmas Clutter!

2010-12-31T00:14:00.000-06:00

I just woke up after tossing and turning, thinking it was probably the wee hours of the morning and I could go ahead and get started on the day's To Do List. It's 11:30pm, and I just went to bed 2 hours ago. Oh.

Now that Christmas is over, I can focus on the fact that everything in my life is changing (yay!) and all the changes require an incredible amount of work (ugh!) that I just can't seem to muster the energy to tackle. Cue: tossing and turning.

All of this week I was in a post-holiday coma, which means that Christmas deco is still up, but looking a bit droopy and sad. New toys are piled in the hallway because there's no room for them in the inn (that is, Tanner's bedroom). And I went to bed as early as possible every night, without doing anything at all to regain order after Santa's tornado blew threw my home(s).

Not only am I so behind on laundry that Tanner has been dressing himself out of the hamper for two days, but I also need to grocery shop and pay bills and map out a plan for the move over to Jason's (our!) house, which is theoretically taking place at the end of this month. Oh, and I have get this place ready to rent, find a renter, and get that place ready for my stuff, and...and....

The walls are closing in. Literally. I feel like my tiny condo is swallowing me whole - there is stuff EVERYWHERE. It looks like an episode of Hoarders in my living room. I need four more legs and twice as many arms and the energy to fuel them all so that I can get done what needs to be done. I can't decide where to start, so I just haven't. But I have a three day weekend ahead of me and I am determined to put on my Big Girl Panties and power through it while I have the time. If I don't start the next week in some state of order, I can feel a Come-Apart coming on.

The problem, though, is that teensy little issue of being 5 and a half months pregnant and hauling around extra weight and real estate. It sucks the energy right out of me, and I find myself wishing for a team of elves to take away Christmas decor, find homes for the toys and stuff, do my laundry, and pack me up while I lay on the couch and grow a person. Seems like a fair trade to me. Jason is gone for work again this week and next, and his weekend has been sucked up by his own obligations, so my choices are to light a fire under my toosh or deal with the chaos. Not much of a choice.

If you don't hear from me in a few days, send in a search party. It probably means that I've fallen and can't get up.

It's a...

2010-12-27T09:45:00.000-06:00

We announced the gender of the baby to our families on Christmas Eve, which was received by lots of squealing and tears and an offer of a stud fee for Jason. Since they know, it's now bloggable news:

Is that...??? Could it be????

2010-12-22T11:29:00.000-06:00

A beautiful, if a little crooked, Christmas tree?!

(I'd post a picture but I sold my camera.) You'll have to take my word for it.

It's amazing what some lights and ornaments and pruning can do. Last night, Jason and I transformed the Ugliest Tree in Kansas City into a beautiful, personality-filled symbol of our first crazy Christmas together. Now we just need the perfect tree topper. Hmmm...

When we finished the trimming, we sat on his couch together for the first time, talking and admiring (believe it or not!) the decorated tree. The ornaments are hand-me-downs and hand-mades mostly, and there aren't very many of them. But there are enough, and it's perfect.

I think that's what I needed. I think I needed to bring Christmas into his house before I could really feel the spirit of the holiday. Yesterday, I bought a really beautiful tablecloth at 70% off. A practical purchase for a basically non-existent Christmas budget? Not even a little, but I don't care. I needed pretty, and I got it. Today I'm going to transfer some of my decorations to his house for our Christmas Eve Open House. It's going to look great and festive for our families, and now I'm ready for the frivolity to begin.

This feels much better. Merry Christmas, everyone!

Where is that Christmas Fairy?

2010-12-20T12:00:00.000-06:00

For much of this holiday season, the Christmas Spirit has eluded me. I had fun shopping, as I always do, but it was tainted by the insufficient balance in my account to be able to give what I wish I could give. When you have to ask yourself: "If I buy this, will I be able to put gas in the car next week?" it takes of a lot of the joy out of the giving. Pay now and figure it out later doesn't really work for me.

I am stressed. I am tired. I am overwhelmed by the To Do list that Jason and I have. I am heavy-hearted about hardships going on with people I love. I don't feel Christmasy at all. Usually, I can pull myself out of the funk by a drive through the Plaza, or by decorating a batch of sugar cookies with Tanner. But we've done none of the traditions that I've tried to establish. I didn't make homemade gift tags like I always do. I didn't even put bows on the packages! I didn't do a Christmas Card or letter or email. I didn't find any volunteer opportunities for Tanner and I. I didn't donate anything to anybody. I didn't get Tanner a new set of Christmas jammies.

I've let Christmas slip through my fingers.

But I have 4 days left. 4 days to wrap my mind around the fact that life isn't as hard as I'm making it. I should be floating. I have found the love of my life and he came with the bonus of a precious little boy. I have my own little boy, and we have a new baby on the way. The gift of this new family should sustain me, and remind me of God's love and provision. The rest, as they say, is just details. And so I will try. For the next 4 days, I will find the Christmas Spirit and I will bring it to my home and to my children. And when the day comes, I will be overflowing. :)

A little full, lotta sap...

2010-12-07T14:30:00.003-06:00

I've never cut down my own Christmas tree before. Growing up, we traveled 2 hours into the country to Clell's Christmas Tree Farm, but our tree was always waiting for us when we got there since Clell was a friend of my dad's.

As an adult, I found that Home Depot offered a lovely selection of perfectly shaped Christmas trees, and in recent years I've opted to stick with my little faux tree to save money. So when Jason suggested that we go along with his family for their traditional Christmas Tree Outing, I thought it sounded like fun.

Then he told me that we were leaving at 8:30am on Saturday morning. Oh. (Smart guy to save that little detail until after I said I would go). But despite the ungodly hour, we got up and at 'em last Saturday, bundled up, and prepared to find the Perfect Christmas Tree.

Of course we brought the dogs, because that's what you do when you're driving into the country for a Christmas tree. They're part of the family, too. Jason loaded them up while I threw my camera and purse on the passenger seat, and set two travel mugs of coffee and hot chocolate on the console, and then turned around to run in and grab something I'd forgotten.

I came back out to find the dogs exploring the car, and one of the travel mugs spilled onto my camera. The same camera that is currently listed on craigslist as for sale. The second camera to have a liquid incident while in the passenger seat of my car.

I dropped the F-Bomb, grabbed the camera and ran inside to get a towel. Thankfully, the spill was easily wiped off and no harm came to the camera. I immediately laid blame on Jason's dogs (overlooking the fact that I was the one who hadn't used the cup holders - as Jason pointed out in defense of his dogs). Blood pressure slightly elevated, I got into the car, sat on a towel to avoid the spill, and we drove off to meet up with the rest of his family. Wyatt hopped into my lap, and I noticed that his head was covered in hot chocolate. Hmmm...

We got to his parents house at the same time as his sister and her boyfriend, and it only took 30 minutes before we were back on the road, part of a 3 car caravan to the Christmas Tree Farm. Jason had offered to take his sister's dog, Tug the Pug, in our car. I mean, when you have 3 dogs and 2 kids already, what's one more? Except that we weren't even out of the neighborhood before Wyatt and Tug started to fight. I called Wyatt - the instigator - to the front and made him sit on the floor at my feet, which was fine with him since it was a blow to his ego to be treated like a dog in the first place.

Finally, we settled in and enjoyed a peaceful drive to the tree farm. That is, until Tug the Pug pooped, sending unpleasant fumes wafting toward the front of the vehicle. At the tree farm, Jason cleaned up the poo and we set off in search of our tree. Unfortunately, the selection was bad and the trees were yellow-ish, and after an hour of walking around in the cold, we all agreed to go look elsewhere. The boys got some hot chocolate (since Tanner's had been spilled on my camera) and we prepared to once again load up the cars and head to the next place. That was when Tanner stepped into a hole, sending his full cup of hot chocolate cascading down the front of his coat. Two for two.

I got him cleaned up, and the dogs loaded, and we drove to tree farm #2. There, we found a tree that was nice and full, the right height, and not as yellow as many of the others. Time was ticking because we had somewhere else we had to be, so we agreed on the tree and had the workers cut 'r down.

It was prepped and loaded without incident - a blessed miracle. At home, we got it into the stand and carried into the living room.

It's a little big. And a lot misshapen. In fact, I think we succeeded in choosing the homeliest tree on the farm. It looks like we walked into a forest and hacked down the first evergreen we came to. There's no room for presents under it, and it's so thick that we have no way of knowing what kind of wildlife might be living in there. I have no doubt that at some point during the holiday, a squirrel will come flying out.

But it's our first tree together, and the experience of going to get it was definitely memorable. So what if it's so big that there's not enough room for the living room furniture? So what if the needles make you bleed, and it's got a few dead spots? It makes me laugh, it's a great conversation peice, and it would make Clark Griswald proud.

Sleepover Evolution

2010-12-07T11:28:00.000-06:00

The tranquility and beauty of Friday night was followed by the mayhem that ensues when 3 boys are together in an 836 square foot apartment.

Tanner had a sleepover with his two oldest and bestest friends: Johnny and Brendan. I absolutely love having these two over - they are such great boys and they all have so much fun together.

But times, they are a'changing.

It's been awhile since we've had a sleepover, and some subtle changes have taken place in the interim. For one thing, appetites have increased. Those boys plowed through 2 large pizzas and a double batch of pancakes, plus half a package of bacon. My vision of leftovers for lunch went straight into their growing bellies.

I took them roller skating, which was like time travelling back to my pre-teens. Everything about the roller rink was exactly the same as when I was 12. Well, everything but the music. Red, Red Wine and Ice Ice Baby has been replaced with Bad Romance and Teenage Dream. But the same creepy, velvet-voiced DJ was at the mic, spinning the records and announcing games and birthdays and warning people not to skate too fast. He announced Tanner's birthday, which made his whole year, I think.

We were barely 30 minutes into the session before the flirting began. Johnny, the oldest at 11, has become a bit girl crazy. There was lots of drama about who gave who a high five, and who pushed who down on purpose, and should brendan and tanner tell that girl johnny wants to couple skate with her? They would careen by me, slamming into the wall to stop, and give me the latest on who was afraid to talk to which girl. There was lots of arguing and punching and blushing denials of hand-holding, and it was weird.

They are growing up.

Back at home, they were more like the boys I know and love. They were gross and smelly and fought over video game controllers just like they always have. And they slept in a pile, like they always have. Only this time, everyone kept their clothes on the entire time - even to sleep. Usually, they are stripped down to their boxers 15 minutes after walking through the door. I guess they're too old for that now.

I can't decide how I feel about these changes. Part of me misses those little boys who wanted me to play with them and talked about Pokemon instead of girls. The boys who drank from cups with lids and went to bed at 9:30 thinking they were getting to stay up super late. But I also like watching them grow up and evolve into who they're going to become. It's interesting, and fun, and definitely keeps me on my toes.

A Perfect 10

2010-12-04T23:17:00.000-06:00

By the time Friday night rolls around, I'm spent. The days of heading out at 9pm, and not coming home until the wee hours are but a distant memory now. So is the desire to spend my Friday nights all dressed up and out on the town. On my Perfect 30-Something Friday Night, I'm in my pajamas by 7, under a blanket on the couch, where I stay until I shuffle off to bed at, ooohhhh....9:30.

Last night, Jason and I were both worn out. We opted for a movie night with the boys. Meaning: a movie IN, from the comfort of my living room. While Jason and I detoxed from the week, (how I love having him to talk to!) the boys ran around screaming, giggling, and tackling each other. It was the sound of my future, and I LOVED it.

Then we started the movie, The Velveteen Rabbit, which is a very sweet adaption from the book. We turned out all the lights except for the Christmas tree, and snuggled under pillows and blankets. I found myself sandwiched between Jason and Jayden, with Tanner nearby.

I watched the movie some, but mostly I just soaked up the scene, and thought about how absolutely perfect life was in that moment. The stresses we'd been talking about just a few minutes earlier melted away into a state of complete happiness. I listened to Jayden make explosion noises when he got bored with the movie and started playing. I watched Tanner's face, so sweet and peaceful and happy. I felt Jason's heart beating as I laid on his chest, and watched his hands so lovingly hold his son's hand and pat his head. And I felt the baby moving like crazy - the first time I've felt more than just subtle little flutters.

The night was a perfect 10. It just doesn't get any better than that.

Highlight Footage

2010-11-30T14:48:00.000-06:00

Rather than go into a long description of the holiday weekend (even though I sort of already did in my previous post), I thought it would be better to just give you the highlights. These are my favorite moments -there are a lot of them! I have so much to be thankful for!

Great Grandma Mo offering to take Tanner out shooting after Thanksgiving dinner.
Grandma Mo's disdainful, but indirect, critique of my knitting technique. She didn't say anything to me, but she did say something to someone else when I was in earshot.
The moment when Grandma Mo said that we could call her Grandma Mo, and not just "Jason's Grandma."
Midnight shopping at the Outlet Mall. Oddly, there was no line in front of Motherhood Maternity. It was very surreal to be shopping maternity with the grandma I was not sure would even welcome me in her house. What a pleasant surprise!
Turkey sandwiches at 2am after shopping with Jason, Tanner and Grandma Mo.
Getting to know some of Jason's family so much better.
Aunt Debbie's fun stories, perpetual smile, and excellent cooking.
The long, genuine hug I got from Grandma Mo as we were leaving.
Laughing until it hurts with family - especially with (at?) my mom.
Hearing that old familiar sound of my dad screaming at the TV while watching football.
Breakfast at Mamie's house.
Problem-solving with Jason when he lost his car keys (and never found them) - a favorite only because we got through it with almost no conflict, and it all worked out.
Jason's ability to find the humor in stressful situations.
Watching Tanner open his birthday presents - I love how happy and grateful he is!
Driving around JC looking at houses with Jason, my mom and sister, when Tanner blurted out: "So how did the baby get in your tummy, anyway?" Silence....
Arris Pizza, Central Dairy Ice Cream, and Sierra Mist Cranberry Splash
The four-square game in the driveway
Tanner's HUGE smile the entire time he was ice skating.

