Lessons of a Yankee Belle

Blogging when I should be showering

2011-09-26T11:31:00.003-04:00

Busy mom exhaustion has been put aside. In fact, the schedule has worked out pretty well here. 2.0 sleeps pretty much through the night, though that is done with careful planning and some luck. Winston still sleeps his 10 hours. So as much as I'd like to say I'm suffering, I'm not anymore. The first couple of weeks were definitely brutal, but 2.0 has made the transition pretty easy. I pay for this dearly, however. My sweet, sleeping child wakes up to be the meanest baby EVER. If he's not sleeping, he's screaming.

But he's pretty cute when he's sleeping.

His brother has been an angel. I say this now because he's not here. He's off with his Mammam for the morning, and I'm taking a few moments to reflect on just how well behaved Winston has been considering everything. He's genuinely curious about his little brother, but more interested in his brother's toys and toes. I periodically hear giggling and find him poking at the baby's feet.

As for me, other than the gut-wrenching loneliness, I'm fine. In fact, I'm doing really well! Class is back in session, which makes the time pass a little more quickly. I've lost all the baby weight. And yesterday I managed to take both kids out to have their photos taken at one of the local farms. WITHOUT a stroller. I am Supermom.

I so wish I had something poignant or important to say, but I really don't. I have read these amazing blogs people have put up about how much they love their kids and about how blessed they are. I know I'm blessed and I adore my kids, but I barely have enough time to process it. I get these very short, quiet moments where I look at one of them and get to appreciate how much I love them. This is not one of those moments, as 2.0 is insisting that I hold him, so he's strapped into the Moby again. Convenient when I need my hands back, but not when I need to shower and get dressed and maybe sneak down a meal. But he'll fall asleep against my chest and rope me back into the mommy love here shortly. He plays me like a fiddle.

Today's lesson: I think you appreciate the really beautiful moments more when you admit to yourself that not every mommy moment needs to happy and lovely.

Not what I wanted, but what I needed...

2011-08-21T14:27:00.004-04:00

On Thursday at 3 AM, my little one decided it was time to start making his entrance into this world. I woke up in labor, waited just long enough to make sure I wasn't crazy, and called my people. I went straight to big, long contractions, but they were in a weird pattern, so the nurses had me up and walking the halls and bouncing on the ball. I labored that way for 14 hours total before I made enough progress to get an epidural. 14 hours that I am extremely proud of.

I had the best anesthesiologist give me the world's easiest epidural, and waited. My progress was there, but was still just as slow. Add in my blood pressure tanking, and hours more of no progress, and things started to slide backward. After 22 hours, my very kind OB looked one more time, shook her head, and said, "You don't have to have the c-section, but I really don't think your body is going to let you go any further."

And she was right. She and I had both done everything in our power to get the labor as far as it could go. Turns out she was the perfect person to surrender to. She looked square at me and said, "I understand the anger and the disappointment. I'm an OB and I had c-sections, too. My job is to help women give birth and I couldn't do it the way my body was 'supposed' to. And you have to come to terms with it in your own time." I nodded and signed the forms and tuned out the world while I waited to be taken back.

In fact, I tuned out most of the time I was in surgery as well. My sister-in-law Michele gave me lots of space while it was going on, just close enough to let me know she was there but that she understood what I needed. 2.0 came into the world, we said hello, and he went off to the nursery. And instead of tagging along, Michele stayed with me. She had taken a few pictures and helped me email them to my husband while I was still on the operating table, which was just the distraction I needed at that point.

It went well. In fact, the whole thing went so well that I have had trouble feeling bad about it. The surgery was easy. I got tons of time afterward to pull myself together. The nurses settled me in, Michele went home to sleep, and three hours after his birth, the nurses brought me my son. All 8 pounds, 8 ounces of him.

See, once the doctor got in to take him out, she very bluntly said, "Your body could not have given birth to this baby. He is HUGE!" Apparently I grew a perfectly proportioned giant. Not at all chunky. My husband's family's genetics growing inside my teeny tiny frame.

