The Not So Perfect Voyage of One Neurotic Mom

God Must Consider Me Tough

2012-02-14T19:42:00.001-05:00

Once again, I sit pondering the last year and the mounting stresses that our little family has faced, this isn't to mention the stresses that we struggled with in the greater family. Tonight however I sit somewhat shaky and feeling sick because we are off to yet another doctor's appointment.

Sunday, C-Daddy began to feel sick. In the 13 years we have been together (today is our anniversary), I have never seen the man so much as take a day off, well, at least for illness caused by bacteria or virus. Those illnesses caused by alcohol may be another story ;) When he woke up Monday, he didn't feel well enough to go to work. This was a first as well and I was a bit anxious about the whole situation which didn't seem to be bettering itself. On top of it???? I was worried about getting it all done without him--good thing his late hours had begun a couple weeks ago or I may have just melted (thank you God for proving to have the good knowledge to challenge us before we needed the abilities you have given us). I got up and took care of the kids. After a few trips upstairs, I began to worry that perhaps C-Daddy had Super S's Strep so I called my family practice and got the boy in that afternoon. I expected him to have the strep but when he called it wasn't the answer I got. Instead, he called because they found a mass growing in his ear. Not the call I expected or wanted.

Tomorrow the boy heads off to the ENT. The doctor said most of these growths are nothing to worry about but he's never seen one in an ear canal. I of course feel anxious. So I am asking for some prayers for C-Daddy. I would greatly appreciate it. We have had enough health scares this year and God may consider me tough enough to handle this but I am waving my white flag.

I Want to Kick That Mom in the Face

2012-02-12T21:13:00.001-05:00

Gotcha! I am actually quite mellow and in a good mood, so if you were looking for mom bashing, keep thumbing through blogs and find someone else's rant, cause this momma is pretty content for the moment. However, that being said, my friend recently reminded me of a website that was circulating on Facebook prior to the New Year. This mom wrote about different things people did and sometimes bragged about doing well that made others feel inferior and often times allowed our blood pressure to elevate and feel the need to kick someone else in the face...okay, at least pull their chair out from under them. I jest.

Today, I was that mom. It was a day when the blogger could have peered in through my windows and felt the need to kick me, perhaps more than once. By 8 a.m., all six of us were lined up in church waiting for the day to begin with service and fellowship. The girls were so good, I decided it was one of those days when they think their mom has gone batty as I pulled apart plastic surrounding three Popsicles at 9:15 a.m. After a trip to the grocery store, four meals prepped and cooked, lunches set on the table and the kitchen cleaned up, I began the task of Valentine's Day. After staying awake until 11 p.m. cutting Valentine's out for each girl that was handmade, they sat at the table with their daddy as I baked Strawberry Champagne Cupcakes and made pretzel chocolates for Tuesday. The day finished out with cupcake deliveries to neighbors because I want to work on making others happy, just because.

It was one of those days I could have snapped photos and called myself a food blogger. It was one of those days when the kids spent hours enjoying their daddy who is often busy with work. It was one of those days that others would have wanted to be my kid, so it was the day that some mom would have watched me and said "I want to kick that mom in the face" and to be honest, it would be worth it, cause I rocked!

Who Eats a Glow Stick?

2012-02-11T19:53:00.001-05:00

Middle Widdle. After a long day full of laundry, cooking, hair cutting and cleaning we headed to a friends for dinner. We had a good time hanging and enjoying a fun party for the celebration in preparation for St. Valentine's Day.

With the end of the event culminating in Wee Fi coloring on one of her friend's toys, I was ready for bed. As the kids arrived home they anxiously tore into goody bags that my wonderful friend gave to us. They picked and prodded and searched through their treats. They loved each and every thing.

Colin came back downstairs as I nursed Baby Dude and asked if I had a nice time. Just as I said "yes", the door to the little girls room opened and Middle Widdle exclaimed "there is a mess in my bed". No, it wasn't vomit. Nor was it an accident, it was dibutol thalate, the inside of a glow stick. Now, my oldest, she puts it all in her mouth, my youngest girl, she does too. My Middle Widdle typically doesn't. So I was certainly surprised that she was eating the glow stick in her bed...and then consumed the innards.

Poor C-Daddy was certain she'd be okay but being the diligent mom I am, I insisted he call poison control. I think all Toxicologists enjoy calling that place. They told us she'd say her mouth felt funny. She did. They said her throat may feel funny, it does. She's now up gargling with water and eating yogurt, and I am reminding her we just don't eat glow sticks.

Momma's Gonna Blow

2012-02-06T19:45:00.000-05:00

And this time, it wasn't regarding the kids. Today however, I was humbled by the overwhelming feeling to lose control and freak about all that is going on in my life.

I don't care to hear how hard everyone else has it. To be honest, I am struggling, and struggling a lot. And guess what? As of today, I am not afraid to say it. My life right now is a bit overwhelming. Its not the kids. The kids, the house, the husband, its all easy. I am so sick of certain people telling me how lucky I am. Damn it. I know that. I know I am lucky I have healthy children. I know I am lucky my spouse has a job. I know I am lucky to have friends to lean on and I am lucky to have family willing to support me in every endeavor that I attempt. But I am overwhelmed right now. Its not just my family, that part is easy, its the outside pressures.

I don't feel like a friend that is good enough for her many friends. I thought getting off Facebook and spending more face time with friends was a good start, but gosh darn it, that flipping social media network allowed me to check on people quietly, without picking up the phone, tapping at the keys or even seeing the person in public. Now, without it, I am finding I cannot meet all my friends needs. I don't have nearly enough time to chat on the phone. The emails? Well, by the time I finish the obligatory emails I don't have energy for the fun ones, and time to hang out? Well, its virtually non-existent. And the weekends? Well, lately, we've been hanging with the doctor. So friends? Sorry. I have failed you, I seem to not meet everyone's needs.

There are the kids. I want to make sure that I make an impact on their lives, and if I volunteer for one, I should volunteer for the other, and the other, and the other. Right? Well, I have realized this year that its simply not possible. With runs to and from school and the bus stop six times a day, multiplied by four car seats, three coats, 2 back packs, meals for all of us for breakfast, lunch and dinner and then of course the housework there isn't enough time to volunteer for them all. This year its just two but even two is one too many. Next year, its one. One place of volunteering and I will do the best I possibly can with that one area I choose to volunteer within. And the holes where you wonder when others will pick up the slack? I need to say no. End of story. So if I say it to you? Its not to be offensive, its what I need to do.

I could keep going but as I write I am becoming more and more anxious about Colin. I feel like I cannot meet his needs and support him. Between travel, his new work responsibilities and his inablitiy to say "no" at work, I feel like I need to maintain the house, the kids, the appointments the meetings all while he focuses on his careers....but in reality how is one person to keep it all together.

So in short, I get it. I get it that I am lucky. However I also recognize that every day by 6 a.m. I am waking up and making sure I meet the needs of each of my family members. I am also trying to meet the needs of all my friends. I want to make each day count, each day matter, but in reality sometimes it seems momma is suffering and when Momma Blows it ain't pretty.

So something has to give...but what? Its not family so its got to be something else. I got it...its pleasing everyone, so if I haven't made you happy today, my apologies. I am busy learning to say no. I am busy remembering to focus on the family and I am busy making sure I make us happy because Momma doesn't need to blow, she needs to just be. Cause when momma ain't happy, ain't nobody happy and my kids don't deserve that.

Its 7:55 a.m.

2012-02-06T08:01:00.000-05:00

And already I am feeling like I am cooked. Between the wake up call from Little Dude, the sleepwalking of Wee Fi and the alarm sounding at 5:30 a.m. to test our abilities to run and not wake the neighbors, the night was long. The morning, early.

On a couple good notes: Miss Fi stayed dry all night. She only got up once. Baby Dude, he only got up once too but probably nursed for 3 hours as I was too tired to put him back (thanks C-Daddy). As the alarm sounded, C-Daddy and I woke to baby coos and a Middle Widdle running about the room exclaiming that she was there for the wee babe. Really? Please don't try to remove him from the crib, no matter how much easier it would be for me.

From the early sunrise until now, we've done two loads of laundry. I have given one bath (thank you blow out). I have fed four children, dressed 2, done 3 girls hair. I have cleaned up breakfast and the kitchen. The vaccuuming of the first floor? Complete. I have called the school and emailed the principal regarding the strep experience from last week.

Now, if it were a homeschool day, we'd be beginning our studies. I wish I were. However, its a regular school day. In just a few, we'll load up the car. I will head to Super S's school and drop her off. Then to the Middle Widdle's place of academia. Following drop off, an impromptu meeting with the other board members. Home, reading, playing, folding, bathroom cleaning, crock pot fixing. Return to get the Middle Widdle. Lunch. Off to get Super S, its her well child check today (odd even though she has strep). Then, we collapse? No. Valentine's, Homework, Baths, Dinner and then a bed welcoming me. I hope!

A Big Girl

2012-02-05T15:05:00.001-05:00

Yesterday as the sun rose up over the hills, our little family was awake and eagerly anticipating the day. The secret surprise for Little Fi was going to happen. I was so excited I could barely contain myself and the Middle Widdle almsot spilled the beans one too many times. With the days coming events Fi announced that she was a "big girl". In fact, she was so big, she insisted on using the potty.

Friday, Miss Amy, our dear friend conversed with wee Fi and talked about being a big girl, her birthday coming in a few weeks and her ability to use the potty. At nearly 3, Miss Fi is my only child to be in diapers at this point. In fact, she and her seven month old brother wear the same size diapers. I consoled myself with the thought I had other friends whose children were exceptionally bright that still used diapers at her age, and the fact the other two didn't wear diapers at her age was just who they were, or sheer luck.

Prior to heading out, we celebrated the morning with donuts, a Nutty North tradition. Then we showered, dressed and readied for the big event. As we eagerly got ready, I got emotional. Tearfully I dressed my sweet girl who was moving from toddlerhood into the preschool era, and I was closing a chapter in my life, while watching her open a new chapter in her own.

We got into the car and as I glanced back, I realized that this girl, who can drive me up a wall seriously is a gift that is greater than words can possibly admit. Long ago, as I struggled to grow up, I had someone in my corner, actually two people, my mom and my Bumpa. The two of them adored me, even when others thought I was too difficult to handle, they found the goodness in me, and as she looked out the window, I realized that my mom is once again proving to be the Fairy Godmother in her corner, and I am joining that corner, cheering this little peanut on.

As I watched her, I cried. Thankful I have learned this lesson now, instead of wasting time wishing she was different than the person God created her to be.

As we drove, Felicity shouted that she wanted to listen to Laurie Berkner. How lucky you are. We sang our hearts out until I looked back and my wee girl was sleeping. Uh Oh!

Upon arrival at the GORGEOUS Allentown Symphony Hall, I lifted my sweet girl out of her seat and carried her in. Disoriented, she asked why her sisters wern't going to be joining us. When I told her it was just us, she was elated. As we walked in she scanned the crowd still trying to figure out where we were and why we were there. We walked up to the souvenir table and it shouted "Laurie Berkner Band" at her. Her eyes grew very wide and her head began to nod as she exclaimed "we are hewe at Waurie Buknur" I was so happy to be there with her. To celebrate her. To cherish time with her.

We arrived early enough to snag a few pics on the stage.

And then it was time for the show. Now, it didn't go as I planned, and it seems our little Diva is still showing her true colors, but I enjoyed my time with her, and though she didn't admit it easily there, she does today and today we remember the days we shared leading up to celebrating the little girl she's become.

Here is to my girl, the one who arrived after my loss, the one whose name means happiness. Here is to th girl who lives each day to its fullest making sure to get everything out of every minute of the day. Here's to my girl, the one who has stayed completely dry today, claiming she's a "big girl". Good bye to my baby, hello to my girl. My Big Girl.

Mommy N. M.D.

2012-02-03T20:46:00.001-05:00

As of tonight I have decided that I am well suited to be a Board Certified Pediatrician, well at least one that only works within a doctors office. Why? Perhaps it was the trip to the E.R. weeks ago that I felt was due to a vaccine reaction, which was confirmed. Perhaps then it was the visit to the doctor that confirmed J had a double ear infection last Sunday or then today when S stepped off the bus and I looked at her and knew she was sick. Really sick. She had a play date this afternoon and I explained to the mom I thought she was sick. I called the pediatrician, got her in tonight and what I told them over the phone proved true: strep throat. Oh bother. I would rather health than the personal notation that I think I could potentially be a doctor.

Succumbing to Pressure

2012-02-03T20:40:00.001-05:00

Apparently even the leading breast cancer foundation cannot stand strong in the face of bullying. Just the other day I quickly wrote a post about the bullies we face as adults, and our personal struggle seems to parallel the struggle that those organizations trying to do the right thing face each day.

While I understand the pressure to be well liked, I have to think back to my roots and wonder, truly, "What Would Jesus Do?" Remember that old saying? Where did those bracelets go. Perhaps they are lost back in the late 90's along with our inability to support and strengthen. From what I recall the world did in fact become a nice place when people sported the original gummy bracelet.

I am saddened and disheartened by the decision that the Susan G. Komen Foundation made today in overturning their original decision to stop funding Planned Parenthood. I am well aware that women's health is important. I do in fact believe all of us should be able to have affordable healthcare and affordable tests that will save lives but why must we have it coincide with an organization that supports oral contraception, Plan B and worst of all, abortion. It has been proven that Planned Parenthood does not do a good job providing alternatives to abortion when an unwanted pregnancy presents itself.

Today, I am sad. Sad that an organization that has the support of Pro-Lifers such as myself is willing to bow to the pressure of others and back an organization that goes against something that they are trying to prolong, Life.

Kudos Susan G. Komen

2012-02-02T19:41:00.001-05:00

Today, the backlash continued as the Susan G. Komen Foundation cut off ties with Planned Parenthood. And to be honest, I couldn't be more excited. Years ago, I ran the Race for the Cure unaware that the foundation I raised money for was in fact supporting an organization that freely supported Planned Parenthood in their endeavors. Upon finding this out, I was devastated and disgusted that my need to help fight to find a cure for breast cancer may have in turn contributed to the demise of one or more lives.

While I agree with the statement "“Breast cancer screening saves lives" that current Mayor Michael Bloomberg made today, I don't agree with my money going to promote it within an organization that also provides education as well as procedures to take lives. To me this clearly seems to be a conflict of interest.

This statement and change in their support status makes me more willing to support the Susan G. Komen Foundation and their strides to find a cure for breast cancer, the number one cancer killer of women. However, that being said, I still have anxieties that their status may change due to the current pressures upon them and the hope that they will once again support Planned Parenthood.

I am grateful that people are continuing to consider their stance on life, and pleased that there are people who may turn away from the popular right to choose and choose to support the child's right, the right to live!

Pure Joy

2012-02-01T07:59:00.000-05:00

This house was introduced to Laurie Berkner Band back in 2005, when Miss DiAnne, our beloved librarian in Holt played it at the lap sit story time. Since that time our collection of the energetic middle aged mom has grown. With each child, an addition of music. The catchy, fun lyrics make us all bust out in song. When Jude came along, my birthmother added to our music collection with another CD and instantly our 2 year old jumped for joy. Since June, she's watched it incessantly, she's sung it constantly and danced to it liberally even when the CD isn't on. As we neared her third birthday I contemplanted a party. I considered the Laurie Berkner Band theme, and then while searching the site for ideas I saw it: Laurie Berkner in Concert! Not only was she in concert but she was near out little diva's birthday. I quickly talked to Colin and Bam! We're going. She has no idea. At least I think she has no idea. Simone, our oldest figured it out and I asked her to keepthe secret. Now, our middle widdle seems to know too. I am a bit disheartened but both promise they won't tell.

This morning after breakfast was cleaned up, the upstairs vaccuumed and the kids dressed and ready for school they went to the basement to play. As I quietly sat nursing, I heard the best music ever....three girls singing, Laurie Berkner. As I listened I thought of ways to help them enjoy the morning more, so I put Laurie Berkner Band on...and Voila, little ears heard the tunes and bounded up the steps. As she moved, and grooved and jumped around she announced "If I eber see Waurie Berkna Band I will be so happy. It would be a dweam come twue". Hopefully it really is!

Today's a Party Day

A Party Day.....

A Party Day!!!!

"I like when Daddy works late"

2012-01-31T18:06:00.001-05:00

No Joke! Seems my oldest child is much like her mom, and transitions, they don't come easily. This isn't just at home but at school. Yesterday Colin found out he has some more responsibilities coming his way, and as it is in the corporate world just because there are new challenges doesn't mean that the old ones are given away. In any case, I think Colin likes the challenge, and we're finding, like his wife, he can't always say no! So he has begun to work until after the kiddos go to bed. This allows him the time at work to keep his head above water as well as understand his new roles in a timely fashion.

Today, after baths as we headed downstairs to pop the casserole Felicity and I made in the oven, my dear daughter looked up at me and exclaimed "I like when daddy works late". With a grand smile she told me its good because there is only one parent. There is no transition. She insisted its more chaotic when daddy is here. Funny thing? Last night when daddy got home, I was on the couch watching the news, with four kids in bed. He looked around and asked if I hired a maid? No, just easier without help!

So it seems that my oldest, like my youngest didn't fall too far from the tree. For the record, I don't mind when daddy is home!

Maybe Granny Got it Right

2012-01-31T14:09:00.000-05:00

Okay, I don't call her Granny, and if I ever did, she may shoot me. But Sunday night I wearily picked up the phone to call my Grandma. "Grandma J" as she was affectionately called as I grew up receives a call weekly, if not more from her "favorite youngest grandchild"--that is me. I try to make sure I remember to give a buzz at least every week because as a child, I didn't have those moments of cookie baking, cuddles and walks to the park that some kids have. In fact, living over 600 miles away, I saw her usually twice a year. A couple days each time, and to be honest I really didn't enjoy visiting. I was the 14th grandchild. I was also almost 10 years younger than the last grandchild to be born, and I was adopted. For a long time I never felt like I met her other grandchildren's abilities. Andrea, she was smart. Anne, she was determined. Marty, he was successful and Mark, well he took the cake, he was athletic and a teacher. And above all, Mark continues to be dedicated to my Grandma. He truly deserved all the praise he got as he checks in on Grandma whenever I need him to, and I am sure a million times when I don't ask.

In any case, upon my arrival at MSU, I decided I was going to make a relationship with my Grandma. I figured at that time in her 80's, I may not have much time left. I tried to visit quite a bit. I also tried to call her while at school. I always wrote thank you notes for her cookies and I enjoyed spending time with her, even when the stories I heard I could have told myself.

As I laid back on the couch, I anxiously awaited her answer. When she did, she sounded tired. I realized how glad I was I had called. As we talked I told her about my week with Felicity. I told her about my struggles and I told her about how I felt like a terrible parent. First, she told me it was my fault. Yes, I was a challenge too--and for any family about to concur, Aunt Barb, Aunt Claudia, and anyone else wanting to confirm this, you already have. I have heard it loud and clear. I sucked as a kid. Point taken. But I digress, after telling me she was a lot like I was, she told me how bright she was. She insisted that I was doing all I could and finally she gave me some parenting advice. She told me to fake being proud of her. To encourage every small thing, even if I really just expected what she did. And yesterday, though there were times I wanted to cry, I tried. I applauded her sitting in time out without a fit (strange I know), I jumped up and down when she put her shoes on to go outside, and I cheered with joy when she kept her hat on in the car. Heck, she even ate her cheeseburger. That is progress.

As the day wound to a close I realized what I had done. I did what Grandma suggested, and it worked. So today, I called. I let her know how happy I was that her suggestions worked and how thankful I was, and do you know what Granny said? I am glad it worked though I knew it would. Sometimes those kids that are a challenge just need a little more love than the others. And perhaps, the near centurian may just have it right.

In Seven Months

2012-01-28T08:42:00.000-05:00

In Seven Months, my heart has gone from wondering to wonder.
In Seven Months, our home has become a place I never thought it would be.
In Seven Months, the fear of having a wee boy in the house has turned to pure elation.
In Seven Months, our girls, who seemed so perfect just as three became even more perfect through loving their brother.

JTC was born on a warm June day, seven months ago. His delivery not anything what I planned, but his arrival perfect in every way. He allowed us to begin to feel "home" here, away from all we knew. His arrival allowed me to feel nostalgic for our time here already, and we've yet to leave. He's not a girl. Having a boy scared me senseless. I had been told by more than one person "you are not a boys mom". Guess what folks. YOU were wrong. Boys. So far, I love the snips, the snails and the puppy dog tails. I look forward to the blue, the trucks, the dirt and the kisses my son places upon my cheeks. My son has proven to be the single most amazing thing since moving to New Jersey. His smile delights everyone he meets. His cheer seems to make event he saddest person happy and his constant intrigue keeps us all on our toes.

At seven months, he has no teeth. He has no interest in crawling. He can roll, but prefers to be catered to. He loves to nurse. He doesn't like food. His favorite activity is bouncing in his jumperoo. His nickname? Jumping Jude. He's rarely sad, and when he is your heart breaks for its infrequency. Each girl has a special bond with him, and each insists that he loves them most.

I look forward to this next month but reflect on how quickly the time has gone so far. Happy Birthday Baby Dude! You make our life better.

One of these things...

2012-01-27T20:46:00.001-05:00

is not like the other. One of these things is kind of the same. Anyone remember the cute jingle that played daily on Sesame Street? I do. Its one of the only things from early childhood I remember vividly. Staring at four squares and trying to guess which one was different. How easy that was to deciper back then, and in my family, it seems to be easy again right now.

How I love each of my children, but my Felicity is something else. Since she was born she's been a force to be reckoned with. From her colic to her carrot top hair, this girl had us on our toes even though she was third in line. She was a surprise pregnancy, the girls and I told Colin about her on Father's Day just a month past losing our third pregnancy. Yes. I know, I was one of THOSE people who did things they weren't supposed to...and look what it got me (WINK). She lives each day to the fullest but sometimes her exuberance seems to be sending me towards an early death. Yesterday, she escaped her car seat. Not once, twice. This high tech Britax Marathon was tight and yet with her wiggly body and quick finger the girl was out in no time. She's been known to feed her baby brother goldfish, raisins, lemonade to name a few, and today, well she surprised me once again when she painted her sister (7) with butter. I had intended to have a great morning easing into a new day but instead I found myself counting to ten and holding my breath as I set the baby down from nursing, found her, helped her wash her hands and set her in time out. For the first time today. There were other times as well. Like when she told me to "go sit down and think about it". I sure did, after I placed her on her mat.

Because she's third in line and new to the big sister deal, I decided to try and find something to occupy her. It seemed J.W. Tumbles was the ticket. Like the Gymboree Play and Music of Simone's day, Felicity is able to climb, run, have lessons and play until her hearts content. It worked. For a week. But late last week my wild child with wispy hair and an impish grin began to get sick. And so, this week, we were out. Afraid to pass along fever germs paired with the tummy bug and a lovely diaper rash, we steered clear of her place of passion and my goodness, it showed.

Yesterday she dabbled in becoming Houdini, utilized words well beyond her years (read: STUPID STUPID MOMMY) and well, today painted with butter. I am humbled as her mother because NOTHING could have prepared me for her and if you know her, you will love her but also be amazed at her activity, her agitation and her desire to love. She's certainly different than my first two.

Tonight a few friends tried to help me as I sobbed to them about my inability to parent. Two offered the suggestion to call Supernanny (I told you she was bad). All three gave me the idea for positive reinforcement, and right now I am grasping for straws so positive reinforcement it is. Tonight I created a chart. She'll start tomorrow. Three bracelets adorning her arm. If they are there at the end of the day, a Dora sticker. If she loses them, still a sticker but perhaps map. Not as good as Dora but still nice to have. Should the week go well and she has more Dora stickers than any other, a reward will be doled out. What that reward is, I am not sure...in fact, I doubt it will occur, but hey, anything is possible!

Tonight, as she drifted off to sleep, she mumbled "mama, I am a good girl...right?" I looked at her beautiful blue eyes, her pale peach skin and couldn't help but say "yes, you are. you are my baby. always".

Going to Give

2012-01-26T18:21:00.001-05:00

Yesterday, before dawn, Colin and I lugged bags upon bags of clothing, toys, books and household items to our front porch to share with others. The Veterans of American were coming to pick up these items to make lives better for others. Its a charity so many of my friends give to, and like my friends towards the end of the year I find myself scrambling for that last tax deduction as I contact various agencies to see about a pick up but when the tinsel is gone, the trees chopped up and the cheery music has once again returned to muzak, do we forget to give again? The bags are the easy part, and sure you tithe at church but where else do you give?

This question has been on my heart. Initially I thought it was giving to my children I wanted to focus on, by joining as many boards as possible and getting involved in both their schools but my children have so much. Not just material possessions but love. I know many of my friends would drop what they were doing if my kids were ever in an emergency and I too would do the same for them, but today, I encountered a situation that has my mind racing.

One of our other board members in the Moms Club sent an eblast to the entire group seeking items for two families in need. One, a newborn. The other, a child, Simone's age. Though my heart ached for both, I considered what would be lacking for the child in other ways if she were still dressing in minimal winter clothing? How I wish I could help her, not just with clothes but in other ways. After bagging up three bags, some were given to us as hand me downs, others, from her drawer, I continued to have this child on my mind. I obviously still do. How can I give to these kids who may be missing so much more than clothing? Is it food? Is it time? Is it love? Perhaps all of the above?

Cecily's school is located in the same building as the local food bank. Sometimes I grab some cans and pastas out of our pantry, because. Because I saw someone standing in line waiting, before they opened. In those times I thank God I am in a warm car, with warm clothes, going home to a warm house, having the ability to send my child to preschool. And I think, how things could have been different.

