The Chaos Recedes

FYI, I'm done apologizing for my extended absences.  Mommin' is hard, yo, and finding the time to devote to this little corner of the interwebs is tough.  But here I am! 

Summer is over.  Let me say it a little louder for the people in the back.  SUMMER IS OVER!

Don't get me wrong- we had a really great summer.  I had a lot (and I mean A LOT) of quality time with the kiddos.  We started the season with a beach vacation, which was lovely as always.  And then we returned to FULL STEAM AHEAD.  We stayed crazy busy.

Gabe joined a summer swim team.  No one was more surprised than J and I were at his love for the sport.  G is not so much athletic, and he joined under protest.  I am not one to push my kids into athletics just for the sake of fulfilling some societal norm.  This was more a matter of needing something to fill up some time, meanwhile creating a stronger, safer swimmer.  Turns out, he took to swim team like a fish to water.  (Ha!)  Was he the fastest?  Not by a long shot.  But did he ask to compete in every stroke and relay?  Yep.  Did he become a stronger swimmer?  Unquestionably.  And now he wants to join a year round swim team.  If you need me, I'll be at the pool.

By the way, the pool is at my gym.  Seriously, put a bed in a corner there for me, as it is truly my second home.  I am in the process of adding further fitness certifications to my resume (yay BodyPump!) and even have my very own class on the schedule beginning next week.  I am really finding my groove here, and love that I have a little job outside of the house.

Margot and Charlotte, meanwhile, spent the summer living their best lives.  Swimming, movies, outings, sister sleepovers all the time.  The bond these two girls share is just amazing.  They continue to be best friends, no matter who they claim as a BFF.  Fingers crossed that the love doesn't run out before the teenage years, when the hormone flow in this house will be OUTTA CONTROL.

J and I ended the summer with a kid-free getaway to Jamaica.  We spent a glorious week doing not much more than eating, drinking, lounging by the beach or pool, and drinking some more.  It was the perfect way to top off a great summer, and the perfect way to avoid killing my children as my patience was officially running low.

And on that note- we all made it through the season ALIVE.  School is back in session, routine is re-established, and we're all happier for it.  Charlotte is thrilled to be in the "big kid class" (Pre-K), and Gabe and Margot are back on the bus to elementary school each morning.  They've both had a good first few days and were truly looking forward to school starting again.  We were all ready.

So here I am now, with a little bit more time on my hands (I finally finished watching the current seasons of The Handmaid's Tale and Big Little Lies this week), a long list of projects I want to accomplish around the house now that the kids are not constantly wrecking it, and at least a small part of each day enjoyed in silence.

Bliss.

   

Sweetness Amidst Chaos

It's May.  Spring is blooming, the hills are alive and all that jazz.

And this mama is exhausted.

This time of year is for the (baby) birds.  Every Sunday I sit down and look at the week ahead.  I can't really think about life in terms longer than one week.  And lately, every Sunday I've had to write about a bajillion things on my to-do list.

Kindergarten performances, Field Day, Mother's Day Tea, awards ceremonies, swim team meetings.

My head is spinning just thinking about all of the upcoming activities.  (Seriously, how do working parents manage this??)  To say that I have been busy is a bit of an understatement.  But we can check one year-end rite of passage off of the list- the dance recital.

I've written before about how much Charlotte loves to dance.  When she was still just a baby, she would lay on the floor outside the dance studio to try and get a peek at the dancers beneath the crack at the bottom of the door.  She was thrilled when it was finally her turn to enter the studio.  Since she was such a super fan, they let her begin when she was still two, even though she didn't quite meet the age requirement.  She hasn't looked back since.

But this year was her first recital year.  Patience is a virtue, and not one that preschoolers possess. She was measured for her costume in October.  It arrived in January, and she had to look at it hang in my closet for months before she was finally allowed to wear it.  She practiced her routine in class for weeks and weeks leading up to the big day.  And this past weekend it finally arrived.

Dress rehearsal was on Friday.  As much as she loves class each week, I honestly wasn't sure what to expect of her once she was on the big stage in front of a crowd.  But true to form, Charlotte took her dance very seriously.  She was the first person of the day to walk on to that stage.  She found her spot, stood in position, and smiled a big smile.  When I waved to her, she wouldn't even wave back- she's a professional!

Since hers was the first group of the day onto the stage, it took a few minutes before they could begin their dance.  There was lighting and sound to adjust, and tape on the stage to be corrected.  She stood there with her sweet smile the whole time, and charmed every single person in that auditorium.  People kept asking me if mine was the one in front, and telling me how adorable she was.

I didn't hate it.

She did as well as a first timer could possibly do in her performance, and couldn't wait until the next day for the real deal.