I wish I could say it's been easy, but it hasn't. I still hurt. I'm still moving at a slow pace. We're still having feeding issues. But I'm ok. I actually got to try this time around, and I couldn't have asked for a better team to have around me. And my brand new son, who is laying here as I type, is the proof that God blessed me with what I needed.

Today's lesson: God doesn't always give you what you want. Then again, I think I got even better than I asked for: a wonderful family to support me, a truly kind set of doctors and nurses to get me through, and my beautiful little boy.

Why I love being pregnant in Virginia

2011-08-16T13:07:00.004-04:00

Here I am. Past my due date with very few signs that I will be giving birth to this baby anytime soon. The possibility of a c-section is looking like more of a promise. One of my doctors and I sat last week and talked about it, as things weren't looking particularly good. I told her some of the things I'd heard from people and read in scathing articles. She looked me in the eye and said, "I've heard it all. And I've heard worse. People are so mean to women when it comes to every aspect of birth and parenting, whether they had an option or not." And it's true. Very few people praise the woman who had a c-section instead of a "natural" birth. I feel like I will never dig my way out of the insults or guilt, even though I'm the idiot for letting it get to me.

But this is Virginia, and I am truly enjoying being pregnant here. No one rubs or pats my belly. Unthinkable! No questions about whether I will have an epidural or if I will breastfeed. I get lots of well-meaning advice, none of it with attitude. The sentiment I hear the most is, "You poor thing! That pregnant in August! And it's so HOT!" And when occasionally asked about being induced, I explain about my past c-section and that I have another one scheduled if the baby doesn't come on his own. The answer is the same every single time: "Bless your heart!" No rude comments about how evil or lazy I am for having a c-section. Because, trust me, I've had random strangers in other places say some really nasty things.

I've written about my "c-section guilt" before here. And I wrote it before someone made the worst comment I've ever heard in reference to my son's birth. "Well, if you had trouble getting pregnant and had to take fertility meds, and then couldn't give birth to your son without surgery, don't you think God might have been trying to tell you that you shouldn't have kids?"

At this point in my second and final pregnancy, I should be looking forward to the prospect of holding my son in my arms. But that comment eats at me still. It's the one thing that sticks in my head the most as I'm pregnant for what will be the last week ever. It shouldn't be that way. I should be happily washing baby clothes and spending the last moments I will have with it being just Winston and I. Instead, I spend a good deal of time sobbing and praying that things will go better.

But being here amongst some of the sweetest people I've ever known takes a little of the hurt away each time I hear them say, "Bless your heart!"

Today's lesson: You never know what unkind words will hurt someone the most. Then again, you never know when a few kind ones will lift someone up and make things a little bit more right.

Big Mama

2011-07-25T08:00:00.003-04:00

37 weeks, and I'm all of a sudden in a panic to get things done. Not to nest, necessarily, seeing as I still look at the laundry and the cleaning and groan. But I am anxious about making sure everything is set to go for Winston while I'm gone. Each time I think I've got it all together, I think of something else. He is packed. He will have food and clothes at his Mammam's house. I wrote out a Winston instruction manual during one period of paranoia. All the necessary phone numbers and addresses if he should get sick.

And then there are the other things, like making sure all the baby's electronics have batteries and that my camera is charged up so I can email pictures to my husband. That everyone necessary has my extra keys so that I don't miss paying any important bills that come in my mailbox and so the cat doesn't starve.

You know, I never nested with Winston. But maybe sheer panic is the only version of it I'm going to get. Shame, because I was really hoping I'd get the desire to clean my windows or organize my closets. At least the nursery is done.

I had the all important ultrasound last week to determine the size of the baby and to see what kind of shape everything is in. I'm now considered "high risk" so I get perks like extra ultrasounds. I tell you, 2.0 is one gorgeous little boy. He even has lots of hair. And the ultrasound held only good news. He is of medium size. He is in the right position for delivery. No cord around his neck like his wiggly brother. He's still a boy. Definitely a boy. No surprises when the day comes.