This year, I am making a commitment, I want to give more. Not just financially but in ways that will give others more of me. A quick smile? A hug? My gloves? Whatever it is. I think this year has already started out with a struggle. So many I know are facing similar fears, pain, sadness but I know that like myself, they want the year to be a success, and we all know when we give to others, we feel better in the end.

So what are you going to do? To give?

Making Mistakes

2012-01-25T14:45:00.000-05:00

As my oldest has entered school I am realizing that I have made some mistakes in her parenting. I also acknowledge that I have some areas of parenting that I am not willing to stray away from and feel confident about. One is my ability to teach my children. Since an early age, I was out exploring ways to help my children grow. From our "Teachers as Parents" programming in Michigan to our Library Story Time, I was diligently working on the academic growth of my children's brains.

Certainly, as the girls grew our time out did seem to minimize, especially when I had three ages four and under, but those days seem easy compared to now. I have written about the running, the volunteering and the choices I have made in choosing to allow my kids to pick activities and at one time or another quit them. Sometimes I look back and have regrets, but up until yesterday I didn't ever consider my choices academically to potentially harm her.

Simone is exceedingly bright. I am not just saying that because I am her mother. One of my friends enjoys talking, to her, as an adult. She finds her intriguing and supports me in my belief that Simone is intellectually more advanced than others her age. This is great, but this is also a challenge. Earlier this year I struggled because we met with her teacher and she point blank told us she was concerned about Simone and her belonging in first grade or perhaps skipping the year and moving to second. While internally I felt that this was a credit to my working with her (and God's creating her), I also struggled with the big fish in the little pond scenario. I frequently struggled in school and chose to follow the more social route but wonder at times if I missed my calling to pursue academic endeavors. So after quickly glancing at Colin and reading his face that he had reservations, we chose to hold her in first grade but advance her to second grade for areas she excelled. This would be done quietly so as not to allow her to become pompous and also to not impede her ability to make friends in her current grade. Her teacher also did an excellent job finding her strengths and advised us that she would be placed into two small groups of children working in specific subject areas for growth. She thrived and the sullen, angry child we initially put into school began to change. The challenge seemed to impress upon her that if she was willing to work, others were willing to support her every endeavor.

As they enter a more challenging part of school, her teacher has decided to pull her back to first grade to learn with her peers. I will admit she struggles with money, and it is most likely my fault that this whole situation has risen in her young life. Yesterday she came home, crestfallen. She asked why she became "less intelligent", she cried that she felt "demoted" and insisted that she felt disappointed and saddened that her teacher didn't think she was smart. As an adult listening, part of my heart broke. The other felt that this was an opportunity for good parenting. We discussed that she would have the opportunity to meet with and enjoy her peers more if she was in first grade for more subjects. We also discussed that this was not a demotion but instead an opportunity to become a leader in a group that may not be at the same level she is. I told her when I feel down, things tend to look down upon me but when I feel good, and try to focus on the good, things tend to be cheerier. But as I sent her off to school reminding her to "make today better than yesterday" I could see her heavy heart.

I spoke with a dear friend and educator as well as my mom. Both feel knowing Simone this is a risky thing to bring her back down. Her self-esteem was growing so much and I just hope this isn't hurting it. Now I am left wondering, did I make a mistake? Have I set her up for failure, or at least feeling like she did fail? Where is the guide book for this type of thing?

An Open Letter to Hunterdon Pediatrics

2012-01-24T21:08:00.001-05:00

I have already made it clear to the entire staff at the Clinton Office of Hunterdon Pediatrics as well as the "Practice Manager" that the new standards they have for evaluating children via the telephone prior to arranging an office visit just doesn't cut it. But with a little background, I will get to writing and sharing my open letter with you, the public, prior to sending it to the appropriate personnel at the office, the practice and yes, the administration at the Hunterdon Health Care Campus.

Thursday Felicity vomited. I worried that she was getting the tummy bug and by Friday she had diarrhea. With a mild fever and cold symptoms as well I assumed that she did in fact have a bug. By Friday night she seemed better, her bowls returned to normal and the vomiting had ceased. The cold symptoms lingered and I made the decision not to take her to church and expose an entier congregation to her junk. Sunday she seemed better but took a long nap and slept hard that night. Yesterday she seemed worse and I contemplated bringing her in. I spoke with Karen, a nurse and we assessed the most pressing issue and decided I would treat it at home. Over the night, Felicity woke 6 times with coughing fits. I stayed awake listening, wondering. Colin assured me it was a nasty virus but of course the biggest names in the illness world jumped out in my mind. Today however, I decided she needed to be seen. Though she woke with no fever, by 10:30 a.m. she was on the floor, sleeping and moaning in her sleep. Prior to this happening I had called for an appointment but had insisted they call my home number as my cell was in the car. They left a message at 10:06 on my cell. I called again at 10:45 and they told me that I missed their call. You know, the one I asked for on my home phone? Irritated I asked to speak with a nurse but they transferred me to voicemail and again, I was shoved off to the side. I decided to call the practice manager and speak with her. Heather, the receptionist there transferred me (or at least told me she was going to) and I ended up in her voicemail explaining I would be out from 11:30 a.m. to 12 noon. At 11:31 a.m. I got a call from the office manager. I did call her back and explained my sincere frustration but really I am sitting her still agitated because as I type, my son is crying, most likely with an ear infection I was afraid to even bring up during my third call to the office. Felicity finally got in. With Motrin, her temp was only down to 101.2 at the office, and tonight, alternating Motrin and Tylenol, its at 100.2. They want to see her again Thursday, so we'll go but for now, I am left with a very bad taste about a practice that was so highly regarded once upon a time.

So, the letter:

To Whom it May Concern,

After almost three years of partnering with Hunterdon Pediatrics to care for my four small children, I am considering finding a new office that will assist me in providing the best health care for my family. While the receptionists (especially Carly), nurses and physicians are highly intelligent and work to provide a quality experience, the process one must go through in order to be seen during the cold and flu season is completely unacceptable.

Today after six days of illness, I finally contacted the Clinton Office in order to be seen. The receptionist was one I was not familiar with and explained that a nurse would have to call me back. I gave my home phone as the immediate point of contact until 11:30 a.m. I also gave an additional number in case they needed to reach me after that time. By 10:06 a.m. they had in fact called me back, however they did so on the wrong line and I missed the call. Between the hour I called initially and the second call I placed nearly an hour and a half later, my child fell ill with a high fever and curled up on the hardwood floor moaning. Concerned for her well being I took her temperature and it registered 103.2 on the forehead thermometer. I administered ibuprofen and called again. I was told I "missed the call" earlier but they would again take my name and number and have them call me. When I insisted that I make an appointment for today, I was once again turned down explaining that the policy states only nurses can make the appointment. When I asked to speak with one, I was told the phone nurse was busy. After leaving my information again, I did ask to speak with the practice manager. I was told by Heather that I would be transferred back to the woman in question. When I was, I went straight to voicemail. I left a detailed message and explained I would be out of the house briefly to get my third child from school. I was called back 1 minute past the time I insisted they not call. Upon arrival home I had already made an appointment (thankfully), and did return the practice manager's call. She stood behind the practice of the nurse assessment prior to making an appointment but I still feel this is an inappropriate way to handle families that are trusting in your facility to provide the best healthcare for their families.

I am a mother of four. I rarely call the facility unless its an emergency or the child is thought to have something serious. I am very upset that my assessment of my child's health is not considered valuable. Speaking with someone who may or may not know your family over the phone seems like an impractical way to assess a child. I am with my daughter 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, and in fact this child who I was calling about has not been with me 2 nights in her entire life. The two I spent in the hospital delivering her younger brother.

I feel that you should consider other avenues of assessment when it comes to ill children. Currently the system isn't working. I have heard more than one family speak of their dissatisfaction when it comes to this topic, however I feel without voicing our concern we are not giving you ample time to rectify the situation. Like I stated in the opening of my letter, I find the office staff, physicians and nurses to be above and beyond amazing, it seems to me the administration is the one who has dropped the ball.

I wish to be contacted regarding this matter. I left today feeling very upset and continue to be very upset. My son, also began to get sick today and I am almost 100% certain he's got an ear infection but I was afraid to bring it up for fear of how I would be seen or treated. This is not the way I intended to feel when working closely with those providing medical care for my children.

Thank you.

Just What the Doctor Ordered

2012-01-23T18:35:00.000-05:00

Lately I have been struggling again with my faith. To be honest, its not too hard to understand why. Within the first two weeks of the year, I lost two family members, had one trip to the hospital, learned that raises are not definite each year and felt overwhelmed with everything I had going on in my house and outside my house--read Tricky Tray and sick kids!

One of the biggest struggles though hasn't been the outward situations which my friends can plainly see, but actually my faith, not the personal faith I profess, believing in God, or my relationship with Jesus, but my Church as a whole. Lately when I speak with many other Catholic's I am often left scratching my head. It seems the gift of our faith and our actively working to profess our faith by outward displays of our belief has gone to the wayside and it seems that so many of my friends and acquaintances have become almost fundamental in their beliefs. This isn't me, and to be honest the Catholic Church and its Catechism are so in depth I can't even begin to discuss them in their entirety here. I still consider myself a child of study in my Religion. I have been told on more than one occasion by many of my Catholic comrades that "being a Catholic is hard", however not to be rude to these very wonderful, close friends, but being any faith is hard. You must believe in something bigger that what we see, something we live for but will not see until after we have left this life for our eternal rest. This weekend while talking to my closest friend (I say she and I were separated at birth), I said I don't just want to be a Catholic who can spit out the Catechism. I want to live my faith. I want to be seen as having faith not understanding Religion. I want to be a person that others want to follow because of how I act, not because of the religion I choose to practice. Perhaps that makes me a poor Catholic, and if it does, so be it. I like being Catholic. For me, I like to go and follow the mass no matter if I am at my home Parish or a church nations away. I have been contemplating this feeling, this belief, this question for weeks. Perhaps you may say praying about it with an intensity like I haven't felt before. This weekend it culminated with my asking if our current church was the right place to celebrate our faith.

Today, I was reminded how much I miss my previous Parish as I read a section of Faith Magazine. Fr. Joe Krupp was one of our dedicated Priests back at our Student Parish of St. John in Michigan. While my husband and I attended Michigan State as we dated, were married and began our family we devoured the words he and Fr. Mark preached week after week. Our eagerness to learn of Jesus' life and God's word couldn't seem to be filled. We yearned to attend mass every weekend and often found ourselves wanting to go and learn in any way we could about our religion and deepened our personal and married faith. Each month, Fr. Joe (in Black) writes a column answering questions from Parishioners in the Diocese about a number of things. This month however, I think the article was written for me. A devoted faithful asked Fr. Joe about how to report liturgical abuses. Without being redundant and rewriting his column he made a few amazing statements that validated my feelings and allowed me to realize that I am truly Catholic and the Catholic I am isn't wrong but perhaps one that is understanding and devoted to seeking followers. He went on to say that "one of the great challenges to being a priest right now is that the Catholic world seems to have an overabundance of experts on liturgy". This was my thought exactly lately when I carried on conversations via email, phone or otherwise. He continued with information about a quote from President Roosevelt which reminds us that "there are people who do and people who criticize the doers". Perhaps, I am willing to take that criticism and allow myself to live my faith, not recite it.

A bit thank you Fr. Joe for being my "doctor" today and fixing up my broken heart, because I was pretty fearful that perhaps I wasn't a Catholic, I hope that I can be the Catholic you speak of when you say we need to be the Catholic's that are more intent on getting out and serving God's people in real an tangible ways. I plan to "turn off" the others and live teh best Catholic life I can lead.

Perhaps this funk I have been in recently will be less pressing because this was one of two topics that had me so worn down I felt I might collapse. God does see us, always, and when we are hurting, he hears our cries. Thank you for healing my broken heart.

Super Shopper

2012-01-23T14:59:00.001-05:00

There are few things I consider myself to be great at but shopping at Gymboree is one thing that I consider myself ~~good~~ great at! Today validated me again. Its been almost a year since I sat with my friend Hillary explaining to Colin that I saved $400.00 on clothing for my kids. Today, I beat my all time savings of $400.00. I purchased clothes today using my Gymbucks and saved myself a boatload of money!

I bought two pairs of shoes, 7 pairs of pants, a sweater, a sweatshirt and then a ton of shirts. When I got home I totaled the cost of the entire order and it came to a grand total of $509.64. I paid....wait for it: $75.00. I am elated. This was huge for me! I came home very excited.

What are your super shopper techniques???? I don't plan to be a Coupon Queen, but that deal isn't too shabby!

P.S. For those who read this before I corrected it....yeah, well, um, my bad!!!!!! Scared the crap out of my husband!

A Little Bit of Sunshine

2012-01-20T16:32:00.002-05:00

When I get down (read post before), I find happiness in photos of the good times in our life. So....here goes the year...in good moments thus far!

Julia came! My cousin...and yes, she's carrying clothes. You see she had an incident with a pile of poop. She insists it may have been from the bears. It was in the side yard, where they hang out!

Jude confirmed he is very indipendent. He insists on eating. Himself. No babyfood for him. So much for easy feedings out of a jar.

Pop visited. Now, before you say it, yes, we see a resemblence. However, I am adopted so this would solely be nurture over nature...or that growing to look like your family phenomena.

I had my momiversary...also known as Simone's seventh birthday!

Jude learned to snuggle with his dad, who you will notice is now dressing like an adult...meaning I got rid of all his Rugby Shirts...good by old frat house days!

The girls, well, they are still best buddies and god good comments at the restaurant on Simone's birthday even though it was super late!

And our biggest news......wait for it.....

Felicity started Tumbles...not what you thought...eh?????

Just Our Luck

2012-01-20T16:15:00.002-05:00

Earlier I began a blog post about focusing on the good even though the beginning of 2012 has well, SUCKED. Big time. Between the passing of my grandfather, my aunt as well, Jude taking a turn in the hospital, and a number of other family members taking ill, I really thought the month couldn't get any worse. This week however, the girls have been sick, and yesterday Felicity woke up "needing a new bed". This mean she vomitted EVERYWHERE. She looked like Cameron Diaz in "There's Something About Mary" as she stood before me with her hair sticking straight up, styled with vomit.

Today however, my friend Amy came to my rescue again, and then another friend texted to see how my Felicity was doing and then finally, another friend texted because she heard I was looking for something and she had it and was getting rid of it. I was so ready to write about how to find the silver lining. In fact, lately I have been. Then today as I got our mail it seemed my silver lining became a bit tarnished.

The last two times we have gone to my parents we have been greeted with a ticket upon arrival home. Okay, not arrival but shortly there after. This time was no different. Last time we contested the ticket as we had to use the EZ Pass due to a terrible accident and the closure of the lanes leading to the pay toll, and we just had to pay the toll fee. This time, well, my husband was seen driving my vehicle through D.C. eleven miles over the limit. It is pretty obvious that my vehicle complete with my "Thank God Your Mom Was ProLife" sticker was speeding as the officer clocked and operated a stationary camera. Who knew? As I called Colin I could hear the frusturation in his voice. And to be honest, I am irritated too. We can contest it, but to do so we'd have to visit the good old District of Columbia. And between gas, time and the possibility of not getting out of the ticket it makes no sesne. There is a good chance we were in fact going 56 in a 45 zone, but knowing my husband who doesn't like to drive much over 55 as it saves gas, this was probably to keep up with the other traffic and avoid an accident. I do intend to write a letter regarding that when I submit my payment.

So far 2012 seems to be stealing my thunder. Recall, my post regarding my happiness and 2012 being my year? I am not giving up yet but for pete's sake...a little break would be welcome!

Irresponsibility

2012-01-18T15:34:00.000-05:00

I never realized how taxing it would be to have kids in school. Sometimes I wonder if its easier to homeschool. Sure, you are completely involved and the one who is in charge, but there isn't the lack of responsibility from other parents you have to contend with.

This year I have jumped in head first. I am like a sinking rock. My biggest challenge is the Tricky Tray for Cecily's nursery school. Without knowing WHAT I signed up for, I shook my big old head eagerly when a good friend said the school needed help. Here is sit less than 6 weeks away wanting to shake nearly every parent in the school and ask them why they think they are exempt from caring. Personally, I think its complete irresponsibility. I am sick of the "I have to work comment". I work too. At home. With four kids. I just don't get paid. We all work. I am sick of the "I am too busy" comment. I am too. I sit on more than one board, I volunteer at the church and of course, there is Simone's room mom (which is a minimal job). I am sick of the "I pay for school". Last time I checked, I write a check for the same amount.

Today, I lost it at my kids, and to be honest, its not my children's fault. Its not Simone's fault she was sent home with a fever. Its not Cecily's fault that she wants to learn to read when I am making business calls requesting donations and its not Felicity's fault she's carted around to every meeting, activity and event the other kids have because she's portable. Oh and Jude, well, apparently he's aptly named as because I now have four, I have become a hopeless cause.

I think that WE as parents, ALL of us need to step up to the plate. If you don't have money to support the school financially, use your time and if you don't have the time, send a spouse.

Right now I am so fed up with the irresponsibility of others, I want to quit. I am just so sick of having to hold it together for others children when its my own that are suffering.

Whew. Rant over. I think.

I call B.S.

2012-01-17T15:02:00.001-05:00

Well, at least I thought I called it. This morning after a weekend full of birthday love and celebration of my amazing oldest girl, she woke up with a tummy ache. We had a very rich dinner so I suggested she was just full from last night, however she insisted she was hungry. With a banana in the tummy and a 90 minute delay under her belt, she felt ready to go to school...though by this time I wondered if she actually WAS in fact sick. She insisted she wasn't and out the door she went, pink backpack, pretty pigtails and her latest writing for her teacher and an extra credit assignment.

The morning went along as I had hoped, with a trip to story time, completed homework and a pick up at preschool. As we began to dry off, snuggling in bed, reading, readying for nap, the phone rang and the name of the school jumped out at me like a neon sign. Mrs. N, I have Simone here, she's got a pretty high fever. Well, crap. So much for mother of the year. I will have to try again in 2013. I finished up nursing the babe, who had not yet napped due to his siblings schedule and we all suited up, and drove off once again to her school to collect my red cheeked little angel.

As I picked her up, I noted to both the nurse, and the secretary that I had offered for her to stay home but she insisted she was okay. Inside, mortification. I had thought she was okay. Then, inside, concern. Does she like school better than she likes being with me? Is this normal?

I like to say I know my kids, and inside, looking at her this morning I knew she was sick...so then why did I call B.S.? Was it because I used to B.S. or at least try to B.S. my mom when I wanted to stay home? I remember it happening, and I remember being packed up for school. And going. Luckily, my mom admits to receiving the same phone call. Mrs. J, I have E here, she's got a pretty high fever....and even though she sent me to school, fever and all, I think she's a pretty amazing mother, so maybe, just maybe, Simone feels the same way....I hope!

A Genie in a Bottle?

2012-01-16T21:56:00.001-05:00

Not quite, but an idea from Family Fun Magazine that I had to try today. It seems to me that no matter where you look, someone has some new way of parenting your child that will change them into a fantastic child 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Now, before I begin to be a bit critical of my own parenting, or even of my children, I will toot both our horns.

Yesterday, as we ended the day celebrating my new 7 year old, we headed down to our local bowling alley to eat dinner. Yes, the bowling alley but before you begin to grow green at the thought, please note that this facility is actually pretty flipping (my own little swear word since having kids) amazing! Though you probably shouldn't order the fish (made that mistake once), or ask for all fresh items, if you are looking for a good burger, made fresh, or a wonderful chicken cheese steak (my favorite), then look no further than The Sports Scene that sits almost at my doorstep. The ambiance isn't something to write home about but the noise level is just enough that your children will not disrupt even the oldest of customers and the continuous sporting events broadcast on an array of TV's, will help pass the time until their dinner of choice arrives. We (meaning my four offspring) waited fairly patiently and as we did another party had their children attached to leashes dancing around the upper level of the restaurant. I watched as others glared and at one point, I even leaned in to my children thanking them for their behavior. Personally, McDonald's or Five Star, I have a belief if your child is in a restaurant, they must behave like it, and if not, take them out. We've done it, and I will do it again if necessary. Just because you are at the end of your rope and you can tune them out, doesn't mean someone else isn't forking over $12.00 per hour to find a sitter to care for their children at home. By the time they left, I was really thankful my kids were coloring, chatting, and yes, Felicity even asked for a walk, nicely. So I took her to watch the bowling leagues for a few minutes. Our meals came, we ate. Quickly and quietly. We were starved. And then, we left. As we did, our server stopped me. She pulled me aside and gave me a great compliment...."the other staff members and I were excited when you came in because your children are always so well behaved".

Now, like I said, I was going to pump us up before I knocked us down, but like those other dancing ninnies from last night, we too have our moments, and today, well, we had more than a few. Between the rolling wrestling matches, to the screaming and constant tantrum noting that "you awe not da daddy--you can't tell me what to do", today I felt like I too was at my wits end, and had I attempted to take them out to dinner, well, we would have mirrored the family from last night. My girls, though awesome in so many ways, have days when I could put them each in a corner of the house to keep my sanity. So today, to do so, I decided to whip out an idea from my new magazine. First I grabbed a bottle of glitter glue (we have 16), then a mason jar (we have a few of those--momma loves her some freezer jam), then I poured the glue in the bottom of the jar and ran for the super glue. Carefully I added water, then glued the lid on securely and shook vigorously. As I did all three girls, sitting at the table now doing schoolwork turned to watch as the glitter pieces fell down. I explained this magical bottle would give us the opportunity to calm down when we did not speak kindly, when we had a tantrum, when we whined or when we actually went full throttle towards another sibling (yes, girls wrestle too mom's). Within a few minutes I had my first customer. After throwing a crayon when asked to clean up, our small sweet impish girl had to be placed on our "mat". As I carried her kicking and screaming I explained she couldn't watch the colors quietly if she wasn't calm. This er, um, escalated the situation and within a minute I was carrying her upstairs as she tried to pull my hair and bite me (it was ugly). After a few minutes in her room, she quietly sobbed. As she did, I went to talk to her explaining what she did after I tried to discipline her was wrong and so, she had to sit in her room. Now, since she was calm, she could watch the magic glitter fall. Seated on our mat, she watched as the shaken bottle captivated her and gave her (and me) a few minutes rest. And then, an apology. Calmness. Quiet. So perhaps, though it may not be Dr. Dobson or Dr. Sears, its what worked. Today at least. Now if only I can stay quiet, calm and consistent. Perhaps my genie in a bottle may become my magic wish!

Sunlight

2012-01-16T10:54:00.002-05:00

I am sitting next to my ever growing son, in the sunlight on this frigid Monday. He's teetering on his cute little legs trying to play with his Fisher Price Race Track. As I hear the constant noise, I am excited. Happy to welcome "boy" toys into the home. Don't get me wrong, kitchen's and dolls are great, but I was ready for this little guy to enter our world. He's not turned it upside down but instead allowed us to really stop, enjoy and watch. My girls, they are scattered. One is constructing Lego set after Lego set that she received for her amazing birthday yesterday. The other two, watching a show I will probably regret later, but snuggled together on the couch ignroing the 16 degree temps awaiting us outside. My home, a mess. But I don't seem to mind. My parents, gone. That I am deeply saddened by. And I am trying to take it all in. Each moment. And be thankful. Thankful for each minute, each hour, each day. It seems 2012 has come in wiht some struggle and sadness for so many, and the sunlight that pours into my windows is seeming to soften the blow.

One thing Colin and I decided over our holiday break, was that we long for family. Yes, we've created a friend circle here that has become our Jersey Family, but its not our family. By marriage, by blood, or adoption. Its good, but its not family. Though yesterday, I was completely confident that this is home. At least for now. Its no longer a house we reside in but our town, small as it is, is home. Still, we do hope someday we can return to family. Return to a quick drive to grandma's or perhaps near a cousin for the kids. It would be ~~nice~~ amazing. When I hear others mention a cousin here, an aunt there or even family within the same town my skin turns green, with ~~envy~~ jealousy.

This weekend, I really understood how amazing it is to have family with you at all the important times. Yes, I grew up far from our family and though my parents drove me to see my cousins a lot, I did miss out. And they did too. I can't change our past, but I can change our future. I plan to. Saturday, my dad and Colin took the girls to the DaVinci Science Center. They explored the exhibits and I know the girls created memories with my dad that will last. Forever. And my mom, well, she's amazing. She stood by me for hours as we created, cooked, cleaned and prepared for my oldest to celebrate her birthday. It was so important to me that it be special, and it was. I couldn't have done it without my mom. How blessed I am to have her.

Today, well, her departure, Colin's return to work and the frigid temps could have had me a little down, but today, I am focusing. On the Sunlight, because, its a gift, as each day, each hour, each minute...so I am off to enjoy!

Happy Happy Day!

2012-01-15T10:04:00.000-05:00

Seven years ago, my heart stripped out of my body and was born into my first child. After a long, overwhelming labor wrought with pitocin, pain and anxiety Simone Brielle was born into my arms at 3:11 a.m. With my mother and husband there to witness her birth her lungs immediately working as she wailed letting us know her presence. Her name, Simone, meaning "to be heard" was perfect for the person she was to become. My dad, joining us just minutes after her arrival stared in marvelous wonder at the gift she was. She continues to be a gift, in our hearts, our minds and our lives.