She woke up the next morning ready to get into her costume immediately.  Imagine her disappointment when I told her that her recital wasn't until 2:00, and that she should probably just put on some play clothes before then.

She managed to make it all the way to show time without losing her sweet mind.  The performance was just as adorable as it could be.  She came back out at the end for the finale with the biggest smiles- the joy on my tiny dancer's face was truly contagious.

It was true love.

Since the recital, I can count on two things every day.  She's going to ask for a bun with her costume hairpiece, and she's going to ask how long until her next recital.  She's a dancer, through and through.

     

    
  

Just One of Those Things

Apparently March 26th is Epilepsy Awareness Day.  (That's the day I started to write this post, but, you know, life.)

This isn't something I knew or ever really thought about, if I'm being truthful.  It's also the day that Gabe had an EEG, which came back abnormal.

Some of you have been in the loop a little bit, and many of you have heard bits and pieces, but here's the whole story for those of you who'd like to be updated.

About a month ago, we were in the middle of our normal morning routine.  I was busy feeding kids breakfast, packing lunch boxes, gathering backpacks, braiding hair- just like every busy morning in our house.  Gabe was standing next to me, telling me about how he hadn't slept well the night before.  I turned around to grab a folder from the counter, and as soon as I did I heard the unmistakable sound of a head smacking the hardwood floor.

I spun around to see how on earth someone had managed to fall so hard when seemingly nothing had happened, and Gabe was on the ground, having what I was sure was a seizure.

It wasn't the typical seizure that we're used to seeing on TV (or maybe some of you have been unfortunate enough to witness in real life).  There were no full body convulsions.  He didn't lose control of his bladder.  It wasn't violent.  But it was terrifying.  His eyes were rolled back.  His breathing was irregular.  And he was not conscious.

I immediately called 911 and started yelling for another adult in the house.  I'm not sure I was thinking very clearly.  I was definitely in a panic.  But I managed to get through the 911 call and wait for the paramedics to arrive.  Gabe had come to (the episode lasted for about a minute, I think, or maybe a little longer).  He was upset, unsure of what had just happened, and he had a whopper of a headache, but other than that, he seemed fine.

The paramedics arrived and checked him out.  Since we couldn't check all of the boxes that a typical seizure presents, they doubted that was what it was.  They thought it may have been blood sugar related, or that he may have just fainted.  In any case, they gave us the all clear to drive him to the ER on our own.

At the recommendation of the paramedics, we went to a smaller regional ER, rather than make the drive to the big hospital.  We were seen right away, and the testing commenced.  They checked everything we expected them to check.  There was an IV.  There was blood work.  There was a urinalysis.  There were x-rays and a CT scan.  And the doctor performed a basic neurological exam.

Everything looked good, including blood sugar.  The doctor there agreed that it probably wasn't a seizure, but what he called syncope, which is a fancy work for passing out.  There was one funny spot on the CT, which everyone agreed was most likely an "artifact" (kinda like a shadow created by the overlapping images of a CT), but to be absolutely sure, they transferred us to the big hospital for an MRI, which thankfully was also normal.

Gabe was a ROCK STAR through the entire day, which was very long and exhausting.  He only cried twice- once for just a minute when they put the IV in, and another time when they told him it would be a few hours before they came to get him for his MRI.  The poor kid just wanted to go home.

At the end of the day, we had no answers, but thankfully all of the biggest, scariest things had been ruled out.  There were no brain tumors.  No irregularities in his blood work that could signal a bigger issue.  We were sent on our way with instructions to follow up with a neurologist and our pediatrician.    

We had to wait two weeks to get into the pediatric neurologist, which was frustrating, but you gotta do what you gotta do, right?  Meeting with her went pretty much as I expected- we explained the scenario and she ordered an EEG.

Which brings us to March 26th.

They wanted Gabe to sleep during the EEG, so we were instructed to keep him up late and wake him up early.  He got a kick out of this.  He had a caffeinated soda after school, stayed up late with Aunt Laura to watch Ant Man and the Wasp, and J woke him up at 5:30 and took him to Waffle House for a big ole' carby breakfast.  Who wouldn't want a nap after all of that, amiright?

Well, I guess Gabe, that's who.

He didn't sleep.  The situation was just too weird.  He had 22 stickers on his head, he was in some sort of faux hotel room, his mom was sitting in a chair watching him, and lights were flashing in his face.  Thankfully, despite his lack of sleep, they were able to get a good reading and they sent us on our way with promises of someone calling in the next week or so with results.

When we got a phone call only a few short hours later, my mind immediately went to scary places.  Thankfully, the doctor fit us in the very next morning to explain what they had found.