That's the mystery. When will the day come? With Winston, it never did. When I hit 41 weeks they had to force him out. But this baby is so different. Winston had the cord wrapped around his neck and tethering him in place, so he wasn't going anywhere. This baby is low and has nothing holding him back. I want it to be better this time. I'm terrified I'll go overdue and have to have another c-section. So until I go into labor (or don't), I feel high-strung and on edge. I'm lucky to have a wonderful team of doctors who take my paranoia in stride!

Until then, I'll just sit here and continue to bake.

Today's lesson: Nothing ever goes according to plan. But if you're like me, you'll drive yourself crazy hoping that it does.

The home stretch

2011-07-15T09:29:00.003-04:00

Here we are. The ninth month. The last four weeks of what will probably be the last time I will ever be pregnant. Though this pregnancy is one of those that's been so easy, I'd be ok having 5 more, but seeing as I refuse to drive a minivan, I'm going to have to stop now.

I wish I could say interesting things are going on, but I'd be lying. I'm not in school, Winston has been well-behaved, the apartment is completely unpacked. We have a pretty constant stream of doctor's appointments. Life pretty much revolves around food: getting enough calories into both of us. With my diabetes, I watch my carbs. And Winston, well, he won't eat meat. Except for bacon and fish. And I don't mean fish sticks. I mean he likes unbreaded, baked, healthy fish. Though I doubt his tastebuds sometimes, as he seems to crave cat litter as well.

The kid and I have had a lot to be grateful for as of late. He finally got his first word: more. Which brought "mama" right along with it. He appears not to have wanted to speak until he could use the words in the right context. I'm taking bets that the next word will be "no" because he hears it so often now that he's learned to climb the coffee table.

We've gotten a ton of help from family and friends. I'm to the point where I'm easily exhausted. My mom and sister came down to help out for a few days. My mother-in-law recommended her cleaning ladies, who have been a Godsend. She also went shopping for larger clothes for Winston and came back with 6 outfits, lunch for me, and fresh green beans from the market for dinner. My sister-in-law helped get the boy's haircut yesterday, which required Cheerio bribery and a headlock. I've had friends haul rocking chairs and bring my heavy groceries and crumb cake. I'm blessed with a good support network. I really moved to the right place.

Today I am packing my hospital bag and Winston's bag for his stay with his Mammam. I know that doing it early will jinx me, and I will go overdue again. I just know it. But it's one more thing to keep me busy and keep my mind off of how the next 28 days are going to drag.

Today's lesson: I know that when it comes to friends, quality is supposed to trump quantity. But there is something wonderful about having a ton of quality friends surrounding you when you need them!

(Note - Photos used with full permission of Rachel Brenke Photography www.rachelbrenke.com. She's one of my best friends, and she came out to do a mini-session with Sam and I a few weeks ago. I left her website on the photos because, well, I'm always up for plugging a friend's great work. If you live in the Killeen, TX area, I highly recommend her!)

I guess I should update

2011-06-24T21:19:00.003-04:00

I've been living in a world where I need 36 hours in each day. We've moved, and I'm a Valley girl again. I'm just now starting to get to know my way around town, seeing as it has grown so much in the past couple years that half the roads aren't in my GPS. Despite that and how busy I've been, living here has cut my stress level in half. I love it. I love being able to take Winston for a walk or to the playground. I love going to the store and having nice old men pull out carts for me. I love that my doctor, Winston's doctor, the pharmacy, the hospital, and my mother-in-law are all within 5 minutes of me. Winston loves being here, too, because my lack of stress means his life is more pleasant. He gets 100% of mommy's attention.

2.0 is baking nicely. I'm fighting gestational diabetes again, this time under a stricter doctor, so I really have to keep it under control. At 33 weeks, I feel less like a whale than I did last time. My doctor asked today how I managed to keep my blood pressure so low. "Well, a couple days ago I built a crib. Today I built a bookshelf. And by the end of the weekend I will have built a rocking chair. All while chasing a 16 month old." I know I'm supposed to take it easy, but that's not exactly an option these days. I'm on a deadline!

Soon enough I'll have two boys to care for. The thought kind of terrifies me. And the month after 2.0 is born, I start school again. I thought about waiting, but my favorite professor is teaching a class I really want to take. It's one of my degree electives, so I figure I can grind out 8 weeks worth of work with my prof's help. Just need to keep chipping away at that degree!