Today, Simone is eagerly anticipating her party. With friends coming, it seems New Jersey is our home. We feel that we are here. Living in the present for now. I have been trying to make sure that we really embrace the moments. My goal, this year is to really be in the moment enjoying each new step, making each new moment a gift. Today, we celebrate the bright gift our little wonderbundle is.

Yesterday, my mom and I worked feverishly readying ourselves for the day. I want the party to be special. One, because we are celebrating, two because she wanted this day, and because she wanted it, I know she feels at home. Special. She feels ready to be here. In the moment. Present.

Like a gift, each day we begin a new present. Today, we begin to celebrate yet another year of Simone's presence in our lives.

Today, we thank those coming to the party, those who have been in and out of our lives and those to come, for BRIGHTENING our life.

Blessed

2012-01-12T22:41:00.002-05:00

I follow a blog that I have spoken about before and for a while I took a hiatus because to be honest, I didn't add up to that mother's abilities and to me, that meant I fell short. However, I am my children's mother. Faults. Gifts. Talents. Challenges. They are stuck, with me. That blog asked for posts today about a word that described 2012. For me, its blessed. And no one, no thing, no feeling will take that way from me. I simply am. From the day of my conception I am blessed. Truly. Not just by God's Grace but all I meet.

Today, I have mentioned to more than one friend this year seems to be starting out in a difficult spot, but as I said in the beginning of 2012, there were changes to be made, and made they are. Yes, I have had sadness, you probably did too, but this sadness isn't going to absorb my being, instead its going to propel it to reach new heights.

Tonight I headed, with Jude, alone, I drove, in silence contemplating the time in that has passed in the last seven years. In just a couple days time, it will be my Momiversary. A day that is filled with joy and jubilation in the gifts I have in my daughter but one that is also met with anxiety, as this daughter is growing. Quickly. After errands, here and there I came home deflated. I wanted perfection for this amazing being that I have been given to mother. I have mentioned before, my Simone, how she is like me. Quick to anger. Easy to love but not so easily loved. She's taught me more in her seven years on Earth than the initial 24 I had before her arrival. I wanted her to feel that she truly has been a unique gift that I can never replace. No boxes or gifts, packages or bows could explain how I feel about her. In two days, we'll celebrate her birth and I wanted it to be perfect. But I recall that perfect isn't going to be a party. Its not going to be friends. Its going to be what it is because of who she is and how she is created. Though it may not be what she envisioned, I will do what I can to give her the best, blessed day she can possibly have.

Tomorrow, she'll have fruit kebobs with her classmates to celebrate. She picked the treat herself. This will begin a weekend I hope to drink in as I watch her anticipate the culmination with a party SHE requested. She's counted the kids coming time and again and made it clear how excited she is, and my heart overflows. She, my caring, kind girl is going to be celebrated, and watching it pass one more year makes me one very blessed momma.

Happy Birthday to the Girl who allowed me to be what I always dreamed of being, a mom.

Moments

2012-01-11T21:00:00.000-05:00

There are moments in our parenting lives when we want to crawl under a rock, or perhaps we just want to head to bed for a ~~day~~, ~~week,~~ okay, maybe we just yearn for a do over of say, how old is your oldest child? I have been there. This year. Once. I really wasn't even sure how to handle the information I was given. In any case, when that situation arises I think one often struggles much like death, traveling through a process of grief. One must swallow that jagged pill and acknowledge that their child is not as pure or perfect as you may have hoped or dreamed. It seems especially bad when another mother contacts you to let you know about this so called "event", and/or when the principal is involved, it simply brings it to a higher level of mortification.

However one act does not make a person, thank God or we'd all be in a huge pile of crap. It seems even more so that these children, who make mistakes that we just don't understand have a heart that is soft, malleable and workable with favor for good. When those challenging times pass, often you find that these kids nestle a group of friends who are good and kind and they begin to find the direction you had anticipated they would never stray far from.

Today, my girl, who has been THAT child in the first paragraph, reassured me of her heart. While driving to her CCD Class, just five minutes away she wanted to talk. First I thought she was going to revisit the discussion about a boy who wanted to be her boyfriend. Whew. That wasn't the discussion but the discussion was one that I am so glad she came to me about. Today, she heard a child in her class was made fun of. This obviously bothered her as she brought it up. She discussed it and explained how horrific she thought it was. I agreed, and wishing that I could have stopped it for the little guy, we discussed teasing which can turn to bullying and how to be a friend. After CCD, the discussion continued. She discussed it again. We continued our discussion and I relayed a story of my childhood. She then decided she could do something to help. But what? By bedtime she thought of it. She wanted me to email her teacher and ask her if the child who was teased would want to sit with her at lunch. And to me, that was better than a paycheck. It was recognition that those values, those hopes, those goals that we want our children to achieve are somewhere in sight, and perhaps, those ugly moments we want to brush away are just steps to allowing the child to realize who they truly want to be and how they want to get there.

Perhaps, instead of hanging my head in shame, I will search for the good. I will try to find the positive and I will hope, that children 2,3 and 4 have the same understanding as number 1 when they reach her age.

Listening to His Quiet Voice

2012-01-10T13:38:00.002-05:00

Long ago, I joined a wonderful group of women who taught me more about faith than growing up as a cradle Catholic ever could have. Weekly we gathered in a Community Church that was open to all faith's and I learned about a pure, deep relationship with my savior. Jesus. The man I had learned gave his life for me on a cross, but I had assumed was too busy to ever "talk" to me.

Previously I had written about my friends "hearing" from Jesus. They would tell stories about God talking to them and I figured that I was not good enough, that God didn't have much to tell me or perhaps I wasn't really good enough to be a saved child of God. That was until the day I forced my cousin to stay with me for dinner perhaps saving her from an accident and imminent death. In the time since then, its been a challenge for me to allow myself to be quiet enough to hear God's voice in the actions and doings around me, but lately, as I struggle to allow life to happen and allow myself to follow God's will, I seem to "hear" him more often.

Currently I am reading the Duggar's book, I may have mentioned that, but an overly exhausting week paired with a family loss, a baby at the hospital, and an out of town visitor has me a bit overwhelmed. In any case, one thing they state is that they want to raise their children to "listen to God's quiet voice".

Over our vacation, Colin and I had a very serious talk. It was one that made us grow closer together and feel more connected. It was one that could have become very negative and angry but was one that allowed us to feel that we truly have the same hopes and dreams and we truly want what is best for each other. Truth be told, I want to live near family, or at least where I built a community that became my family. It seems that slowly I am doing that here, but I will be honest, how I long to go to my mom's for Sunday dinner, or call my Dad to go play a round of golf (I have the clubs, he bought them for his business woman daughter years ago), and just live near them. You know, those people I so longed to run from as a teen, they shaped me, they are me, I long to be near them. Colin has become their son, and in that, he's also developed a hope that he too can be closer in proximity to them.

Yesterday, God may have spoken to us once again. In a quiet way. A situation I first faced with anger. Perhaps God is speaking, and we're not listening. So last night, as the girls slept, and Jude played, Colin worked...and perhaps, one day, that quiet voice will become a beacon, calling us, to find a home, near home. Where my heart is. With my parents.

Momtuition or Momsense

2012-01-08T19:38:00.000-05:00

I am sure both titles are copyrighted so I apologize for utilizing them but after today I am almost certain that all mother's are able to utilize these superpowers to care for their kids. You know, the intuition that things aren't right or on the flip side, that all is well, or at least as well as it could be.

Thursday Baby Doodle had his vaccines. Five. Seemed like a lot but the physician had noted I was a "breath of fresh air" vaccinating so openly. Truth is, after that experience I may become the thorn in his side. We know, I have four kids. We know, I have researched vaccines. We know, I am a nervous nellie so vaccines help ease my fear of my children becoming sterile, or worse, dying. I know, I am paranoid, but heck, we have these drugs, and these preventions, why not use them? So by Thursday night the boy had been poked a total of 4 times, and had received the Rota Virus Vaccine orally.

Sunday, Jude woke up pale. It had been about 72 hours and my head began to generate ideas as to what was wrong? A cold? The flu? Was that pesky croup back again? But by 9 a.m. I had my answer. Poor baby dude less than 3 days from having his vaccines was vomiting exorcist style. The poor boy choked, gasped and I kept putting him forward as puke hit the walls, the carpet, his bedroom set, the floor and then, me. I wasn't too worried until it seemed in a matter of 15 minutes the boy vomited profusely three times. Because of the vaccines, and the fact that it was Sunday nearing noon, I called the nurse at the Pedi Office. Now, my first child, I ran into the doctor frequently, now, besides well visits we try to steer clear of the office as much as we can. I had hoped however he could maybe have a once over and then, voila, we'd be back in business. I explained I thought it was the oral vaccine. The nurse explained it wasn't and sent me to the ER. As I drove, calmly towards the ER, I wondered if this was even worth going. In my head I knew it was just the vaccine. We waited as multiple ambulances passed, and as we watched to see if he would vomit. I cringed at the germs landing on me from the airborne illnesses that people harbored within their ailing vessels. When Jude was called back, he had only vomited once more. Dr. Hottie came in as he watched the tele and poked and prodded the babe. I suggested it was his vaccine, and with a quick discussion he told me this: "no nurse is ever going to know your baby like you are, I agree, five vaccines is too many. Go with your gut. I agree, this is due to the vaccines". At that moment, I was completely validated. Pleased to know that a Physician was willing to take the time to listen to a mom, to consider her ideas and better yet, to tell her she was right! So all you Momma's, wondering if this your thoughts are right, go with your gut because according to the hottie says so...and I do too!

Never Say Goodbye

2012-01-08T09:59:00.000-05:00

That is a motto I seem to live by. I think its started when I was in High School. During those years, it seemed I was losing people I knew left and right. Should it be a grandparent, a child in my mothers class, a friends mother, an uncle, a friend, a horse or another friend, those four years seemed to shape my ability to say good bye. I think it began when my mom asked if I wanted to travel to see my Gramme before her passing. I didn't. I wanted to remember her, not her lifeless or sickly body. During those exceptionally difficult years I attended numerous funerals and sat sobbing. I sat feeling uncomfortable and I wished there were other ways to say good bye, or perhaps to not say good bye at all. In fact, in years to come, death wouldn't be the only way I would avoid saying good-bye.

The first time it happened, we moved. My parents packed up, and got our family to head half way across the country once again. As most college students went home to hang with past friends, I drove 700 miles to the North side of Chicago to create a new home, but that new "home" never came, and during breaks, I drove hours back to a house my parents resided in. The night before we moved, I was supposed to call a friend. A good friend. A guy that I had a special friendship with and yet I never did. I never called, and I think it really hurt him. In fact, I know it did. I still feel somewhat guilty, but in the early hours of June 29th, his birthday, I drove out of sight, Zx2 packed ready to begin anew, or at least forget that I never left with closure. For me, it was easier.

It then happened again. I set up shop for a week at Lake Forest College. After two parties, and a few too many people being too involved in my business I knew it wasn't the school for me. As my roommates were at class, I packed that Zx2 once again, and drove the 3 miles back home and never said good-bye.

This situation seemed to be a recurrence. It wasn't just in moves, but in relationships, within my sorority, even in jobs. I realized as I sobbed in the shower the other night, wanting to be with my family but not wanting to say good-bye, I struggle. I don't even struggle, I just don't do good-byes.

I reflected on the past years again. Out of fear I stay away. I sit holed up in my house, with my immediate family, grasping the memories, the photos, the stories and the image that the person, no longer in my life is still there, and then, I disappear. Disappear inside myself. Saddened. I recount the times that that person made an impact on me, and I hold onto the memories as long as I can.

This may be an issue. It seems maybe more for others than myself as they wonder how I can move forward without closure, but perhaps this is my closure. Perhaps this is my dealing, perhaps in losing at such a young age, I never learned to say good-bye.

Today, I am down. I am in a funk. Tears keep welling up but they won't come. Today I don't want to go out. I don't want to see others. I want to reflect. I want to remember. I want to hold the memory of someone who was so invaluable in our lives within me, pretending, that just maybe, a letter, with that letterhead, telling me about life, or that email, that he sent just after Christmas, personally written to me, may just come again, because I cannot say good-bye.

I Get By With A Little Help From My Friends

2012-01-05T15:18:00.000-05:00

Before I had four, I had it together. Schedules, outings, the house, groceries. All my daily doings had a place, and there was a place for all my daily doings. I don't know if its the added fourth child, the addition of serving on two boards, the added job of room representative, the stress of family factors, the errands, the running to and from school or a combination of it all but for the first time ever I have had to rely on friends. A lot. More than I want to and part of me feel full of anxiety and somewhat sad that I cannot be in two places at once, that I cannot get it all done and that I have begun to feel an overwhelming sense of stress.

As I said this year I am going to looking at reducing stress. Meaning? I will be letting go, and doing what I have to in order to minimize my anxiety. So this week, I did it. I relied. I relied a lot. A huge thank you must go out to my friends. The ones I have met here that I never anticipated meeting. The friends that when I first moved here I would have never dreamed would pick me up when I needed it. From helping me with car rides for different children, getting kids on the bus, sending sympathy cards, and calling just to make sure I am okay, I realized that relying is a way of allowing them to minister to me. It means welcoming the help, even when I feel a bit embarrassed to do so.

This week, I feel like has whizzed by. I happily welcomed my cousin. My baby cousin whom I recall singing Karoke with, heading to Disney with, spending Spring Break with. She's grown, and she's amazing. After picking her up in Newark, that night I was distraught with anxiety about the preschool. Instead of going it alone, Amy was there to listen, to bounce ideas off and to stand by me when I needed her help. After it seemed the day couldn't get more stressful, it did. My grandpa passed, and death, well, its another post, but I don't acknowledge it. I laid awake until almost morning when my eyelids could no longer stay open, when my brain could no longer think and then, morning came too soon. Again, I relied on others. While my cousin headed to interview at Penn State, I stayed back and waited for her to arrive home and again, relied on Amy. I thought that night it would ease, and yet, it didn't. Again, the leaning began. Phone calls came in. And Tiffany and Sinead, my kids went to school because of you.

As I drove yesterday from the pediatrician, I was anxious. I cried. I sobbed. I was stressed, but I was also relieved. Relieved that I allowed others to help, and relieved I had built a friend base that I had others to rely on. Sometimes, living so far from my family is the worst thing on earth, but perhaps this is the way God is teaching me to let go, and let him teach me through life. For life, its not in my control, its just mine for the making. And this year, I will make it a good life!

So, friends, lean on me too. I know that its hard to, but you have helped me realize we must do it. For without each other, we're just weaker, and with each other we're stronger, even though we think waving the white flag and asking for help means we're weaker, we have had it backwards. To friends. I thank you friends for being there for me this week.

Again

2012-01-04T21:44:00.000-05:00

The photo looks familiar, I know. I posted one similar the other day but today, its here again. One gift I have is my son. I know. I gush about him. Today however, I am blessed because I have him in my house and I have him to look at each day. My son, is the spitting image of my Grandpa Lefty. In fact, when he was born, my husband turned to me and said "you gave birth to Little Lefty". He and I have joked that this baby is my Grandpa's spitting image. We are really excited that we have him to remind us of the amazing person my Lefty is, and will continue to be.

At Peace

2012-01-04T17:07:00.003-05:00

I have begun this blog post at least five times today, and it seems the words are few and far between. To be able to explain the feelings that I have regarding this man of great importance seems to elude me. Last night, in the darkness, the phone rang, and with it, the message that my grandfather had passed. This man has been touted as "legendary" and those aren't my words. Legendary doesn't begin to describe him. To many he was so much more than legendary.

I hurt. My family hurts, but if I remember and if I think of him and what he wanted, I am at Peace. As my dad said "he was one of the good guys". My dad has a special spot for him in his heart, as do I. My Grandpa wasn't just a hockey coach, he wasn't just an employee of Notre Dame, but when I think of who is was to all of us, Patriarch of Hockey seems so minimal, Patriarch of the entire family, a creator of so much more, a man who is responsible in part, for my life. No words could ever thank him for it, and once again I am wishing that I had at least used words to try.

Rest in Peace Grandpa, you were such an amazing gift, one that will continue to be present in my life forever.

Hoolia!

2012-01-03T19:03:00.000-05:00

Hoolia arrived! Remember, my cousin I talked about yesterday? She's here, and I am so very excited. Cecily, Felicity, Jude and I traveled to Newark and picked her up. We got to wait and see planes coming and going. Cecily was excited as there was a deployment and she was able to thank many of the different servicemen and women in uniform. Simone was a little disappointed she missed that but we surprised her and picked her up from school at dismissal!

Because we didn't have a picture of Miss Fiss, thought I would add a second. Felicity frequently SCREAMS to be "UP UP". She'll then say "HIGHER HIGHER". Colin put her up on the fridge...No worries, he's right there, in fact you may even see his arm. She was happy to be down, down pretty soon after this was taken!

Tomorrow

2012-01-02T22:20:00.001-05:00

Tomorrow my big girls go back to school. If you had asked me a year ago, I would have been elated to see them both off.

But tomorrow, I say good-bye again with some hesitation. First, Simone. Ah, how she has grown this year. I am fully aware that her teacher (a tough, loving woman) has had a strong influence on this. She's consistent. She loves, but she's NOT allowing anyone to get away with ANYTHING. I really admire her and perhaps may have changed some of my own parenting to emulate her no-nonsense drive in her classroom. Simone is frequently found in a book. In fact, recently people asked what they could get her for her birthday and the answer? Doll Clothes. Books. Legos. That is it. She's really not in love with a ton of things, but to be honest, if I have to say "Simone, put the book down", one more time I may fall over from sheer amazement, as a year ago, the kid, who could read, refused.

Tomorrow. Ahhh, Cecily. I have a little less anxiety about her returning. As my mother honestly put it earlier this year, she's stubborn. Very stubborn. She's got a glare that could kill someone if she intended it to. She can be a bit too relaxed at times and she's very independent but I tell you what, that little cuddly munchkin melts every one's hearts. Perhaps that is part of her little attitude. Thanks to all you people who have told her how cute she is once or twice, I blame you! She too is returning to an amazing classroom. Her teachers at WNS have won me over. Believe me. They have captured both our hearts.

Tomorrow, Felicity will grow more clingy (the house is completely cleaned because of this). She will need me to hold her more often and cuddle her longer. She will cry. She will ache because those big sisters, the ones who sometimes push her away will be out in the world, and she'll be left to wander the house alone, asking me when she can go back to "Moosic Cwass". My goal for Miss Felicity is to focus the second half of the year on her. Helping her to figure out who she is, because right now, I think she feels somewhat lost.

Tomorrow, my sweet chubby boy will eat some more food. Today he finished an entire jar of sweet potatoes in one sitting. Today, I have my 9th load of laundry in because as Colin says "even a little poop on clothing is not okay". Tomorrow, my sweet boy, his red hair, his blue eyes will capture my heart once again, and tomorrow, I will be hoping he realizes the voice he found today will still be there and the screeching hoot owl practice is not necessary.

Finally, tomorrow, I will drive to pick up my cousin. My wee baby cousin whom I haven't seen since we moved. I am so excited to hug her. So happy to have her in my home. So sad I have missed the last two and a half years of her life. I am excited to take her to lunch, talk about Tonio (ok, Anthony), stay up late, and watch her play with my kids.

Tomorrow. Its going to be a good day.

My Little Fighting Irish

2012-01-02T18:50:00.000-05:00

Today's photo is happily brought to you by the newest North. At 6 months, Jude Tucker Charles has come into the family full force. From being able to put a smile on anyone's face to staying awake all hours of the night, Jude Tucker has made our family feel more full. Currently, Simone is sitting with me on the couch cuddling the boy who only weighs about 20 pounds less than she, though he is 6 and a half years her junior ;). Our sweet little red head continues to delight in our presence and be a delight to us.

Day One: Duggerfied

2012-01-01T21:14:00.001-05:00

Okay, so we're not going to have 20 children, and most likely Colin won't run for any political office but once again I am reading a book written by everyone's favorite or not so favorite--depending on your stance, but the most talked about large family in our nation.

No matter which side of the coin you stand on, or if you like or dislike the practices of Jim Bob and Michelle, I will tell you EVERYONE and EVERY FAMILY could get a bit out of their writing, and take away a bit from their life. In Michelle's first book, which I read about 3 years ago, waiting to go to the hospital to delivery baby number 3, I learned that Michelle and Jim Bob chose to let God choose the family size for them only after they had lived through a miscarriage. This was a life changing event for them, and if you have had a miscarriage, I am sure its touched you in some way. I also learned that when she had 4 children, my children's ages and younger, she felt life was harder than it is for her now--yes, I agree that they have a different lifestyle allowing the children to learn to parent each other, but it works for them, and to be honest...they really seem to mesmerize me.

This time, I am only about eight chapters into her book, and "no" she's NOT the reason I left Facebook, but in her book so far I have learned that I want to run my family more like her family. I want to have peace in my home, and to create the Peace, I have to first be the Peace. And yes, that means taking time for me, as well as my children. Individually. Collectively and as a family. Today, we sat more than once and discussed our new goals for our family. Our new goals as individuals and our new goals for each other. And today was wonderful.

I am not living in the land of lollipops and candy, I understand that some days are not going to be as easy. They are not going to even be good, and some days me be plain old craptastic, however my goal is to have more ~~good~~ great days than bad days, and its not a goal, its something I will create and foster.

Another New Year's change for this family is to make sure that we are capturing our lives and keeping the memories with photos. So everyday I will post a photo of our day. Perhaps one that is a posed photo, or perhaps one that seems to just be a snapshot of our crazy life, either way, it will be us. The way we are. Today.

Today's photos is one we took as we set off on our first family Geocache. This little game we've decided to play collectively will be something I will write about in the future...but today...Geocache 1. NorthFamily6 0...we were interrupted, by a skunk.

Happy Bringing it Back To Basics

2012-01-01T12:08:00.001-05:00

That is our goal. Not just my own, but our family goal. This year, 2012, we're going to focus on the family. I swear I didn't steal that slogan from Dr. Dobson, but it works in this area. Recently I have done a lot of thinking about years past. About our mother's parenting and about their childhoods as well. Back in the 50's it seemed to be a simpler time but it also appears that there weren't as many struggles in families. The divorce rate was lower, the satisfaction rate seemed higher and those new fangled TV's promoted families that used words like "golly gee" and "aw shucks" in place of readily used swear words today.

During those years, children were not overscheduled. Exercise was a local game of hide and seek or perhaps enrollment in the local baseball association for kids, and I do know there were organized dance classes for girls (my mom was the cutest duck back in the late 50's). So this year, 2012, we're looking to get back there. The hard part is going back from where we have gotten.

Almost three years ago, So, during this year, the North's will be having some changes. After meeting some of my volunteer goals I will be stepping back from many of the volunteer positions I have. I will be focusing on raising happy children and enjoying my time with them. It may appear that I am slighting people, I am not. I am simply running back to a time that allowed people to enjoy their lives instead of being taken over in their life.

In Love with Another Man

2011-12-31T21:18:00.000-05:00

About 6 months ago, I fell in love. This love was a different love than I had ever felt. After months of anticipation, this being, pushed from within arrived in our world. In our family. In our hearts. After months of worry, concern and anxiety, my hands reached down to grab this small boy, perfect in his very form from my womb. As I pulled him quickly to my chin, his slippery body fit just right. The moment I touched him, I knew something was truly unique about him. I knew my three girls had melted my heart, they had twisted my mind, and they had formed my parenting from the day they arrived, but from day one, I always saw myself with a boy, and until this summer that fate had eluded me. Each of my children is special. Each of my children a gift, but Jude was my first son. A son. A little boy. The story goes that girls are daddy's little princesses, but this summer I began to fall for my prince. After only a couple weeks in the house our wee man settled in.

We have watched as Jude has bonded with each girl. Simone is convinced she is his favorite. Cecily, she thinks she's the only one who can make him laugh, and Felicity is never far from being with him, kissing him, loving him. He's changed our lives. He's completed our hearts. Today, Fr. Blaise reminded us that God asks us to grow, not to come full circle each year but to sprial closer to him, and in having this baby, in welcoming this child, I have grown. For the first time, I can say I have done so in a way I never expected but a way I can truly embrace.

Lamaze, The Learning Curve Company

2011-12-30T21:29:00.000-05:00

I thought I may sit down and write about another fantastic experience I had with a company recently. If you have noticed, my blog posts have increased--why? I got rid of that social media addiction to Facebook. How? I simply deactivated. My friends husband suggests I will be back on in a day, but you know, when someone challenges me, I seek to beat and exceed expectations. This decrease in time on Facebook is also a benefit for me as I am now planning to blog and increase my writing on the web. Hey, we all know I yearn to be a writer, why not practice?

In any case, when my newest little muffin was born in June, we received an abundance of gifts--we continue to and I feel so blessed. Within days of getting "Sir Prancealot" from one of Colin's co-workers, Jude took to it as if it were his best friend. The bright colors, the teething rings, the ease of his ability to grab the product all enhanced his experience with the toy. Within two months, it was his go-to toy. When he fussed, we tossed it to him. Out and about? We attached it to him. He just loved to gum the toy and the noises the fabric produced as he did really lead to many hours of entertainment. During graduate school I had seen these Lamaze toys, but outside yard sales, I didn't purchase them because for me, on our meager budget these were lavish gifts. I was excited to own one, and to be honest, they will now be a go-to gift for me when someone has a baby, or if someone needs a birthday gift. In any case, within two months, poor Sir Prancealot had been gummed so much his head burst open. I suppose it began to abscess and stuffing started to pull out and the wee man tried to pick it out with his chubby little fingers. Luckily I caught it quickly and I gave a call to the number I found on the computer. Within a few rings, I was speaking with a real person. No joke. It took seconds to actually reach a real human. A kind one at that. After explaining that I had an issue, and the said issue was with a gift, I truly expected an "I'm sorry ma'am, its the way things are". I was taken aback when she first asked if the baby was okay? She asked if any stuffing had gotten into his mouth and if I had secured it from him. I was stunned her concern was for my baby. After taking a full report, she asked that I send it back. Sure, I had no problem doing so. I assumed it meant a trip to the Post Office (four kids in tow) and a few dollars for shipping but she amazed me again giving me a return authorization number, insisting I pack it in any box, and having UPS sent to MY HOUSE to pick it up. I did as she asked and the next day it was whisked away. She had told me they would replace it. No questions. Done. This was enough for me. I was pretty certain that The Learning Curve (owned by TOMY) would be a brand name in my home now.