Gabe's brain is pretty consistently "misfiring" in one area.  Thankfully, it is only in one section, and thankfully the spikes are very brief (as in about a fifth of a second).  These spikes aren't a big deal in isolation, but if they happen too often or too close together, a seizure is the result.

Specifically, a complex partial seizure, sometimes known as a focal onset impaired awareness seizure.  This means Gabe had a partial brain seizure, and this is why it didn't look like a normal full body seizure.

We learned that given his brain activity, Gabe is a kid who will be prone to seizures.  Things like a lack of sleep or the onset of a virus could trigger one.  At this point, there is about a 50/50 chance that he'll have another, most likely in the next six months.  If he has a second, the odds of a third and beyond get much higher.  We will discuss preventative medication at that point.  There is also a chance that he'll never have another seizure as long as he lives (we're hoping for that option).  If he does have another, it will be fine.  There are no long term affects on the brain. 

No one can really explain why these spikes are occurring, but the hope is that it's just due to brain development, and that he may one day simply outgrow them.

So now we wait.  We are trying to find a balance between letting him be a kid and live his life, and not letting him wear himself out to the point of exhaustion.  I am trying not to panic when he coughs or gets a weird look on his face.  I am trying not to constantly feel his forehead for a sign of a fever.  We are definitely more concerned about this than he is- he just says he hopes that if there's a next time, he's standing on the carpet with no toys around.

Seriously, this kid is awesome.

In the moment, this was beyond terrifying.  But in the end, it's just one of those things.

All the Feels

Thanks to a friend's request, I'm getting my shit together and sitting down at the computer.

Quite honestly, I have no decent excuse for not writing sooner (unless "avoiding your feelings" is a decent excuse?).  After all, I've been doing a whole lotta sitting for the past five weeks...

Let me back it up a minute.  On November 29th, knee surgery happened.  Arthritis has been bothering me for years.  I was a young 29 years old the first time I saw a doctor for knee pain, and x-rays showed osteoarthritis then.  My mom's joints have also suffered for years, so it's definitely in the genes.   

At the time of the initial diagnosis, I used knee pain as an excuse to pretty much sit on my ass and do nothing (and we all know how that worked out).  Even though I added a bunch more weight to my already heavy body, hey, at least my knees didn't hurt!  We also all know that one day I got fed up with the way I looked, and worked really hard to get into shape.  That meant a lot of crazy workouts, and eventually a lot of running.  And then a lot of knee pain.

SO...after an amazing finish at my second half marathon this year, I headed into surgery the following week.  The doctor expected to be able to just clean up some damaged cartilage and send me walking on my way, but unfortunately, the damage was worse than expected, resulting in a microfracture procedure.  This means that I am now five weeks into six weeks of post-op crutches while my knee heals...and about a month into the 6-9 months before I'll be allowed to run again.

So now you're caught up.        

I've been working through a whole lot of emotions since the procedure.  I knew there was a slight chance that the surgery could go down this way.  (I remember coming out of anesthesia and immediately mumbling "microfracture?," and then bawling when they told me yes.)  However, the doctor made it seem like a pretty remote chance.  And I knew that running would be a far way off if the microfracture were required, but I had no idea that I wouldn't be able to walk without crutches for six weeks post-op.  So yes, I've shed more than I few tears lately.

I cried first of all for running.  Running has most definitely become more than just a form of exercise that lets me eat dessert and drink beer and still maintain my weight loss.  Running has become a passion, a part of my life, a part of who I am.  It took months of regular running and even finishing a half marathon before I could refer to myself as a runner, but I got there.  I earned it.  And I loved it.  I improved so much over the past year.  I got stronger and faster.  And I loved it.  So to have that taken away for such a long time, when I was expecting to only be sidelined for 4-6 weeks, was very hard.

But I'm working through that.  I am learning to look to the long-term.  You know, the whole "short term loss, long term gain" state of mind.  I want to run for years and years.  And in order to ensure that can happen, this surgery was necessary.  It will also be necessary for me to back my mileage way down, which means this past half marathon was quite likely my last.  That fact required a mourning of its own, but I'd rather be able to run a few miles at a time than none at all.

After I cried many tears for running, I started to cry tears of helplessness.  I am a mom of young children.  I am the keeper of our household.  I am the one who handles things when things need handled.  Crutches pretty much brought that to a screeching halt.

I can use neither my feet, nor my hands.  I can hobble from one place to another, but I cannot carry anything other than my crutches.  I can shift laundry from the washer to the dryer, but I can't get it to the laundry room when it needs to be washed or to the kids' bedrooms after it's been dried and folded.  I can probably put something into the microwave, but I can't stand on my feet long enough to bake all of the Christmas cookies that Margot and I usually bake together at Christmastime.  I can give hugs, but I can't pick Charlotte up.