An Ozark Thanksgiving

2010-11-26T13:02:00.000-06:00

I think the Ozarks is one of the most unique places in the country, and it's always a special experience to spend time there. You know you've entered the Ozarks when you begin to see billboards advertising bait and tackle, ammo and feed, and Christmas decor all at the same store. You also see a sharp increase in ceramic lawn ornaments and Old Time Photo shops. Nearly every house has a boat and/or boat trailer parked somewhere on the premises, and you have a wide selection of fudge shops and antique stores to choose from for you holiday shopping convenience.

The Ozark Locals are unique, too. They are uncomplicated, easy-going, and friendly. Of course, there are a fair amount of toothless, forty-toting hillbillys, but there are also plenty of people who are as real as they come and offer that special Midwestern hospitality you can't find anywhere else. What you see is what you get in the Ozarks, and I love that.

Jason's family have been living at the Lake of the Ozarks for years. His grandma still drives her boat as often as her car. Squirrels get shot if they venture onto her deck, and God forbid a goose decide to nest on her property because if they do, they'll wind up with a bottle rocket in their tail feathers. The family all live near each other and are very close. His grandma lives in a house designed by Jason's dad in his high school drafting class. It includes a complete wraparound deck and sliding doors in every room. His aunt's house is a log cabin they designed and built. They also built the house next door and lived in that for awhile, until they decided they liked their old house better and moved back into it. Jason's cousin lives just down the road from them.

It was my first holiday with his family, and it was really nice. It's always hard to be with virtual strangers on traditional holidays, and I thought I would really miss being with my own family. I did miss them, but not as badly as I thought. Our Ozark Thanksgiving was different, but I liked it. So many things were unexpected - like Tanner going shooting after dinner with great grandma, and eating leftover turkey sandwiches at 2am after shopping the Door Buster sales at the outlet mall.

Our initial reception was a bit chilly from Grandma - she is not happy about our surprise baby - and I think she was prepared to dislike me. So when I found myself in Motherhood Maternity with her at midnight last night, it felt very surreal. If you'd asked me two weeks ago if I believed she would be bringing me things to try on in a maternity store, I would've laughed in your face. Two weeks ago, I wasn't even sure we were still invited for Thanksgiving! As our visit has progressed, though, the chilliness has gradually faded into tolerance and finally, what I think might be cautious acceptance. She told Tanner to call her Grandma Mo last night, and she gave him a birthday gift today. I hope she feels okay about us now. She's a really sweet lady, once you get past that tough outer Ozark layer, and I would love to have her on our side.

All in all, it was a great Thanksgiving, and the weekend isn't over yet! Now we head to be with my family for a couple of days, to celebrate Tanner's 8th birthday. Jason will get the hometown tour and some Jones Family Bonding. I can't wait!

The Meanest Mom in History

2010-11-19T08:58:00.002-06:00

"I hope you know that you're the meanest mom in history" were Tanner's parting words to me this morning.

I do know. And I'm okay with that.

Here's where the kid messed up: last week, he was perfect in the mornings. Every single morning of the week went great, and you know what that tells me? He can do it.

So when every morning this week went the completely opposite direction, I was frustrated. This morning, the worst one all week, he unleashed the dragon. And the dragon began to hand out punishments.

For not getting up when he was supposed to: he does not get to stay up late tonight, like he usually does on Fridays.

For taking 30 minutes to get his clothes on and not brushing his teeth, he's grounded from video games.

For saying that he didn't care what I said, he would do whatever he wanted: a Friday evening of solitary confinement in his room, which means missing out on a skating party.

He narrowly escaped going to school barefooted (it's 34 degrees out) because his shoes and socks were not on when it was time to go, and buying the next box of cereal with his own money for wasting food because he chose to sit at the counter and sulk, rather than eat. At the last second, he scarfed down the food, and got his shoes and socks on.

So am I the Meanest Mom in History? Perhaps, but that lil' booger earned every little bit of what he got. He told me that he's not going to Y-Care after school. He's going to sneak out the back door and run away. Stay tuned to see if I still have a son at the end of the day.

Big Brother

2010-11-17T20:20:00.002-06:00

I've been waiting for just the right time to tell Tanner the baby news. Tonight was the night.

He was in a great mood after school. I took him to our favorite Mexican place for dinner, because I wanted the scene to be special. We got our drinks and salted our chips, and then I said that I had a very big surprise for him.

"A present?" he asked hopefully.
"Well, sort of..." I replied.

When I told him, he didn't believe me at first. But then he broke into a huge grin, and said:
"Me and Jayden are going to have a baby brother or sister?!?! For reals?! Yessss!"

He went into Big Brother mode immediately. He began to calculate how old Jayden and the baby will be when he is at various ages. He asked if he'd have to baby-sit them when he's older. I said that he probably would, and he goes: "Whoa. That will be a LOT of work."

I asked if he'd noticed my belly getting bigger. He said he had noticed, but he just thought that I was eating too much. :) Then he said: "Ooohhhh - is this why you haven't been doing very much lately?"

It was such a relief to finally talk about it with him. He didn't ask any of the hard questions I was prepared to answer. In true Tanner form, he'll mull it over in his own time, and then talk to me when he's ready. Instead, we talked about the fun stuff. He wanted to know when we could start buying baby things, and he said he wants a sister because we already have enough boys in our family. He asked what the baby looks like in there, and how it eats and if it can hear us. He asked how long I've known, and asked if he could call Chila to tell her. He asked if the baby liked Mexican food.

He was so happy! Later that evening, he wrapped his arms around me and put his head on my stomach. "I'm not hugging you, Mom," he said. "I'm hugging the baby." My dreams aren't the only ones coming true. He is going to be an awesome big brother.

And Baby Makes...5!!

2010-11-17T15:52:00.006-06:00

Sometimes dreams come true in the most unexpected ways.

For Tanner's entire life, I've wished for a husband, so that he could have a dad and I could have a partner. As he got older, I wished for the opportunity to have more babies, because he so wanted brothers and sisters and I wanted a bigger family.

Never in a million years did I think that I would get all of the above, all at the same time. I wasn't sure any of it would ever happen for me. I dated and never found the right fit. I was at times discouraged, at times determined, and at times content. But always in the background was that deep desire for more family.

Enter: Jason and Jayden.

Jason and I began discussing plans for our future together early on in our relationship. No one was more surprised than we were when it actually clicked between us. We just knew. I've waited my entire life to feel that feeling, and when I did....there was no mistaking it. Lucky for me, he felt it, too. Eventually, we began to establish a timeline for the rest of our lives.We talked about marriage, living arrangements, finances, our boys, future babies, holidays, families.... We talked about being anxious to begin our life together, but knowing we should try to pace ourselves. We thought next year might be The Year.

And the whole time we talked and planned and basked in the warmth of a shared vision for our future, there was a surprise for us forming in my belly. We didn't know it yet, but our tidy little hypothetical future was about to get up-ended. In early September, we found out that we've got a baby on the way!

Rather unexpectedly, we had hit the fast forward button. We're not married yet, and we were not prepared to expand our not-yet blended family. We were knocked a bit off balance - at first.

But here's the thing about us: we both have had a fair share of difficult circumstances to deal with in our lives. We are no strangers to bumpy roads. We know we can handle whatever life throws at us and that we will come out together on the other side. We believe that God has given us a pretty obvious reprimand, but we also trust that He will be walking alongside of us, blessing our family as we navigate the coming months of change.

We know the circumstances are not ideal. We would have much preferred a different scenario for welcoming our first baby together into this world. And yet...serendipity is the word that comes to my mind over and over since learning about the baby. It means "fortunate accident." This baby was an accident, but we consider ourselves so fortunate to be parents to the child we created. In spite of it all, we are both in awe of the miracle of life and so excited to meet our baby.

This blog will be going in an entirely different direction from here on out. Instead of single mom experiences, it's going to be about the preparation for, and implementation of, blending a family. It will be about having a baby 8 and a half years after my first one, and about the experience of step motherhood. It will be about Jason and I, and the life we create together.

Eventually, Single Mom REVEALED will transition over to Step Mom REVEALED. I will definitely keep blogging, because I feel a deep conviction that I should keep sharing my victories and hardships, trials and lessons learned. Not because I'm an authority with all of the answers, but because the exact opposite of that is true. My hope, as it always has been with this blog, is that something will resonate with someone reading, and they will not feel alone. From time to time, something I've written touches someone in a unique way. When I find out about things like that, I feel like my struggles have a purpose. I hope that as my life continues to unfold, my blogs will continue to reach people. That's what it's all about.

I hope that you'll stick with me, and follow our journey from a family of two toward a family of FIVE. I have a feeling there's going to be a LOT to blog about.

Perfect. Just perfect.

2010-11-16T20:32:00.000-06:00

Dammit.

Tanner has cavities - two of them. And they're big. Upon discovering these two little money pits, I nearly threw up. November and December are the two most stressful months of the entire year - Tanner's birthday and Christmas back-to-back. I always swear that I'm going to plan ahead and save up, or get gifts for him in less strapped months, but there really is no such thing as a "less strapped" month. Especially now, thanks to the schmucks at the YMCA who stripped my scholarship because I'm too rich. Right. Thanks for making my life a real picnic, you jerks.

I'm not sure there's anything that gives me more stress than the dentist. We do have dental insurance now, but it never covers everything. I never know how much I'm going to get hit for. This time, I'm sure it will be brutal. I mean, those suckers are HUGE. Of course, it couldn't happen in May or June when I might actually have some money to throw towards my dentist's luxury car or vacation home. It happens now, when I don't have jack squat to spare.

I don't get it. Tanner brushes twice a day every day. He is fanatical about it, because he hated the last filling experience he had. He was nearly hysterical when he pointed out the cavities to me. That's right - he's the one who saw them first, because he inspects his teeth on a regular basis.

I don't make him floss. Maybe that's my fatal error. Maybe he just has crappy teeth - I don't know. All I know is that when I think of making a dental appointment, I break into a cold sweat.

And there's something else. I don't want my kid to have a mouth full of metal. It's embarrassing. He's already got one silver tooth. I bet when we're done with this round, he'll have two more. People are going to look at him and think I feed my kid candy and pop and neglect his oral health. That's so not true. He almost never has pop or even juice. I'm careful and attentive to his teeth, and so is he. This is not fair.

Dammit.

Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah, Zip-A-Dee-Ay!

2010-11-12T12:34:00.000-06:00

For all the posts I've made about horrible mornings, I have to post about the week long slice of heaven I've been experiencing. Tanner, or someone who looks just like him, has been a rockstar every single morning this week. I don't know if I have Daylight Savings to thank or what, but this kid of mine has been up and at 'em with a smile on his face for 5 straight days.

Can I get a halleluia?!

By up and at 'em, I mean he's up and dressed before I'm even out of bed. By dressed, I mean every single article of clothing - even shoes! Three of the five mornings, he's gotten his own breakfast - a first. All except one, he's taken the dog out without me telling him. One of the mornings, he got to watch a full 30 minutes of cartoons - that's how early he was ready to go. We usually have a No Screen rule for the mornings, but I was so completely floored by his behavior that I just nodded dumbly when he asked if he could watch cartoons.

I'm telling you, this is not my kid. But whoever he is, I like him a lot, and I hope he sticks around.

Re-Certification in Stranger Danger

2010-11-10T09:11:00.000-06:00

I'm angry. I'm angry at the nasty creep who pulled into our parking lot yesterday afternoon and tried to lure our 9 yr old neighbor girl into his car with a cookie. She knew just what to do, which was run like hell to tell her mom. She also noted the man's description with remarkable detail and could describe the car to the police office who arrived on the scene. When I found out what happened, I wanted to throw up. I love that girl like crazy, and if something had happened to her...it was just too close of a call and really hard to shake off.

She and Tanner play outside together all the time. They also play outside by themselves a lot. We let them. It makes me a little nervous, but I also refuse to keep him indoors - it's just not fair to him. I had a childhood where I was free to roam the entire neighborhood for hours and never had to give a thought to Stranger Danger. I don't think my parents worried a bit - they didn't have to. I so wish for that same experience with Tanner, but in 2010 in a major city, he is clearly not going to have that. When that disgusting man decided to pull into our parking lot, and target our children, he stole from us the tenuous feeling of security that we had when we let our kids go out and play.

We think he's been watching the kids, and knew when A was usually outside by herself. The thought of that sends chills through my body. Just to think that some creep may have been watching my little boy play makes me want to lock T in our house and never let him out again.

But I can't do that. I can't live in fear - it's not my nature. Nor do I want Tanner to live in fear. So instead, we just had a very serious sit-down about what happened. When A's mom called to tell me about it, I wondered what Tanner would have done in that situation. I hope he would react as A did, but part of me thinks he would've been like: "Sweet! I'll take a cookie! My mom never lets me have anything."

I know he's been taught Stranger Danger, but I wanted him re-certified, and with a real-life situation in front of us, I think he got the message. I told him what happened, and I told him what could've happened had it gone differently. I didn't want to scare him, but I did want him to understand the seriousness of it and to be hyperaware of what's going on around him when he's playing outside. Hyper-awareness is not a gift of my son. Obliviousness, however, he does very well, and it makes me nervous.