After a trip to visit my parents we arrived home and my friend delivered the box to me. With great anticipation I opened it, excited to give the baby his favorite buddy. To my excitement and sincere surprise, Sir Prancealot had found a friend on his journey and came with a darling squishy Toolbox. The toolbox, sent as a promotional item was sent for my trouble. I was truly excited to have such a gift sent, and all for the fact I was disappointed in a product.

Like I said my last post, customer service is no longer a given, its something that is frequently passed by but today, I wanted to take a minute to thank the company that went above and beyond and put a smile on my face! So, if you are looking for a good baby gift, from a company that will stand by its product, check them out. I know I will.

Edible Arrangements Rocks!

2011-12-30T19:29:00.000-05:00

After spending too much time at my parents house I think my dad could have gone to sleep for five days or at least had a Western Marathon on his T.V. and my poor mom, she's constantly moving. She doesn't stop...until we're gone, and then unfortunately the poor woman has been thrown under a bus. She's got the house in amazing shape when we arrive. There are typically treats, this year, pajamas. Sometimes we've even got bottles of water and chocolates on our pillow. Hotel Nan and Pop. Though vacations are too expensive right now for our starter family of six, this trip down to Colonial Williamsburg affords us the gifts of vacation and relaxation, and for that we are thankful.

I've written before that though I enjoy writing, and reading, my ability to speak about how I feel is typically that of a second grader. A quick "I love you", a peck on the cheek, or better yet a high five is much more comforting to me than a heart to heart. And though I wish I could share my feelings verbally, I simply fall short.

This Christmas was the Christmas of all Christmases. Both my older girls had been exposed to the "truth" of Santa. And while I tried to reassure them that the other four year old was misinformed and her brother was a liar, and the six year old wouldn't receive if he didn't believe, I wanted this year to be special. As October blew out and November chills arrived, I was ready for a holiday like no other. The excitement I felt about the upcoming holiday hadn't been felt since my grandfather passed away when I was eighteen. I wasn't allowing some grade schoolers ruin my holiday fun! Working with my mom, I had planned an amazing Christmas, and she and my dad had their hands in the pot preparing the same for Colin and I. We both opened gift after gift and felt like children all over again. Not just the gifts, but the extended family, the anticipation, the excitement of Jesus in our lives, our family and our home.

As we drove away, my poor mother in tears, I wished I had some way to thank them. In fact, Colin and I both did. Words, sure they are good but we had said thank you, and we really meant it. A letter, that is good too. A blog post (HA! My mom hates being in the spotlight--sorry Mom), but I wanted them to know just how much this trip (all trips) really mean to us. We had given them Christmas gifts, and I felt good about what I had chose, but I wanted something to arrive.

Once before I utilized Edible Arrangements when my mom was away and my dad was home on his birthday alone. Knowing my dad's affinity for fruits, I felt this was a great gift to brighten his day. Not only that, I remember as a kid receiving flowers for Valentine's Day, and I felt amazing. I wanted it to run full circle. He really enjoyed that gift and it was in my heart to do it again, sometime, but when? This was it. The time when I could send something to them, to say thanks. So I browsed the site. I found the perfect arrangement that had a Mickey Mouse Vase. My parents aren't much into Disney, but as all modern parents know, the new Mickey Mouse Show is about his Clubhouse. So I chose that and affectionately sent "thanks for allowing us to turn your house into our clubhouse". It arrived today. With a balloon, fresh fruit and the vase in a timely manner. Emily, the store manager at the Williamsburg Store worked with me to get the details perfect. When she had to place me on hold she was courteous and took her time ensuring I was pleased with my experience. At the end of the call she insisted I call if I needed ANYTHING. Today, with blue skies, the order was to be delivered. I had requested a morning delivery by 1 p.m. and at noon, my parents were itching to get out into the sun. I gave a call and Emily answered again. She called her delivery driver and had him insert my parents delivery into his route to get there next! I was floored...and what is more? Instead of being irritated, she insisted that I call again should I need her. Emily won me over for this store, and anytime I need something special to send that way, she'll get my business.

So many times today we hear that customer care has gone by the wayside, and to be honest, at times it seems it has, but other times, I find experiences like this allow me to have faith that our society isn't so fast that we don't have time for each other any more, we just have to focus more on making time for others!

Good Luck on your engagement Emily, if you treat your marriage like your customer's, you marriage will be a success! Thank you Edible Arrangements for allowing me to put thanks into my parents homes. From my heart.

Positive Thinking Leads to Living Positively

2011-12-29T19:03:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I get emails from folks that are all syrupy. You know, the people who are insistent that perhaps their life couldn't get any better. To be honest, for the longest time I wanted to gag. In fact I began making parodies of their lives, even though they had no idea. But perhaps, that joy was practiced joy. Joy they had to create focusing on the good things, forgetting the bad things, and ignoring those things that may bring you down.

Today, we lead into the weekend which Colin's brother celebrates his marriage to his fiancee Katie. They have been planning over a year, and we are elated that Robbie has found this amazing woman to support him. Katie has done so allowing Robbie's career to be the center of their life right now as he finishes up his M.D., mind you the boy is no slouch already posessing a Ph.D. from A&M. Katie, a beautiful, young woman has had a career already and has put her own career aside to work with Robbie to create their new life. As we examine the choice she made we realize what a true gift they are to each other, and as I consider it, and the teachings we do in our Pre-Cana Classes, it seems they are on the road to success, something I wish more marriages were able to experience. As we know its no easy task, but they are embarking on a ride that they will share as one.

That being said, I have been thinking about them a lot. Wishing we were there. I wish Colin was able to stand at his brother's side, I wish I was able to dress up like a big girl and show off my well behaved children as we enjoy the warmth of the Texas heat in winter. Unfortunately, we have had to make the difficult decision that we won't be attending. Not the kids, not me, not even Colin. Right now, we as a family are focusing on what we have here, and we're focusing on our future as a family of six, so we had to realize that financially this wasn't doable.

Leading back to the positive thinking, we must celebrate from afar. We must recognize in our hearts, and we must cherish looking inside through a window instead of experiencing. And as we do, we hope that they know they are in our hearts, on our minds and within our family.

We hope that in the coming months we can spend time with them. We hope in the coming years, we can watch them grow. We hope during our lifetime we can share vacations, we can share adventures and we can grow, as not just an immediate family but an extended family as well!

Almost time for resolutions...

2011-12-28T20:06:00.000-05:00

but this year I am going for life changes. It seems that we are all running the rat race and these resolutions that we make every year tend to go by the wayside sometime in late February or early March. However, as this year has come I have learned so much about myself, my family and overall life.

Today as my husband and I drove home we chatted. This chat continued from our discussion yesterday. Though I can't go into detail (yet), he and I have come to the conclusion that some changes must occur. Our marriage is strong. Its seen many a wave, but this time the changes are to better ourselves, to better each other, to better our family.

First we will focuson on our family more. Not just the monotony of the day but the little things that make up our day that make our family. And that family of ours is coming first. Even if it means saying "no". This is an issue I need to work on. A change I need to make. See, once Colin asked if I knew how to say "no". I simply smiled and said "I have four kids...you would think you would be the first to realize I can't say no". But this year, I will. And I will say it without guilt. I will say it with strength and allow it to empower me to take that time and make it time for us.

Second, Colin and I are going to work on ourselves. That means he'll go to work early three days a week. To workout again. This will leave me manning the ship getting the four kids cleaned up, dressed, hair did, fed, school bags packed and in the car by 8:30 a.m. each day. He'll also be able to take the time to focus on his health and this will in turn give us the gift of him, here longer, for us to cherish. Now, don't think I didn't make some ammendments for me too! We all know I am too wise to think I don't need to make changes myself. I too will be working out. I have decided Yoga and Pilates will be a nightly thing, at least three times a week myself. Colin will get the kids into the showers, bathed and the kitchen cleaned while I take time for me. And then, we'll come together to read as a family.

Third, our eating habits have changed since our marriage began. Believe it or not new friends, when Colin and I met, we both worked out daily, sometimes twice a day, and I was a vegetarian who had a healthful lifestyle...now, our busy days have made way to allow poor dietary choices. Not always but more than we'd like. So that meal that I dumped out of a box tonight from Bertoli will soon be a thing of the past. Sure, there may be intermitent days when something quick must be done but those days will be few and far between. Good-bye prepackaged food, hello whining kids fighting the health craze!

And finally, yes, there has to be something that brings up the rear...its something for me. Its somewhat selfish, but its something that I have wanted to do for a long time. I would like to become a Lactation Consultant...so I will be researching to see if I can become one. For me. Eventually for others but for me. I deserve it.

New changes for the North's...and this time it doesn't include a baby or a move ;)

Keeping It Real

2011-12-06T14:00:00.000-05:00

Today, I had a bunch to get done. Lets just say its gloomy, somewhat chilly and the perfect day to just stay home, sip hot cocoa and read by the fire (or your electric candles). Instead, the kids were packed up and shipped to school and my pint sized wonder was in tow as we headed out on errands.

Last night, we had our first Tricky Tray Meeting. With the board members and one additional parents we began serious brainstorming and delegation for the event. Come March 3, 2012, I think I may need a really stiff drink, but until then, I must plug through. This morning I headed to the Township Offices. I braced myself because in the past its not felt the best in there, but the experience was better than anticipated. Then I breezed out the door only to be stopped by an older man. I recognized him and was a bit anxious when he stopped me inquiring as to if I had a "little blonde from Port Colden". I did. That little blonde who can be a bit of a spitfire had praise beyond all expectations as he noted that my Simone was the most polite child he's ever had on his route! Score. Momma was feeling a bit puffy at this point. Then it was off to the school to drop my darling diva her water. While there, I inquired as to where the transportation office was for the town. You see, our bus stop is at the corner of a very bad intersection. As you come off a road, marked at 35, cars whiz by to and from work. More than once there has been an accident in front of our neighborhood that has closed the road. This, just since we lived here. The kids wait patiently on the sidewalk, but every day I look and feel anxious that its just not safe. I *think* a few others feel the same way but I marched into the office and kindly asked that they consider the location. Surprisingly, the woman agreed noting that when the spot was first implemented only 4 children got on the bus there. Today? Over 30. This means cars line the street about a block prohibiting the driver from pulling straight up to the sidewalk until nearly at the main road. I figure, I can sit and complain or I can try and do something. In the end, the district will decide, but at least I had a voice. After my awesome two year old stood listening to the two conversations (and playing with the toy busses on the desk), we headed home for a brief stop, the procurement of my old doctor's records and then off to the post office in the rain. Felicity, spending almost two hours on errands held up better than I could have ever expected.

There are days when as a stay at home, you wonder your pay. There are days you wish you had a job that would give you the feedback you need, and there are days, like today, when you observe that you get your payment. And that payment must sustain, because this job, its the hardest one there is.

Kudos to my amazing kids! Today you light my life like the stars light our night!

V to the O to the L....

2011-12-04T21:29:00.000-05:00

to the U to the N to the T-E-E to the R-I-N-G. Its the time of year when I again question my sanity with my ability to say "yes" and therefore my inability to say "no". However, I have ranted before so this discussion is more about what happened to the "it takes a village" message we all heard as kids.

When I was young, it seemed play dates were just that. Kids came over and we played. Sure, I remember asking my mom what to do next, explaining we can only play "down on the farm" so many times but besides that, some extra cookies and milk and maybe a craft once in a while, it seemed play dates came naturally. It also seems the days of just being kids are gone too. You can no longer allow your children to gallivant around the neighborhood chasing packs of kids to play in a round of HORSE or perhaps to learn to ride a skateboard (or in my very safe parents world, a Scoot and Skate). Kudos to them, I probably would have cracked my teeth had I not started with a handle.

Today, play dates are special times. Not just a couple kids come but its an event, and I find as a mother who tries to host and loves to attend, its become somewhat overwhelming. It seems the same moms are the ones in the inner realm planning and hosting while others grab on to the coat tails for dear life. I think I play both roles however want to try and be equal in doing so. This feeling is also felt in the Volunteer abyss. Yes, I call it the abyss, as it seems that the same families I see out and about volunteering in one spot follow me to the next spot. The same moms that are willing to go into a classroom (or at least try) are the same ones working on one board or another. Then, by third or fourth grade, these moms, are overworked, under appreciated and just plain done. I can see that happening to me. With four kids, I want to be involved. In everything. I want to be there for the children for everything but I am realizing that if I allow each of my kids 25% of me, then it won't be any good. Once when speaking with my mom she told me she imagined you give the child who needs you the most, the most of you at that time. At the time, I had no children. I was ranting about another situation in my life, and I realize now, she was right (Side note: may consider new blog called Ellie's Rant).

However, with the set play dates, the over excited parents (read me) insisting on being uber involved, when did the simple times of learning to rear your children with the help of others go by the wayside, and the competition of my kid can one up yours begin? Personally I think it began changing around 1992. No joke. I remember parents discussing their kids academic tracking. I never did very well, so my tracking...well, lets just say left something to be desired. Besides a poor sense of self did it really prove to change my world? Not really. I am probably better off than some of those kids that "tracked" way above me, and probably less well off than some that "tracked" below me. Were there any of those kids? Well, anyway, I digress. I think in the early 90's, we began to see an extreme increase in the need for dual income homes. Living on one middle class salary was out of the question if you wanted a lifestyle that afforded you the luxury of vacations, extra curricular activities and nice clothing. With the arrival of the dual income, came the challenge of facing the sadness of leaving your kids behind. To be honest I frequently wish I could leave, but in the end, I know for me I couldn't do it. I know some friends who are better parents because they work, and maybe I would be, but right now I feel called to be in my home. Plus, who can afford childcare for four kids? When both parents are in the work place, it seems the importance of finding an academic child care can be of utmost importance and no longer do you have the opportunity for a group effort to succeed. It seems increasingly blatant that its no longer "it takes a village" but the motto may just be my stuffs better than your stuff...not to mention the kids.

To be honest, I don't really like the rat race. I don't like having to compete. I will always feel inadequate no matter what I do however I find myself trying to keep it all going too often, and then I wonder, is it necessary? Will it impact my children? Negatively? Positively? As I sit I feel a bit of deja vu coming over me. Perhaps I saw this blog post before. Perhaps I wrote parts of it before. Perhaps I see a recurring situation I have no control over. Is all this volunteering that I deem necessary really worth it? Do my kids even know I want to do it to better there lives or is it for me? Sadly, I think its because I want to feel like I have done something to make a difference. For them. For others. And perhaps I will, but chances are, I won't. In the meantime I will take time from them and never have the opportunity to have it back again.

**Disclaimer, I will continue to serve on boards, room parents and Tricky Tray stuff this year, but next year, my priorities have changed. I will help but I won't live to help. I will live to be the mom I am supposed to be. The one with milk and cookies, normal play dates and dirty floors. The one where kids gather and share snacks and stories after school. Not the one running the rat race to be the best because that is just the exterior, and truthfully, the exterior isn't worth much when the interior is empty.

Dear God, Its Me, Ellie.

2011-11-17T18:45:00.000-05:00

I feel like I could be in a book today. Literally. I just topped it off with fire roasted biscuits. Ever hear of those? Yeah, me either. But it was one of those days. In fact, I think it started last night when I arrived home with the WRONG photos for Christmas. No joke. After an hour drive each way I got the wrong package. And when I called to have it fixed, it wasn't a problem. If I just drove back and exchanged the ones I had. Giggle. Tear.

I have an issue with control. Who are we kidding, I border on OCD and I need to be on top of my game at all times, and as I have said before, usually the ones who suffer are my closest family and friends. So, my sincere apologies to you all for times past, present and future when I blow my top. Every few months, I dabble with sheer crazy as I attempt to pile on more than I can handle and pretend I can do it all. Myself.

We're in one of those times. And when I do this to myself, I find that I suffer, my kids suffer, my spouse suffers, and everything else does too. When this happens, it seems that God teaches me a lesson on letting go by making life spiral out of control. Luckily its usually just for a few days.

Today. I woke up late. I listened to my older middle daughter have a melt down about her hair. No joke. At 4, the kid was overwhelmed with the thought of being made fun of at school about her hair so she insisted she didn't know what to wear or how she would go to school. By 8 a.m. I was in tears, as was she and my husband was trying to placate us both asking what I needed to help. Help? Well, I need a cleaning lady, a nanny, or at least two of me would be okay. After some quick attitude changes, she got dressed, ate and we rushed out the door to her favorite spot. Preschool.

With the addition of new responsibilities on the board at her preschool, I am getting geared up with our committee to make this year the best Tricky Tray yet! It would be great if I knew what a Tricky Tray was, so I assume I will have to solicit one soon. Really soon, as our date is March 3, and I need as much help as I can get. Knowledge based and otherwise (READ: YOU WANT TO HELP, LET ME KNOW). To better prepare I set off in search of a planner. From today forward. Yes, I was looking for November 17th forward. As I raced down Route 57, to get to the store before a playdate, I realized I forgot to leave out bags for the War Veterans. With no real way to head back in time, I decided to keep going. At Staples, the Assistant Manager had nothing for me. Michael's? The wandering girl who stood aloof staring at me dragging a 2 year old and toting a baby bucket had no advice. And at Target? Well, no luck. We did however have luck in losing Felicity's prized headband. As she sobbed, laying in the street, I had to pick her up and run to the car to make the playdate. Frazzled, phone in hand I called my friend and said I probably wasn't coming. But I needed to. Not for her to play but for me not to lose it all and have some sort of momma melt down.

While sitting with the mom's, drinking my third cup of coffee, my phone let me know an email arrived. Part of me really hates technology because as I enjoyed the mother's company, I glanced down and noticed that it was my daughter's teacher. Not the one initially having the bad day, but my older child. With interest, I decided to read the email and saw that now not only was my older middle struggling, but my oldest was "exceptionally defiant" today. You see, Simone hates to color. Always has. She hates it. When she was little she thought that I was punishing her. In fact, people didn't believe me when I said I couldn't send them her artwork, the kid never did any. Sitting, stressed and overwhelmed, I cried. I cried for her. Because she's got a long road ahead. I cried for me, for she is a reflection of me. I cried. I didn't know how I let her get to this point. And as I cried, my friends, my mom's group saw me as the person I am. My most vulnerable side. I felt judged by some, but overall I felt loved, and as if I was not alone, and then, I felt guilty. Guilty that my daughter in her school didn't have the same feeling of support that she needed. And I wanted to run. To run and pull her. To take her home and tell her it would be okay. But its not. Its a road we have to face. Now, at 6. Not when she's 16.

After getting over that, the day seemed to turn around. My friend Amy insisted I wasn't leaving. Fed my two middle girls lunch and allowed me to walk in circles. Amy is one of those friends to be in awe of. Nothing phases her. I need to strive to be more like her! She's pretty awesome. After feeding my kids, I rushed out. With a now defiant four year old refusing to leave, I wasn't sure what I was going to do. I had to get home to get Simone off the bus. Leaving her house a disaster, I grabbed my kids and rushed off. She said not to clean. Honestly. But that guilt, it was there again.

As I rounded the bend, I looked up and saw a big yellow bus. Mr. Bill was driving and he was past our neighborhood. Like way past. I got stressed, sped up and explained to Cecily that most likely due to her fit, her big sister was standing about a mile from home on her own. I thought about how she felt and began to panic. Driving 65 down 31 I raced into the neighborhood and saw only one car sitting. I was so thankful to my neighbor Christine, I thought she waited. I pulled up and asked if she had my daughter. She didn't. Mr. Bill was on his way to the school. Woops. Apologized to Cecily for freaking out, and then we waited.

After getting home, getting resettled and talking with Simone, I tried to turn our day around. Shortly after, I got an email from her teacher saying she turned her day around, which helped...but really, the defiance isn't acceptable. Hoping to cheer us all up, I opened our basement closet. Its the one that holds our Christmas tree. With all my might I lifted the thing up and carried it upstairs. As we unpacked boxes Simone belted Joy to the World OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN. I knew my day had turned around....until.....

I got an email saying all emails from the Room Parents must be approved before distribution. Crap. I had sent one. Double Crap. Ah, fire me. I felt like if someone yelled at me I may crack. Luckily Facebook came in handy and with a silly post, I got some responses and felt a lot better. And the response from the head room mom, wasn't nearly as bad as I suspected. The situation is handled.

So here I am, wondering if I should go out tonight, as I had planned? Seems I am a bit of a walking rain cloud today...and it feels like I am really alone, but through it all, I haven't been. Right? Because, Dear God, its me, Ellie. As you created me. A bit of a mess but trying. Can I have a little pick me up????

Here's hoping your day did not mirror mine. And here's to better tomorrows!

Out with the Old and In with the New

2011-11-11T18:38:00.000-05:00

Change is hard. Its hard when its something small, so when its something greater, it seems to affect us more. Sometimes we are affected in a positive way, others, its detrimental and to be honest, most often it changes us to be different people.

My greatest change appeared not when I said "I Do" but when I had my first child. Recently, I have been watching my children grow, and it seems all too quickly. This year our oldest will make her first reconciliation as well as her first communion and though I am excited for her to make a step into active Catholicism, I am also apprehensive. I wonder where the time has gone. Truly, its the end of her childhood as a Catholic, and now means that she will be responsibile for her actions knowing right from wrong, choosing to do good and looking to find her way in the church as well as life. I also wonder what I have missed in these last 7 years. Sure, I am a stay at home mom, but constant cleaning, cooking and chores are often mind numbing, so frequently I find myself stepping out and focusing my time on things that aren't as important as those children at home. To be honest, these activities I find myself in are supposed to be for the kids, but in reality, they just pull me away from them, and I find myself stressed, overwhelmed and wishing I had more time to just sit. To just hold them. To play one more game of Pretty Pretty Princess.

This year we have had so much change in our home. There is the new baby (of course he is a blessing) but its brought more work. It also allowed us to learn that I have a heart condition and I believe the cardiologist said a change of lifestyle was important (READ: NO FRIED FOODS AND JUNK). Seems that change has yet to take place. We also have sent two of our four children to school. I feel like a nervous hawk, wondering who potentially hurt my children, and why. I have already had to remind myself I cannot pull any of the kids from school this year. Even when I want to. This growth has been slightly painful for me. In fact, I miss their being at home, and I dislike the exhaustion and negative behaviors that have accompanied their new found freedom.

I am not so good with letting go of the old. I like the "old". I like to know what is going on. I don't like the new. I hate change. I hate to start over, but yet in doing so, we grow.

A brief update

2011-11-10T21:37:00.000-05:00

Jude Tucker reached the four month milestone. He was unimpressed with his blue doggie this month but it doesn't stop his older sister from jumping on it from far away! Its great to watch him continue to grow, and thus far, he's our easy little bundle of mush!

Cecily ENJOYS her little brother more than you can ever imagine. When she's not sick (which hasn't been often lately) she's often playing right by his side, or even interacting and teaching him new tricks....like sticking out his tongue????

And, no snow storm could keep North Jersey down too long. The kiddos were able to Trick Or Treat about a week late, last Saturday! though we may be far from home, home is not far from our heart! Our little Cheerleaders dressed the part and were cheerful to welcome a new baby this year into our home!

Happy Birthday Baby Brother

2011-10-17T15:03:00.000-04:00

There I was. Ready to graduate, nearly 18, and enjoying the beautiful May sun when the phone rang. I answered, and it was for my mom. Being nosy, and antsy, I was standing by her trying to figure out who was calling on this really important day. It seems, with importance, comes change, sometimes more than you bargained for.

As I listened carefully, I quickly deduced the person on the other end of the line was my birth mother. See, years before, as I struggled with an eating disorder, my social worker talked my parents into letting me write a letter and put it in my file should my mother ever be interested in contacting me. I didn't expect her to make the call and in fact, by the time she did the memory of the letter was erased from my mind. Turns out the same curiosity that filled my mind and heart these years had also plagued the woman who chose to carry me, give me life and give me up. I was excited, and nervous and above all anxious about how it would turn out. You hear horror stories. You hear stories where the child hurts the parents who raised them, but above all else, the question burning in my mind was "do I have any brothers or sisters?".

My amazing parents had given me the world. They still do. They are the greatest gift I could ever have been blessed with, but for some reason, in my heart I was missing something. To me the answer was simple, a sibling. From a young age I imagined siblings. I played house and always had a family filled with children. In fact, there were a few lies that surrounded my childhood dreaming up siblings. There was one older sister, she was 15. We kept her at home because we didn't want to bring her out. Then, my Siamese Siblings. See, they were home bound as well. Instead of living the truth and sharing the empty feeling I had wanting a sibling, I dreamed them up, carefully with stories to boot that would hide them from the public eye so I could cover my lie. It never worked, and as I grew up, I just assumed I wouldn't have any sibling. Of any kind. Sure, I understood a biological sibling was different than the one I always imagined. I knew there wouldn't be family trips, or memories of our childhood together. I knew I wouldn't grow up with this "sibling" nor would I even really know him or her, but a sibling seemed to be the missing piece for me. As my mom hung up the phone, she answered the one question that seemed ever present in my life. I did in fact have a baby brother. A baby brother? I hadn't anticipated that.