Feeling helpless has been extremely difficult.  But I know this is temporary, and I have gotten to see how amazing my husband is on a whole new level.  He has stepped up and taken care of EV-ER-Y-THING.  He puts the kids to bed every night so I don't always have to navigate the stairs.  He picks up the house after they get to sleep so that the mess won't make me crazy (or trip me while I'm trying to crutch around).  He cooks meals (with direction).  He drops Margot off at preschool on his way into the office and runs my errands on his way home.  He pushes me around Target in a wheelchair when I need a minute to get out of the house.  I didn't know it was possible to love him more than I already did, but I sure do now. 

I have also cried tears of anxiety.  Anxiety over what is happening to my weight while I'm doing all of this sitting.  And while I know it's not healthy, I eat my feelings.  I'm feeling sad and sorry for myself, so I eat something crappy.  And then I'm sad because I ate something crappy and can't run it off.  And then I'm sad that I can't run, so I eat something crappy.  See where I'm going here?  It's a downward spiral.

But I've lost weight before, and I'll lose it again.  I am DYING to get into the gym.  Thankfully, although I won't be allowed to run for several months, I will be able to bike and swim ahead of that.  I bought a new swimsuit and some goggles, and I'm excited to make swimming a part of my workout routine that is easy on my joints.

So there you have it.  The whole sea of emotions that I've been wallowing in over here.  Thank God that Christmas was thrown in as the ultimate, weeks-long distraction, otherwise I'd be drowning by now!

Now count it down with me...SEVEN more days until I can toss these crutches outta my life and try to regain a little bit of the normalcy that I've lost!  Until then, there will probably be some more crying over here.

Let's Play Catch-Up

I know.  I suck.  I have great intentions to keep my tiny corner of the internet interesting and up to date.  Currently, that's just not going so well for me.  So instead of several thoughtful, well written posts, here are the quick and dirty versions of what could have been several great posts over the past few weeks.

1. Father's Day

Guys, I picked THE BEST guy to have babies with.  He gets a serious A+ on the parenting report card.  He has never shied away from any responsibility (except clipping nails- somehow we've been at this parenting thing for 6 1/2 years and he has yet to clip a fingernail), and he's just as great at the fun stuff.  You know what part of the day our kids LIVE for?  The fifteen minutes of playtime with Daddy just before bed.  They would give up just about anything in order to ensure they get that time.  And even though some days he's tired from a long and stressful day at the office, he always musters up the energy to play the monster that chases the little ones around and finds them in their hiding spots.  The giant belly laughs that come out of the kiddos during this time melts me.  

2. Back To School
Can we take a minute to process this?  The nugget is in first grade.  FIRST GRADE.  And he didn't even want me to walk him into class on the first day.  He was so ready to go back to school.  As a first grader, he is getting a bedtime extension, allowing him an extra 30 minutes to read to himself before lights out.  And he has told us that since he's now in first grade, he'll be able to read chapter books all by himself (he can totally already do this, he just lacks a little confidence).  He got off the bus that first day excited to show me his agenda and get to work on his homework.  (Seriously- he has an agenda.  Next thing you know he'll be carrying a briefcase.)  The first few days of first grade  have been a success.

3. The Pacifier
I decided to take it away.  I think that may be the last tiny remnant of baby life my littlest lady had left, and I took it away.  Her little front teeth are really starting to suffer the consequences of the "fire," as she called it.  The pediatrician told me six months ago that her time was up, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it.  Until now.  Even though the damage is probably already done, I don't want to prolong her years in orthodontia just because I'm desperate to hang onto the baby years.  Which I totally am.  If you need me, you can find me curled up in the fetal position over there in the corner, sobbing.   

Pool Play Gone Wrong

Would you believe that this sweet face is capable of ruining my day?

One lovely morning I took my girls to a pool.  Margot had a swim lesson, and Charlotte was happy to splash and play in the meantime.  For awhile, we were the only people there.  The sun was shining, I was with my girls, and all was right with the world.

Soon after, a kind stranger arrived with her son, who is close to Charlotte's age.  We sat on the edge of the pool chatting while the two little ones played.  A carefree summer morning.  Until the kind stranger pointed to the water and said "Uh-oh, what's that?"

I looked to the water and my heart immediately sank.  Yep, my kid definitely pooped in the pool.

A word of warning: reusable swim diapers are not all they're cracked up to be.  Cute?  Yes.  Kind to the environment?  You bet.  Functional?  Apparently, not so much.

Guys, I panicked.  I didn't even know what to do.  Let me just say that what we were dealing with wasn't the most solid substance you would hope for in this situation.  I immediately scooped Charlotte out of the pool, but as the water poured out of her diaper, so did its other contents.