We moms decided that, for awhile at least, the kids will not be allowed to play outside alone. We feel that together, they are safer. Tanner fussed when I told him the new rule, but not much. I think he understood why we made the rule. I'm just so mad that we have to do it. I'm so mad that there is so much evil in the world, and that we can't keep our kids away from it, no matter how hard we try. I'm mad that my son has to learn about kidnappers and child molesters because he had one in his front yard.

It makes me sick.

The Weekend in Review

2010-11-07T22:15:00.000-06:00

Productivity makes me tired. And this weekend was productive.

I lost count of how many loads of laundry I did. One load included George - the giant plush dog that I just discovered has been used as a target for my stupid dog's aggressive urination. Washing George took precedence over my own bed sheets, which could probably walk themselves to the laundry room. I'm not sure why, except that the smell of dog pee makes me violently angry. Wyatt is truly lucky that he still has a home.

I also gave my house a good cleaning - it's first in quite some time. I hosted my Book Club on Saturday night, the motivation for bringing my home out of deplorable conditions. It's nice to once again live in tidiness. I wonder how long it will last...

I planted tulips at J's house. I can't wait to see them bloom this Spring!

I did a photo shoot today - a photog friend of mine and I swapped skills. I did her family pics, and she did mine. I had to shop for the shoot, of course, which was a great excuse to burn some birthday money. Tanner and I were well-coordinated so I hope the pics turned out okay. I'm not optimistic. I couldn't be more unphotogenic, and it's made even worse when I'm next to my gorgeous lens-loving son. We'll see. The ones I took of just him turned out adorable, or course. He's so darn handsome.

I made cupcakes for book club and buffalo chicken wing dip at the request of my loving boyfriend. I made it last weekend, too, but it got eaten (oops) before he really got any. That stuff is like heroine - I can't be left alone with it.

I provided moral support for the painting going on over at his house. Moral support means that I didn't lift a brush or roller, but I applauded the efforts of those who were doing all the work. I LOVE the colors we've chosen so far. It's looking great over there.

And now it's Sunday night. I'm recovering from an infuriating Chiefs loss and trying to get motivated to work on the project I have going on right now. But I'm tired. I think I might done for the day. I have a stimulating week of work to get rested up for. Can't wait.

Halloween: The FINAL Chapter

2010-11-01T18:39:00.000-05:00

There are times when one must admit that one is a pushover. This is one of those times.

I couldn't help myself. I gave in to Tanner's desire to be a gangster. What can I say? I loved the idea, and really wanted to see him all suited up. In my defense, I was a Thrifty Pushover. I did not buy the $40 Halloween costume.

Instead, I had a flash of pure brilliance. I'm not sure why it didn't flash before the afternoon of Halloween, but we can't be choosy about when these things happen. I decided to hit the Burlington Outlet which is right by my house. It's merchandise is very um, gangster-ish, and also very cheap. Perfect, right? With hopeful son in tow, we gave the costume one last shot.

And sure enough, there was an entire row of 3-piece suits for boys. Cheap. I couldn't have been happier. Armani, Jr. was beside himself - critiquing color combos and matching faux silk clip-on ties with low thread count dress shirts.

Usually, any encounter with a fitting room is cause for considerable angst. This time, Tanner led the way, prancing toward the fitting room with an armful of potential gangster costumes, pausing just for a second to peruse the hat rack he passed by.

After trying on 3 or 4 suits, he settled on one. I checked the price tag. $20 for the shirt, tie, pants and vest!! I feel like sending Burlington a Thank You card.

I think Tanner would've worn the suit out of the store if I'd let him. He couldn't stop looking at himself in the mirror. As we walked out, he gave me a huge hug and said "You're the best, Mom!" Uh huh...now I am! From there we headed to the costume shop to get a $5 Fedora, and he was all set for $25. I was in Thrifty, Brilliant, MOTY heaven. It's a lovely place.

Later, as he was primping (and I do mean primping) for the night, he said:
"Ya know, if you and Jason get married soon, I could just wear this suit. I mean without the hat. Or...maybe with the hat. Who knows?" Um, NO. But he did look good.

Worlds of Fun

2010-10-31T10:06:00.005-05:00

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, they say, and that couldn't be more true about Tanner.

My kid is an amusement park pansy.

My friend Vicky called me late Friday afternoon, and offered me two free tickets to Worlds of Fun for Saturday. I jumped on them. Tanner has been wanting to go to WOF for years, but the tickets are sooo expensive. We've never been able to do it, and frankly, I wasn't sure it would be worth the money until he was tall enough to actually ride most of the rides.

Well, he's tall enough now, and I couldn't wait to surprise him! We went and picked up the tickets from Vicky's house, and sprang it on him. He was his customary subdued self, but his mouth dropped and his grin was huge. As soon as we walked outside, he looked at me in disbelief and said, "Are we really going to Worlds of Fun?!"

In the meantime, I decided it would be more fun for him to have a buddy, so I worked it out for Johnny to be able to go with us. Chila didn't tell Johnny where he was going at first. He was watching TV on Saturday morning and a WOF commercial came on. He sighed deeply and said, "I wish I could go there. But it's never gonna happen." Chila called me and told me that, and asked if she could tell him. Of course! So she did, and he didn't believe her. He made her show him his ticket. I LOVE surprising deserving kids with really cool stuff. So awesome.

So off we went to have worlds of fun for the day. And it was fun. However, Tanner would hardly ride anything. We started off in Camp Snoopy, the kiddie area. My theory was that if we went there first, he would think those rides were lame and be ready to take it up a notch. I knew I was in trouble when he got off the kiddie coaster and said it went a little bit too fast. Um, what?! 2 year olds are on that ride!!

Much of the day went like this:

"C'mon, Tanner, just ride it. It's not scary, I promise."
"I don't like rides that spin."
"Look, T, that kid is 3 and he had a good time!"
"Don't make Johnny ride another ride by himself!"
"I don't like rides that swing."
"T, if you ride this with me, I'll ride the Fury with you!"
"That one goes too fast."
"We're at an amusement park for God's sake. ALL the rides spin, swing, or go fast."
"Tanneryougetonthatriderightnoworwe'regoinghome."

Now, it's important to note that we were not trying to get him to ride any roller coasters. These rides were kiddie rides or ones with 1 and 2 ranking on the Thrill Scale. Tame and lame, if you will.

Finally, it clicked with me that my son is made from the same mold as me, and he is not going to do anything he's not ready to do. No amount of bullying and coersion is going to get him on a ride he's scared of. So I stopped. I told him that if he was content to spend his day watching Johnny ride rides, that was his choice. I didn't think it was a good choice, but it was his to make. His response was:

"The hard part about today is that I have to face my fears. And I HATE facing my fears!"

I wanted to say, "You're not facing anything!!" but I held my tongue. And 15 minutes later, he said he wanted to ride the Viking Voyager. YES!!! And guess what? He liked it.

Overall, the day was lots of fun. Johnny was a great sport about doing rides by himself, and Tanner didn't seem to mind hanging out and watching him. And the rides they did do together, they loved. That said, we will not be going back to WOF until Tanner is old enough to buy his own ticket. Then, the investment is his and he can do what he likes when he's in there.

To see pics, click here!

Halloween: Chapter Two

2010-10-27T10:03:00.000-05:00

I have to brag on my bro a little bit, because he came to my rescue (or Tanner's, depending on how you look at it) on the costume thing.

On the way home from work on Friday, I was telling Big Brother all about Tanner's costume woes. He has three kids - he's very familiar with costume drama and its impact on the enjoyment of Halloween. We had a good laugh, and then I hung up, gathered my son, and prepared to wrestle him into an old costume for Trunk or Treat.

About 30 minutes later, a person appeared on my doorstep. I couldn't tell at first who it was, because they were hidden behind a mountain of Halloween costumes. Is this the Costume Fairy? Sort of. It was Big Brother, armed with masks and capes and assorted costume gear that had been worn by The Cousins. If The Cousins wear something, it's instanct cool. Simple as that.

Tanner was stunned into silence. Jackpot! There was all sorts of ghoulish garb for him to choose from, and he was saved from being a Clone Trooper again. Yay Uncle Jeff!!

After great (and lengthy) deliberation, he chose the Scream mask and a cape. He was happily grotesque for Trunk or Treat, and again today for his Halloween party at school.

Perhaps this is one therapy session that won't be necessary after all. The Little Prince got what he wanted. Peace and harmony reigns. For now.

Paybacks are Hell: The Halloween Chapter

2010-10-22T15:49:00.002-05:00

Halloween just wouldn't be Halloween without a little bit of costume drama, would it?

I remember one particular Halloween of my childhood when it was the 11th Hour and I still didn't know what I wanted to be. Even then, I had trouble making decisions. I remember a lot tears and a flustered mother throwing out all kinds of unacceptable ideas. I do not remember what costume I ended up in, but I'm going to hedge a guess that it was either a hobo, a gypsy, or a hippie. I'm not sure I was ever anything else during the 7 or 8 years that I was of trick-or-treating age. I do know that we NEVER got store-bought costumes. Ever.

Mom, I'm sorry for the years of costume drama I put you through. I get it now. Kids SUCK at Halloween.

Tanner has been pouring over all of the Halloween mailers for weeks, debating on which costume to choose. He was campaigning hard for something scary and/or bloody and/or disgusting. I'm just not okay with that.

"But Mom," he persisted. "It's the one day of the year that I get to be scary!"
Ha! Wanna bet?

So earlier this week we set out on the costume hunt. We went to three places. None of those three places had decent costumes for less than $30. $30!!! Are you kidding me? He'll wear it twice, tops. Sure, they had Pilgrims for $12.99, but what 7 year old boy says: "Hey, Mom, I want to be a Pilgrim this year!" Really?? No way.

When he was younger, I was okay with buying brand new costumes, because he would play in it all year long. Plus, they were cheaper when he was smaller. I got my money's worth. Now that those days are over, I have a real problem with buying a full-price costume.

So I explained to him that they were just too expensive, and that he could either wear last year's costume again, or I would be happy to make him a costume. I threw out all kinds of brilliant, homemade ideas. He found them all to be completely unacceptable, but was shockingly agreeable to being a Clone Trooper for the second year in a row. Pfeww!

Until this morning...

World War III broke out, because tonight is Trunk or Treat, and he'll be dressing up. Suddenly, he was no longer okay with the Clone Trooper. He let me know - repeatedly - that I was ruining his life.

And I felt bad. Actually, I felt like shit. Because if I did have the money, I'd probably spend the 30 bucks on the Al Capone costume he'd decided on, and another $10 on the Fedora that goes with it but is, of course, sold separately. But the reality is, I don't have it. We have to eat next week. It's either food or Al Capone, and I choose food.

So I offered what I thought was a very generous compromise. I told him we could go costume shopping next Saturday, after pay day, and hopefully catch some last minute discounts. But for tonight at Trunk or Treat, he will have to suck it up and be a Clone Trooper. Or a hobo. Pretty sure I could throw that one together at the last minute. Lord knows I had years of practice at it.

And more Tannerisms...

2010-10-19T10:19:00.002-05:00

"Today is art. I hate art."
"Really? That's the saddest thing I've ever heard."
"Mom. I don't have to love art just because you do. I hate jazz, too."
(Not sure where the jazz comment came from, but apparently he feels strongly about it!)

********

"I don't like it when you don't tell me the exact time. I asked you what time it was, and you said 7, but it was really 6:58. I had two minutes."

*******

"Do you want to hear something fascinating?" Then proceeded to share 15 minutes worth of factoids about the Goliath Spider. Fascinating.

*******

Last night in the frozen aisle of the grocery store, he was begging for a Kid Cuisine. I said no, so he proceeded to start dancing and made up a song about how he needed the Kid Cuisine.

I bought it.

*******

T walked out of his room on Sunday, dressed for church. I had instructed him to put on a collared shirt, which he did. He had it buttoned all the way to the top, and his collar was popped. I started to undo the top button, and he freaked out. "I like it this way! I don't care if I look like a nerd!" Fine, but I drew the line at the popped collar.

More Lessons from the Food Pyramid

2010-10-19T07:37:00.001-05:00

"Mom, how much do you make?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Because I want you to be rich. Oh, and healthy."
"I make enough, honey. Don't worry about it."
"You know, if you're rich, you're also healthy."
"That's not true, sweetie. Rich people get sick all the time."
"Maybe, but when you're rich, you can afford to buy grains and fruits and just a little bit of oils. So you're healthier!"
"Well, that could be true..."
"Oh! And did you know that you should allow yourself one little treat per week?"
"Just one per week, huh?"
"Yeah! I think I'll have mine now. After I add a fruit to my breakfast."

HOT!!!

2010-10-18T07:04:00.000-05:00

I think J fixed my hot water issue.

It's below 60 degrees, and I had more hot water than I needed for a shower this morning. And I didn't even have to wash my hair and face and shave my pits all at the same time.

I'm going to marry that man. And when I do, there's going to be something about hot water in our vows. I mean it. This rocks my world!

Cleanliness is next to Godliness, right?

2010-10-17T21:07:00.003-05:00

I wonder if I could call in "tired" to work tomorrow...

J recently regained access to his house, after 18 months away. The person living in his house during that time was... not tidy. Not even a little. We walked through the vacant house last week feeling very overwhelmed by the amount of work required to bring it back up to J's standard of cleanliness. Luckily, he has a Dream Team on his side and all hands were on deck.