That June, my parents and I (see told you they are the best who takes their newly 18 year old to meet their birth mother?) boarded a plane headed for Chicago. As we landed and took the cab to the hotel, I was excited to meet my birth mom, and her husband but even more excited to meet my brother. Would we look alike? Did we have similar personalities? Was he going to be fearful of me? I had been told not to expect much. I had been told that he was attached to my birth mom at the hip and refused others like they had contagious disease. I had been told that I shouldn't be hurt if he wanted nothing to do with me.

I still can see him toddling, diaper and all around the yellow foyer of the Tremont Hotel. Then, my life changed. His eye cathing my eye. With my Aunt Angie, Uncle Michael, cousin Nicole and my birthmom and step-father standing in the room I was meeting the people who loved me before my parents ever did. And I was meeting the person who had grown in my heart before he ever grew within his mother's womb. After an enormous hug with my birth mother, I bent down, and those anxieties that he had, the fears that I had, washed away as he ran and cuddled up into my arms. See, that day, I first learned what love was like in the most pure form. And that day, my brother and I became united.

With almost 16 years separating us, we don't have a lot in common. And to be honest with you, if I could take the painful struggles he has faced in life away, I would. His childhood hasn't been dream like, like my own, but his life hasn't just taught him things, today I am simply in awe of the way his life has transformed so many. I can tell you, as my brother turns 17, I am amazed at the man he has become. Already. Yes, at 17. He is mature beyond his years. He is an amazing miracle that has brought such joy to so many peoples lives. He has made the earth a better place to be. He's taught me some of the hardest life lessons and he has no idea he's done it. My wee brother, in a marching band, focused on school, considering a life that I couldn't begin to fathom continues to impress me each day with his accomplishments and achievements. My wee brother, closer in age to my children than myself is living his adult journey, and I am blessed that I am here to witness it.

Happy Birthday Baby Brother. If my son is half the person you are, I have done well. I love you! God Bless.

Say what you mean....

2011-10-16T21:16:00.001-04:00

How is our last interaction with people we care about? Did you quickly hang up the phone in a huff? Were there negative words spoken before parting? Have you even called to tell people in your life that you care? Why is it we American's wear our heart on our sleeve, and share so much with so many, really hesitate to say what we mean when it really counts? Part of me wonders is it a facade? Or is it once again, social media altering our interactions and causing us to feel its ripping us apart with like a double edged sword? It allows us the opportunity to be voyeuristic into lives that perhaps we have no right butting into but it also takes away from communication that we should be having. Real communication. On the phone. In person. In handwritten letters.

This past week has proved yet again, that I need to be more connected. Truly connected with those I care about, and perhaps a bit less involved with that social monopoly I find myself engaged in at least once a day. Do you have a friend that you care about more than words can say? A friend perhaps that maybe keeps you in check, allows you to be who you are, challenges your opinions and supports your beliefs? Is this friend able to allow you to be the person you were created to be all while having fun, growing and learning together? I do. And this friendship is one that has grown quickly. Its one that just one minute of time together can allow us to really become comfortable in each others presence. Its one friend I wouldn't hesitate to say I could welcome and love all her children, at once if God forbid, the need ever arrived. Its a friend who has and continues to push me to be me, to accept me and to be the parent she knows I can be. On the flipside, some may consider her a challenge to be friends with. Why? She'll tell you like it is. She'll call you out. She'll make you dig deeper into yourself and examine your beliefs more than you ever imagined. And the vulnerable feeling that you have may in fact turn the weak at heart away, but for me, it brings me closer. I am thankful for her gifts. The most sincere, and touching, a letter. One that is etched in my mind daily. It is that moment that I no longer considered her my friend, but family. However, does she know? I am not sure. I try to say it, but to be honest, words, spoken, do not come easily to me. Especially when they are meant to be sincere.

This past week, that friend underwent surgery. She's a tough mother. When the text came in at 11:30 p.m. the night before, I read it and quietly turned my phone off. Sure, I would pray, but I assumed she was up because she's like that...she's a night owl. However, now, looking back, she was up because she needed me, and I wasn't there. The following morning, I got another text. This one from her husband. It simply said "surgery is over, she is fine". I breathed a sigh of relief and even told the friend I was with, "my friend had surgery, she's okay". I moved on. I knew I would call. But an hour or two later I texted, and the text back was her funny self. But that humor wasn't there because she felt better. It was there to cover her fear. Her anxiety. And yet again, I didn't call. I didn't take the time to tell her how I felt. I didn't take the time to ask her how she felt. Today, as I caught up on Facebook, I clicked a link to her blog. As I scanned the page, my eyes welled up. Chest Compressions? Not there? Bradycardia? My friend? My strong friend who is my strength when I am weak? Part of me teared up because I failed her. Part of me teared up because I wasn't there to help, and another part of me teared up because God forbid those chest compressions and drugs hadn't worked, would I have had the time to say how I felt?

So tonight I called her. We chatted briefly about the surgery. The tough mother, blogging through it, changing her hair through it, nursing through it seems to be getting back to herself...on the outside. But I know its still there. The fear. The question of what if, and instead of brushing it under the rug (like I like to do), I am here. Praying for her. Thinking of her, and mostly telling her, J, I love you. Like a sister. You have come to mean more to me than simple words or phrases can ever say. As we have watched our amazing children come into the world and grow, we too have grown. As friends. As mothers. And I love you. Not just as a friend, but family. I am so grateful that I have the opportunity to say it, and yet so sad I haven't said it before. I thank God you are in my life! And I thank God that you survived the mother of all gall bladder surgeries. I couldn't imagine my life without you in it!

Self Worth

2011-10-11T20:49:00.000-04:00

Its funny how one is perceived by others. Some may consider one to be strong willed, challenging or even unruly while another may find that same individual to be complacent, passive and kind. Why is it, that we, as humans can change to fit the setting we are in? Adaptation perhaps or maybe its survival. Do we sometimes put up a wall when necessary or change who we are to enhance or detract from lifes experiences and others friendships?

I have been doing a bit of thinking on this. For two reasons. My journey continues through life, and I am always trying to be a better person (and I can easily see my faults lately) or two, because in speaking to a wonderful friend she agreed that who I am in larger groups isn't who I am truly as a person. Newsflash: She's right.

Like a chameleon, I tend to change. I change to fit the trends. Sometimes I don't want to make wake so I lie completely still, even going against what I truly believed so as not to ruffle feathers, and then there are other times when I tend to incite riots. Okay, not riots but extreme opposition.

Why is it, I fear showing who I am? I have blogged on this before. Trying to show my true self? Why is it I cannot be confident in who I am to show witness to my beliefs? Always? I don't know why. Or at least I don't think I know why. But I do know, I can keep trying. I can find my self-worth in those that really matter, and I can stand up for my beliefs even if they aren't exactly the ideals of everyone else.

Well, that lasted....

2011-09-28T10:26:00.000-04:00

but a minute. The dirt I mean. Yesterday as I walked out the door to grab my middle oldest at preschool, I quickly called my husband asking to get a cleaning lady on occasion. Surprisingly, he said I could call. As I did, I fell in love with the woman. She was kind, and knowing her husband already I was certain she would do a good job. As I spoke, my middle two destroyed the house, my youngest slept and I climbed my counters to check out the dirt on top of my cabinets. My cabinets? Yes. There I stood barefoot in complete disgust. I hung up and quickly called my friend, who I know shares my disdain for filth and dirt. She giggled as I sat there trying to scrub off the dust. But was it dust? What was this sticky mixture caked on the top of my cabinets and why on earth was I trying to get it off for a cleaning lady to come and give me an estimate? But still I stook and scrubbed while my children played and destroyed.

My cleaning. My fear of being imperfect. Why has it gotten so intesnse? To be honest, currently, its because I feel overwhelmed, and this is something I can control. I have spread myself think on at least two boards, added a Room Mom position and volunteered to help write grants for part of the PTA funding. Yes. I have added all that on top of the 4 kids, 6 and under, the errands, the house and of course the trips to and from school as my oldest no longer takes the bus. And then, add to it, my in laws are coming.

I know, gasp. The in-laws. And I get two sets. Well, one and a half. My father in law and his wife are set to arrive on Friday of next week. And of course, my mother in law will hoist herself up to check the top of the cabinets. Okay, not really. And if she did, she's pretty petite, I think she couldn't reach. And even if she could, I don't think she's coming to check my cleaning abilities but to see the grandchildren she's not seen since February of 2010. But I feel the need to impress. The need to succeed and the need to show I am doing my part in the family. See, I married into a family that has high expectations. Even my husband has felt it from time to time as his middle brother surpassed him athletically, wrestling for Purdue, or then again when he completed his doctorate before him. There are also two incredibly academic step brothers who are both dentists. Top it off with the beautiful girls they all carry on their arms, and I seem like good old fashion mashed meat and potatoes.

What is it about us that drives us to succeed? To compete? To want to better ourselves and our family at the expense of ourselves and family? I have no idea, but I want to know. Perhaps, this self-discovery will help me grow. I am trying not to go overboard, but if perhaps they jump on the counters to see the tops of the cabinets they will know I care. I care how they see me. I care how I present myself and I care they are coming....and if not? Well, another lesson learned.

Perfection Gone Bad! Embrace the Dirt.

2011-09-27T10:31:00.000-04:00

The need for it. I seem to have contracted this disease sometime in middle school. I am pretty certain that it wasn't before. Of course, in reality, I know I am far from perfect, but on the outside, its my goal to have it together. In doing so, I often find myself overextending myself, not knowing WHEN to say "enough" and ending up in some hot water with my husband, my family and even myself.

Yesterday as I rocked my sweet bundle of wonder to sleep, I pulled out yet another article from "The Catholic Virginian". If you haven't read Mary Hart's articles, I highly suggest you Google the woman and learn more about her. Not just my Catholic friends, but all my friends. Seems the 50+ mom of four has her head on straight, her goals headed in the right direction and some advice that I need to heed now, learning from her so as to not waste this precious time.

The article, from late August was written in expectation of the coming school year. The gist was about letting go. How many of us neglect that part of our life, pretending we have it all in control, that we have it perfect, and that we are the one's in charge. I will be the first to raise my hand. Ever so slowly, but it will rise, acknowledging that I have been neglecting the big man upstairs who truly has my best interest as well as that of my family in the forefront of his powers and that he has my book written long before I live it. Her article was pertaining to selecting your child's teacher. Those of us who have the opportunity may have done it or perhaps we may have let the teaching staff choose for us, but in reality, do we always know best?

Personally I am glad to have read the article now. I can easily see myself trying to set my children up for success. In all areas. I think this came up in heated conversation with my husband this weekend. Something about my goal to have the house clean. In my head as I listed my daily work, and I was exasperated at the fact he seemed to have no clue what I did, I also realized that this stress, this work that I place upon myself is actually just a front for myself to feel that I put off a perfect persona. When in fact, its not necessary.

After reading the article, it supported the fact last week when I had a playdate with a new friend that my house was not cleaned to perfection, and the snacks, a bag of Auntie Annie's Bunnies and Raisins paired with milk was sufficient instead of carefully cut cheeses in animal shapes with freshly baked treats. It confirmed that allowing the basement to go, even when I want to cry when I walk down tripping over toys, wasn't going to be hindering my children's development in the long run. And of course, it allowed me to realize, this outward appearance of perfection isn't really me. Like all others I am a failure. I fail every day. Why not teach my children to fail now? Gracefully. With support. Why not allow them to pick themselves up and try again? In the long run, I think they'll be happier, and perhaps, I will too!

Here's to scrapping perfection. Dirty house and all!

The New Man in Our Life

2011-09-26T14:06:00.000-04:00

Makes life so very good! Happy 3 Month Birthday Little Buddy!

Face Time

2011-09-26T13:46:00.000-04:00

When is it that we, as a society began to allow ourselves to slip behind the screen and selectively interact with others via the internet, email or even over the phone? I remember, my first computer experience. Sitting in the upstairs bedroom of our cozy four bedroom home in Ridgefield, Connecticut. It was 1992. Prodigy was big and Riding Reilly became my screen name. I was excited to "Ask Beth" and scoured the pages of teen questions with friends and often hid the information from my parents. It was a new adventure, an adventure that would open doors, teach me new things and allow me to shelter who I was and embrace who I felt I wanted to be. Of course, as we've seen the internet evolve, we've welcomed search engines like Google, and said good bye to archaic AOL and Prodigy. Free email was once only thought of and now, who doesn't have at least one free email account?

But this time. This time that we've now begun to allow ourselves to use up, is at a computer. Its not interacting with people. Is it changing society? Certainly. But is it something that can be used to better our world. Personally, I think this answer is two fold. Yes, it can help. I love shooting an email off to a friend and almost instantly gaining a response (if they are available), but in the past few weeks as my oldest children have begun school I wonder what their world will be in 20 years. How society will change and if this is my cue, to lay off the world wide web and embrace Face Time. No, not Facebook, but actual time with friends. Actual time with family. Actual time with those I hope to get to know better. Truly learn about and truly begin to understand.

For me this is hard. I just read an article about becoming comfortable in your own skin. It was passed along to me by my doting mother, who wants me to be the best person I possibly can. She reads these commentaries from the Catholic Virginian and frequently I get a few piles of them dropped next to my bed, or sent in an envelope for me to peruse in my down time. To be honest, until last week I never really took a look. I shoved them in a drawer for a day when I had the time. In actuality, I did have the time, I was just choosing to use it in other ways. Sitting behind our computer screens, we can be who we are, but we can also change who we are. And as I watch my children grow and develop, I want them to be comfortable with who they truly are. In person.

So last Friday, without any prompting, I decided to just kick my main bad habit on the web. Facebook. Part of me is sad. There are people I want to communicate with (and I do plan to keep the account and write emails from there) howver part of me feels free. I am no longer feeling like I have to keep up on others. Trying to remember to comment on all my friends posts. Remembering birthday's, as if that "Happy Birthday" on the Facebook Page really changes their life, and also feeling inadequate, talked about, or afraid of the person I really am, when I post what I have done, or haven't done.

Today, with the absence of the phone, I cruised the park with a friend. No phones in hand (except the alarm to pick up the kiddies from school) and I so enjoyed learning about her. I enjoyed feeling connected, in person. I liked the feeling of not having to "check in". I didn't wonder what others thought about my posts, and I really only cared what she and I were doing at that moment. Not all people get so anxious about what others think. Nor do others necessairly get so obsessed and caught up with writing about their every whim, but its a weakness I have. And in my children's growing, in their developing, I too am watching myself transform. And I am far from perfect, but each day I am starting to like the real me a bit more and more.

To face time, wanna get together? And chat? In person.

9.11.2011

2011-09-11T10:35:00.000-04:00

Ten years ago, I sat at my office desk as helicopters all began to lift off the Naval Base in Waukegan, Illinois. Shortly after, my phone rang with another manager telling me to turn on the TV. Within minutes the phone rang again and the contact we had at the Military Base told me he needed all empty hotel rooms. People who had checked out began to check back in and I sat somewhat in shock as the events of the day unfolded. I remember names scrolling across the screen and I remember my fear as I tried to dial my soon to be husband at MSU and my father, who was working near Chicago.

I don't remember where I was 10 years ago last night, but 10 years ago this morning, I can remember it all. I remember the fear that continued to consume me, and unfortunately at times it still does.

As I think about the two people I saw frequently before that day when I was growing up, I think about their lives and where they would be today. How successful. How amazing and how short they were. My mom and I chatted this morning about the Ugolyn Family, from Ridgefield. We didn't really know them but we knew of them. They lived near a dear friend of mine and Tyler's tall presence at Church weekly stood out. I remembered him, not just for his height, but of how I had heard from his closer friends, or classmates from elementary school of what a great person he was. Intelligent. Funny. Kind. And how, our nation lost someone that could have made a sincere difference in his life. But still, his life, though short, has made a difference. When I look at his foundation and what it has accomplished I am in awe of what has come about since his death and am in awe of his memory continuing to affect those around him locally, nationally, and even globally perhaps.

Then there was Candace. I can still picture her walking in the halls of high school. She was a couple years my junior but her smile was radiant. I remember how she seemed so sweet, so well liked, and how she was also so smart. I wasn't her friend, but I saw her with her friends and I know to this day their heart continues to have a spot that is empty with her loss. I think about her family. Her mom. I know she had a little brother, and what he has missed on her not being here to love and live with him as he grew. I wonder, would she be a mother? Would she be a career driven woman? Who would she have become. I am still in contact with at least one of her close friends. I look at her, becoming a mother this year and think its not fair that she won't have the chance to meet her close friends little one.

Then I realize, these two. Only two, are just a small number in the number of lives affected by this tragic day. I think about how emotional I am and cannot begin to fathom the anxiety, sadness, fear that those who lost loved ones that day feel. I also think about how we as a nation rallied. How we grew in strength, how we sought out others in our lives to feel the strength of unity.

So much as changed since that fateful morning when two towers fell to the ground, and still, though we have moved on, we don't forget.

Today, lets choose to live for those we lost. Lets choose to change lives for those who can't, and lets not let those terrorists take our lives and allow us to live in fear. We'll show them, we are Americans, we stand together. We join with each other with love, courage and strength.

To all those who perished, we will never forget you. The lives you lead, and the lives you could have continued. God Bless your souls. Today. And always.

You're A Grand Old Flag (Please Excuse the Hair)

2011-09-10T11:43:00.000-04:00

Cecily was eager to begin school. Though Simone basically homeschooled until first grade, our Cecily is a much different character. You'll notice in photos, etc, the child has her own sense of style, personality and she's well, a spit fire. She fears few things and lives life to the fullest! She was our mellow baby but has a firey Irish Temper (maybe her Smith side) and lives every day to the fullest. We enjoy her so much!

The First Week Gone By

2011-09-10T10:34:00.001-04:00

Each day I meant to get down here and blog, but after pick ups, chores, dinner, baths and books, I too turned in for the night. This school business is hard work. Not just for the kidlets but for the Momma Bunch as well.

The first morning was met with smiles, anticipation and great excitement however by day three, the evenings were filled with exhaustion, frustration and many many tears. The first morning, we met the bus and Simone eagerly boarded. I hadn't remembered that she had yet to really "ride" the bus. Yes, there were Small Animal Days, back at MSU, where we rode as a family, and then there was the trip to Hershey Park with Exxon and also the field trip she once took while attending Saints Philip and James, however boarding, riding and exiting a BIG YELLOW BUS on her own, without her mother had yet to be done. The day began with a bit of a hub bub, buses arriving out of anticipated order, but all the children (thanks to the Veteran moms) got to their assigned schools correctly. That afternoon, however, I waited anticipating a glowing girl and instead was met with a sobbing six year old. With other mother's guiding me as to not feed into her distress, I tried to understand what happened. In the end, it wasn't the school. It was the bus. I too had trouble my first bus ride. I was kissed. An older boy jumped the seat and kissed me. I don't remember how it was handled but Scott never tried it again. Not sure if my mom chatted his mom up or if I stopped riding the bus. But you see, my childhood in school has lead me to determine I will be "THAT" parent. If it needs to be said, I will say it. I am not saying I am going to be a helicopter mom. I will not run to the aid of my child if one child is mean to her however if something is out of line, I am there. In my child's corner, until the problem is solved. Simone said the bus aide grabbed her by her rain coat and tossed her in a seat. She then sobbed and told me the same thing happened to her friend. I asked her friend and she confirmed that yes, the woman had done that. As we drove home, with my six year old barely able to catch her breath, she informed me the woman was so nasty she was certain she had NEVER had a good day in her entire life. By the time we walked in the door I was dialing Snyder Bus Company. I waited and talked to a few people before they told me I must inform the school and if the school felt it was necessary they would contact them and something would be done. The school did in fact think it was necessary. The principal at Simone's school contacted me and he and I reviewed what had happened and he too had spoken to Simone. She was willing to try again (much to my delight). So Wednesday afternoon as I waited eagerly for her arrival, she stepped off the bus, again, in tears. This time I was done. I asked a neighbor to watch my brood and I boarded the bus, fury and fire intact. I let the woman know IF she touched my daughter again there would be an issue. The woman, who I will not review, tried to tell me she could do what she needed to get kids to sit. I explained I understood if the child was in danger, that was fine, but because they were moving slowly was not a reason to lay hands on any child. I also told her as an adult she's expected to use her words. End of story. As I descended the steps and spoke with some neighbors, one let me know I wasn't allowed on the bus. My thoughts. I won't go on the bus, if those on the bus can handle the children in an appropriate manner. If the bus company wishes to discuss the matter with me, I will....and they'll probably realize that any parent, protecting their child would have done the same thing. And to be honest, I would do it again if necessary. Before arriving home, the principal had already called. Strangely enough as Simone was being grabbed the second time (this time by the backpack) he happened to be on the bus, and he witnessed it. He let me know it wouldn't happen again. And it hasn't. We had discussed the bus. We had discussed bullying, the potential for others to be unkind, but I never anticipated speaking to her about the adults being unkind.

Besides the bus, Simone is okay with school. She likes her teacher very much. And so far, I do as well. She's made a friend, which for the first week, well that is pretty good in my eyes. And as for the class load. Its the first week. The teacher is still getting a good gage on the kiddos. There has been no homework (only paperwork for me) and as for the kid. Well, she's exhausted when she gets home. She reads to decompress and then usually loses it around 6 p.m. I am hoping as the transition continues that she'll begin to ease up on her exhaustion and we'll be less likely to get the wrath of the naughty girl pent up from school.

Cecily, well, she was mad that first day of school. She wanted to stay the entire day. And the week continued. She's working on "You're A Grand Old Flag" and the Pledge of Allegiance. Its so cute to hear her sing and Pledge. She had her first "homework" coloring the flag. She loved it. She also has her first field trip coming up to the apple orchard. We're not sure if she'll make it as a parent has to attend but there is the opportunity!

As for Miss Fiss. Well, she's herself. She is constantly into something and very demanding. She's been joining mommy on outings but sobbing every time we leave her sisters behind. She's ready to go to school and next year we may just have to give it a try!

And baby Jude, well, he's just a charm. Can't say enough about him!

As for us. Well, we're getting there. This family of 6 is busy life!

One Big Day

2011-09-06T13:56:00.000-04:00

Last night as I nursed our youngest duckling off into dreamland, I perused the Facebook Statuses for today. Some parents were excited and ready for the long summer months to be over, and have their children back in school. Others couldn't seem to get over the fact they had to part and most were somewhere in the middle. I consider myself, a middle mummy for today's events. Part of me was super excited for the girls to begin new endeavors. I had their bags packed weeks ago, their forms filled out and in sealed envelopes, and their rain coats even sat on their breakfast chairs waiting for anxious arms to fill them. But still part of me lay awake thinking about the time gone by. The good. The amazing gifts of time. The ability to impart my parenting on them (and those around them--sometimes too much), and the ability to watch them grow. As infants, toddlers and now, school age kids. I was set. Completely ready for today, lunches, snacks and breakfast was planned. The breakfast table was set. Clothing was out and bags were by the door. NOTHING could change the way today went. But how wrong I was. The morning started amazingly well. Simone was thrilled, and anticipated her departure by finishing her daily chores before 8 a.m. Cecily was over the top to wear her super cute, super dangerous clogs to meet her teachers and Felicity was in a stir trying to figure out "where I am going?" They delighted in their waffles and were elated that they even had 15 minutes to catch a quick show on TV. By 8:15 a.m. I was confident I was ready to say good-bye. By 8:45, I was sobbing and Cecily was pointing out my eyes were no longer pretty but scary and "could you fix that before going in public?". At 8:26 a.m. we left our driveway and drove to the bus stop. Cecily needs to be at preschool 4 minutes after Simone's departure. In town. We drove up and watched as the Kindergartners and their parents waited in the downpour under umbrellas, with their hoods covering their eager bodies. I told Simone "when Mrs. Lewis gets out, we do too!" Mrs. Lewis is our next door neighbor. She's always put together and collected so I figure since she's done this for three years, we'll follow her lead. Simone was carefully putting on her raincoat in the car, when another neighbor saved us from missing the bus the first day. Apparently the buses came out of order and the older kids bus arrived before the Kindergarten bus. As I grabbed Simone out of the car and threw her backpack over her shoulders she began to get upset that she didn't want to go. I too began to stress and wondered if it was the right thing. As we ran up, my Bunco Girls were all cheering Simone on. I don't know if they know how it affected us, but had they not been there, I may have grabbed her and gone home. She boarded the bus, and I turned around. Deflated. Defeated. I never kissed her. I never hugged her. My last memory of her first day of first grade and getting on a bus was a frantic cluster. As I went, I posted on Facebook (thank you social networking) and within minutes a few neighbors noted they saw her smiling as she got into her seat. So perhaps, as one neighbor mentioned, she may be playin her momma! And perhaps she is! Here is to the coming year. A year we can prepare for but cannot anticipate!

To Do It Right....

2011-09-01T09:07:00.000-04:00

It takes more than just a mom can handle. It takes a greater power, more support and faith that even mistakes can be rectified and forgiven. Motherhood. Right? Each night as I lay in bed casually listening to NPR (yes, the conservative chick likes the station), I allow my thoughts to wander. How have I affected each person today. Have I taken too much of what others said to heart? How have my interactions with others affected my children? Have they been put on the back burner? Have I done too much with them? Have I fulfilled myself individually? Spiritually? Emotionally? Physically?