I ran her to the bathroom to clean her up.  By now, she is of course losing her little mind.  Not only did I interrupt her fun, but now I was undressing her in a strange bathroom and wiping her down in a frenzy.  Luckily, kind stranger brought me some wipes and replacement swimwear.  When we finally emerged, kind stranger had also scooped out the pool and assured me that this is why pools are heavily chlorinated, and that these things happen.  (THANK YOU, kind stranger!)

While Charlotte went back to playing (thankfully, with an empty colon), I used about a million paper towels to clean up the concrete around the pool, all the way to the bathroom, and inside the stall.

Seriously, I could STILL die of embarrassment, and this happened (<redacted>) days ago!

The takeaway of the morning?  To double- nay, triple- the swim diapers is always the best course of action.  Also, multiple oranges in a day isn't easy on my Charlotte's tummy.

And finally, shit happens.  Literally.

Water, Water Everywhere, But Not a Drop to Drink

Last night, as I was giving Charlotte a bath, Gabe watched wistfully.  He apparently was longing for the days gone by, in which he used to splash and play in the water after bathing.  The simpler times, before he turned into a big kid who was forced into boring old showers.

I should point out here that I'm pretty sure his showers are anything but boring.  I don't know what he does in there (and I definitely don't want to know), but it involves a lot of stomping and shouting.

In any case, last night he asked if you could take a bath.  "I wish I could take a bath, Mom."  I thought about a response.  At first I was going to go with "But you're too big for baths."  But as I still love to take baths, this clearly isn't true.  His homework was completed, we'd finished dinner pretty quickly, and we had plenty of time before bedtime.  I guess I had no real reason to deny the kid a bath, so I gave in.

"Do you know how to wash your hair in the bath?" I asked.

"Yeah!"

"Ok.  Well just don't make a big mess in your bathroom," I called up the stairs after him.

"I won't!" he replied.  "And if I do, I'll clean it up."

FAMOUS.  LAST.  WORDS.

For a few minutes, everything seemed right with the world.  The girls were already bathed and dressed for bed, and were playing nicely together.  Gabe was enjoying his bath.  And I was in the kitchen, cleaning up dinner, making Gabe's school lunch for the following day, setting the coffee pot,  doing my mom thing.

All the while, I was thinking smugly to myself that I was going to have those kids in bed on time, all of my evening chores done, and I'd be relaxing by 8:01.  This was extra noteworthy, since J was out for the evening and I was flying solo.  I was feeling pretty badass about my parenting accomplishments of the evening.

And then I heard it.

Somewhere in the kitchen ceiling above me, I heard water dripping.  Actually, dripping isn't the right word.  More like pouring.

I looked up in alarm, but I didn't see anything.  Maybe it was just the pipes?  I ran up the stairs in a panic and flew into Gabe's bathroom.

And there I encountered a flood.

Gabe was completely unaware.  He was playing in the tub with the curtain closed, oblivious to the fact that his entire bathroom floor was covered in standing water.

Not for long, though, as it was apparently dripping through the floor to regions unknown.

OH MY GOD!  THE KITCHEN!  I ran back down the stairs, but before I even rounded the corner I could hear the water hitting the floor.

Where I could once only hear the dripping (no, pouring), I could now actually see it.  Water was flowing through one of the recessed kitchen lights down onto the floor, which now resembled a lake.

This is only a slightly exaggerated version of what was coming out of my ceiling.

I wasn't even sure where to start.  Water upstairs, water downstairs, not enough towels in the world to clean up all of the water, oh my God where is Jason, Gabe is crying, Charlotte is crying, why am I by myself when this shit happens, solo parenting is for the birds, I'll never relax tonight, my new house is broken, WHAT DO I DO?????

Turns out there were enough towels, the water was cleaned up, and Jason came home to deal with the light and the puddles in the ceiling (which thankfully look like it only sustained minor damage).

If there is any upside to this situation, it is this: I guarantee that my rule-following do-gooder of a son will never again ask to take a bath!

Mommin' Ain't Easy

Dentist appointments for two out of three children, first thing in the morning, requiring us to leave the house 30 minutes earlier than our normal time (which is already a photo finish.  EVERY. TIME.)- check.

A trip to Wal-Mart (God help me) for a few random items, on a serious time crunch with children who have ZERO sense of urgency, a toddler who is hangry, a preschooler who will not stop asking me to fix her yoyo (the $0.25 prize for mediocre behavior at the dentist, which has already broken), but is then distracted by violently swinging in a patio swing while waiting in the checkout line in the Lawn & Garden section (you know, the "quick" Wal-Mart checkout lane)- check.