Well, it's time to start nudging my night own in the direction of his bed. I remember when I used to be a night owl...now I require as much sleep as a newborn, I swear.

Today's lesson: Sometimes being happy doesn't mean a bigger, fancier house. In my case, it means cutting the living space in half so that I can be back in a happy place.

Photo Challenge: Day 29

2011-03-05T09:09:00.001-05:00

"A picture that always makes you laugh."

This is a picture of my husband when he was a kid.

Why it always makes me laugh pretty much needs no explanation.

Photo Challenge: Day 28

2011-03-04T21:19:00.002-05:00

"A picture of something you're afraid of."

If you can't tell from this picture, I'm not particularly fond of the water. However, I know that some of the world's greatest things are seen in and on the water, so I try not to let it stop me.

I have snorkeled in the Bahamas (while wearing a life vest and staying no more than 15 feet from our boat). I rode on a choppy charter boat to the Greek island of Delos (though I was a sick shade of green the entire time). I have kayaked in oceans and rivers (the one water activity I love because I don't really get wet). I tried to surf in California (though that didn't go particuarly well). And, as shown in this photo, I took a tube down a river in Belize. This trip had a catch. The river went through a pitch black cave for twenty minutes. After I emerged, I couldn't find my husband and ran into a rock face. I was rescued by a group of Villanova kids on spring break, but scarred for life. Never again.

I don't know where my fear of the water comes from. I'm not a terrible swimmer. In fact, I'm a pretty good swimmer. I am equally afraid of rivers, lakes, oceans, and the deep end of the pool. I have nightmares about drowning. Despite this, I'm rather fond of boats. Though if I'd been on the Titanic without a lifeboat, I would have been one of the people clamoring for the tip top of the railing until the last possible second. Definitely not one of the ones who willingly jumped overboard. Crazy afraid of the water.

Photo Challenge: Day 27

2011-03-03T19:52:00.003-05:00

"A picture of yourself and a family member."

This is my mother. We are dressed up for Halloween, um, obviously.

You know, the last day of this challenge is supposed to be someone you miss. I thought about saving my mom for that day, but then I realized she's down here enough that I pretty much don't have a chance to miss her.

Since my son was born, my mother has hauled it back and forth from her state to mine more times than I can count. She was there for my baby shower, the birth, and a few weeks after to clean my house. She's given up many of her weekends to come give me a break. She works full-time and still manages to make it down here almost monthly to see her grandson. I know she loves me, but she is absolutely head over heels for Winston. And he loves her right back.

Not to mention she'll dress up like a wicked queen just to make him happy. Well, to make me happy, anyway. Now THAT is a grandma.

Photo Challenge: Day 26

2011-03-02T20:58:00.003-05:00

"A picture of something that means a lot to you."

This is one of three photos that my friend Joana took of a diorama. She had them beautifully matted and framed, and gave them to me as a baby shower gift.

Giving birth to the son of a career military man pretty much meant that my son's bedroom would have some kind of camouflage decor. In fact, my husband picked out the bedding and decorations. My friends and family got on board and helped add to the theme.

But this gift? It was immensely personal. It put a touch of sophistication in a room filled with tanks and camo covered teddy bears. I walk into my son's room and look at these everytime I get him out of bed. And I smile every single time because the gift means so much to me. I treasure this artwork.

Photo Challenge: Day 25

2011-03-01T16:15:00.004-05:00

"A picture of your day."

Winston and laundry. Actually, this is just like every other day, except I didn't really have a full load of laundry to do today. My son, confused by this, kept trying to start an empty load on his own. After he was nearly successful, I grabbed up what laundry we had and stuck it in there. Who am I to discourage a man from doing the laundry?

Photo Challenge: Day 24

2011-02-28T06:55:00.002-05:00

"A photo of something you wish you could change."

I'm not going to say this to scare all the pregnant moms out there. I'm going to say it because, for me, it was the truth.

My birth experience was a nightmare.

This is not the first picture of me holding my son. This is a full 24 hours after giving birth. I have a picture of me when I first got to hold him, and the look on my face says, "Get this thing off of me."