I can answer with almost certainty, I have failed in every way at least a little. The short tempered snap when my middle child was pretending she was a baby screaming at the top of her lungs that she was tired and hungry and needed a binky? My youngest whining until I pick her up and then when I put her down she yowls and again I become short. And my oldest. Refusing to touch door handles. Refraining from helping others because they are germy. I have failed them. Not just that day but obviously in previous days to insight such reactions and behaviors.

When I come into contact with others, is each interaction pleasant? Am I leaving them with a sense of love, compassion and understanding when I walk away? Sometimes. But not always. I have failed them because perhaps, if I took that extra minute, they would have had a better day. And instead, perhaps I made their day worse.

And then myself. Have I worked out? Have I eaten as well as I should have? Have I asked God to help me when I am failing. If its any given day? The answer again is probably no.

As I begin to fall further into sleep, I make a plan. A plan to do more. To be more. To expect more of myself. And in the morning when the alarm sounds, those plans whirl within my mind as I quickly shower, dress, welcome each child with a hug, and begin my day. Shortly however, it seems that same old stress, that same old shortness has entered into my life once again. And I wonder, how is it I can do it right? How is it I can make it better? How is it I can make my life perfect for me?

Today, it started well, and after three board games, it seems its turning into another run of the mill day where I don't meet the needs of myself and others. How do I do it right?

Rejuvenation

2011-08-31T21:35:00.000-04:00

It seems I am a broken record as of late. I need a break. I need some me time. I am exhausted. I can't handle...._______. I sit and wonder how it is that we, as mom's get ourselves into these ruts, and do men also feel these challenges emotionally or are they hardwired to just pragmatically accept the situation around them and live in it.

Lately (since about April), I have felt completely overwhelmed. Sure, I can make it look good--house clean, kids well dress, hair and make up done, but inside I feel like a ball of knots. Continually I have friends saying, let things go. Relax. Just enjoy your kids. And so I try. I do well for a few days. Letting things go. Enjoying my kids. Feeling relaxed. But then it all comes crashing down, even more smothering than it was before. The house. The kids. The errands. How does one keep up with it all? And these supermom's who do without help and the Donna Reed smile on their faces, is it their inner feelings as well or are they too struggling?

For me, I think its a case of rejuvenation. And what it is that rejuvenates me. I like to pretend its shopping, but an hour after buying something, I feel guilty. I worry. I recall Colin's voice noting "that shirt, invested and compounded over a 30 year time span would give us $XYZ at retirement". And I think about the opportunity to spend more time with him in retirement. Living life. Together. Alone. I also think of rejuvenation as a quiet book and a glass of wine, in the evening with the lights low and listening to the frogs chirp their song. But then I wonder how I will feeling in the morning when I wake up, with a somewhat sleepy feeling because I was lost in a book I couldn't put down. Or is it how I feel about my kids. Do I feel more rejuvenated when I am playing with them, enjoying them or when I am cleaning, cooking and providing perfectly for them? I just don't know.

Today was one of those days where I felt I didn't know which end was up. It began with crying. There was crying mid-day, and again, crying this evening. I felt overwhelmed. I felt I couldn't handle 4 kids this close together (thanks dad for the uplifting comment you should have thought about that before). I felt the house was overwhelming. I wanted to play but needed to do laundry. Naked children becomes a problem, especially come winter. And I just wanted ten minutes to sit. Drink coffee and quietly be with my thoughts. None of which happened.

I was however lucky to see that the day, which started in chaos, which had me sobbing to my mother, ended well. We had some errands to run (A LOT). Returning items from the storm. You see, generators, power cords, extra sump pumps and electronic chargers become quite costly--to the tune of about $1700.00 (and when you invest that and.... ;)) We had errand upon errand. We searched for shoes, and all the while, my children, who as of late have been overwhelming helped to rejuvenate me. The man who passed me as I was nursing and stopped me to tell me nursing was beautiful, he helped too. And then those two people as we left our dinner out, stopping us to tell us what good kids we had. They helped too!

So, besides feeling rejuvenated, I realized what makes me feel rejuvenated. Positivity. Family Time. Getting things done. So I realize its not just ONE thing that helps me feel rejuvenated. Its not just time for me. Perhaps that is too selfish. It is in fact a compilation of a number of things, that rejuvenate me. And so now, I feel lit. Now I know it...and now I live it. And that glass of wine I am about to pour, well that helps too!

And so she goes...

2011-08-31T14:33:00.000-04:00

off to her new school, a week from yesterday, and to celebrate, we toured the school. I knew she was excited but also nervous as our arrival was marked with constant discussion about anything and everything that she could think of. We were really blessed as the time was just the two of us and our wee quiet man snuggled into me in the Moby Wrap. My friend Kim, was super kind and asked me to leave the middle two with her. At 39 weeks pregnant, she offered to take them for me and I was feeling guilty but accepted the help knowing that it could help alleviate the stress she was feeling regarding the newest change in her life.

Simone, my oldest, introspective, super sensitive child will be attending the local public school and though she and I are both apprehensive, after yesterday I am pretty certain it will be a good fit for us all. As we checked out the school for a second time, I was reminded why school can seem to be a challenge for me. I am a rule follower. I am pretty intense, and parents unlike myself seem to irritate me easily. I noticed that these same people seem to bother my mini-me. Sure, she looks just like her dad, but Simone is a carbon copy of my child self.

As we sat listening to our new principal, one mom confidently raised her hand after perusing the handbook and noted the line about appropriate dress. No spaghetti straps, tank tops, belly shirts, etc. She then said "well, then what are they supposed to wear" at which time I am CERTAIN my face contorted and Simone looked at me and said "I am NOT coming here next week". Apparently she draws much of herself from me. Good and bad.

After the discussion with the principal, and the tour, and my having to keep it together from crying when Simone noted his distaste in attending said school we took a minute to stop in and meet her teacher. Her teacher, supposedly a fantastic educator was working in her room with a former student. At first Simone seemed apprehensive, but after a minute, and Ms. O'Cone's memory of Simone's interest in books, Simone was right at home. About fifteen minutes later, we left the classroom on air. Simone looked at me and said, "I am excited to have her, its going to be a great year". And I hope it will.

New Beginnings

2011-08-25T09:24:00.003-04:00

New Beginnings

As I watch Facebook, talk to friends and run errands, I see the new beginnings that will be starting or have recently started for so many. These beginnings aren't just for students, but teachers are in classrooms readying themselves for a year of new students. A year of new parents (sometimes the bane of an educators existence) and new teams of staff to create a year of growth, development and hopefully create our world's future. They say the New Year begins on January 1, however I tend to see the "new year" beginning with the introduction of a new journey through a school year. Especially now that I am a parent. With the smell of crisp books, newly waxed floors and an outfit for the first day of school, many kids are headed off for a new beginning. Many parents are experiencing their first good-byes while other seasoned parents simply give a quick kiss and run for freedom, at least for a few hours. As for the children, I remember being in their shoes. For me, there were different feelings based on what grade I was in, who I knew, where we had moved to and of course how I felt about myself. My mom remembers my heading off to Kindergarten on the bus, clad in a cute uniform off to Old Bridge to my first day of Catholic Kindergarten. She then raced the bus and began her day as a 6th grade teacher in the same school. That start was much different than the one I remember entering middle school. I stood in my "green" outfit as I was in "Green House". I waited anxiously next to Todd Greene and Valery Hess. The experience they had trumped my newbie anxiety. I remember being nervous but so excited to meet new people. The coming years changed my perception on new beginnings and the intense anxiety I felt entering a new high school in a new town was almost overwhelming. Today, I am watching the new beginnings through my children's eyes. I am also watching new beginnings arise within our family. Certainly, there is the new baby. Who has made our family of 5, a family of 6, but there are new beginnings in new schools, with new grades, new teachers and hopefully new friends. For me, I see this time as a perfect time to implement new beginnings in our home.

Just yesterday I began preparing for our journey into this year. Okay, not exactly yesterday as the school has heard from me more than once, I have had email correspondence with the first graders teacher a few times and of course, clothes have already been bought. The backpacks were packed and ready to go a couple weeks ago. Labels were bought and stuck. And, I am eagerly anticipating the new "family organizational chart" coming-hopefully soon. With the personal changes, my own emotional changes and the anticipation of their feelings, excitement and fears, not to mention the most bold 2 year old I have ever seen, I knew I had to prepare for the coming months. Other friends I speak with are also preparing, like me, they are setting up new processes to make the days and weeks run more smoothly for their own families. I am happy to watch the changes in all of my children as they progress academically and socially. However that happiness is clouded with a bit of sadness. Though I am now 100% certain that homeschooling is not for us in our current state, I am still somewhat sad to be losing them to school. I have loved working with them at home. Watching them flourish academically, and enjoyed the feeling of being carefree when we wanted to head off on a day or week long trip. But most of all sad that this time has gone so quickly. It seems like just a year ago, I sat at the computer, bleary eyed with my oldest wailing, because that is what she did. It seems like just months since we went to the Science Museum in Grand Rapids to celebrate her first birthday, and just weeks since we welcomed our cherubic second happy go lucky girl into our family. These new beginnings pass so quickly. They seem to change our lives immensely but in the moment we don't appreciate the difference it makes.

So, in the coming weeks, I am watching. Watching each hour, each minute, each second. And learning. Living and loving the moment we are in because I am not going to miss this new beginning.

Time for Change

2011-07-27T21:11:00.002-04:00

I have decided with the new changes in life, to chang the direction of my blog, etc. You can now find me at:

http://parentingwithpurposeandprayer.blogspot.com/

Hope to see you there!

Navigating the Waters

2011-07-20T11:03:00.000-04:00

As parents, we are entrusted with the lives of these wee beings. Sure, there are parenting books. Books that guide you in discipline, education and ways to help your child to get through life and become upstanding members of society. I have read a ton of books. I have attended parenting courses. We utilized the Birth to Three Program in Michigan like no body's business and that Parents as Teachers, well, I met my first Mom Friends there. But no books, classes or parenting groups can truly teach you to parent your unique child. And it turns out, same genetics or not, each child is remarkably different.

My oldest, firstborn is so much like me. She's a perfectionist. She's into everything being right, and if she's not good at it on the first try, well, its not worth doing. She holds herself to standards in public that seem almost extreme but will melt in front of those who she feels she has unconditional love from. She's not super athletic, but academics are a breeze for her. She's a bit more reserved, and seems to harbor some social anxiety, so like her mom she'll talk until someone listens to make herself feel better.

This cookie cutter image of her mother is something that I, as a parent struggle with. I know where I struggled as a child. I know where I had issues, and its something I wished that she wouldn't end up running into. However, like me, she's already facing these lessons. Early. She's 6.

Its so difficult as parents to face these waters through your child's eyes. You almost wish that you could explain the struggles you had and how they can choose to make them different, but try as you might, it seems they need to face them head on. Themselves.

Yesterday as I tearfully explained a life lesson to my daughter, I saw her angst, and my heart broke for her. And I thought about my mom and that same sadness she held in her heart for me, when the same situation came up.

As a parent, it seems navigating the waters should be easier, but it seems to just be tougher, because instead of a piece of your heart being held within you, it seems to walk the earth.

Baptized in Christ

2011-07-13T11:08:00.000-04:00

Nothing like jumping into life with a Baptism. Since our first born has entered the world, bringing them up with Faith has been very important to both Colin and myself. For those who know us, during the time of our parenting journey, we too have made some major Faith changes. The first, my joining MOPS. Never before had I been able to have a personal relationship with Jesus, or begin to learn scripture the way the Mothers of others had taught me to and continue to teach me to. However, with that outward stretch into a community church, I also continued to stay strong in my Catholic Roots. I continued to read, study and even try to bring others to the church. The first person whom I was able to lead towards our Faith was Colin. Of course God truly had his hand in it, but Colin's choice to become Catholic was not only a gift to himself but also to our entire family. He was received into the our Catholic Family with our second born child, Cecily. Baptized at St. John Student Parish at the Easter Vigil in 2007. That night, my heart grew closer to my husband as he graciously and contemplatively made the choice to join our church. For us, each set of Godparents have been carefully chosen. Each child has a different set. Its always been important to us to have practicing Catholics. We also wanted a married couple for each child. But this time, we changed the plans a bit. My biological family has always been a strong part of my adult life. In fact, my cousin Brianna and her husband Scott, kindly took on the guidance of Felcity's spiritual journey as her Godparents. Felicity and my cousin Brianna's baby, Carter were baptized together by our Great-Uncle Michael McNally. It was a beautiful ceremony at the University of Notre Dame, Log Chapel. This time however, as Colin and I prepared for our baby's arrival, my brother prepared himself to be confirmed. My brother is a special young man. Though only 16, he has a reverence for his faith that is unheard of at his age. His commitment to his mother (even if she does annoy him sometimes) is nothing short of amazing. On the other hand, his mother, my birthmother, is nothing short of amazing either. Besides choosing to give me a life that she couldn't when I was born, she has willingly (somewhat excitedly) welcomed me back into her life as her daughter. I get the best of both worlds. Two mothers...though that does mean twice the advice :). In any case, my birthmother has faced so many trials, I could write a book. Perhaps someday I will write her story. But the thing that is most forward in Colin's and my mind is her commitment to her marriage. You see, her husband, Bob, my step-father suffered for years with cancer. What was more, what to watch Sheila suffer alongside him. It would have been easier to stand away, to walk away, especially with all that encompassed his disease, but she stayed true to her marriage vows. This is something both Colin and I find absolutely amazing. When you look for someone who walks in the path of Jesus, you see her. So, short story LONG, we chose my brother Ryan, and my birthmother, Sheila to be the baby's Godparents. After 18 hours of travel, weary they drove in at 1:30 a.m. on Saturday. The baby was baptized at 11:30 a.m. at St. Joseph Church in Washington.

Though Ryan insists he doesn't "like" babies. He did just fine when the baby was THRUST in his arms. I was so happy he held him to be baptized.

Our Four Catholic's

My birthmother, smitten with the baby, especially since he's the spitting image of ME!

The Boys Birth

2011-07-05T13:33:00.000-04:00

Its funny, as I sat awake last Friday and blogged, I was anticipating the birth of our amazing son. As I sat here, contracting, I wondered IF I was in fact in labor on my own and how great it would be to not have to be induced. By the time 7 a.m. rolled around, my husband and I packed the car, kissed the kids and headed out. As I said good-bye, I took in the sights and smells of each of my girls. I memorized my oldest's concerned look on her face, my middle daughters gift of giggle and my youngest baby's sweet smile the last time I would see her as just that, my baby. The drive to the hospital was wrought with both anxiety and anticipation. If you haven't picked up on it yet, I tend to harbor both anxiety and fear within my being almost constantly. Upon arrival (thirty minutes early), I was greeted and lead to the side of the hospital I had wished for. The one with a view.

I met my nurse. This wasn't as exciting as I had hoped, as she didn't seem to have the sense of humor I had hoped for. She was pretty business like, however her abilities to place an IV cheered me up as she got it the first try--something it seems most have difficulty with on my roly poly veins. Colin and I watched as she hooked me up to the monitor, and yes, I was in fact having contractions EVERY 3 minutes. I had hoped that this was a sure sign I was doing this delivery on my own. She had mentioned going straight to Pitocin however I balked because I hate the stuff. It was something I didn't want. She requested my birth plan and I told her I had a few MUST HAVE'S but did not write my plan as I am working on releasing expectations and living in the moment. She decided she loved me after this. Around 8:30 a.m. my midwife arrived. With a kind smile, she checked me and watched the monitor. Knowing my hesitation about the induction she decided we would try the prostiglandin gel before venturing into the Pitocin with hopes my body would take off. And take off it did. Within a half hour I was having contractions every 2-3 minutes and they had some strength. I also was a bit uncomfortable and asked to walk. As I looped the delivery floor time and again, i watched mom's delivering in the OR arriving back to their room and remembered that I too would be holding my son in just a few short hours. Okay, I hoped at least. About 9:30 a.m. my water broke, and sitting at a 3 with some progression on my effacement I had hopes that my body would for once allow me to deliver with little intervention. As the hours progressed, the contractions continued. My midwife came in and chatted, I had a Reiki treatment to see what it was all about and at 3:30 p.m. when the gel had worn out and the next steps had to be determined, I was checked again. Little, if any progress had been made. Tearfully we chose to start Pitocin because once again my body didn't seem to be giving me the birth I had hoped for. Sobbing I noted that this delivery was already bad and I felt like a failure. As the Pitocin vamped up, my discomfort did as well. By 5:45 p.m. I was really uncomfortable and when 6:30 p.m. rolled around and I was told the anesthesiologist would be headed in for a c-section, I decided it was time to break down. With tears rolling down my cheeks I once again felt like my body failed, like I failed, like this was not the last birth I had hoped for. In Michigan, Colin always held me for my epidural. Here however there was a rule against it due to a father dying in the delivery room when his wife had one placed. So as he left, I tearfully hunched over, and had the epidural placed. Noting I wanted a WEAK epidural the anesthesiologist placed it and I immediately felt the effects in my right leg. However, my left leg never changed. I felt the pain of each contraction. At first we thought if I laid on my left side, that perhaps it would ease up. No such luck. The discomfort continued. As it got stronger I asked why I still felt it an after the c-section was over they asked the doctor to come in and boost the meds. He did so and my right leg got even more numb, my left leg, still felt the entire delivery. About ten minutes later I told the nurse tearfully that the baby was ready to come. She checked and told me she NEVER doubts a fourth time mom. And there he was ready to join the world. As she dialed the midwife, I waited breathing asking to push. She told me to wait. No answer. She dialed again. No answer. She called the nurses station to find her. No one had seen her. She had said she would come back at 10 p.m. but if this baby made it out after 9 p.m. I would be surprised. Still begging to push, and Kelly (my wonderful nurse) holding me off, she called for the Physician on call. She was in a c-section. They then paged the midwife over the loudspeaker, and within a few minutes she arrived. As she did I had to push. Though the girls came out easily, Jude's position was not perfect for delivery and took a bit more work. Just about 15 minutes later, he arrived at 8:46 p.m. and was absolutely amazing. Weighing in at 7 pounds 12 ounces he screamed until his little lungs dried up. Measuring 22" long we decided he was hopeful for a basketball star. Nursing like a champ, my little man entered my life and my heart.

Leading up to his birth I was worried. Worried I wouldn't love a boy the same way. I was worried about nursing a boy. Would it be different? But it was. And it was in a good way. This wee man was perfect for us. His cherubic face, his angelic eyes were gifts that dug deep into my heart. I couldn't have planned the birth to be any different. I couldn't have changed the process, but the outcome was perfect.

We are blessed to welcome JTC into our family. He's fit in very well, and I think I am going to remember that day, with fondness for the rest of my life.

Joke is on Me!

2011-06-24T04:55:00.000-04:00

Its 4:45 a.m. and I have been flopping in bed for over an hour. Rather than keep my awesome life partner and husband awake, I decided to take what may be the last quiet morning for at least another 18 years and write. Yesterday I posted about expectations and how suitable it was for the day. At 2 p.m. I had my Midwife appointment after having an NST (non-stress test) and AFI (amniotic fluid reading) prior to seeing her. During the NST, the beautiful curves that I saw the week prior were not there. The technician had to stand with her hand on my abdomen the entire time. With a couple GOOD contractions and a couple good responses she and I decided that he was okay but the results were far from perfection as they had been. Then I had my visit to the sonographer. She's lovely. A former pediatrician and she and I get along really well (she said she'd miss me). I knew exactly where the boy was and within seconds I could see he wasn't playing happily in fluid. As my midwife walked in, I knew. An induction was set.

Let me tell you about my expectation. I had expected to have three children. Always. This is number four. I had expected to have all girls. This is a son. I had expected to have a natural delivery this time--each time I worked harder towards my goal. This past week I turned down TWO inductions with hopes I would go into labor on my own. I held it together to the car, and then sobbed almost the entire way home. There was a call to my cousin first (poor girl hears all my woes--she may start charging soon) and then to my friend J. I had an expectation about that too. She's an amazing natural mom, and probably some of the reason I am more crunchy than I once was. I expected J would tell me to forgo the induction. I expected J would tell me to let my body continue to try. I had no idea, she'd be so easy to support the midwife when hearing the results and tell me how proud of me she was that I tried to let him come on his own. True friend. Indeed.

So its early. The suns not yet up (but coffee will be brewed soon). In just a little under two hours, we'll make the drive down the treacherous 31 at rush hour and head to the hospital. I have no expectations. I have hope. I have hope the induction will go well. I have hope that he and I will both be healthy and happy. I have hope the girls will fall deeply in love with their brother but the joke is on me. No time for expectations. Just time to roll with it. Live in the moment and be thankful for life! Until I am a mother of 4....Ciao!

Expectations

2011-06-23T06:17:00.001-04:00

As I got ready to climb into bed last night, I was scanning my phone for updates on Facebook. Yes, I am one of those addicted people who peruse the site on my phone at least 10 times a day. Thank goodness its at my fingertips. It used to be the computer where I got my face time in but in the last few months the invention of the Thunderbolt has aided in my vice.

One of the groups I am in is the normalizing nursing in public league. Yes, I never meant to nurse. This is true, even with the nutritional background in the house, I intended to make life "easy" and use formula, but after my sweet firstborn was thrust on my chest we scratched that idea and I began to try and nurse her and eventually she was a champ. One thing that saddened me was the response to the singer Pink's newborn daughter Willow Sage and her arrival. She was born via c-section early this month and instead of celebrating nursing, many of the followers decided to comment on the "disappointment" or the sadness of her c-section. Pink had expected a home birth but due to a breech baby, she was admitted and had a successful c-section which has also enabled her to have a healthy child and a successful birth.

One thing it seems that we women have no issues with is placing expectations on ourselves and others. It has become increasingly clear to me that this mommy battle that rages both internally and externally seems to affect every mother I know. Are our expectations for mothering, parenting and growth set before we even welcome our children into our lives? As I anxiously (I am serious anxious may be an understatement) await the arrival of our newest child, I have expectations for myself. From my 16 week visit when I switched practices I noted my wish, or expectation to have a natural birth (labor and delivery). I have made it clear if I am miserable I would like an epidural but I really wanted to have an uninduced delivery. I have heard so much advice from both sides of the coin. All of it exceptionally polarized, and all of it leading me to question what I should do for this sweet child set to make his appearance soon. At about 30 weeks it was noted that my dear sweet boy was breech. The mention of c-section was there but only by me. The midwives, reflecting on my expectations for a natural delivery gave me exercises, and hope of having him turn to meet my goals. Last week, yes at 39 weeks, he turned (and is most likely too big to get back). My anxiety over the c-section ebbed, but then there was the position issue. His head, though somewhat downward is presenting to the side. Sunday, I headed in for decreased movement. His head, still way off to the right was not pushing on my supercervix to allow for dilation. Would the midwife induce? Yes. But my husband reminded me of my expectation to go naturally and I left the hospital deflated and wondering when my sweet child would make his grand entrance. Then there is the outside influence. My parents are here (well, dad was--he'll be back). It seems others have expectations for me as well. Yesterday I was told that I should be caring for my kids on my own without help. That it wasn't my mother's responsibility. Tearfully I became overwhelmed and asked my mom if she wanted to leave (how I would get her back to VA was another concern), she admitted that she was here on her own free will and wanted to be here to help. And I am thankful. Is it however my expectations set too high wanting her to be here to help that are making others from the outside look in and judge? Now, its Thursday. I am 6 days overdue, and as anyone else who has gone overdue can attest, the wait is challenging. What is more, is the expectation my oldest daughters have set for me to attend their dress rehearsal and dance recital this weekend. It may not be their own expectations but my own, as my oldest daughter will be receiving her first real trophy for her own work on a dance test she took earlier this year. My heart hurts at the thought of not being able to see her smiling face as she accepts the trophy. Yes, others have offered to go, others will go, but not her mother. The one who wishes to see her perform and light up as she receives her trophy on stage.

As mother's we have so much weighing on us. First and foremost our relationship with God. And often I find mine tends to get pushed aside when I feel anxiety, and defeated as I do now. We have our relationship with our spouse. One of the most important to foster and grow, especially when children are involved, and it seems this relationship suffers when our expectations are set to high as well. There are also the kids. If you have more than one, you know the juggling it takes to meet the needs of each child and to make sure that each child feels they're individuals. Unique. A true gift in the family. There are also the outside relationships. Family. Friendships. These all weigh on us and have expectations that surround them. Besides the relationships and expectations, there are our daily chores, errands, housework, and then if there is time, ourselves.

I think as Mother's we need to make a commitment to each other. A commitment not to expect too much from friends. A commitment to support and help those struggle to stand up on their own two feet and move forward. I think we need to empower others let go of expectations and learn to be happy with the way things roll.

Perhaps, this delivery isn't what I expected. In fact by tonight, I could be induced. And to be honest, it wouldn't be all that bad. Perhaps, this baby has already taught me a lot. Not just in the field of patience but learning to let go. Let go of expectations.

Words

2011-06-22T13:28:00.000-04:00

I think I have sat at the computer for almost an hour in little stretches this morning as I tried to cultivate a blog post that made sense. So much is mulling around within my head that I feel overloaded, overwhelmed and yet so empty all at once.