Dance class observation week, in which Margot danced while Charlotte hung from the barre, stood on a crate waving a pair of scissors, spilled her snack all over the dance floor while running away from me (as I was after the scissors), and did quite a bit of yelling- check.

Parent-Teacher Conferences, where three young children were expected to sit quietly while only the adults spoke (hahahahahahaha!)- check.

All before lunch.

After lunch:
Gabe quietly building a Lego masterpiece, Margot digging in the sandbox, Charlotte napping, me snacking while watching Gilmore Girls reruns in bed- check.

Hey, I considered day drinking.  This was probably the better choice.

SAHM Success

I'm finding my groove.

The nugget and I have had some fun times in the past couple of weeks.

We visited the coolest park in the world, and rode the train (twice!).

CHOO CHOO!

We painted a picture.  I know it looks like he used his fingers, but my little man does not appreciate the feeling of anything foreign on his delicate fingertips.  We had much greater success with the brush.

We went to the children's museum- which was absolutely amazing.  Seriously, locals, if you haven't taken your kids to Marbles, they are missing out.

All of this, and I have managed to accomplish at least one daily chore around the house and get dinner made most nights.

Yes, I am finding my groove.

Well This Isn't What I Expected

I've had a crappy start to my days as a homemaker.

The first week felt like a track out.  I was busy around the house getting ready for vacation.  Week two then, of course, was vacation.  Since we've returned, we've had a few days or normalcy, followed by many days of sickness.  Boo.

In those precious few days in between vacation and the sickies, I managed to take the nugget on one fun outing, to Toddler Story Time at our local library.  I look forward to more trips like that one.

I also look forward to the days when my house is actually clean, daily activities are planned for the boy, and dinner is on the table when hubby gets home.

Hey, a girl can dream, right?

The End

'Tis a bittersweet day.  Today is officially my last day as a teacher.

I have so many fond memories of my nine years in the classroom.  Nine year's of children's smiling faces, relationships with their families, being a part of their lives.  Helping them to learn and grow.  Watching the magic that is a child learning to read.  It has been good.

It has also been stressful, time consuming, hair pulling, difficult.  But it wouldn't be teaching if we didn't throw in a little bit of that, am I right?  Teaching is not for the weak.  It is not for the faint of heart.  It takes a warrior to walk into that classroom every day, and I will fight anyone who says otherwise. 

But for now, I am hanging up my battle gear.  I am entering into a new phase of wonderful, difficult, magical, hair pulling delight- the magic that is motherhood.

I am so looking forward to spending my days with the nugget, going on adventures of our own, watching my own little one learn and grow. 

It'll be just like teaching, only a million times better, because the student is my baby, and our classroom is the world.

A Happy Father's Day

Yes, I know I'm late.  You know I never post on the weekends, and well, Monday just got away from me.  What can I say?

In any case, we had a lovely Father's Day in our happy household.  J, being the prince that he is, let me sleep in, even though it was his special day.  When I awoke from my peaceful slumber, I quickly whipped up some waffles and bacon for my main squeeze, and we enjoyed a nice family breakfast.  After our meal, the nugget and I gave Daddy a few gifts, then let him enjoy unlimited x-box time.  Really, there are few things in life that make him happier.

After nap time (both mine and Gabe's), we took a trip to the pool, and splashed and played in the late afternoon sun.  It was a delightful family outing.  We ended the evening with one of J's favorite meals.  All in all, such a nice family day.

J, I must say, you are an even better father than I imagined you'd be.  Thank you for loving that nugget the way that you do, for taking care of him, for wanting to spend time with him, for looking forward to all of the fun times to come with him. 

And to my own dad, thank you for helping to raise me to be the woman I am today.  I imagine that I have you to thank for knowing what kind of guy I should choose to be the father to my own children.

You dads deserve to be celebrated!

How Is It possible?

...that almost every single morning, I wake up with some crazy song from Yo Gabba Gabba in my head?  It may even be from an episode that we haven't watched in weeks. 

Folks, I promise you, the nugget DOES NOT watch a lot of TV.  He watches one episode of "his show" to settle down and cuddle in my lap before nap.  That's it.

But THIS SHOW.  It sticks with me.  All the live long day and night.  And apparently, it's so deeply rooted in my subconscious that it's the first thing my brain conjures up as I stumble out of bed, sleepy eyed, each morning.

Some of my favorite gems:

"There's a party in my tummy!  SO YUMMY!  SO YUMMY!" ~ to teach us the importance of trying new foods and eating healthy snacks

"All My Friends Are Bugs" ~performed by none other than Weezer, to teach us not to be afraid of insects

"Jumpy jump jump jump jump.  Jumpy jump jump JUMP JUMP!" ~ to teach us that jumping is fun?