I had an emergency c-section. Which, let's face it, is pretty much the only end you should expect when you're overdue, not progressing, diabetic, and 21 hours into labor and still just about as dilated as the moment you walked into the hospital. At about 19 hours, my son went into distress. We rolled me over so I could labor on my side, but two hours later there was a rush of people and a quick trip to the OR.

I sobbed through the entire c-section. I was tired, pissed off, and scared out of my mind. When it was over, my husband followed our son to get cleaned up and I laid there and stared at the ceiling while the surgery was finishing up. I won't go into detail, but the recovery was hard and extremely painful. I had an unkind nurse on the day I was supposed to be discharged cause me some real emotional damage that has pretty much taken away any good memories I have of the amazing nurses I had during delivery and the first 48 hours after.

And it took weeks for me to feel human again. I remember going in for my 6 week checkup and the nurse telling me I could resume normal activity, and looking at her like she was insane. I'd have to say my son was probably four months old before I even started to get back to myself.

It's no one's fault. So many women get angry at their doctor or themselves or their child when they have to have a c-section. My son had wrapped himself up nice and cozy in his umbilical cord and was determined not to leave unless he was going to take some of my parts with him. But if I could change anything, it would have been that day. I wish I could have changed my experience with my son's birth. I pray this next one goes better.

Photo Challenge: Day 23

2011-02-27T14:22:00.002-05:00

"A picture of your favorite book."

So, I'm about to show my dorkiness. My favorite book changes quite often. I'm not one of those people who has one book that stands above all others as a favorite (barring religious literature, but that would pretty much be a given).

Right now I'm a little obsessed with this book, which I found on a Barnes and Noble clearance rack. So this sucker is actually out of print now. It's a huge book with tons of pictures that outlines the history and discoveries made by the Hubble Telescope. I got this book home the first night and was actually squealing as I looked at it. My husband, of course, thought I was nuts.

My next potential favorite books are sitting on my shelf, waiting for me to have time to read them. I'm sure that will be at some point after I graduate in two years. Life is too busy for reading right now.

Photo Challenge: Day 22

2011-02-26T16:48:00.003-05:00

"A picture of something you wish you were better at."

I have a bit of a bad attitude. Shocker, huh? The answer to today's challenge is pretty simple. I wish I could be better at being happy. Or friendly. I'm generally a grump. My poor husband. It takes a lot of work to make me smile. I honestly wish I had a more chipper personality.

It's not that I'm a depressed person or that I have complaints about my life. I have a GREAT life! But I'm a pessimist and a realist, and it paints every aspect of my personality. I think it would be refreshing, just for a day, to see through the eyes of an optimist.

Photo Challenge: Day 21

2011-02-25T03:19:00.002-05:00

"A picture of something you wish you could forget."

Oh, how I have been dreading this day of the challenge. A fellow blogger doing this challenge had the perfect answer in saying that she didn't keep pictures of things she wanted to forget. I wish I could say the same. This is actually the only picture I have left, and I found it in a random file on a backup a couple weeks ago. So I'll start with a quote from Under the Tuscan Sun.

"Do you want to know the most surprising thing about divorce? It doesn't actually kill you. Like a bullet to the heart or a head-on car wreck. It should. When someone you've promised to cherish till death do you part says 'I never loved you,' it should kill you instantly. You shouldn't have to wake up day after day after that, trying to understand how in the world you didn't know. The light just never went on, you know. I must have known, of course, but I was too scared to see the truth."

I have been divorced twice. You will never hear me talk about my first divorce, because it was honestly as civil as could be. I have nothing bad to say about my first marriage outside of the fact that we couldn't make it work and needed some time to grow up. And that's not a reflection on him or me. That's just the truth about our marriage, plain and simple.

My second divorce was a different story. It was like being hit by a train that I never saw coming. Once again, I have nothing bad to say about my ex. It doesn't matter what went wrong. It just did. And we're far different people away from each other. My reaction to the divorce and how I handled it emotionally is on my shoulders. I will, however, acknowledge that this divorce broke me. It pretty much left me cowering in a corner for months on end. Then I began going in multiple directions at once, trying to come up with a new plan that would fill the hole in my life.