We worked our tails off. Here's what we (J, me, and his parents) accomplished:

All of the remaining furniture was moved into the garage.
The left behinds were boxed up or thrown away.
The kitchen cabinets were wiped down.
Dirty plates and pans were washed and put away.
Appliances were cleaned - inside and out.
The walls were washed floor to ceiling.
All of the woodwork (baseboards and door/window frames) was wiped down.
All of the doors were freed from scuff marks, stickers, and crayon art.
Most windows were washed - inside and out.
An invisible fence was installed around a very, very big yard (for the dogs, not the kids).
Garage, driveway and deck were swept.
Expired food was removed from the refrigerator.
Window hangings were taken down for washing.
Bedding was taken off for washing.
My own housework, which consisted of laundry, dishes, dog duty, the usual de-cluttering, and the care and maintenance of three adorable children (T, Little J, and Neighbor Alexis).

I think that about covers it, and needless to say, we're all exhausted. But we made HUGE progress, and that feels good. The next step is to paint each room. Yes, EACH room. And all of the woodwork. Painting will commence this week, and my best guess is that it will take us a couple of weeks to get it all done. Then J is bringing in carpet/upholstery cleaners, and once they're finished, he'll move the furniture back into the house and finally be able to live there again. Yay!

It's been an exhausting, but satisfyingly productive weekend. My body aches and my nose and throat burn from Pine Sol fumes, and I keep forgetting what I want to write. I think that means it's time for bed. Or I'm high. Perhaps a little of both?

Victory!

2010-10-10T16:03:00.000-05:00

I hope this isn't premature, but after a weekend of fierce chemical warfare, I am relieved to report that it appears we can claim victory over the fleas.

I know, I know. I should've done this weeks ago. But I was trying to avoid the expense and the chemicals, so I resisted and suffered until I couldn't stand it anymore.

Yesterday, I gave Wyatt the flea pill, and then followed it up with his 7th flea bath. I gated him in the kitchen to keep him off carpet and upholstery until I could treat it. He was not pleased by his imprisonment, and made me pay for it by barking incessantly ALL DAY LONG. Oh wait, he does that anyway.

I vacummed the entire house - again. Then I treated all the carpeted areas (most of our apartment) with the Magic Death Spray I bought. Before bed, after I was sure he completely dry from his bath, I dosed him with Frontline. Today, Jason and I pulled the mattresses off mine and Tanner's beds, vacummed underneath them, and then sprayed those areas, too.

All blankets and dog bedding and anything that might have possibly touched the dog have been washed or thrown away.

I haven't spotted a living flea anywhere for a full 24 hours. Later tonight, I'll probably release Wy from the kitchen and give him back free reign of the house. And I'll get my life back.

Grrrr....

2010-10-09T10:11:00.000-05:00

Completely ineffective Flea Treatment...$20
Flea Shampoo...$12
Flea Carpet Spray...$19
Flea Oral Medication...$8
1 application of Frontline...$18

Grand total: $77 and one seriously broke pet owner. And I thought I might get to have my hair cut this month. Silly me.

Boy with a 'Tude

2010-10-07T16:00:00.000-05:00

My son was a serious punk this morning. Take waking up on the wrong side of the bed, and multiply it by 1000.

By 7:15am, he yelled that he wanted to run away from home. "Cool!" I said. "Take Wyatt with you."

After getting grounded for two days, he realized the tantrum was getting him nowhere, and he settled into heavy sulking instead. He sat slumped at the kitchen counter while I got his breakfast ready.

"Why is this house always so dirty?" he grumbled.

Now, I'm going to be honest and say that at that point, I almost chucked his bowl of oatmeal at him. A) Our house is NOT always dirty. B) He's 7, and his presence in MY house is a gift for which he should be eternally grateful. C) His attitude was pissing me off. Jerk.

So I answered through gritted teeth: "It would be a lot cleaner if you would actually pick up after yourself. It's not MY stuff lying all over the place."

To which he replied: "Yeah, well, it's one of my weaknesses."

LOL!! I'm laughing now, but at the time I did not see the humor in his smartassness. I just slid his oatmeal across the counter and stomped out of the kitchen. We'll be working on his weaknesses while he's grounded for the next couple of days.

Fighting The Fight

2010-10-06T10:26:00.000-05:00

Is there anything more painful than parenthood? Oh yes, there is immeasurable joy to be had as a parent, but with great love always comes great pain. And it doesn't end when our children reach adulthood. Parents never stop being parents, and they continue to suffer on behalf of their children as playground fights and teenage broken hearts transition into failing marriages and workplace strife. Because life isn't smooth, because we have no other choice than to stand back and let our children experience the good, bad, and ugly in life, parenthood can be so acutely painful.

Because I interact with a lot of other single parents, I hear story after painful story of how relationships and marriages end, and the children pay the price. Single mothers are forced to cover for absentee dads, or wipe tears as their children come to the full realization that they were abandoned or tossed aside in favor of freedom or something else. Single fathers must fight hard for access to their children, putting their fate as parents into the hands of an unforgiving court system that does not look favorably upon men as primary caregivers.

With anger, resentment, disappointment, and shattered dreams as catalysts, so many of the stories I hear are stories of war. Battles that are brutal, bloody, and emotionally draining. No matter what side you're on, it's painful. And it doesn't stop when the battle is over.

When the dust settles, there are questions to answer. "Where is my mommy/daddy?" "Does he/she still love me?" "Can I take my toys with me to mom/dad's house?" "Why do we have to move?" Those questions tear a parent's heart straight out of their chest. Often times, there are no easy answers.

I've heard both sides. I've experienced both sides intimately. When families are divided, no one wins. Relationships are forcibly redefined and compromised. The whole concept of being a parent must adapt to custody arrangements, visitation, and co-parenting from two separate households.

And yet, there is hope. From the ashes of a family that has fallen apart, new families can form. Broken hearts can heal. Gaping holes can be filled. New relationships are created, and I believe that in many cases, they are stronger than the first ones. People learn and grow from the trials in their lives, and they use what they've learned to start fresh and do better. I think it is human nature to overcome. We are resilient at our core. We are designed to be survivors. So are our children.

Sad stories don't have to be sad forever, thank God. Single parents must endure a lot of pain as a result of their circumstances, and they have to help their children make sense out of things that just don't make sense. Life is not fair, and I think most of us would like to shelter our children from that reality for as long as possible. Unfortunately, for a lot of us, that's not possible. So we do the best we can do with the hand we are dealt. We fight for our kids. We teach them, love them, and we're there for them as much as we can be. And for the rest of it, we have to hand them over to God, and trust that He will hold them close when we can't.

And then there's the fleas

2010-10-04T21:56:00.001-05:00

Adding insult to injury, we have an all-out infestation of fleas, so a significant portion of my precious hot water is going to bathe the damn dog and wash everything he touches.

Tonight, Wyatt received his 5th flea bath in 2 weeks. I had to rinse the tub and refill it twice, because it was so full of fleas. Kinda makes you want to be a houseguest of mine, doesn't it? Let me tell you, I am offering 4 star accommodations these days.

Tomorrow, I'm raising the white flag and calling the vet. I've had enough, and I can't watch my dog suffer anymore. I can't suffer anymore.

After his bath tonight, I spent over an hour picking fleas (dead and alive) off of him. Need a visual? It looked a little something like this:

The only difference being that I didn't eat the fleas. Thank God humans have evolved.

Hot Water Lament

2010-10-04T19:11:00.000-05:00

It's time for my annual Hot Water Lament.

Yes, it's that time of year again, when I tearfully say goodbye to adequate hot water, and hello to freezing my arse off until next April.

This morning in the shower, the water ran cold before I'd even had time to wash my face. #%^@*&!!!!!

There's absolutely nothing I can do about this problem. No one can find anything wrong with my hot water heater. It's just tiny, and woefully inadequate the second the temperatures drop below 50. There's no room to replace it with a bigger unit, as if I had the money for that. Sigh...

But what I don't get is that my neighbors don't have this problem. Believe me, I've asked around. Nobody else has Seasonal Hot Water Disorder. Just me. I'm the lucky one.

So begins my 6 month long balancing act of water usage. I'll break out the showering schedule. I'll stagger the loads of laundry with the loads of dishes, and I'll plan on needing two shifts of bathing when I want to shave my legs or soak for an extra 3 minutes. And I will curse bitterly all winter long, because whether its wrong or right, I feel entitled to hot water. It's 2010 in one of the most affluent suburbs of a major metro area in the United States of America, the richest country in the world, and I should be able to take a hot 15 minute shower each morning. I shouldn't have to heat water in a kettle on the stove in order to wash my pits if I had to run the dishwasher - I'm not friggin Laura Ingalls and this isn't 1871.

It's a rough transition every single year. I just get mad (and cold) all over again.

Fall Fun!

2010-10-03T16:24:00.001-05:00

We had a PERFECT day of Fall fun yesterday! Here are a few of my favorite captures of the day:

The Big Cat Sanctuary

The Louisburg Cider Mill

Powell Pumpkin Patch

If you'd like to see ALL of my pics from yesterday's outing, just click here!

October!

2010-10-01T10:36:00.003-05:00

It's the first day of my favorite month! I LOVE October!

No, it's not just because it's my birthday month. :) I'm not that narcissistic. It's more about the season of Fall, and all of the fun and festivities that go on in October.

October weather is perfect. It starts to cool off, but some days are still nice and warm. The mornings and evenings are chilly enough for jackets. I love jackets. And the sun shines a lot in October. It's like Mother Nature is giving us our last sunshiney fix before the grayness of winter sets in. I try to be outside as much as possible in the Fall, soaking up fresh air and light before we are forced to hibernate for four months. I loathe Kansas City winters.

I kicked off the month by making a pumpkin spice cake and buying some apple cider. We've got a full day of big cats, pumpkin patches, corn mazes, hay rides, and cider mills planned for tomorrow. It's my favorite thing to do all year - I can't wait!! There will definitely be pictures. Lots and lots of pictures!

View last year's Cider Mill and Pumpkin Patch Photos

And from the year before :)

The Flea Circus

2010-09-29T19:51:00.005-05:00

My dog has had fleas for 2 weeks now. I'm so frustrated I could cry. And I feel terrible for him - he has to be miserable. He obviously can't go to the office, so he has to stay at home alone all day, like a normal dog. He is starving for attention since no one wants to touch him. And while I'm very much enjoying being dog-free at the office, I hate that he's trapped in the house for so long. Lord only knows where he's peeing.

I've given him baths. I've treated him with knock-off Frontline (therein lies the problem, I fear.) I've vaccummed. And vaccumed. And vacummed again. (How in the $%#@ do you spell that word?) I've washed everything he touches.

The last resort is to bomb my house. Flea bomb, that is, but I will admit that burning the place down has crossed my mind. I don't really want to do the bomb. We'll have to be gone for hours, and I'll feel all high from chemicals and stuff. Damn fleas. This is MY house, not yours!!

I'm going to give him yet another flea bath. You're not supposed to use the shampoo more than once a week but I'm desperate. I'm a woman on the edge.

If I have to listen to the dog scratching and biting at himself for much longer, I'm seriously going to lose it.

Tanner Says...

2010-09-28T13:53:00.000-05:00

"We should start our own business to make some more money. You know, a family company."

***********

At 6:30am on Monday morning:
"I can't wait to watch CBS Sunday Morning with you, Mama."
"Honey, it's Monday. We watched Sunday Morning yesterday."
"Aw, man!! I hate it when the weekend goes by so fast!"

***********

"So, Mama, how come you were walking so much during your soccer game?"

***********

Aaannnd....She's Back!

2010-09-24T16:00:00.000-05:00

Remember that post about the ongoing quest for balance? Well, in an effort to achieve said balance, I had to put blogging aside for a bit. I had neither time nor energy to devote to SMR, so I do apologize for the 3 week drought. But now I'm back and ready to resume one of my favorite pasttimes - writing about myself.

A couple of Major Milestones ocurred during my hiatus, which must be documented for posterity.

First, Tanner learned to tie his shoes. Before his 8th birthday, all right! I would like to claim the MOTY trophy for this one, but the kid taught himself. He was the only one in his class who couldn't tie his own shoes, so where I failed, peer pressure succeeded. Whatever works, I say.

Secondly, he is now sleeping ALL NIGHT in his own bed. Most of the time. I finally couldn't handle the feet and elbows and knees anymore. Little boys are very pointy - and an elbow jab to my boob was the final blow. The first couple of nights were rough. He'd stumble in like always and I'd have to force myself awake enough to send him back. He was devastated by my rejection, but persisted. He'd try again a few hours later, hoping, I'm sure, to catch me deep in sleep so I wouldn't notice his arrival. It only took a few nights of this before he realized I was serious this time. Now, he occasionally stops by for a quick cuddle, and then goes back to his room without complaint. I sleep without brutality, and it's lovely.

Predictions

2010-09-02T17:10:00.000-05:00

"Mom, when are you going to marry J?"

"Oh I don't know, honey. It'll be quite awhile."

"No it won't. You know why? Because you're a good mama, and I know J will like you for the rest of his life. And he's a good guy, so I know that you'll like him for the rest of yours."

And there you have it. My future, according to Tanner.

The Ongoing Quest for Balance

2010-09-01T14:41:00.000-05:00

Tanner has been stretching my not-so-endless supply motherly patience lately. He's whiny, argumentative, and more sassy than I've ever heard him be. Being grounded used to be a rare occurrence for him. But lately, it's rare if he's NOT grounded. Tonight, it's no playing outside after school. Tomorrow night it's no screens. But these consequences are quickly becoming ineffective, I fear, due to the frequency with which they are administered. I might have to up the anty if I'm going to get his attention.

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what his deal is.

Our evenings during the week are routine, routine, routine. I'm constantly watching the clock, giving 10 minute warnings, listing the next task on the schedule... While that seems to be necessary to keep him on track, it sucks the fun out of everything. I feel like a drill sergeant, not a mom. Ever since school started, I have only rarely actually played with Tanner, and I think that's a major factor in his recent attitude problems.