And then, there's the ever popular (and completely weird) segment Biz's Beat of the Day.  The "Biz" we're referring to is- you guessed it- Biz Markie.  To teach kids how to beatbox poorly?  My favorite is the beat in the "Sick" episode.  Hold on to your hats, peeps, because this one will blow you away-  "Give-a-give-a-GET.  Wicka-wicka-WELL."  What a genius.  Truly inspired.

Oi.

If you are a mommy friend, maybe you feel my pain?  Or am I the only one who is cursed with the constant barrage of stoner*/kiddie tunes streaming on repeat through my mind?

*The kiddies are not stoners, no.  But the people behind this show most certainly are.  For reals.

A Dream Realized

Today, I was called into the Principal's office- always a nerve wracking experience, even once you've moved past childhood into adult territory.  There is something about that mammoth wooden desk, and the stern way in which he's seated behind it, that makes my palms sweat a little, even now.

But I am no stranger to this experience.  Each year since I've started this job, at just about this time of year, I am called to his office to collect a letter from Human Resources.  This letter states that I am employed on a terminating contract (as are all part-time employees), and that my re-hire status for the following school year is uncertain given the difficult financial times.

This hasn't given me too much worry in years past, as my unique position is mandated and funded through a special, federal pot of money that I know isn't going anywhere.  And this year, when the principal handed me the "dastardly letter" (his words), I had even less concern than usual.

"I'm giving you this letter, because I'm supposed to, but it doesn't really apply to you this year, does it?" he said, with a genuine smile on his face.

You see, friends, I got my dream job, and I will not be returning to my teaching position next year.  Upon the conclusion of this school year, I will start my first day with the job title "Stay At Home Mom."

I've mentioned in passing that J got a new job back in December.  That opportunity brought us the financial ability for me to give up my part-time work and stay home with my nugget full-time.  I decided to finish out the remainder of the school year, though, as I certainly do not want to burn any bridges here.  This position has been ideal over the past few years, and there may be a day when I'd like it back.  Also, my continued income throughout the first half of 2012 will put us in a good spot when that income ceases to exist in a few months.

My principal let me know that he is happy for me, and I believe that he is.  He also let me know that he'd be happy to have me back if that was ever something that I wanted, or that I could feel free to call on him if I'd like his help finding something else.

Suddenly, my palms aren't so sweaty and the nerves have subsided.  Now, I'm just happy.

July 1 marks my first day on the new job, and I couldn't be more excited.      

Time Change Blues

Walk with me down misery lane, won't you?

I hate the time change.  It's true.  While most people are rejoicing at the prospect of longer hours of daylight, I am whining about the darkness that greets me when I awaken.

It has been clearly established here that I am not a morning person.  A lack of sunshine in the mornings makes this worse.  Add in the fact that it's MONDAY- boo- and my first day back at work after an extended absence, and the morning is super craptastic.

I had to wake the nugget up, which is near the top of my list of reasons why being a working mother sucks.  AND it breaks rule number one in our house, which, in case you forgot, is NEVER WAKE A SLEEPING BABY.  I forgot to take my antibiotic, and forgot to give Gabe his Claritin.  I lingered too long at drop off (you know, since I didn't actually get to see the boy before work, him being asleep and all).  Lingering is never a good thing for me.  AND, I discovered that my countdown of days until the end of the school year was off, and I had to add a day. 

But to look on the bright side- trying to take care of a one-year-old while both parents are sick is a real treat.  You should try it sometime- NOT.  Work today will most certainly be easier than that.  And I'll have the afternoon at home with my boy, which we will be able to enjoy outside in the 70 + degree weather.

Okay, Monday whining over.  Much happier posts to follow this week, folks, I swear. 

Back To The Grind

Whew!  These past two weeks off have been a complete whirlwind.  Celebrating three Christmases and a New Year was thoroughly exhausting, and I now need a vacation from my vacation.  Alas, work has beckoned, and return, I must.

I left my little man with the sitter this morning.

I must say that aside from the craziness that the holidays inevitably bring, I simply adored soaking up every minute that I could with my little sweet pea.  (As did his extended family.)  Did I suck a blogging?  Yes.  Did I instead spend that time playing on the floor with my boy?  Yes.  Regrets?  Not so much.

But, since I have been neglecting you, dear readers, let me catch you up on the goings-on of late.

The Nugget: Since his ten month post, he has completely given up on baby food (the real stuff is so much better!), begun standing up while playing, dancing, watching TV, or any other time he pleases, taken one step unassisted, and officially spoken his first word.  Mama?  No.  Dada?  Not it, either.  What could it possibly be, you ask?  No.  That little ginger of mine just might turn out to be the feisty type that redheads are rumored to be.  His first official word is NO.   