I dated. I went back to school. I bought a house. I worked constantly. I ran at full speed once I could, only to hit a brick wall and fall flat on my rear. It was a fantastic fall, too. I came out completely wilted and entirely pathetic. I was afraid of my own shadow. The whole experience left me cautious and terrified, and I still carry some of those scars with me.

As much as I would love to forget that time in my life, I also know my life wouldn't be the same if I had been anything other than a broken woman. Because being screwed up led me to a chaplain, through whom I met the man who is now my husband (though that was a long way off and a longer story). And then this cautious girl got married on a crazy whim in a courthouse and moved away from her hometown. I'm grateful. I have a wonderful husband and a gorgeous son and another baby on the way. I'm in the right place now. I am blessed to have gotten here, no matter how bumpy the road.

Photo Challenge: Day 20

2011-02-24T07:03:00.002-05:00

"A picture of somewhere you'd love to travel."

This is Hawaii.

Actually, this is a picture I took while in Hawaii.

I want to go to Hawaii (again) because I'm convinced I did it wrong the last time. After a week in what was supposed to be paradise, I stepped back on a plane to freezing Michigan and swore never to go back to those stupid islands.

Let me explain. Jere and I, while we were dating, spent a week on Oahu. Jere had been there before, I obviously had not. I know we saw beautiful things. We had wonderful moments: a sunset cruise, a luau, a day at a nearly private beach. But if you ask me what I remember most about Hawaii, I'll tell you it was the traffic.

I have lived in Washington DC and Tampa. I have seen traffic piled up for hours on end on a consistent basis. But we spent probably 15% of our time in Hawaii stuck in traffic. So other than the few nice moments we had on our vacation, I still fail to see what all the fuss is about.

Jere, on the other hand, still names it as his favorite place to go. And I am determined to go back and see what he sees. Maybe try a different island. Or even a different hotel. Because as of now, I just don't get it.

Photo Challenge: Day 19

2011-02-23T10:02:00.002-05:00

"A picture of you when you were little."

Uh, I don't know the story behind this. Hubby and I are in the process of packing and moving, so I dug in my photos and grabbed the first one I could find. I will say those are some awesome Mickey Mouse earrings I'm sporting here.

Beyond the age of 6, there aren't quite as many photos of me in existence. Once my sister was born, I preferred to be behind the camera. Over 20 years later, it's still that way.

Photo Challenge: Day 18

2011-02-22T11:11:00.002-05:00

"A picture of your biggest insecurity."

In this photo (taken in 2007), I weighed more than I did during my 9th month of pregnancy. I was uncomfortable in my clothes and miserable in my own skin.

When Jerry left for deployment in 2008, I was determined to lose weight for the sake of fertility. I read book after book that said the first step to good fertility is diet and a healthy weight. And I took the challenge seriously and lost over 30 pounds.

I was eager to show it off when Jerry got home. But my plan worked too well, and I became immediately pregnant with Winston. And put on all the weight I'd lost. I got out of the hospital after giving birth and would stand in front of the mirror and sob.

So as soon as the doctor said I was well enough, I started exercising and lost all my Winston weight. I got back into my old jeans. And I got pregnant again.

My biggest insecurity is that I will look like this forever. Which is ridiculous, because I haven't looked anything like this since I lost 30 pounds the first time. My face is thinner, my legs are more toned, my shape is smaller. Even at 9 months pregnant I looked like I was healthier than I was in this picture. And I know it's true. This pregnancy, I'm obsessed with my weight. I am determined to keep moving and cut out junk and only gain what I am supposed to. It's hard work already, and it still makes me hurt to watch the numbers on the scale increase. I don't need the lecture about weight gain being healthy during pregnancy. I know that. I eat more. I eat better. But it doesn't make watching the scale any easier when my weight moves away from the magical number I worked so hard to get to!

Photo Challenge: Day 17

2011-02-21T11:22:00.002-05:00

"A picture of something that has made a huge impact on your life recently."