He wants attention. My attention. We talk while we eat dinner, and sometimes he'll hang out with me while I'm making dinner, but that's pretty much the extent of our "quality" interaction during the week. I get it, but I don't know what to do about it. I HAVE to prepare dinner. I HAVE to clean up after dinner. I HAVE to keep up on laundry. I HAVE to do various other chores necessary to maintaining a household as a one-woman show. I HAVE to occasionally take or make a phone call, or I will lose all my friends. I HAVE to spend time with my boyfriend, or my relationship will suffer. I HAVE to relax a little, or I'll fall apart completely.

I don't know what the answer is, but I do know that my kid is challenging me, and my efforts to correct his behavior don't appear to be working. It's a constant struggle for parental balance: teaching children that the world doesn't revolve around their whims, but also giving them enough focused attention so that they feel secure and loved. And there just aren't enough hours in the day.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I wish I could clone myself. Then there would be enough of me to go around.

Move over, Brandy Chastain!

2010-08-27T09:34:00.001-05:00

It was after my sophomore year of college when I hung up my soccer cleats and packed away my shinguards. I was coming off of two knee surgeries (from skiing, not soccer) and months of grueling physical therapy, and although no doctor ever said I'd never play again, I didn't believe I could. I hurt too much.

But then a little time went by. I realized I was not crippled for life. I began to entertain the thought of playing again, recreationally. There was always something else though, and I never found the time to join a team. Eventually, Tanner came along and my fitness level plummeted into frumpy single motherhood. I promised myself that once he was old enough to hang out on the sidelines without me standing right there with him, I was going to play soccer again.

Well, we're there now, and we've been there for a couple of years. But just like before, there was always something else, or not enough money, or not enough time... It's now been 12 fairly inactive years since I've played on a soccer team.

Until today. Today is my first game in 12 years. I joined a women's rec team which doesn't discriminate against lack of talent or physical fitness. It's going to be embarrassing, because I'm pretty sure my expectations are wildly unrealistic. But I hope it will be fun, and I hope I don't require medical attention on the field.

I'm nervous, but I am looking forward to it. I really miss sports. I miss being competitive, and I miss that feeling of camaraderie you get from being on a team. I miss being physically exerted and challenged. I'm going to baby step my way back into the world of rec sports, tonight being the very first tentative step toward my second soccer life. Wish me luck!

The Apology Letter

2010-08-26T08:40:00.001-05:00

The task: To write a letter of apology.
The reason: Being grounded for repeated offenses of back talk and disrespect.
The prompt: Write about the choices you made last night, and why you are sorry for them.

I'm not sure how effective this was as a punishment, but it sure is cute.

One Child For Sale

2010-08-25T15:52:00.002-05:00

T has a cold this week, and hasn't been sleeping well. The result? A very disagreeable, beligerent child.

I haven't had any sleep either, and I'm in my usual post-vacation funk. The result? A very crabby mom.

Put these two together and you have a recipe for disaster, which is what we got last night.

Tannner was being awful. The dog peed on my freshly washed comforter. I was on a rampage. I actually said "frickin" to my kid while screaming at him. He replied: "Mom, you just cussed at me!" and I said, "No I didn't! That so doesn't count!" Nice parenting.

A bit later, I was on yet another rant about how disrespectful he was being, and while I paused to catch my breath, he said:

"Are you going to sell me?"

I burst out laughing, and so did he, and I completely lost my train of thought. He did end up grounded though. He will be spending tonight in his room, writing me a detailed letter of apology for his behavior.

And just between us, I might've considered selling him. At a discount.

Surf City USA

2010-08-23T19:58:00.001-05:00

The weekend I just had was so perfect that I'm not sure it was real. For four amazing days, I was in paradise. As we were packing to leave, J said: "I feel like I'm being kicked out of Eden." Yup, that pretty much sums it up.

We arrived at the Shorebreak Hotel on Thursday afternoon to find out that our room wasn't ready. Oh bummer, we have to go straight to the beach? That's too bad. And where's the beach? Out the front door and across the street. We had our toes in the sand within 5 minutes - hello Pacific Ocean!

We checked out the beach, walked the pier, watched surfers and fisherman and beach volleyball games, and then somehow found ourselves at Sandy's beachfront bar with cocktails in our hands. Funny how that happens. A couple of hours later we returned to the hotel, and our room still wasn't ready. "We'll just upgrade you to a suite," the front desk agent said.

I faked cool nonchalance and stole a sideways glance at J, who was doing the same thing. Upgraded to suite? Yeah, that happens to me all the time. No big deal. (WAHOOOOO!!!!)

Our room was, of course, gorgeous. Oceanview, balcony, and a bathroom the size of my house. Two giant TVs (cause one would never be enough) and did I mention the ocean view? J left to go find his friends while I settled in, poured a glass of wine, and pinched myself repeatedly.

Later on, we had a delicious dinner at Spark Woodfire Grill beside an outdoor fire pit, with a Pacific sunset for entertainment. After dinner, we joined his friends and began to bar hop our way through Huntington Beach. I started to meet all of the fraternity brothers and girlfriends and wives, all of whom were really nice and lots of fun. Thank goodness.

On Friday, we were up really early (a 2 hour time difference is more significant than one would think) and so went to breakfast at a local favorite near the hotel. After breakfast, J went back to the room for some more sleep, and I headed to the beach with my camera for a chilly morning walk. I was surprised at how cool it was; I definitely needed a jacket in the mornings and evenings.

Although the beach was quiet and fairly deserted when I first showed up, it began to come alive soon thereafter. I watched the surfers arrive and zip themselves into their wetsuits - an absolute necessity since the water was about 60 degrees. There were literally hundreds of surfers in the water - little black buoys dotting the coastline as far as you could see. They almost looked like colonies of seals, paddling around in the surf waiting for the next big wave.

I watched locals meet each other on the pier for a walk and some coffee. I watched fisherman set up their posts and drop their lines. I watched joggers and bikers and rollerbladers go through their regular morning routines of exercising in paradise. Hippies and advocates for various causes arrived early to claim the prime tourist-grabbing spots on the pier. Beach bums wandered aimlessly with distant, contented smiles on their leathery faces. Artists set up booths to display their creations.

J decided to take surfing lessons that afternoon, while I baked myself in sunscreenless bliss on the beach. All of the locals wore long sleeve cover-ups and hats on the beach, or sat under umbrellas. I should've followed their lead, but no. By the time we were ready to go out that night, we were both feeling the consequences of our irresponsible sun exposure. Still, it was totally worth it, and racoon eyes are hot. Literally.

The rest of the weekend was filled with delicious meals, delicious drinks, and as much California sun as we could soak up. The wedding festivities (which is why we were there in the first place) were beautiful and really fun.

And the best part of the whole trip....J. Take away the fancy hotel and the beach and the perfect weather and the seafood, and what's left is the part that makes me happiest of all. It's him, whether we are in SoCal or the Ozarks or my living room - he is the one who makes my world the happiest it's ever been.

CLICK HERE TO VIEW MY PHOTOS

Note from Tanner - 2.9.10

2010-08-23T14:15:00.000-05:00

I found this note from Tanner today, shoved in among a bunch of papers on my desk. I thought it was cute enough to post, even though it's a bit outdated...

Allow me to translate:

I am happy today. This is the last day before my Mama comes home.

Mama vs. Mom

2010-08-17T11:12:00.000-05:00

I am Mama.

That is what I've answered to for the past 7.5 years. Until last week, that is, when Tanner decided that from now on, he will be calling me "Mom."

But I don't want to be "mom"!! I want to be Mama! Every time I hear him say "mom," that song from the Ting-Tings starts playing in my head: "That's not my name!"

Tanner has been tireless in his conversion efforts, calling me "Mom" excessively to help make it a habit. For the first few days, I complained bitterly. I refused to answer. I begged for him to reconsider, to which he responded:

"I'm growing up, Mom. You're just gonna have to get used to it."

Bah.

Sun, Sand, Salt and Surf

2010-08-16T11:46:00.003-05:00

It's been a whirlwind few weeks, so I'm trying to catch up all at once! We had a fabulous vacation in Florida, and I've posted my pics for your viewing pleasure. It was Tanner's first airplane trip, and his first time seeing the ocean, so there was a lot of excitement.

I was a nervous wreck watching him swim in the ocean, because the child was fearless. I expected him to be more timid, more careful...but no. He was in heaven! Even when the waves were rolling and tossing him, up he would pop, sputtering and coughing, and then head back for more. I had at least twenty heart attacks during the trip. I tried to instill a healthy respect for the ocean while not putting the fear of God in him, but in the end I just gave up and let him go at it. I did make sure we were always right in front of the Lifeguard stand, though.

And finally, the Camping Story...

2010-08-16T10:58:00.003-05:00

The fire is the main comfort of the camp, whether in summer or winter, and is about as ample at one season as at another. It is as well for cheerfulness as for warmth and dryness. ~Henry David Thoreau

There's just something nostalgic about the smell of a roaring campfire and the taste of a hot s'more. When you live in the city, where stars are hidden by a smoggy haze, looking up into a night sky that is filled with a bazillion stars is magical every single time. I love to watch the fire light flicker on the faces around the fire, and pull on a jacket against the damp night air. Beer never tastes better than when popped open while floating down a river. Life never seems as a simple as it does when you are idly throwing frisbees for romping dogs, or watching your canoe cut ripples in the glassy river. My cell phone was rendered useless in the Ozark wilderness, and so it was tossed to the side and forgotten about. For a few days, nothing outside of the campground existed, and I love that.

Our camping trip started out a little rough, though. We left hours behind schedule which means that we didn't arrive at our campground until after midnight on Friday. We rolled up to the office to check-in, and we were greeted by Kenny, the campground Welcome Wagon/Policy Enforcer. J asked him if he knew where the rest of the X party was set up, and Kenny looked at him as if he were the mother of all idiots.

"There's 'bout a-hunnert-and-eighty acres back dere. Follow you some roads."

Well, okay. Thanks for the help, Kenny. We did follow us some roads and eventually located our group, who'd arrived earlier in the day and set up camp. We inflated the mattress (everyone else had one too!) and unloaded as quickly as possible so that we could join our slightly inebriated friends around the fire.

After a long drive and even longer week, J and I collapsed into bag chairs with a happy sigh of relief, and contentedly sipped G&Ts out of camp mugs. Before we knew it, the sky began to lighten, and we realized that morning was on its way. We shuffled off to the tent for a few hours of much needed sleep before beginning a strenuous day of pure leisure.

Saturday was blistering hot. And there's only one thing to do when it's that hot - swim! The campground had a great swimming hole, complete with a rope swing and shade. The group spent the better part of the afternoon and evening in the water, just hanging out without a care in the world.

J was feeling a bit under the weather, so we returned to the campsite late afternoon so he could nap. The rest of the group stayed at the swimming hole, so I just sat in the sun and sipped beers while I read my book. It was quiet, with a little breeze to make it bearable in the sun. There was a parking field right across from our campsite, where people left their cars in the morning while they canoed for the day. That afternoon, I watched the buses arrive to drop off all of the wasted, sunburnt canoers - that was by far the best entertainment of the weekend.

Sunday we hit the river. It's been years since I've canoed, and I was excited. Sunday floating is the way to go - we mostly had the river to ourselves. It took some cohersion to get the dogs into the canoe, and they didn't really love the experience. Every time we pulled over on a sand bar (which was roughly every 10 minutes), we'd have to pull them out of the canoe, and then pull them back in when it was time to go. They were nervous, and moved around a lot in the canoe, which made me slightly crazy. I knew that it was only a matter of time before we ended up flipped.

And sure enough...

We hit a tricky spot on the river. We didn't steer into as we should have, and found ourselves careening toward the bank, where something large loomed just under the surface. We hit it head on, of course, and the canoe began to tilt. I think if it had just been J and I, we might've been able to correct ourselves, but as it was, the dogs freaked and threw us to one side. The right side of the canoe dipped into the water, and I bailed out before we flipped completely. I lost sight of my paddle in the fray, which freaked me out, but it hadn't gone far so I was able to retrieve it easily.

The dogs jumped out of our sinking canoe and took off up the bank and into the woods. J went after them while I held onto our canoe and watched all of our stuff float down the river. Luckily, some of our group stopped and picked up what they could, so the only things I lost were a tank top and my towel.

About 10 minutes later, we had our canoe emptied out and back on top of the water, the terrified dogs back in the middle, and I was breathing somewhat normally again. We headed downriver and managed to stay upright for the duration of the float. I can't say that it was relaxing, but it was pleasant.

I have to say that I thought J and I did great together, and I think he'd say the same thing. I really enjoyed the time with him and loved learning more about how he works. There were a few hiccups along the way which we handled smoothly. Camping really brings you together - you're dirty most of the time, for one, so it's a time to get very real with eachother. You have to work together to get things done, and you also don't have regular "life" distractions so there's a lot of one-on-one time. I liked watching him with his friends, too, because I think you can tell a lot about a person by how they are with their close friends. I like his friends a lot - that's important.

Overall, it was a great experience, and I will look forward to next year (with a few adjustments).

Summertime Finale at the Lake

2010-08-16T09:52:00.001-05:00

We finished off the summer in the best way possible - hanging with J and Fam at the lake. Tanner tubed for the first time, and had a *very* brief encounter with the water skis. After one spill, he was done for the day. Better luck next time!

Another First Day

2010-08-16T09:35:00.001-05:00

It's true what they say: it does get easier.

The First Day of Second Grade was not nearly as dramatic as was Kindergarten and First Grade. In fact, when we pulled into the parking lot, Tanner was hanging out of the window, yelling and waving at anyone he recognized. He didn't show even a shred of anxiety - he seemed really ready to get started.