This past weekend as I trudged around the neighborhood, hot, sweaty and wishing the birth of my first son would take place I bellowed to another mom as she walked up the road with her own wee tot riding on a toy. I had heard about her. She had recently joined my MOMs Club, and she was new to the area. She had moved from Ohio (another Midwesterner) and I knew she had kids. Not just cause she joined the MOMs Club but because of the beautiful new play structure in the backyard AND my friend Vicky had seen them. Perhaps, that equates me with neighborhood stalker. Perhaps, it just equates me with lonely housewife and mother. Maybe a little of both. In any case, we met up, chatted and as we walked away I felt really happy. First, because she was easy to talk to. Second, because she seemed similar to myself. Third, because my husband (the less social of us) said he'd like to have them down for dinner. It was a good meeting all around. Then today, I got a friend request from her. How she found me? I don't know, but I am glad she did. She posted about checking in on me to see if the wonderbundle had arrived, and then I scanned her page. She too blogs. A mom, my age, with 3 toddlers, moved from the Midwest, husband who works in a demanding job, Christian. Lots of similarities. It wasn't however, until I clicked on her blog, that I really felt a sense of relief today. Her last post was one that resonated within me, and I am thankful that I took the time to read it. It spoke of inner beauty. It spoke of qualities within women that are the actual qualities I would like to behold and also cast upon my own three children.

Its funny how words can change you. Perhaps change you only for a moment, or perhaps affect your entire day. The words can continue to change you for years to come. Maybe forever. We've all had those changes. Some good. Others bad. I will never forget a phone call 9 years ago, from my husband's close friend Mikey. As he relayed the words, "she's gone", I lost a friend I can never and will never replace. I remember where I sat. I remember how I fell over into my bed sheets, just 2 days a newlywed sobbing until I could gather myself enough to make the same call he made to me, to my new husband. And I remember how he rushed home to be with me. And that week, the one we celebrated with joy, ended with an absence that continues to stir within me. Other words seem simple but mean a lot. My mother told me that I have a "gift" in parenting. This was recent. Though it was, these words will continue to uphold me. My mother is truly a gift to parenting. Her choice to adopt me, was a gift. Each day she gave me, is a gift. She continues to give me gifts. But her acknowledging my work as a mother is a gift I won't soon forget.

The words my new acquaintance typed for, are ones I needed today. You see, it seems the more pregnant you are, the more words are spoken by others. Being sensitive, the more these words take hold of me and send me questioning my every action. I know I too have used words that have hurt, offended or saddened others. It isn't my intent. However, these words should remain at a minimum. The post, written about inward beauty didn't speak of verbiage, but of other qualities that I hope to possess, however that being said, learning to use words as a gift is a trait I hope to master as well, and perhaps you will hope the same for yourself.

Speak kindly. Treat lightly. Only say what you mean, and do so lovingly. Because words, as simple as they seem aren't just language but potentially life changing moments.

A Season For Change

2011-06-21T12:42:00.000-04:00

Nope, this isn't another long winded post on friendship. Whew. I am sure you are all resting easy, yet an entrance into a new blogging style. I know, I need work on the actual site itself, but to be honest, I am not computer savvy, and my dear husband, WHO IS, is pretty much busy with work, the girls and the family so I struggle asking him to find time to change it up for me...but if any of my readers, blogging friends or Facebook Family want to help a girl out, please feel free. Music? Better Backgrounds? Tabs? I would love it all!

Last week as I sat with a dear friend from Michigan, I indicated that I love writing. In fact, its a passion, and if I could somehow write for a living (I have tried) that it would be such a gift. However, right now, I am just a mom, blogging. As she and I sat, we talked about my blog and how to make it unique. I am unique. Outspoken. Sometimes hard to handle. Willing to give whatever I can to whomever I can. I run a tight ship. I have a cleaning obsession. I expect perfection (to a fault), and I try to be the best mom I can. With failure. However, I will also say, those close to me have all at one time or another been fearful of continuing our friendship because of their fears of meeting my expectations. This has been ever present during my parenting tenure. I don't pretend to be perfect. In fact, many of my close friends have had sob stories on the phone as I try to articulate why my children would be better off in someone elses hands, but I work hard to try and be a ~~good~~ great parent. And I know all parents do the same.

So, on Saturday, I sat down to begin a new direction on my blog. One that is pretty honest. One that some will relate to and perhaps some may NOW be afraid to continue a friendship with me because of. Its one of my WHOLE self. Don't worry Mom, I won't spill the family secrets. At least not all the time...or the important ones. What I will do is share my ups. I will share my downs. I will share our stories. Because you see, in this parenting life, we all need to change. And grow. Its what makes us better parents!

So join me for the new ride. Is it improved? Maybe. If I could find a friend to help me make it a pretty blog it would be. But in any case, its the whole truth. So help me God.

Stay tuned for our first give away! Its going to be from a great company called The Protein Bakery. Just follow my blog, for a chance to win! I will post the entry rules and the deadlines as soon as I have concrete information!

Dance 2011

2011-06-11T17:05:00.000-04:00

In two short weeks, Simone and Cecily will take the stage with 5-6-7-8 Dance out of Stewartsville, New Jersey to perform in Alice in Wonderland. Both girls LOVE to dance and adore the staff at the studio. Miss Charissa won over our hearts with her fun atmosphere and wonderful learning environment. As I have told many parents, my goal at this stage wasn't a professional status, just a love for the sport that used to amaze me as a kid! With Simone's beautiful height and potential elegance, she's a shoe in if she continues to practice and take the sport seriously. Though Cecily is tiny, she packs a punch and hangs in with kids a year or two her senior and probably a foot or two taller too! This year, when costumes were announced, Cecily was upset she was not an animal (she was a duck last year) and Simone was heartbroken she was the "Queen of Hearts" as she is mean. However, with time, practice and learning the routines, both girls have settled into their costumes and respective dances nicely! Today we headed to Portrait Innovations to have their photos done. The studio is offering photos but I am hoping I am otherwise engaged ;). Wishful thinking! Here are a few shots from today's trip to P.A.!

Sisterly Love

Sweet Cessy

Behind the curtain!

Such Grace

Teamwork

2011-06-09T20:52:00.000-04:00

Around the time of our wedding anniversary, I stood in the shower thinking of the relationship that Colin and I shared, and where its come from. I had this beautiful blog organized within my head, and it had me in tears composing it, so I was certain that others would find the growth, change and true friendship we've come to behold to be something they too could relate their lives to. However, as I sat down, interrupted countless times by three blessings that have come from our life as a couple, I wrote this trashy post about two drunk college kids who had no business getting married, and going on to have a family. As I re-read it, it looked more like a horror story instead of a love story.

Today though, as my husband arrived home, amid my feverish cleaning, two children one prancing in diapers, another jamming in PJ's, and a third scrambling up his leg to give him the biggest bear hug one can imagine, I was brought back to our marriage. The marriage we celebrated with my heading to the grocery store, and his cooking for his children just a few weeks back.

The marriage that has grown from what was once a frat party, with an intoxicated co-ed refusing to go home with said boy, to something that I can't imagine not having, or being a part of. From the people we were, to who we have become, I feel the gifts we've shared and the shape we've molded into is truly unique and special.

For those who truly know us, our polar opposite personalities might seem to clash, and after taking our Pre-Cana Class and reviewing our FOCCUS test with our sponsors, we were told our marriage would be full of surprises and it would be hard. Those first five years were exceptionally so. But through it all, I had one of the most amazing people by my side. He wasn't one to coddle me when I was emotional or lamenting a minor issue, but he was one to stand by my side and support me when he believed in me. He's the strength. I am the emotion. He's got the book smarts, I tend to carry the personality (sometimes a little more than one person needs to be blessed with). However you look at it, our polar opposite attraction works.

Our Team, which began as teenagers, has continued to grow. We've accomplished so much together in our twenties, and our thirties have started with a bang. I can't imagine someone else I would want to have on my team, and I am so grateful he's willing to stick by my side.

So, Happy Anniversary to my Amazing Husband. I look forward to many years together. Ups, downs, bumps, bruises, and I hope for some rainbows too! I love you.

There is something about Age 4

2011-06-09T16:55:00.000-04:00

That makes me have a headache just thinking about it. In fact, I remember age 4 well with Simone. We had just welcomed our third daughter into our home. Though she was happy to have her, the distaste with me regarding yet another being I had produce was obvious and her anger penetrated even the best of days. I found myself shaking my head, crying, wondering WHAT I had done to deserve the struggles she faced and why she hated me so very much. I called my mom crying. More than once. I commiserated with friends, and even considered seeing a therapist, for her. Not me. Why was she so angry? And why was this anger all focused on me? Besides the new baby, we also had the sale of a house, a move out of the only home she ever knew, and a trip to live with my parents at an isolated cottage in Evart. Life was a struggle. Not to mention that her daddy and I were living apart. She frequently announced this as people looked sad for me. Not yet 30, with three girls, living without a father. Um, I frequently confirmed that yes, he wasn't living with us. Instead he slept on friends couches to finish his doctorate and in just a few months time we'd be back together again. Once the move happened, the anger continued. Nothing I did was good enough. No Supernanny, Dobson or magic parenting techniques worked. I made new friends, only to fear they would wonder what kind of mom I was, and when I commiserated with them, I feared they would soon leave as I felt like control and my child were not two words that were synonymous. The good parent I was, the great parent who visited the library weekly, who attended Great Parents Meetings and playgroups, who worked so hard to teach her oldest child to be kind, caring and affectionate, failed. And it had only been four years.

Four made way to five, and slowly (I do mean S-L-O-W-L-Y), we watched her change. By five and a half I struggled to let her go to school and two months into the school year, I yearned for just a little more time with her. And I am so glad I got it. In the past year, my child has become what I had wanted. A kind, caring, affectionate child. She's got her weaknesses (happen to be mine as well), but overall, the girl is on a good path making me proud.

Enter her sister. The tornado as she has been dubbed by more than one friend came into our life as an easy baby. She was in fact the first to sleep through the night. She was as easy nurser. She was rarely crying, and by 6 months, she was her own smiley self. We are LUCKY she can still charm the pants off anyone with her giggle and smile because, you see, she's turned four.

Recently, I have had more than one friend with their first four year old question how my kids are well behaved. I know how they feel. I have questioned others on their own children's behavior and in fact been so embarrassed by my kids, that I have almost ended friendships fearing that my children are not behaved well enough for their own children. However, to those friends, you are NOT alone. I am in the same boat. Perhaps you are yet to see the melt down but you see, they do happen. And that four year old you find to be smiley and fun, is, except when she isn't. And there are more times that she isn't than she is. You just may not know as I hide and lament the truth in the confines of my home.

Today for instance, she woke up and stated that her tummy hurt. This "illness" has happened three times since Monday. All three times she's not gotten sick, but has gotten out of going to the grocery store. She's also been lying. Okay, so its uber hot and yes, I have been known to have a queasy tummy in the heat, and perhaps she does too but I am waiting. She's seeming to play fine, want ice cream and be willing to eat anything placed on her plate. So my understanding she's fine. Especially when she notes she is "good at getting me not to do boring things by what she says". Yes, my four year old has my number. Outside that, my sweet four year old, who people can't imagine being cross is just a nudge. Being a singleton, these sibling fights are more than I can handle at times. For instance, while reading library books this afternoon, Felicity sat feeding her baby doll next to Cecily. As she did Cecily watched and carefully put her leg over her baby dolls face. With a mischievous smile, Cecily continued to do this as Felicity asked her to stop. I also asked her to stop. When Felicity pushed her leg off (which I was okay with), she then kicked the doll and started laughing with an evil menacing laugh. WHERE was the easy baby I gave birth to? Where was the child who was sweet and kind? Who is this child that has come into our home and replaced the child I used to say was my "easy" one?

As I sit here, 39 weeks pregnant with number four, I wonder if I am nuts? I wonder if I can handle all four? I wonder if not having siblings tricked me into having a house full? I wonder if she, like her big sister will become a kind, caring, compassionate child? I wonder if she'll spend more time on the time out stool than playing with friends? I wonder if friends will not want us to hang out with them because of her behavior? Then I realize that there is "something about age 4". We all face it. We all travel it. We all get through it. And most of the time we are better people for it, and we hope they are too!

Jobs and Chores and Behavior Oh My!

2011-05-19T10:13:00.000-04:00

I am sitting here frantically trying to print out a behavior chart. Of course, it is a frantic moment as I quickly contemplate what to write, where to hang it and how to enforce it?

As of late, behavior in this house has plagued me. Now, don't get me wrong I have GOOD kids. In fact, they are some of the most considerate, caring children I have come across. But it seems as of late the behavior has gotten out of control. For example, as I quickly showered this morning my youngest child came toddling into the bathroom holding her arm up for me to see. As I looked there were teeth that made the shape of a circle near her elbow. Really? She adamantly stated that "Cessawee bit me arm". Obviously she had. I quickly rinsed, grabbed a towel and trotted (as well as someone 8 months preggo can trot) off down the hall. Cessawee was not in her room, nor in the bathroom, the guestroom and my room were empty too. She wasn't hiding under one of the cribs but seeking asylum in her oldest sister's room under her bed. With her hands over her face in hopes I didn't see her I asked her to come out. Dripping wet, upset, and wishing I had more than a towel to cover my ever growing bump, she refused telling me to climb under. Smart one, this kid. She knows I cannot shimmy under a bed as pregnant as I am. So I managed to get her waist and pull her from under the hiding place she had secured in hopes that I would forget she had mangled her baby sisters arm with her teeth. After a discussion and a significant time out, she emerged from the guest room apologizing and following directions. But not for long. She's now sitting again, next to me for fighting with her sisters again.

You see, this acting out has been occurring since Mother's Day when she threw a tantrum so large, I fell, dropping her and landing on my poor son who is trying to make his way into this world. With a trip the the hospital, monitoring and the order to "rest", I assumed that her behavior would get better. It did not. This same tantrum occurred again on the following Wednesday requiring me to call her father home from work to work from home as I took the other children to the library and out on errands. Her day was spent in contemplation in her room. Though the time didn't seem to phase her as her blatant disrespect continues and her negativity towards her siblings is growing. By Saturday she seemed to be having better behavior so I rewarded her taking her alone to the store. She was allowed to pick out the family treat and even have a couple on the way home. With hopes this had changed the behavior, I felt good giving her ALL my attention as we belted out songs the entire drive there and home. Unfortunately by the time we got to church, the gift of time had gone by her and she was back to her same troubled antics at church.

Yes, age 4 seems to be the age I struggle with. My children seem to be most defiant at this age, and the behaviors seem to put me in a tail spin. But she is not alone in her acting out. The others do too. Have you ever heard a 2 year old tell their mom they hate her? I have. It happened yesterday. And it wasn't the first time. I try to laugh it off, but I don't understand where it comes from. I don't understand how these good qualities I tried to instill have morphed into behaviors I cannot tolerate.

Unfortunately my printer is not cooperating and I am sitting wondering how I am going to begin my behavior chart with it stuck in the world of cyber space. I want to do all I can to get my children to be wonderful, productive adults, but yet it seems I can't even get them out of their toddler years without a struggle. Parenting. Who knew?

A Little Rant and a What Would You Do?

2011-05-18T16:24:00.000-04:00

I have mentioned before how important literacy is to our family. On any given rainy day I can find my oldest nose in any book that appeals to her (currently Rainbow Magic or Little house on the Prairie). She will read until we turn out her light at night and frequently we have to tell her its time to play. Put the book down.

I credit her success in reading to our experiences at the Library. At four months old, wishing I was still working I had little to do with my colicky baby. So I started going to the Holt Public Library on Tuesday's to sing, shake some shakers and hear a few stories with Miss DiAnne Warfield. Each week I looked forward to that outing and by a year old Simone would run for the children's room as soon as we entered the library looking for her book buddy. I loved the time with Simone, and all the other moms I met. In fact, I ended up dragging neighbors and new moms whenever I could.

As Simone grew we aged into the Preschool Story Time and though no Librarian was as special as Miss DiAnne, we still enjoyed her at the Toddler Programming with Cecily AND at the Pajama Story Time with the entire family (okay-minus Colin). Frequently we had as many books as we possibly could take out on my card and three times a week we would read through our library bag and return the originals to replace what we had finished. By the time we left Holt, I was certain we wouldn't find a program like the one we left. And to be honest, we haven't, but our program here isn't bad.

Like Holt, there is Toddler Story Time (called Twos Can Too), there is also Preschool Story Time (twice a week) and once in a great while they have special functions (especially in the summer which we love). Unfortunately, unlike Holt, the staff is not loving children. They are not realizing that their impression is what is going to fuel the children and fire them up for loving reading and learning, and this makes me feel sad and deflated.

When we first arrived, I met a wonderful librarian Christina, who even had me for breakfast. She was a dear. She's since been promoted (YAY CHRISTINA), however, the Librarian that seems to have taken her spot makes one feel they cannot come to story time. Last year she made a comment about Felicity and her screaming. Yes, I agree, Felicity screams. And no, I don't like it. For a year I didn't go to the story time with fear that she would say something negative. Her like for certain children is apparent. She always allows the same kids to pick the stories chosen to read. My girls infrequently get a turn. I have voiced my dissatisfaction with other moms but really, was it time to tell the staff?

Today, as we drove home, Simone my oldest piped up and said that she went and thanked Miss Judy for her time and that she'd see her next week, Miss Judy "negatively" (her word) said "Oh Great, I can't wait". She then proceeded to tell me she didn't want to go back. This child, who reads more than any other six year old I know. This child who used to beg to go to the library. Whenever Miss Judy has the chance she reiterates that she was a kindergarten teacher in the inner city. And perhaps she was and perhaps treating them the way she does our children worked for those kids but this isn't the inner city. This is rural Northern Jersey. Our children may need to be handled differently than those she is used to educating in her past life. Last week one mom commented she didn't think she'd come back. She wasn't there today. Today, I ended up calling voicing my concern. When is it time to work for getting a volunteer fired? What would you choose to do?

Are we giving them too much?

2011-05-18T15:30:00.001-04:00

I have heard it before, but more in the news stories that shed light on the 30 somethings that just can't find their "niche". You know, the kids who are still looking to find the path to adulthood. Years ago (read: when our parents were young), you got an education and either continued on for more schooling or went into a trade that would provide for the family you would eventually have. Marriages happened earlier, and children were born to younger parents. Mothers frequently stayed home. And it seemed (though I could be wrong, divorce wasn't as frequent). Fast forward 30 years to the generation I am traveling with and we find a vast array of paths that allow each of us to find the "niche" we are searching for. And that path, well, sometimes its curvy. I hear about "kids" my age returning home because they aren't happy, and I wonder why? If our parents fought the good fight, made tough choices and focused on their goals, why does it seem our generation is struggling so much?

Now, I will be the first to say, Colin and I needed help getting on our feet before he completed graduate school and we were lucky we were able to turn to my parents instead of other sources for income and assistance. But once his schooling was completed, we've been on our own. I would consider us traditional. We went to college. We were married in 2002, and we had our first child when the early days of 2005 began. Since then, we've completed graduate school (yes, it was a team effort, and I wear my Ph. T.--pushing him through--proudly). We've also added 2 more children, a loss and currently we're about a month from welcoming baby number four. Sure, this road we've chosen isn't for everyone. In fact, ask us now and we'll tell you marrying after graduate school ~~may~~ would have been easier. But it wasn't our path, and I am grateful that my husband and I have taken our vows so seriously and that for better or worse business was stuck to. I have too many friends where their partners seem to give up, or perhaps pick and choose what marriage vows mean. And for them, I am sad.

Enter my children. About two months ago, my oldest child took a test at her dance school. She scored well, and I am very proud of her efforts and the accomplishment (she got a 99). With her photo in the paper and the knowledge she would be presented a trophy at the recital, she called her family and let them know of her work and achievement. Beaming she turned to me and asked how I would celebrate. Celebrate? Weren't we doing that? I got the paper, put it on the fridge, and I was excited to see her go up and receive her trophy at the recital this June. But she EXPECTED more. And I wonder, is that what happened in our generation? Were we given so much, we just began to expect more? And did our parents, guilt ridden with one thought or another choose to feed that expectation and give in to our desires, allowing us not to struggle and grow from our weaknesses but seek out more and more than we already had? Are we just the spoiled generation?

I am including myself in that to a degree. I am exceptionally blessed. I am an only child, raised by two adoring parents. However, I will say as I watched when friends had new cars, new horses or new gifts, I got what I needed. And then some, but the gifts I had were given with the understanding that they were gifts, and to continue to hold them, I would need to participate in keeping them. For example, my horse The first horse I had, Reilly was about 25% of the cost of my friends horses. He was used in the riding program to allow more flexibility on boarding and yes, that was me mucking stalls as other riders laughed while I scooped the poop. Not only did I care for him, but I also cared for their horses at times working in the barn, teaching riding camp and babysitting to help pay for his needs and my wants. At the time I was embarrassed, but looking back I still personally feel guilty for the financial burden that I placed on my parents because of my personal athletic goals.

After hearing Simone's response to her first major accomplishment in dance, I wondered if I had fallen into that guilt trap myself. There are three kids. I don't have as much time to devote to her as I once did prior to her siblings arrival, and during graduate school things were meager. Or was it just that she was feeding into what she saw going on around her. You better believe like Simone, I too wanted the better horse, the private lessons and the A-Rated Shows as compared to the horse that was loving and kind (though not as flashy), group lessons with the trainer not the owner, and I could show in C- Rated shows or catch some rides if I was asked.

Today it appeared again. That green eyed monster who is asking for more when really the gift is the achievement. Cecily, our middle child has been at Gymnastics Classes since January. She's been doing well and progressing quickly. Today she had her certificate class where each child was presented with a ribbon and certificate of achievement. I was proud of her. I still am. I see talent in her gymnastics, but she, like myself overheard others picking out new leotards to celebrate, or heading off for a treat to recognize the accomplishment. With sincere eyes, she looked up and asked, what are we going to do to celebrate? I smiled. Hugged her and told her I was proud. Tonight we'll discuss her accomplishment at dinner too. I am proud. But I ask again, are we simply creating another generation of kids who can't get their acts together and think the sun rises and sets on their everything or are we willing to say we're proud, and leave it at that?

I am certain this isn't the end of my personal struggle with this, is it the end of yours?

**A little post edit from my mom. She doesn't want her comments shared, but ha! I ended up copying and posting:
Because of your working experiences at the barn, you learned much more about horses and, in your riding others' horses, didn't you become a better rider? I always thought you did so well at the collegiate level where you drew your horses because of those experiences. It is important to note that intrinsic rewards may not always be immediate and sometimes they might not be recognized as rewards.

And she is correct. I guess I learned a lot.

Certificate Day

2011-05-18T12:28:00.000-04:00

Today was Certificate Day at Sheild's Gymnastics, and Cecily thought that was just great. After a rough week at class last week, she was ready to return with a smile on her face. Most of the girls in her class are older (by a year or so) and some have been taking class for 2 years. They are amazing to watch as they do round offs to dismount from the beam or one handed cartwheels all over the floor. Cecily is trying her best, but is mastering somersaults on the beam as well as regular cartwheels, and to be honest, that is just fine with me. Standing a good 6" shorter than the next smallest girl in class her little legs help her to keep up with the rest and always make them giggle because they seem to enjoy helping their "LITTLE" friend! Here are a few photos from our day at class.

The girls work on all three beams. One is shorter than the others and this is where they primarily perform their "tricks" however on the bigger beams they practice walks, and hanging, as well as emergency dismounts.

Being a pint sized peanut has paid off. One of the sweet girls in her class has handed down her leotards to Cecily for class so she's always in style with a new leo each week!

The certificate!

Here she is with her techer Miss Laura. We adore her!

Wash the What?

2011-05-16T17:30:00.000-04:00

Diapers. Yes. Have you ever washed the diapers? By that I mean, the cloth ones. No, not the G diapers in which you throw out reusable liners but the AIO's (All in One's) for those outside the lingo of those a little more crunchy. There are also prefolds and liners (a favorite of mine), and the number of brands you can consider is almost endless. Makes Pampers, Luvs and Huggies seem a bit minimal in their selection.

After having Simone, I met this pair friends, Chrissy and Jamie, who unlike myself were a bit crunchy and enjoyed the environment. They were great AP parents (attachment parenting) and I wished I was more like them. I tried. But really, Chrissy takes the nursing cake and Jamie, well, she can go with the flow better than anyone I know. You know, like preparing you a meal when you are dropping off her new baby's meal at her house. That is Jamie. Either way, they were instrumental in some of my parenting switches. Wonder if they know? They do now. Well, maybe they will now.

In any case, both girls used cloth diapers. Chrissy first. She was using them when we met them. And unlike the girls I *thought* used cloth, Chrissy showered daily and her daughter was dressed to the 9's in darling clothes with matching bows. I love a girl who can put a bow in her hair you know. So after Simone was potty trained (early, lucky for me) we made the decision to save money and use cloth ourselves. Yes, there is an expense that is up front. And its somewhat hefty, however its something that I think lots of mom's can consider, and with modern appliances, the work isn't much harder than your everyday chores. Living in a sunny location helps even more as you can line dry those diapers and avoid stripping them, due to the extra time in the sun. With Cecily she was outfitted in cute little diapers, colorful fun and I loved them. Though our temperamental dryer didn't always dry them, and my parental units (whom we visited frequently) didn't love my washing their grandchild's diapers in their units hooked to a septic system. So I gave it up.

But here I am, awaiting the arrival of my fourth, and thinking about the number of diapers I have used on four children. I am wondering if I can make the switch. Getting Colin to consider it may be a hard one, but in case I can, I entered a contest today, and if you are contemplating the switch yourself or have a friend who may be interested, I urge you to check out Jillian's Drawers. They have a contest up that ends this coming Friday. You can win some diapers, and not only that, you can peruse their site and try diapers for only $10.00. Finally, they have a LOVE IT or RETURN IT policy. Yes, on cloth diapers. So if you may be in my shoes and thinking about washing the diapers with your next baby, head on over to the site, and check them out for yourself. If you do win,you'll save yourself about $50.00 in getting your stash started!