Well, this was sort of an easy one. The week before Christmas, I found out that Jere and I are expecting baby #2. I thought getting pregnant with Sam as easily as I did was a fluke. Two cycles of metformin later, this happened.

I'm 15 weeks along now, and more petrified for this baby than I ever was when I was pregnant with Sam. My husband will be deploying before I'm due, and won't be coming home for the birth. That's not the part that worries me. It's not like he played a particularly active role in the last birth. The part that worries me is trying to take care of a 1 year old and a newborn. And if things go badly like they did last time, that will mean a c-section and being off my game for weeks.

Of particular concern is finding a new OB and making the switch to all new doctors. There's a lot of paperwork and waiting to be done in a situation that is not friendly with time. That's what has me waking up in a panic at night.

I am thankful my friend Sara called this morning to assure me that she'll be there to drive me to the hospital, which is an hour away. I'm even more thankful that she said she wasn't just dropping me off at the door and waving goodbye. I have backup. I have someone to take Sam for a bit. Everything is good.

Photo Challenge: Day 16

2011-02-20T12:45:00.003-05:00

"A picture of someone who inspires you."

I regret to inform you that I am about to get sappy.

My son inspires me. No, not in the normal way. He hasn't struggled through challenges. He hasn't had to overcome a whole lot of adversity. I don't look at him and see the model of who I want to be.

Instead, I look at my son and realize that I want to be the one who inspires him. I want to be the one he looks up to. Hopefully he will look at me someday and see a person that he wants to be like. Or maybe he'll see in me the things he wants to look for in a wife and the mother of his own children.

My son inspires me by making me want to be better for his sake. And that's pretty powerful motivation.

Photo Challenge: Day 15

2011-02-19T13:38:00.003-05:00

"A picture of something you want to do before you die."

I want to graduate so bad that it drives me crazy. The fact that I'm a 27 year old junior is partly my fault, partly the Army's fault. My fault because I've chosen to be a wife instead of a student, which is a fine choice unless graduating college is one of your goals. Then it's just counterproductive. I've given up scholarships and acceptances to get married. I don't regret the decisions, really, I'm just frustrated now that I'm still dragging myself through school.

When I married Jere, I wanted to go back to school. We were moving to DC, and I dropped an application in to George Mason, who wrote back that they would be happy to have me. When I found out we wouldn't be staying in DC long enough for me to graduate, I declined and applied to the next stop on our tour of duty: University of Virginia. They also wrote me a very nice letter inviting me to go to school. Which is about the time my husband called and said we were moving to Florida. So I dropped a little application down to University of South Florida, who sent me a letter with a hint of begging (they're happy to take students who aren't looking for a 4 year spring break experience). And then Jere's orders were written up, and they didn't include me, which means they wanted him to move to Florida and me to stay in Virginia. This didn't make a big difference to us, because I moved into off-base housing down here. But it meant that I was no longer eligible for in-state tuition in Florida since it was a "temporary" assignment. And then I got pregnant and I forgot all about it.

A few months later, I was emailing a military friend of ours, who suggested my husband take a look at American Military University for a second Master's. I looked with him. I've looked at online schools before, but seeing as I don't want to major in business or psychology, it was never really an option for me. But AMU had a Space Studies program listed in their catalog. I applied, I waited for my credits to be analyzed, and knew it was the right choice when they accepted every single one of my past credits as electives, making me an automatic junior. I started my first class the week before Sam was born. I've been there a year now, and I'm 10 classes away from my BS in Space Studies. What has been wonderful is that the classes are on a rotating schedule to accommodate the military lifestyle. You don't have to be in the military to attend, but it's designed to prepare students for careers in the defense community. It meant that I could take a month off in August to go to Alaska. It means that I can take a month or two off this coming year to have baby #2. And if, for some reason, I have some unforseen circumstance, I can get a 120 day extension in a class. This is handy if my husband ever walks in and says, "How do you feel about moving to Korea?"

So I'm plugging away at it, one class at a time. Despite what you might think of online schools, I've been more challenged at AMU than I ever was when I actually commuted to a bricks and mortar college. I just hyperventilated through a physics final that left me in a cold sweat. It's hard work, and I joke with some of my professors about trying to sneak in homework between dirty diapers and chasing my son out of the cat's food. Because we all live real lives, and my peers, advisors, and instructors realize that time management means something different for everyone.