It helped that he got the teacher he wanted. Thank God for that! I really think it's going to be a great year for him.

And here are the token First Day shots...

What We're Listening To

2010-08-04T11:24:00.000-05:00

We love music. All kinds.

T and I are always jammin to something. We don't necessarily share the same taste in music, but I will admit that he has exposed me to some pretty cool tunes that I probably wouldn't have heard otherwise. His favorite radio station is 95.7 The Vibe. He never wants to listen to anything else, especially when we're in the car. I indulge him a lot of the time, but there are times when, if I hear Lady GaGa one more time, I will drive us off of a bridge. I want to be hip and cool and relevant, but I have to draw the line somewhere. I guess that makes me UNcool and IRrelevant, doesn't it? So be it.

Just for fun, I thought I'd make a playlist of some of our current favorites. These are the songs that make us crank the volume and sing at the top of our lungs:

MY PLAYLIST
Hallelujah
Falling Slowly
Halo
Sometime Around Midnight
Imma Be
I'm Not Afraid *explicit*
Beautiful, Beautiful
Life After You
Run
All the Right Moves
City on our Knees
Letters from the Sky
September
Glitter in the Air
Love the Way You Lie

HIS PLAYLIST
Baby
One Time (That's right. He's got Bieber Fever)
Fireflies
Boom Boom Pow
Alejandro
Airplanes
This Afternoon
Fire Burning
Viva la Vida
Hey Soul Sister

Roughing it. Sort of.

2010-07-29T10:46:00.000-05:00

We're going camping and canoeing this weekend. I hope I still have a boyfriend come Sunday.

I'm so excited - I haven't been camping since last year and I haven't canoed since college. The weather looks decent - highs in the low 90s and lows around 70. Most importantly, it should be dry and sunny. We're going with a group of J's friends - only a few of which I've met before. Luckily, they are great and I'm looking forward to hanging out with them. This is a mostly Adults Only weekend, so T is spending the weekend at the farm. He's pretty happy with that arrangement.

Armed with my Camping Checklist (accented with clip art), the preparations have started, and so have the debates over who's the most efficient car packer. (I am!) I hear that a washer game is under construction. I've never played washers, but the guys seem pretty excited about it. I'm bringing a book and a fishing rod.

I think J and I might have different camping visions. I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm a giant pansy for insisting on the queen size inflatable mattress. I fully anticipate some jabs over this during the weekend, but they can jab their hearts out, because I'll be sleeping comfortably in my tent.

Last night we made our grocery list. That was hilarious. Anytime I get teased about my blow-up mattress, I'm going to bring up Gourmet J's grocery list. Talk about NOT roughing it! I'm not complaining, though. I will get to reap the benefits of his *excessive* food and beverage supply. I just wonder where he's going to put the economy sized refrigerator we'll need to store it all.

I foresee some tipping on the river - we'll have J's dogs in the canoe with us (40 and 80 lbs) and they don't like water. At first, I'd planned to bring Wyatt also but then good sense showed up and I thought better of it. J thinks his dogs will be fine. This is the same guy who thought it would be fine to push these two water fearful dogs off a boat and into the deep part of the lake - where they couldn't touch or get to shore. Yeah, that was a GREAT idea. Canoeing with them could be interesting. Oh well. Tipping isn't the end of the world. Beer cans float and so do I. :)

Can't wait!

Slow Recovery

2010-07-26T10:29:00.000-05:00

I don't like scary movies. I never have. So to feel like I'm living in a horror film...pretty much the worst thing ever. That's what the weekend felt like, and I'm worn out.

Luckily, T remembers nothing of the Night Terrors. Unfortunately, I do, and I'm still freaked out. I dreaded night time all day yesterday. Every light in our house was blazing all weekend. Being alone sucked - I jumped at every noise and every grumble my dog made.

Last night was terror-free, but T was afraid to sleep in his room. I tucked him in his bed, keeping to our usual routine. We prayed. We recited the verses he likes to say at bedtime. I tried to be the picture of normalcy. I walked out of his room, resisting the urge to campout outside of his door.

It wasn't long before he was at my bedside. He said he was afraid in his room. He said he was trying not to let his eyes close, even though he was so tired. Since he couldn't remember anything of his Night Terrors, I assume he was picking up on MY fear, even though I was trying not to show it. Or maybe he remembered that something happened, without knowing the details. Either way, I felt better with him close, and so I let him sleep with me. I got peed on, but at least I knew he was safe.

Hopefully, after another night or two, I'll feel normal again, and will be able to stop worrying about weird, horror movie stuff going on in my house.

Eden-ish

2010-07-25T21:14:00.000-05:00

Remember how optimistic I was that I'd be able to turn my patio into my own little Garden of Eden?

Yeah. I couldn't.

I planted all kinds of seeds, and I waited anxiously for them to come up. They started sprouting, and the flower bed was covered in fragile green shoots that I willed to stay alive. It was so exciting to actually be growing something.

And then came almost two solid weeks of rain, flooding my patio and drowning my baby plants. Everything died.

Unwilling to give up, I decided to try one last time, but in a smaller space. I mulched most of the area, but built two little mini beds with bricks to serve as a dam when it rains. In the mini beds, I planted thyme and some more seeds, and crossed my fingers.

They flooded the very next day.

So it's official. I've given up any hope of growing anything in the ground. My pots are doing okay, so I'll just have to go that route from now on.

I promised an "after" shot, so here it is. Not exactly the Eden I'd envisioned back in April, but the tiki torches make it a really nice place to be in the evenings. The tiki torches were a gift from J. He brought them over one of the first nights we hung out together. When I thanked him, he said he considered them an investment, as he was planning to spend a lot of time on my patio this summer. And so we have. Awwww.... :)

The Terror of Night Terrors

2010-07-24T23:44:00.003-05:00

It's been almost a year since Tanner's last Night Terror. I thought he'd outgrown it.

When I tucked him last night, he was hot to the touch. Oh no, I thought. We'd had friends over for the entire evening, and now that kid was probably going to get sick. I so hate making that call. "Um yeah, we had a great time with you last night. Oh by the way, my kid was sick. Sorry."

The thermometer read 99. Eh, no big deal. He's probably overheated and dehydrated from a really dang hot week at camp. I didn't even bother with Tylenol. I'm one of those moms, who doesn't medicate until absolutely necessary. That was dumb.

After bedtime, I was on the phone with J, and mentioned the slight fever. I hope he doesn't have a Night Terror, he said. I brushed him off. Oh, he's outgrown those, I said. It's been almost a year since he's had one, and all the websites say that they typically end by age 7. We're in the clear.

Not five minutes after we hung up the phone, I heard the telltale sign of terror come from Tanner's bedroom. Chills went down my spine.

The sound that he makes when he wakes up with a Night Terror is so piercing, so distinct, that I always know immediately what is happening. It doesn't even sound like him. It's an entirely different voice. It makes my blood run cold.

When I got to his room, he was sitting up in bed. His eyes were open, and he was crying and very agitated. At first, it didn't seem like it was going to be that bad. He let me rub his back, and usually when in a Night Terror, he won't allow me to touch him. But after about 5 minutes of trying to soothe him, he was showing no signs of getting out of it, so I turned on his light and told him to get out of bed so I could hold him. He did.

He let me hold him for a minute and I thought it was over. But then, he suddenly sat back and looked at me, terror on his face, and it was like he didn't even know who I was. He jumped up and started pacing his room. As he paced, he became hysterical, screaming jibberish and sometimes throwing himself on the floor. He shook and convulsed. He kept talking about "the other people." Sometimes he seemed to be reaching out for something or someone, and other times he seemed to be cowering from something. His eyes, open the entire time, were someplace else. I think that is the scariest part of a Night Terror - the vacancy in his eyes.

He began to run and crawl through the house, as if trying to escape. He was hysterical, and wouldn't let me get near him. All I could do was watch, to make sure he didn't hurt himself. As I watched, I felt robotically calm. Eventually, I was able to get him to swallow some Tylenol. And then, as suddenly as it started, it was over. He walked back to his room, climbed into bed, and fell asleep. He was drenched in sweat, and crying, but he was peaceful by comparison.

This was the worst Tanner has ever been, and the entire episode lasted at least 15 minutes, if not longer. It wasn't until I was over that I began to shake. This one was different. It scared me by how...possessed he seemed. I felt the presence of evil in my house.

I'm going to take a jump here, but I can't help it. If you had seen what I saw, maybe you would consider the same possibility. Because I believe in God, I also believe in Satan. And because I believe in God and Satan, I believe in good and evil spirits. And I also believe that sometimes, good and evil go to battle. And I think that's what happened last night. I don't think we were alone.

When I went into the bathroom to get the Tylenol, I flipped on the light switch and I swear that I glimpsed an image of someone (or something) in the mirror. I jumped completely out of my skin - it was that real. My entire body shook.

Usually during a night terror, T speaks a lot of jibberish, and I can't really piece anything together. But last night, while it was still hard to make out, I could hear an obvious theme - the other people. He kept talking about the other people. He asked me where they were, and why they were there, and he talked directly to them, saying he couldn't do it.

And tonight, he woke up again, talking in a way that has me convinced that something is not right...

As I was writing this post, I heard the sound again. I leaped up and ran to his side. He was once again sitting up in bed, but this time, I knew he could see me. He was coherent, but just barely. It was so upsetting, so I'm just going to type exactly what happened, before I forget it:

Have you ever been down there? he asked me.
Where?
Down there. [He points to the floor.] Where the other people are.

Then he turned to the window and pressed his face against it, looking for something. He turned around and looked at me.

I can't do this. It's just too heavy. It makes me feel like a little baby.

I just want to die. I want to go down there. His teeth began to chatter uncontrollably.

I grabbed his hands and began to pray.
Your hands feel different.
What do you mean, different?
They feel different than the other people's hands. They make my hands feel like baby's hands.

I don't know where my real family is!
I'm right here, baby. I'm your real family.
No, you're not. My real family is somewhere else. I think they're down there.
You're real family is right here, Tanner. I'm right here.
[Nearly hysterical] I don't know! It's too heavy!

Can you pray, baby? Say Jesus. Say it out loud.
I can't say that.
Yes you can. Say it.
Jesus. And then bursts into tears. I can't say that!

I began to pray over him, now in tears myself. This is no longer a Night Terror. This is something else.
Why are you doing that? he asked.
It will give you peace. It will make the nightmares go away, I said. Pray out loud, baby. Please pray out loud.
I can't.
And so I prayed. I prayed until he was calm. Until he came back into his eyes.
He looked at his pillow, pointed to it, and said,
It's okay to lay down now.

And so he did. And his eyes closed slowly, as if he was scared to let them. Just before he fell asleep, he whispered: This is too heavy for me.

Oh my God. What is happening to my baby?! I've never been so freaked out in my life.

So How 'Bout Those Resolutions?

2010-07-23T09:50:00.001-05:00

I intended to do a 6 month check-in on my New Year's Resolutions, mainly because I'm actually sticking with some of them which makes me kinda proud. But I sort of floated through that 6 month mark, so I'm checking in now. Better late than never. And so here's how I'm doing:

Resolution #1 - Health and Wellness
Along with 95% of Americans, I resolved to lose weight in 2010. And beyond that, I resolved to live a healthier lifestyle. I'm proud to say that I've been working on this consistently since January 1 and have made marked improvment in some areas.

* Fast food is, for the most part, a thing of the past. There are times when we do race through a drive-thru, or I crave a cheeseburger, but overall, it's been removed from our menu. What I've noticed is that, when I do give in to that craving for a cheeseburger, it's heavenly. For about 20 minutes. But then I just feel sick, and greasy, and fat. So not worth it, and that realization has helped keep me away.

* We eat at home more often than not now. I still can't claim to prepare well-balanced meals every night, but I am getting it done maybe 2-3 times a week. It's progress.

* Giving up wine worked for about 2 weeks. Turns out, that was a sacrifice I just wasn't willing to make, and I decided I didn't have to in order to be healthy. I just drink a lot less of it. That has helped my budget and my workout habits. Because I don't know about you, but after two glasses of wine, there's no way I'm going to exercise.

* I'm still pretty weak on the exercise front. I go in spurts. There are weeks where we do something active every night. And there are weeks where we do nothing. Right now, it's so bloody hot that we haven't done much, and I can tell. I feel slothy, and I'm cranky. We've spent a ton of time at the pool, and I do swim laps, but since I'm not much of a swimmer, I don't think I can count that as exercise. So I need to get better on this one.

* As a result of all of these things, I've lost weight. I've weighed in every single Friday since January 1. And as of today, I'm down 16 lbs. That's not much for 7 months of effort, but at least the numbers have been decreasing steadily. Lately, I've been averaging 1 pound per week. They say that's the way to do it and keep it off. I've gotten to retire a few pairs of pants, and I fit nicely into some that I haven't worn in two years. I still have a long way to go to reach my goal, but I'm happy. I'm headed in the right direction. Finally.

Resolution #2 - Seek Writing Opportunities
I've done this to some extent, but not with the effort that's really required to be successful. I did get selected to be writer for an online local news and features website, The Kansas City Examiner, but I haven't submitted any articles yet. I haven't had the time or inspiration to write anything "newsy."

Resolution #3 - Get A New Job
This one is a total Fail, although I have tried. I've had at least 4 interviews so far this year, maybe more. I just can't seem to seal the deal. And so I'm still stuck, but trying, really trying, not to complain so much about it. I think I probably fail on that most of the time.

So there it is. The Resolution Update. I'm doing okay so far, and the year isn't over yet! I hope to report more weight loss, more published articles, and a new job before the clock strikes midnight on December 31. I always have liked deadlines...