The Husband: J began a new job.  An opportunity for bigger and better things came along, and J seized it.  We are very excited about good things to come.  And as a side note, the company has free soda for their employees- need change for the vending machine?  Not J.  Coolness.

The Wife: I have been busy holding down the fort, playing the role of stay-at-home-mom and loving every second of it.  (But that's no surprise to any of you.) 

I think that about covers it.  You're officially caught up.  And now that we're all settling back into our routines, post-vacation, I'll bring back my blogging A-game.  Bring it, 2012.

Magic Puffs

I've determined that no matter what is going on, no matter the sad baby face, no matter the situation, I have a magic trick to make my child happy.  It's the puffs.

We've tried the green puffs (collards, spinach, and kale), the red puffs (strawberry), the orange puffs (sweet potato), and the yellow puffs (banana).  The flavor matters not.  The boy loves him some puffs.

He's learned to recognize the container.  When he sees me pull it out of the pantry, his little feet kick, kick, kick.  Literal squeals of delight escape his mouth.  He is SO EXCITED about the puffs.

Turns out, this has not only made the nugget a happy boy, it's made me a happier mama.  Saturday, Aviator Tap House.  The parents want to sit on the patio and enjoy the beautiful afternoon while sipping a delicious beer.

THIS, folks, is why you need the big stroller.  There's a try for snacks.  Puffs.  YES!

Happy baby, happy mama.  Success.

Today Sucks

This school year I'm working a new calendar.  One that occasionally lets me "track out."  This means that I have a week off here and there, in exchange for working ever so slightly longer hours (i.e. quittin' time is now 12:10 instead of 11:45).

Last week, I was tracked out.  And it was wonderful.  I celebrated my anniversary, and then spent the rest of the week gloriously reveling in every moment that I  got to take care of that sweet child-o-mine.

Today I came back to work.  And it sucks.

Please don't judge me for pouting about having to work until noon each day, while still receiving sporadic weeks off.  The thing is, I don't want to leave the nugget on a daily basis, no matter how short the time.  No matter how great the babysitter.  No matter how quickly I am there to pick him up.  It kills me to say goodbye to him every morning, and I just don't wanna do it.

I am cut from the cloth of a stay-at-home-mama, but unfortunately, my bank account is holding me back, and just won't allow that to be a reality at the moment.

SO, anybody have any get-rich-quick schemes that they can recommend?  Because I could really use one right about now...

No?

Well then, back to work, I guess.  Sigh.
 

Mad Mama

Excuse me a moment while I irrationally vent about an inevitability of life.

The nugget had his 6-month well visit last Thursday.  All was well!  My chunk weighs 21lbs 2oz and is 27 1/4 inches long.  In case you're wondering, that would be the 94th and 75th percentile, respectively.  Yep, he's still a big 'un. 

He's healthy, happy, and developing right on schedule.  He is also now vaccinated against 3 more diseases.  Visit = success.

Fast forward to Sunday.  My baby is sick, having apparently caught the crud at his well visit.  Grrr.....

I know that this can't be helped.  The office has separate waiting rooms for the sick and well, so they do try and prevent contamination.  But germs are pesky little nuisances, and once you get behind the doors of the waiting room, we all co-mingle with those little bastards.

I get it.  It's a doctor's office.  That's life.

But I'm sad for my little guy.  He's doing an awful lot of coughing, and his nose is all stuffy.  I can hear the congestion rattling around in his chest and throat.  I wish there was a way to teach babies to clear their throats.  But as many times as I say "Ahem!" to Gabe, he just doesn't seem to get it.  (Kidding, of course.)

He's having a rough time sleeping, as I'm sure he's having a rough time breathing.  And there's just not a lot you can do for a baby with a cold!  Other than stay up half the night waiting for him to need you, and sleep fitfully the other half of the night.  Seriously, I dreamed about my sick kid when I did sleep last night.

My poor, sick baby.

Stupid well visit.

Vent over.

Hurricane's A Comin'

Since moving to North Carolina, I have gotten to experience a storm or two.  It used to be that when a storm was brewing, I ran to the store for this:

Now, I'm concerned with having this:

For these:

Ah, how times have changed.

In all seriousness, Irene is on her way.  We are far enough inland that we only expect some strong winds and heavy rains (wait...isn't that what a hurricane is?), but folks on our coast are looking at something a little more serious.

We're hunkering down, after a quick trip to the grocery store this morning.  And lest you all worry that I am no longer the (almost) ginger you know and love...beer is still on my shopping list.  ;)