And yes, I am hoping with this post, I can potentially win myself :).

Week What?

2011-05-16T13:14:00.000-04:00

Sadly, I thought I was 36 weeks today, however I am 35 weeks and won't be 36 weeks until Thursday. Drat. Really drat. You know the kind when you want to cry. This pregnancy has actually gone pretty well. Yes, I had that heart issue (we'll call it an episode to make my dad laugh) but as of right now, its functioning well enough not to cause a problem, and I am grateful for that.

The other day however I felt more tired. Last week in fact I decided I was done making meals for others until he arrives and rushed to get three meals made as well as two baby gifts bought. I feel sluggish. I feel tired. I feel like I am nearer to the end but I still have 5 weeks. Its not long, and I am so blessed to be pregnant, but I just want to see him, hold him, count his toes and fingers and know he is healthy and well. I think at this point that is what most moms feel.

I have my next appointment scheduled and hopefully by then our little gymnast will decide he wants to stay head down. Right now he's decided that he's hoping to be a gymnast flipping head up almost daily. You can feel his little head and if I am laying just right you can watch him turn from side to side. This to me is amazing, though to Felicity its a bit disturbing and she freaks, wacking at my belly with force.

I am so blessed to have a wonderful husband who worked hard along side me to get the house in better order this weekend. From laundry, to linens, from vaccuuming to mopping, he helped me out. He even let me sleep in on Saturday after a late night at Bunco, where I literally almost wet my pants laughing until the early hours of the morning.

Other than the disappointment of an additional 4 days added to the time in my head, my appointment went well. The heartbeat is strong and my family was safely waiting for me at Exxon to do the kid switch! How lucky we are to be in the 34th week, 3rd day. But who is counting?

Sketchers, Really? Consider your message.

2011-05-15T11:00:00.000-04:00

So we've all seen them by now, you know the Shape Ups shoes trademarked by Sketchers that cost an arm and a leg and promise to tone your tush, your quads and your calves? Yes, I have bought into it as well, in a different brand but I figured I could get all the assistance I could get as I get a little older, a bit slower and well, a lot softer.

But today as I lazily watched the Today Show, Simone and I stared slack jaw in horror as the shoe giant, Sketcher Brand was highlighted with their new product, Shape Ups for Girls. Really. Starting at size 2, the next size my own daughter will wear, you can now purchase, the Shape Ups brand your tiny tot. First, there are concerns about the stability of the shoes. Twisted ankles, stress fractures, hip, back and body problems, but outside of the visible issues, there is another concern that is in the forefront in my mind.

By age 10, fifth grade, I was getting ready to hit puberty. At a chubby stage I was made fun of and was constantly ridiculed about my over stuffed self. It was something I carried with me. I desperately wanted to change and I wished hadn't happened, but truthfully, it was who I was, and it was something I faced. The LAST thing I need now, is my 6 year old (or the other two girls I have) entering into their school age years with the same concerns and feelings I had.

So today, I wonder why a company, that is making millions with their cute Twinkle Toes, would want to break out into hurting the self esteem of children, girls especially. In the piece, the CEO of the organization noted that it was because they wanted to promote health and fitness. He related it back to Michelle Obama's get fit program. But really? Is it? Then why is it only promoted to females? Why is it started so young? Why is it that he is potentially hurting children. Physically and Emotionally.

I think as families we are responsible today to shelter our children from so much more than even we were just 15 years ago. The world is quickly changing and Mary Janes have gone to high heeled chunky espadrilles for out tots. And I am just not that kind of mom. Sure, I guess these may be good for some parents, and I believe each parent knows what is best for their child, but really Sketchers, in my book, your message stinks. You have lost a customer until this is all sorted out. And I don't think I am the only one.

Momma's Day

2011-05-10T10:51:00.000-04:00

Mother's Day is such a day that holds importance in my heart. Not only do I have an amazing birth mother, an amazing mother but I also still have my grandmother. She's 94, though she likes to pretend she's somewhere in her 70's. Though we lived far apart through a majority of my life, during my college years at Michigan State (GO GREEN!) I made the effort to really get to know her, and my grandfather. I am so grateful that I did. She and I have become closer than I ever anticipated and the weekly calls I make to her mean a lot. Though physically we are far, I know she's with me in spirit a lot. She's elated to welcome my first son into the world and can't wait to hear the news of his arrival. Though she can be opinionated (however not nearly as opinionated as she was years ago), she truly loves each of us in a special way. Though I am the favorite (okay, I say I am...go ahead Anne, try to say you are :)). In any case, I was blessed to have another year to call her and wish her a Happy Mother's Day.

This year I also got to celebrate. Our family isn't into "Hallmark Holiday's" and to be honest my husband gives me mothering credit on a daily basis. We're not really into big gifts either, but to me, time and memories mean the most. Colin had originally planned to take me back to Connecticut for the weekend but unsure what we would do, I felt the money would be better saved (we do have preschool enrollment coming up next year). So we stayed home. With warm coffee and a Dutch Baby Bunny set on the table we enjoyed the sunlight shining on our day.

Instead of a pricey piece of jewelry, Colin gave me a car transmitter. My CD Player has broken, and with my new fancy phone (an HTC Thunderbolt), he decided that I could play music through the radio. And so, I shall.

With a picnic lunch packed for a second day in a row, we headed to a park that only Colin and Cecily had scouted one day back in March. With a warm breeze and beautiful clouds in the sky, we packed bicycles and helmets and we were off.

The girls really loved the park. Besides the sunscreen which each of them hates with a passion, they were eager to explore the new park and all it had to offer. After a wonderful playtime, we enjoyed the rest of the day stopping at the hospital (that is another blog in itself) and making dinner to eat together at home.

We hope that you had a wonderful day cherishing the gift of Mother's Day.

Beautiful Days in May

2011-05-09T09:18:00.000-04:00

One gift New Jersey gives us is the beauty the month of May tends to harbor. Its one of those months that the warmth you feel on your backs reminds you of the gifts and good things you have in life. I am one of those people who likes to do things. However, when I am not doing things I find myself to be overly lazy. So on those beautiful days when the warmth and glory of the world seems to shine, I find myself searching for the opportunity to do anything outside that will allow us to explore, learn and create, especially as a family.

Living just 45 minutes away from my current home for seven years of my life, I anticipated I would be well acclimated with the lifestyle of New Jersey, however when we planted roots here in Warren County, I was surprised. I think the shock has just worn off. Either way, my goal is to make this our home, for as long as we're living here. As Saturday Morning dawned on our home, we awoke with three girls ready to do something. Anything. And so we thought.

After a wonderful pancake breakfast, some warm coffee and juice that cooled us off, we got ready to head out on a family adventure. This one,would take us back in the direction of our journey last week and allow us to explore the area of Lambertville just a little more. As we wound down the road towards the Howell Living Museum, Colin looked over in surprise and asked how I knew of this place. "Childhood", I said. I think. He seemed a bit skeptical but the views were glorious and as we pulled into the farm I knew we would be able to enjoy an afternoon together as a family.

With a picnic packed and sunscreen to boot, we were ready to enjoy the Sheep Sheering Festival. I hadn't been to a sheep sheering festival, however I was excited to see what it was like, and excited to see a traditional sheering. Not just sheering but also a herding exercise from a Border Collie. The girls climbed the fence and enjoyed peering over the grassy plain to watch the dogs round up the ewe's and lambs and corral them through the gates set up in the field.

After watching the demonstration and the sheering, we decided we were headed to the weaving in the classroom which was showcasing amazing woven heirlooms and their weavers at work. As we traveled down the road we noticed that three lambs decided to jump the fence, fortunately (or unfortunately for them), Cecily decided she would help return them to their momma's.

Finally, the girls headed back to the building and washed up. Though we didn't touch the animals, we had fun. It was a great day.

Mom's Day

2011-05-06T19:30:00.000-04:00

So, I am pretty certain my poor mother got the shaft on the Birthday/Mother's Day thing. I have also decided that I am pretty lucky to have been born about a month later. In any case, today we woke my mom up to sweet cherubic song. To the tune of Happy Birthday, my mom opened her eyes into her 62nd year. She was patient, and listened even though I am sure that she wished they had waited just a wee bit longer to give her a ring. Instead they counted the minutes until they could call and excitedly announced they were dressed, and they had eaten. It had just turned 7:01 a.m.

My mom. Really, there isn't too much to describe her with words. But I will try. If you can put a face on a person you feel would make a magnificent mother, picture my mom. Then picture a struggle having your own child (sure seems too many people that really deserve kids are in this spot). In any case, through trials and struggles she and my dad decided that it was time to adopt. Enter: ME. I have been told by family (who shall remain nameless) that because of the type of child I was, my parents never tried to adopt another. Maybe that is true. I have also been told one of my children is payback for the type of kid I was. Either way, with patience and love, my mom chose to raise me.

She's not over the top. She's isn't all glitz and glam. She wasn't a super sports star. But she gave me all she had. From Girl Scouts, to CCD, from Room Parent, to Educator, my mom did it all. Teaching full time, raising me, and dealing with the struggles that came from it. I think back to how I treated her and wish that instead of screaming terrible things, I had told her how I just feared I would never measure up. I would never be as good as she was. I would never be able to be half the person she is.

And I am not. She's remarkable. She's honest (sometimes brutally--she made me cry at Easter). She's loving. She's compassionate (there have been more than a few times she's headed out to fill wish lists for churches, schools, local residences in need). She came from a family full of love.

She's the oldest in the family. She's driven. I hear she was a bit bossy (though I don't know if she'll admit it). She's supportive (had to be to support Big Chuck and his career).

Today isn't Mother's Day, its my Mom's Day. Its the day she was born. I am so grateful she was. Because when God created my mom, he created the best mom for me.

Happy Birthday Mom! I am so glad that my children have you as I did. You are the light, the dark, the Earth and the Moon in their eyes!

Here's to another 61 years! Oh yeah, don't kill me for the picture. I haven't belly laughed so hard in a long time. I doubt you went down fireman's poles for me...but for those girls, you'll do anything :). And I love you for it!

Signing Her Up Again....

2011-05-06T11:34:00.000-04:00

So it brings back so many memories. This week I decided that I needed to sign Simone up for First Grade. Not that I want to send her. But its time she goes. Not just for her but for me. At first I considered it selfish that I send her but then I realized that I was missing out as a mom. Yes, I like to homeschool. And yes, part of me wishes that she would be here, but then part of me considers what will happen when she's gone. How she'll develop. How I will develop and how we will evolve as a family.

Letting go may be the hardest thing for me. I struggle with it immensely. There are a few reasons. The first, my experience in school. I have blogged about it before, so there is no reason to rehash the memories but truthfully, the way I was bullied can bring me to tears just thinking about it. And the fact that I fear even sending her partially stems from my anxiety over my fear that she too will be treated as I was, and that she too will fear telling me how others treated her. I did. I know my parents struggle with knowing I was afraid to tell them what was going on due to my fear of retalliation. I know they wish they knew. I also know that the people who bullied me, don't remember. In fact, today I boldly asked one of the boys, who had poured itching powder down my shirt in Mr. Barnes Social Studies Class at East Ridge Middle School, if he remembered. He didn't. He apologized, and felt terrible. It wasn't meant to make him feel bad but to allow me to understand more about the situation in my life's past.

I have a great memory. This is good. Sometimes. Sometimes its the worst thing in the world. When it comes to situations like this, its a terrible gift to have. But it is a gift. And perhaps I can use it to grow for myself.

Another issue I struggle with is the concern of the school district. My neighbors love it. In fact neighbors have insisted that they prefer the public school over the Catholic School they sent their child to initially. However, when I look up "ratings", I struggle with the results. On one site, the school is rated a "6". I checked all the other school districts that I have attended and the score is low. However, I don't forget that a test does not dictate what the school is about, but unfortunately this is how our nation grades our academics. And I remind myself I don't agree with it. I hate standardized tests. In fact, I feel they don't really do much of anything except trap the teacher into teaching certain subjects to death and taking away from other subjects children could benefit from. Again, this is a personal feeling, this isn't a professional opinion, as I am not an educational professional. My mom, who is an educational professional reminds me the district I was raised in was highly affluent, highly competitive and had a higher suicide rate. So perhaps I will take the lower score if it means my children will be exposed to other areas of life, culture, and of course if they have less pressure put upon them. I remember, education is what a family makes it. Its about a teacher's dedication. Its about friendship and strength. Its not just about books, it isn't just about test scores and its certainly not just what the nation or state insists each child masters. It certainly isn't a score on some test that was administered to bleary eyed students hoping to do well and potentially feeling overwhelmed by the potential results. And it certainly isn't a score some website gives a school.

Next week, on Friday we will go to the school. ALL my neighbors love it and this helps me. I am also hoping they'll help me get through the first day!

Now, the big news...not only is Simone signed up, Cecily will be attending preschool 5 days a week, half day. Wow. Big steps for Momma North today.....now to adjust and cope!

A Wee Tot Funny

2011-05-06T08:49:00.000-04:00

I always have these parenting moments where I am either embarrassed or overwhelmed and when I tell my mom she shares it with her friends. They typically say I should write it down, for a book. However, I am yet to do it. And I am sitting here still chuckling over an event that happened the other day while out and about at Macy's.

Typically my oldest (6) and my middle (4) make comments that have us all rolling. Sometimes we have to wait to laugh until they are in bed, but seriously the kids think as if they are mini-adults stuck in pint sized bodies. Lately however, our youngest (2) is able to keep up with her big sibs and knock our socks off.

On Wednesday, after Gymnastics, my friend Hillary and I took the girls to the Bridgewater Mall. This is my favorite mall in the area and though I go there so infrequently just walking through the crisp halls makes me feel alive. Even if I don'tmake any purchases. The vast array of stores makes me tingle and sweat as I seriously find it to be a shoppers paradise, and I hear Short Hills is even better (I have yet to make a trip)--those malls with the dress codes seem to make me a little uncomfortable :). Okay, there isn't a dress code, but I hear its fancy schmancy and to be honest, I am just frumpy dumpy.

As Felicity rode in her little orange Chicco, we entered Macy's. Due to rain we stopped to remove wet raincoats and shove them into the little compartment below. Felicity staring out the doors spotted a fellow patron making her way across the parking lot. As she did her eyes were fixated on the woman. This woman, dressed in traditional muslim clothing approached and opened the door. With complete awe, Felicity looked up and began to exclaim "MARY, MARY". Yes, we're Catholic, and we do read about Mary often. In fact, we really think that she's an amazing gift to our faith, our family and our lives. While Felicity belted out the name over and over, I tried to quickly stop her and Hillary kept asking "what is she saying"? I was hastily telling Hill to "SHUT UP", and the woman just smiled and continued on her way.

After she was out of ear shot, I told Hillary about what Felcity was saying, and we had a great laugh....and then, it happened again. Same woman. Same spot. Same doors. As we were leaving. At least she wasn't offended. And we are continuing to laugh at our little comedienne.

Changes

2011-05-03T09:03:00.000-04:00

After a weekend of busy days and short nights, I sat up waiting to hear the news our President had to say. First it was speculated it would be regarding Libya. When I stated my concern to my husband, he quizzically looked at me and said "why would we go to war with Libya". Okay, personal concern I guess. I guess war scares me. Terribly. I worry about the soilders. I worry about the commanders. I worry about the lives of innocent victims. I worry about the lives of the military families back home. I hate war. I never thought I would say I am against it, but I am. Yes, I support the troops, and thank them whenever I get the chance, but support war, its just not my mantra.

Instead of an unsettling statement about Libya, we heard the news that Osama Bin Laden, mastermind of Al Queda was killed in a military attack in Pakistan. Immediately I felt terrible dread. I couldn't place it. I remember September 11, 2001. I was sitting in my office in Chicago. I was about 1 mile from the Great Lakes Military Base. Before notification as to what was going on, the helicopters began their flights away from base. The many military personnel we had staying within our walls at the Marriott flew out the doors dressed in uniform stating they were not checking out on dates as anticipated. We then got a call from one of the managers who happened to not be in yet (he frequently wasn't in until noon). He told us to turn on the TV and as the other Sales Managers and myself pulled out a heavy TV on a cart, we tuned into the same disaster the entire world watched unfold. At the time only one plane had hit the World Trade Center, and my initial hope is that it was a grevious error on the pilots part. As we watched in horror, I cancelled my trip downtown to the Marriott in the city (somewhat afraid, somewhat with the understanding my hotel was going to need me). Within minutes I had clients wanting rental cars with none to be found. I was pairing people to travel with total strangers to be home with families that they loved, away from the walls of a cold hotel. And then I watched as names began to appear. I prayed I didn't know any. However, I did. I knew two. I couldn't fathom why one was on a planed headed to California, and I wept for the other who had just begun work. These were people I knew in younger years, but knowing names that I could place faces to made me angry. I was hurting for their families and prayed that it was over. That ALL those involved with the terrible attack would have been found in the wreckage and that our world wouldn't change. But we all know that prayer was really never going to be answered, for our world changed dramatically. Those of us who were young adults matured just a bit more that day. And I can't imagine what those in New York, Pennsylvania and Washington D.C. felt as their town became a war zone.

With the announcement of his death, I wasn't happy. In fact, as I watched others celebrate in the streets I became mortified with the actions of my fellow American's. I didn't have the words to say what I felt. I knew that I wanted those I know in the military to be safe. I wanted all military personnel to be safe. I wanted those families of military personnel to feel comfort but I knew the coming days would scare them. That they would question how the death of Bin Laden would personally affect their lives. Their children's lives.

As word traveled on the news, Facebook, and on blogs, I wondered how I could put it into words what I felt. I then came across this statement: "In the face of a man's death, a Christian never rejoices, but reflects on the serious responsibilities of each person before God and before men, and hopes and works so that every event may be the occasion for the further growth of peace and not of hatred". ~Federico Lombardi

Amish Grace

2011-04-27T08:19:00.000-04:00

For those who know me really well, you probably know I have an obsession. It started back when I was about 7 and my cousins moved to Pennsylvania. My aunt, who is a sucker for a good bargain. Any bargain took my family and I to this crazy flea market in Gilbertsville, Pennsylvania. Zern's, is a place that is almost indescribable. Buy a chicken. Get a haircut. Want some candy? How about livestock? This place is unreal--so much so you may remember I insisted my family go and check it out last year when we moved here. As we strolled the aisles, children dressed in darling "plain" clothes ran in and out of the crowds giggling and just being pure in enjoyment of life. They had no fear. There was no reservation and they seemed so comfortable in who they were. It began then.

My intense need to understand the Amish culture continued. Who else picks "Amish" books when on vacation? I have them still and have reread them time and time again when I visit my parents. The simplicity of their lives amazes me. Sometimes I wish I had that life. I always joke that I have always wanted to be Amish, but part of me wishes life were that pure, plain and simple.

Since getting the Netflix subscription from my father in law for Christmas, I have had the girls search out any Amish videos we can find. I have even considered doing a section on the Amish more for me than the girls. Last night after a long, tiring day (which I will spare you the details but it included scrubbing the floors twice--thank you Cecily, watching one child try to drive down 4 steps with a power wheels--thank you Cecily and having a 6 year old throw a tantrum because she lost a sucker), I was ready to sit down and watch the movie Amish Grace that we had to seek out and have sent from Netflix. What I wasn't prepared for is how it resonated within my heart. Many of us can remember the terrible tragedy at Nickel Mines, Pennsylvania, where a milk truck driver was suffering a great loss of his own daughter and wanted to get back at God. This man, Charlie Carl Roberts broke into the school house and forever shocked the Amish Community which he was linked as well as the nation as he opened fire on the young girls of the Amish Community. What happened next is nothing short of a miracle. The families, forgave.

That forgiveness was hard for some. Easier for others. As I watched, and rifled through a box of tissues, the true meaning of the movie, the gift of forgiveness and the hope for the future was present in each scene. Even my husband (who humors my Amish love), had tears in his eyes.

I highly recommend watching this. Not as a voyeur but purely as an education. On forgiveness.

Happy Easter....

2011-04-25T15:06:00.000-04:00

Love, The North's

Egg Dying

2011-04-25T15:03:00.000-04:00

I like to do things with my kids. Even if it means allowing there to be a mess. I do however protect the surface with ample coverage. Yes, I put out an entire table cloth for play-doh, paint or egg dying. My dad said it looked like I had used this for the project before, I hadn't but it kept my floor white. Still.

Though the girls were excited to do it, you see, my pre-teen (okay, she's 6) often has an attitude now when I request her beautiful mug in my view finder. If she's not in the mood. Clearly, she's not here.

Felicity LOVED her first egg dying experience. And yes, she's consistently dressed as a Ladybug lately. In fact, she is right now.

Cecily also loved the egg dying and this year she got to do them herself. She was THRILLED!

Lots of Learning this Lent

2011-04-25T14:56:00.000-04:00

1. God comes first.
2. Family comes second.
3. Friends come third.
4. If they aren't true friends, kiss the friendship good-bye, but if they are, try to cultivate the friendship more.

After 40 long days, on a journey (hopefully not near over), we celebrated the gift of true life. We celebrated Easter. Our Savior Rising from the dead. Our Savior dying on the cross for our sins. And how many of us are sinners? All of us. Daily. We are all imperfect. We are all fighting the good fight to come to eternal rest. And how is it, with our eye on the prize of Heaven we still fall short? Because we are human. We make mistakes. We repent and feel sorrow for our sins. We look to rebirth in the season of Easter and we prepare for the second coming of our Savior in hopes we've tried hard enough. We've done enough, and we are welcome home. With him. To eternal rest.

This season has been one of great struggle. Sure, being off Facebook was tough--I did it by the way. Without candy, I was jonsing for a sugar rush, and I did get one on Easter morning as I stuffed Peeps into my stained lips. But this season was so much more. There was reading. There was understanding. There was pain. There was disagreement. There was stepping out of the box.

Until today, I didn't realize though how much I have changed. The posts on Facebook, they are good to see. The photos of new life. They are great to seek. But the same annoyances are still there. The same petty things that irritate me and take me away from the gifts of my life are still there and I wonder, should I still be there?

Today, I was able to read, to look, to seek and to realize that this Lent has given me a lot. A new sense of understanding as to what I want in my life. Its an understanding that isn't easy. Its not really what I had hoped I had wanted, but it has me pointed in a direction I hope to go.

I hope that this Lent wasn't just a time of temporary change. I hope I can continue to grow in faith. I hope I can continue to grow in my belief of myself and I hope that I continue to change. For the better.

My Mom

2011-04-23T07:40:00.000-04:00

Let me start by saying, if you know my mom, or you think you know my mom this may surprise you. My mom is almost always mild mannered. She's one of the kindest people I know. As the oldest of six, she's somewhat stoic, and has been known to be incredibly responsible. I have learned as of late she was bossy as a kid, but to be honest, it must have just been a thing about she and her siblings. My mom stands about 5 foot 2" tall, she's no imposing presence and well, though I am adopted I am pretty certain I have many characteristics like her. Beginning with the inability to say "no" when someone needs help. As a kid, my mild mannered, meek mother was always involved. She was the CCD Teacher when it was needed. She was a Girl Scout Leader when she could and she volunteered wherever she could. Keeler Tavern, Church, even at my school when she was working. My mom did it all. I will say I wonder if having one child as opposed to a gaggle made it easier to be all that and more to me, but whatever it was, she made it work. I remember my mom going caving, shooting down a zipline, taking us camping, biking on the Cape and so much more. However, after middle school, when I was less involved with Scouting her outdoor adventures seemed to be less frequent. The woman can powerwalk the pants off anyone though. Since having kids though, that MOM I had seems to have come back. She's yet to take the girls caving, but has taken Simone on a 6 hour tubing trip in Michigan (I was there too) but it was a memory I hold dear (I guess I am still on my making memories kick). The other day while out and about the sweet 60 year old was caught running through the playground. She climbed up and down the aparatus with ease, and then when dared by my sweet oldest child (whom she has a special bond with), was willing to go down the fireman's pole. As I watched, I belly laughed. Not at her, but at the fact she was still the same mom I had as a kid. This time she's just that same mom in grandma skin. I am so grateful that my children have her in their lives. I am so grateful she's able to do the same things with the girls that she was with me. And I am so grateful they will have the same memories that I did, forever.

Did you say dare? Sure, I can do this.

I think.

Yes, I can do it, but who will catch me?

Ta-Da!

Thanks Mom and Dad. For coming. For spending the time with the girls. For creating the memories I hoped my children would have with grandparents. I love you. You rock!

Memories....continued

2011-04-22T17:59:00.000-04:00

So with the Visitor's Center closed and a long car ride ahead, I spied a playground that was not around when I frolicked with three cousins in tow 25 years before. With my mini-van careening around curves and bends, true excitement welled up within me. And from the looks of the girls, they weren't the least bit disappointed that we stopped to play.....however they were not the only ones to enjoy the playground (more on that in a minute).

This may be my favorite photo ever of Felicity. This is her happiness smile. When she's truly in a good mood, she's amazingly brilliant, and this just shows her happy personality!

Never at a loss to ham it up Cecily was happy to be on the playground sporting her new sweatshirt from Nana and Papa (not to mention the shirt underneath which she says states "love"--"EVOL". Hey, she was reading upside down.

And finally, my stoic sweetheart can always be tempted to play....especially when there is a playground involved!