A Big Dose of Happy

2010-07-21T21:36:00.001-05:00

I am exhausted. I haven't slept more than a handful of hours in the past three nights. I'm in an almost delirious state at this point. I'm stressed, and I literally can't shut my mind off. As soon as I lie down, my heart starts racing. I am one giant panic attack.

But tonight, the Js came home from being gone for 6 days. Suddenly, despite serious sleep deprivation, stress, and overall angst, all seems right again. He's back in my zip code.

He announced his arrival with only a few minutes notice. At dinnertime. As I'm on my way home from work. A long day at work. (Is there any other kind?) Thank God I already had a dinner plan, but it was a plan for two, not four. Me, being me, freaked a little. Do I have enough food? He did not plan to stay for dinner and I knew that, but I at least wanted to be able to offer it! And I wanted them to stay, which means I needed to be able to provide the food. Thankfully, I had planned fish, and I knew I had extra in the freezer. Relief! I would have enough food, just in case.

And then there were the dirty dishes in the sink, and the full trash can, and the fact that I wouldn't have time to freshen up or brush my teeth, or wipe down the toilet...oh God, would they have to go to the bathroom?!?!?! Yep, they did.

I think I've been pretty real with J so far. He's definitely seen me without make-up, in a dirty home, with unwashed hair and ugly, unflattering clothes. But it still unnerves me just a little bit. I still have that desire to put my best foot and face and home forward. Especially after I haven't seen him for 6 days. I just pictured our reunion differently. A little more staged, a little less real, a little more makeup to hide the bags.

As it turns out, though...it was a perfect reunion. I was so happy to see him that I quickly forgot about all of those things that had sent my blood pressure skyrocketing only minutes before. As soon as he smiled at me, none of it mattered. He was back, and he had the most precious little boy ever with him, who walked in like he owned the place and threw his arms around me. My gosh, is there anything better?

We caught up while I made dinner, and the boys played. That sound, of Little J and Tanner playing together...I do not have the words to express how sweet it was. I couldn't have been happier that my house was once again filled up with the voices of my most beloved boys, and the rest of it just didn't matter one bit.

They didn't stay long, and they couldn't eat with us so now I have lots of leftover fish, but it was exactly what I needed. A big dose of happy to balance out all the junk I've had to deal with.

Maybe tonight I'll sleep.

The Dangerous Business of Travel Books and Movies

2010-07-19T10:11:00.000-05:00

"The best journeys are those that answer questions you didn't think to ask in the beginning."

I watched an awesome documentary this weeked called 180 Degrees South. I watched the first half on Saturday night when Tanner was at the farm, but then decided he'd love it so I stopped it to wait for him. It's about a group of free-spirited people whose lives are all about following their bliss. They are surfers and rock climbers, and they work only to fund their next adventure. They live in places suitable for pursuing their passions - Yosemite, the California Coast, Chile... I so admire people who live like that. A big part of me wishes that I could.

So T and I watched the whole film tonight, lying in my bed with a globe, because Tanner kept asking questions about where they were in relation to where we are, and how far they traveled, etc, etc. Our globe is a tiny plastic toy - I really need to invest in a real one, as often as we use it. Tanner loves the globe.

I also spent the entire afternoon poolside, reading "A Cook's Tour: Global Adventures in Extreme Cuisine" by Anthony Bourdain. I love Anthony Bourdain. If I could spend a day with one famous person, I think he might be the one. True, he can be snotty and cynical and very...gritty, shall we say? But he's honest, and I love his style of writing, and I love how he experiences the cultures of the places he visits. His descriptions of the people, environment, and food really take me to that place. Plus, he's funny.

Most of my weekend was spent vicariously traveling the world - I was in France, Spain, Vietnam, Mexico, Rapa Nui, and Chile. I was on a boat for 3 months. I was climbing in Patagonia. I was surfing in Easter Island (Rapa Nui). I was eating exotic food from street vendors in outdoor markets, and drinking Bordeaux wine in quaint little bistros. It was fun.

The result, of course, is that I am feeling completely discontented with the predictability of my regular routine, dissatisfied with my lifestyle, and in great need of some adventure. I want to get outside - and by outside I don't mean a city park where you can still hear the hum of interstate traffic. I want to get outside of the Midwest, where the landscape leaves a great deal to be desired. I want to see something I haven't seen before. I want to have one of those journeys that answers questions I never thought to ask. I want to be awed into contemplative silence by the awesomeness of Creation. I want to follow my bliss, like those guys in that documentary.

I guess that's the danger of reading travel books and watching adventure documentaries. But I won't stop. Even though it makes me wish for a life I don't have, I would still rather experience the world vicariously through the experiences of others than to be unaware of what is out there. Because who knows, maybe someday I'll get to walk in the footsteps of Bourdain or the bliss-following hippies. Here's hopin'.

Money matters.

2010-07-16T22:26:00.001-05:00

The best way for a person to have happy thoughts is to count his blessings and not his cash. ~Author Unknown

I'm trying to count those blessings, I really am. There are a lot of them. But it's impossible not to count the cash. And then recount it. And then count it again, in hopes of a more favorable outcome.

I started out this post ranting about the almost unnoticeable raise I got last year which disqualified me from my scholarship for Y-Care. As I was writing, I realized what a brat I sounded like, complaining about a raise. I know people under salary freezes who haven't had a raise in years. I know people who don't even have jobs. I can't complain about a raise. But, the raise did not cover the scholarship money that I lost because of it, and therefore, I was better off without it. Messed up, isn't it? To say that I was actually in a better financial situation before a raise? Welcome to my working class life.

For two years, I have qualified for after school care assistance through the Y. It wasn't much, but it was a life-saver. I reapplied for my scholarship last Spring, as I always do, and was surprised to get a big fat DENIAL in the mail.

I ran to the computer and pulled up the income guidelines. Sure enough, thanks to that raise, I was shoved just over the cut-off line.

In my best Soup Nazi voice: "NO SCHOLARSHIP FOR YOU!"

So today I found out what the damage is going to be for the 2010-11 school year. $100 more per month than I paid last year. $100!! Awesome. Yeah. I totally have that.

I just get so frustrated at this in-between place I'm in. This place of making too much, but not nearly enough. This place of constant financial stress. Of never really knowing how it's going to work. Of fearing that something major is going to go wrong, and when it does, what then?

Savings? Ha! College fund? Haha! Spending money? HAHAHAHAHA!!!

But hey. We have a home. A car. Health insurance. Clothes. Netflix. Food, most of the time. And we do plenty of fun things, some of which I even pay for. So we're fine, and by the standards of most of the rest of the world, we're plenty rich enough. It's just that when the time comes each month to pay The Man, I always feel like I'm going to barf. And now I have to find another $100 a month.

Super.

So I'm a Little Bit Loco

2010-07-15T15:04:00.000-05:00

I have some weird fears. I have some legitimate fears, too, but many of them are just plain ridiculous. They aren't the kind of fears that keep me up at night, but they do cause my heart rate to jump from time to time. For example...

I am afraid I'm going to drive away from the gas pump with the nozzle still in my tank, and cause the entire gas station to explode.

I am afraid all my teeth are going to fall out. Sometimes, I even imagine that some of them are loose, and I completely panic.

I am afraid that a semi truck is going to change lanes when I'm driving right next to it, and that I'll get stuck under it, a la National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation (min 6:10). It could happen.

I am afraid of bodies of water where I can't see the bottom, or what is swimming beneath me.

I am seriously afraid of worms. Yes, worms. There's even a name for this one - it's called Scoleciphobia.

I am afraid that when the world ends (in 2012), that I'll be left behind with Kirk Cameron.

I am afraid of getting stuck in a revolving door. Or in a turnstile.

I am afraid of throwing up on an airplane.

And I'm afraid of airplane bathrooms. It's the getting stuck thing again. Or the plane going down while I've got my pants down around my ankles. That would be awful!

I am afraid of my gas fireplace. So much so that I refuse to use it. The one time I lit it last winter, I nearly melted my face off.

I am afraid of getting pooped on by a bird.

Now that I think about it, I'm kind of afraid of birds in general. Especially in swarms.

I am afraid of someday seeing an unflattering picture of myself in one of those "Best (or Worst) of Walmart Shoppers" email forwards.

So, yeah. I have some pretty silly, but very real, fears which some might consider a little bit crazy. But crazy is interesting, right? That's all I really am - interesting.

And...I'm spent.

2010-07-11T20:45:00.000-05:00

It's been awhile since I've had one of "those" days with my little darling. Summertime is so full of good times that there is very little room for bad moods and crankiness.

But today, pretty much from start to finish, was a reminder that, every once in awhile, we all succumb to the dark side.

Tanner has been trying to say the least. It all started with the two giant two claps of thunder which startled us both awake this morning, and blanketed us in darkness as the power blew.

He panicked, and naturally I didn't have a clue where I'd put the flashlight. We snuggled in bed and watched the storm for a bit, waiting for the lights to come back on. They didn't. Eventually, we got hungry and decided to go out for breakfast. The house was very very dark, so dressing and making myself presentable for the outside world was tricky, especially since T was attached to me, scared of the dark. I was annoyed by it all, but happy for a good excuse to go to Eggtc . I recently discovered that this lovely KCMO breakfast spot opened a restaurant in Shawnee, and I've been anxious to go. I have to say that the Shawnee version was not good. The food was fine, but the dining experience was so disappointing that from now on, I'll happily drive to 55th and Main for my fix. We waited so long for our food that a guy from the next table offered Tanner half his biscuit. I believe Tanner was actually chewing on my arm at that point.

After breakfast, we ran a few errands and then returned home in hopes of finding working electricity. Still nothing. So we headed to my bro's to watch the World Cup Final, which was the highlight of the day even though the game was a bit slow.

We got home at 4 and the power was back on, so I got to work on the regular Sunday chores - laundry, dishes, etc. And through it all, Tanner has been whiny and dissatisfied and bored and stuck to me. My patience is completely shot.

I'm almost looking forward to going to work tomorrow, and if you know me at all you'll know that is saying a lot about my current mental state.

Dog Beach

2010-07-08T19:47:00.000-05:00

Wyatt experienced his first visit to the off leash dog beach at Shawnee Mission Park last weekend. I wasn't at all sure how he would do, since he can be sort of a jerk to other dogs and doesn't really seem like much of a lake dog, but I think he actually enjoyed himself. A little.

Oh yeah. Fits right in.

Brother helped him get used to the water. :)

Is that a drowned rat? Nope, it's Wyatt.

He crashed on the way home.

J's dogs had a great time and were very tolerant of their fluffy little friend.

Soul Food

2010-07-08T11:28:00.001-05:00

Last night I went to my church's worship and communion night, New Community, and was surprised to find that I was starving for a really moving God experience. I was fed some soul food that I didn't even realize I needed.

I saw some people that I haven't seen in awhile, and two of them said how beautiful and happy I look. Those two have seen me completely broken, at my very lowest. Without even knowing about any new developments in my life, they could see the difference. They could see the glow that comes from feeling wanted and loved for the first time in a long time. That made me happy.

What I love most about the worship and communion nights is how they make it possible to have a completely private and personal encounter with God, and yet experience the energy that comes from collective worship. I love to watch people during New Community. Some are lifting their arms and smiling while they sing. Others have bowed heads, or their arms wrapped around someone. And many are wiping tears away, overcome with emotion. It moves me to see people feel such intense emotion as they put themselves at God's feet with whatever they are going through. It makes God feel real to me - more than just a religion or a ceremony but actually real and even tangible.

For the past few years, more often than not, I unloaded my burdens in those moments. I cried to Him about everything that hurt and asked Him why He allowed life to be so hard. And while the release felt good, and there were times when I did feel comforted, most of the time I just left drained and empty. I would watch couples taking communion together, praying over each other, and my heart would break into a million peices. It made church a place I did not want to be.

So last night was my first New Community in a long time, and it was an entirely different experience. With amazingly talented musicians as the catalyst for an evening with God, I found myself completely overwhelmed with His presence - in the room and in my own heart. I was hungry for God, and felt completely full of Him for the entire night. My heart did not break as I watched people take communion together. Rather, I found joy in them, and I thanked God for them because they represent how amazing relationships can be when God is at the center. I found myself praying the same thing over and over, and it was just "Thank you." I have asked, I have pleaded, I have suffered, I have waited. And now...He has answered.

Long Weekend Euphoria

2010-07-06T12:15:00.001-05:00

Wow - has it really been a week since I posted on my blog? I guess that's what happens when the weather is great and so is the company!

Fourth of July weekend was, in a word, amazing. (If anyone has some good synonyms for "amazing," I could really use them.) I got to hang with my family and two of my favorite guys, and have some much needed time away from work.

I won't recap the entire weekend for you because no one wants to read that, but it was great and it was really hard to re-enter my real life this morning. As I set my alarm last night for the first time in four days, I felt that familiar knot in my stomach. When it went off this morning, I thought: "Really? I have to get up already?"

But hey, it's a short week and the great thing about being busy is that the time flies. I will be enjoying another weekend before I know it. If I survive the next four days.

Tannerisms

2010-06-29T20:52:00.001-05:00

As we were driving over the Kansas River yesterday, I commented on high the river was.

"Is it supposed to be touching the tops of the trees, Mama?" Tanner asked.

"No, it's not. But since it has rained so much lately, the river has gotten really full," I answered.

"Well," he said brightly, "it's a good thing we have evaporation!"

***********

"What are you doing, Mama?"
"Trying on this dress to see if it fits."
"So does it?"
"No, not really. It's a little tight."
"Well, you have gotten taller lately."

Another Best Day Ever

2010-06-27T10:19:00.000-05:00

I've been having a lot of those lately. I hope there's not a limit to how many Best Day Ever days one can have in a lifetime.

Here's why it was a BDE:

It started with a good long snuggle from my little boy who is lately way too cool to let his mom love on him very much.

Pancakes for breakfast.

Leisurely morning.

Meeting up with J and J for a full day of activities. Always happy to see those two!

Watching the USA vs. Ghana World Cup game amidst the chaos in the Power and Light District. We couldn't see very well and we were all sweating like farm animals, but it was cool to be around that much patriotic, soccer loving energy.

Watching MOST of the game from the air-conditioned bar and grill. (stripper poles not pictured)

The moment during the game when I had both T & Little J on my lap. Heaven!

Adding Alexis to our brood and going swimming with the Sears Family. No pictures of this because I didn't take my camera to the pool. You know why.

Lexi's hugs - I so love that girl.

Waterslides! Well, the curly one at least. The straight one was NOT fun.

Mac n' cheese dinner with all of the kids.

Sitting on the patio playing Hi-Low.

Listening to the kids catch lightning bugs.

J, telling me what an awesome day he had with us.

Little J, telling Tanner that he loved him and was going to miss him.

Life is good.

This Could Be Something

2010-06-26T08:04:00.002-05:00

"Do you know that you don't have to do everything by yourself anymore?" he asked me.

Oh. I don't?

I'm not sure anyone can appreciate having someone around to offer an extra hand, a shoulder, some back-up, as much as a single mom. I know plenty of people who are appreciative of their husbands and boyfriends and the things they do for them, but when you've had to handle everything for years on end like I have....the appreciation and sheer relief of having help is enough to bring me to tears.

It's the simple things, like taking out the trash. Or telling me to make a list of all the "man's work" that needs to be done, so he can get started. Or offering to drive. Or picking up some item from the store on his way over so I don't have to do it later. Or sending my resume to someone he knows. Or fixing my two running toilets - my gosh that was amazing. Those toilets drove me batty, but did I bother to try and fix them? Nah.

Today, he's going to change my oil. When I asked him if he would do it, he asked how long it had been. "Awhile," I said vaguely, which prompted some scolding about how important oil changes are. I know they are. But they are also expensive, and they take forever. I hate being trapped in those tiny waiting rooms, flipping through Popular Mechanic and wondering how many different ways those car guys are going to screw me over.

I'm used to taking care of myself. I'm used to doing everything, or not doing it (as in the case of the toilets) and just living with it. I can't tell you how incredibly wonderful it is to have someone now who is willing to lift some of those burdens from my shoulders. Not that taking out the trash is a heavy burden, but for me, it really is the little things - the small gestures one makes to make my life easier, that touch me the most. Who needs flowers when you can have new toilet flappers instead?

Surf vs. Mountain Turf

2010-06-23T10:37:00.000-05:00

We are extremely blessed to have a family cabin tucked away in the Rocky Mountains of southern Colorado. I've spent a portion of nearly every summer of my life at that cabin. It is my most favorite place on Earth - so full of happy memories and completely surrounded by God's amazing creation. I am, and always have been, a mountain girl. There's just no landscape that even compares to the mountains.

But this summer, I opted out of our usual mountain retreat in favor of a beach vacation. I want Tanner to see the ocean, and feel the sand between his toes... Just because I prefer the ruggedness of the mountains does not mean that I don't also love the beach. I am excited to watch Tanner experience it for the first time.

My best friend lives in Jacksonville, and so a visit with her family was the perfect opportunity to make this happen. I'm so excited about the trip, because I haven't seem my friends in ages, and because Tanner is beside himself with anticipation of his first plane ride and his first dip in the ocean. All summer long, I've been fielding questions about sharks, jellyfish, crabs, waves, etc. He's nervous, but intrigued, by what he's going to discover.

But as the summer progresses, and the reality of not going to Colorado sets in, I am fighting my usual desperate longing to breathe the piny mountain air, and sip drinks on the patio of the Dog Bar, read books on the deck under the shadow of the range, and do all of the things that make our little Colorado valley an oasis. I want to stroll the dirt roads and gasp for thin, high-altitude air. I want to wear a jacket at night, and I want to listen to the breeze whisper through the aspen trees. I want to hike the endless familiar trails with my son, and I want to visit with friends that I've seen every single summer for my entire life.

I'm so excited about our beach vacation. But it's bittersweet, because I am really aching for my mountain refuge.

Tough Decisions

2010-06-22T10:02:00.001-05:00

Good decisions come from experience, and experience comes from bad decisions. ~Author Unknown

People never cease to amaze me. There are some people in my life who are so exceptionally kind and generous and thoughtful that I find it completely overwhelming. Overwhelming in that I don't really know how to react to such kindness sometimes. I don't feel like I deserve it.

So many people have offered solutions, loans, donations, and interest-free-whenever-I-can repayment plans so that I can replace my camera. It means so much to me that they not only understand how it sucked to lose that camera, but also that they are willing to do whatever they can to put another one into my hands.

Through an interesting turn of events, I was able to buy my old camera back. The person who bought it from me had some major expenses come up, and she needed the money. She needed the money, and I needed a camera. So we swapped. Again. I'm so happy to have it back. I took pictures last weekend. I loved it.

This whole experience has led me to do a lot of thinking about need vs. want, about the value of things, and about what is worth going into debt over. I have reached the conclusion that I simply can't borrow such a large sum of money from someone for something that I don't need. I keep thinking: "What if I get into a car wreck, or get cancer, or my air conditioning breaks....what if I have to borrow money for something that is a true need?"

That camera was a purchase I made because I had the money to pay for it, and I considered it an investment because it was going to provide supplemental income for me. But the camera I have now can do that, too. I've been using it for paid photo shoots for 2 years now. It won't kill me to use it for another year.

It's tempting to accept the generous offers made to me by such amazing people. I really want that Canon 7D, and I don't want to wait a year or however long it's going to take until I can buy it again. It's really hard not to just take the money and pay it back as I can. But that's not the right thing to do. And if I did do it, I would not have a clear conscience about it. I don't want that. It's just not worth it.

I am so grateful to those who have offered help. There are no words...

Anniversary

2010-06-17T10:08:00.001-05:00

Today, my parents are celebrating their 42nd(?) Anniversary.

"Chains do not hold a marriage together. It is threads, hundreds of tiny threads which sew people together through the years."

Happy Anniversay, Mom and Dad!

Harry and George

2010-06-17T09:38:00.001-05:00

When I told my neighbor that yes, of course Tanner would take care of his frogs for him while he was on vacation, I wasn't exactly sure what I was getting into. I didn't know what kind of frogs he had, or how many, or what they ate, or what level of care was involved in keeping them alive.

Last summer, Tanner tended his tomato plants for him while he was out of town, and loved having the job. They had this really fun envelope system for paying him, and also wrapped up little toys and stuff as special treats. Tanner loved that, and his eyes lit up when he was asked to do another job for them, so I agreed even though frogs are so NOT tomato plants.

The neighbor showed up last night to drop off his frogs, Harry and George, and I was relieved to see that they are tiny and really really cute. They are in a little aquarium, which does not have to be cleaned while we have them. They eat pellets twice a week - so much better than what I was envisioning. We can handle this.

Once again they made payment envelopes for Tanner to open each time he feeds them. They also sent a large bag of wrapped surprises, with special instructions on what he must do to get to open them. He is beside himself with excitement.

What good people. I really hope we don't kill their frogs.

Smelly

2010-06-15T21:21:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, Tanner said that the dog smelled like corn on the cob.

Then later, he announced that his bathroom smelled like eggrolls.

And tonight, he told me that the school bus he rode in today smelled like quesadillas.

Either he's got a very sensitive sniffer, or I need to be feeding him more.

I love this part!

2010-06-13T20:46:00.007-05:00

For the first time in a long time, there is a man in my life worth blogging about. Someone...different. Not different as in "strange," but different as in special. It's all very new, but there is so much good stuff swirling that I have to just gush.

I love the beginning of something new, when each conversation is like peeking under a curtain to see what's behind it, and each look is filled with questions and veiled thoughts. In the beginning, there is some measure of fear, uncertainty, and caution behind carefully chosen words and gestures. But sometimes, there is also comfort to be found - hopefulness that wasn't there before. There is freedom to allow yourself to be discovered and enjoyed, peice by peice. There is a gradual release of anxiety, as the peices you've revealed are accepted and embraced. Trust is built slowly, tentatively, but as each layer is put down, it becomes possible to give in a little bit more to the desires of your heart.

I love the anticipation that builds during the in-between times, and I even love the disappointment when it's time to part ways. I love how happy I am to see him, and that it doesn't matter how we spend our time - it goes by so fast no matter what.

I love how he looks at me - so deeply sometimes that I shudder under the intensity. I love how he already seems to know what my eyes are saying to him, and that he is not cowering under my gaze, but rather meeting it. I love how he stops to savor a moment, a look, or a touch. I love how my heart stops as his fingers touch my cheek. I love how sometimes, I forget to breathe.

I love his smile when we uncover some common habit or value or desire. It's like he has just unwrapped a toy he has always wanted - with a tinge of disbelief that it's real and that it belongs to him.

I love that he is careful and unhurried in his pursuit. His honesty and self-awareness make me feel safe, because I know I can trust him. I love that he's not promising too much too soon. I love that I don't think about what will happen beyond our next encounter; because for now we are moving from moment to moment and letting those moments guide us forward.

It's been just over a month since we first met, and less than that since he grabbed hold of my heart. So it's only the very beginning of a journey toward some unknown destination, but I love this part. It feels so good.

I have an idea...

2010-06-09T11:16:00.002-05:00

I know. I ALWAYS have ideas. You have no idea how many ideas I have. But this most recent one...It's good.

A couple of weeks ago, I experienced a great loss. No, no one died. I still have my home. And my car. And my kid. And all of my limbs and bodily functions. But, I no longer have a camera. [Cue: eye rolling for those of you who won't be able to understand what a loss this is.]

Now that there is some distance from that moment when I saw my brand new, $2000, very first professional grade camera floating in a cooler of water, I have been able to get some perspective. So many more serious things could've happened - I know that. I can live without a camera. It's not essential if essential is defined by what we must have to survive. But I've documented my life through a lens for many years now, and it's part of who I am. My camera is an extension of my body, and even more importantly, an expression of who I am and what I find to be beautiful. So it's a loss - a big one. But it's temporary. Someday I will replace that camera, and I will appreciate it even more than I did the first time around.

So, moving on. I can't go for long without some sort of project, and since photography has been effectively eliminated from my repetoire, I am searching for something new to throw myself into. I love having a project, and I love it even more when that project has a purpose. And when the purpose connects with some other facet of myself, it becomes impossible to walk away from. I recently stumbled across a website called "Little Dresses for Africa." I have always been fascinated by Africa, and it is a dream of mine to go there and get involved with the humanitarian and mission efforts. But until I can do that, this organization presents an opportunity to be creative AND make a difference without the possibility of contracting malaria. I'm sold.

Here's the deal: you make dresses out of pillowcases (the pattern is provided), and then they are sent to Africa for little girls to wear. They also need shorts for boys.

Here's the problem: I can't sew. Yet. But I have a friend who's offered to teach me, and how hard can a pillowcase dress really be? (I'll get back to you on that.)

And there's another problem: I pretty much set fire to all of the disposable income I had when I bought a $2k camera and promptly destroyed it. So I am enlisting the help of my faithful readers, friends, and family. I am not about to ask for money, so you can stop guarding your wallets. What I am going to ask for is donations of materials. Here's a list:

* Pillowcases - any color or pattern will work. If they are used, please make sure they are clean, not stained, and in good condition. Would you allow your daughter to wear it? If not, make it a dust rag, not a dress.

* Sewing materials - thread, elastic (6" in width), whatever you need to make a sewing machine work...(there's a bit of learning curve here!)

* Sewing Machine - if anyone has one they no longer use and would like to pass it on - I would love to have it!

* Embellishments - they ask that the dresses do not have buttons or zippers, but we can spice them up with ribbon trim and other little embellishments. So rolls of ribbon, or appliques, or anything of that sort would be great!

Pretty simple, right? Now, I'm not going to put my mailing address here, but if you would like to send me any of the above items, email me and I will let you know where to send it. Also, if you would like to make a financial donation to this organization, you can do that directly through their website: http://www.littledressesforafrica.org/blog/. I have no affiliation with them whatsoever, just to be clear. I just like what they're up to.

As soon as I crank out a dress or two, I will post pics for you all to see. Oh wait, I don't have a camera. Grrr...Well, maybe someone else can take some pictures for me to post.

Until then, thanks in advance for your donations! I think this will be fun!

Happy Camper

2010-06-04T10:36:00.001-05:00

YMCA Camp is amazing. Tanner has loved every second of the first week. There are only 20 kids at his camp, many of which he already knew from school. They swim at the city pool every wednesday, and take two additional field trips on Tuesdays and Thursdays. On the days where they aren't going anywhere, the entertainment comes to them! T will get to do pretty much every cool thing there is to do for kids in this city.

**BRAG ALERT**
The kids have to pass a swim test each week before they get permission to go into the deep end and jump off diving boards. According to Tanner, he was one of the only ones to pass the swim test, and he even beat some of the older kids. I was proud of him, considering he's never had a single swimming lesson. We have logged a lot of pool hours, though, and since I'm not much of a swimmer, I was adamant about making sure he could keep himself afloat so I wouldn't have to go in and save him.

So I had nothing whatsoever to worry about. This decision was a GREAT one, and so worth the money. Tanner is going to have an awesome summer, which means that I am, too. :)