I'm a little terrified to continue classes with Jere gone and the new baby coming, but I'm determined to struggle through at least at half pace. Just have to keep moving forward...

Photo Challenge: Day 14

2011-02-18T15:43:00.002-05:00

"A picture of someone you could never imagine your life without."

This is true friend love. I think she looks amazing in this picture, but I look like, well, a happy sleeping marshmallow in a dress. I actually gave her fair warning that there would be a picture of her on my blog, and asked if she'd like to pick the photo. She was going to send me one, but I know she is currently holed up at her eye appointment, blind and stranded. So this will have to do.

I couldn't imagine my life without Rachel. She's usually the first person I "talk" to in the morning (via text) and the last person I'm emailing at 11 o'clock at night. She's another one of my Army wife friends who I see only when our paths happen to cross. Or when she's sick with a barking cough, trying to deal with base housing and calling me on the phone to scream that there's a mouse and the toilet is flooding and she's losing her mind. That's when I jump on the first flight out so that I can entertain a kid and make sure everyone gets fed.

Rachel and I went through pregnancy together (her second, my first). Her daughter and my son are a month apart in age. Even from hundreds of miles away, it was a bonding experience. She's also the reason I decided to go back to school last year a week before I gave birth. I'm not sure if I should thank her for that one yet, but her encouragement has helped me power through most of my junior level courses.

I could go into all the amazing things that Rachel has done. Anyone who knows her is aware that she has more energy, spark, passion, and drive than 5 people combined. She hasn't had it easy, and has worked very hard to get where she is. But in reality, those amazing things are not why she's my friend. I admire her for them, don't ever get me wrong. But she's far more than the things that she's overcome.

Why is she my friend?

-She is the busiest person I know, but she's the first one to send a card or gift or even just an email when things are rough. Or boring.
-Her husband is coming home on R&R in two weeks. The most driven, decisive woman I know has been reduced to panic about what to wear to the airport and has been asking me for advice, knowing full well that I live in pajamas.
-We went to see Twilight a couple years ago at the base theater on Quantico. She got startled by a part of the movie and screamed loud enough that the entire audience turned to look.
-She entertained me, via text, through Sam's whole delivery. All 21 hours of it up to the point where I went in for the c-section.
-One day, her little boy (I think he was 4) sprayed a mean old lady with a hose during a church charity bike build. She took him into the house, scolding him on the way like most moms would, stopped once she got inside the door, turned away from her son, and laughed so hard she cried.
-She never once hid the bad side of pregnancy from me. When we went through the bad parts, we went through them together.
-Rachel is always put together. Her hair is always right, she looks crisp and ironed and always has the perfect accessories. Even though she doesn't think so.
-She will always break whatever diet she's on if we happen to be able to get together near a Bonefish Grill. Because sharing two or three full servings of Bang Bang Shrimp is tradition.

There is so much more of our friendship that can't be covered by a single blog. I won't even try. But I couldn't begin to imagine my life without her.

Photo Challenge: Day 13

2011-02-17T04:40:00.003-05:00

"A picture of your favorite band or artist."

This is the last concert I went to. Ok, so it was the Sugarland concert, but Matt Nathanson was the opening act. I'd heard his music before the concert, and loved him more once he stepped on the stage.

I used to be a huge music person. I would get passionate about bands and singers, and there was always music around my house. These days, I listen mostly in the car and in the kitchen, thanks to my trusty iPod. And Matt Nathanson is the artist I listen to most consistently. I just plain enjoy the music.

I bought the album "Some Mad Hope" while I was pregnant with Sam and it was always on repeat. Let me tell you, kids recognize the music they've heard in the womb after they're born. Sam loves his music, too. Sometimes it's the only way to calm the savage beast.

Photo Challenge: Day 12

2011-02-16T08:51:00.003-05:00

"A picture of something you love."

Yes, I love the kid. But the kid is not the something I love in this particular instance, though he's part of it. What you can't tell in this picture is that Winston is shoveling Burger King hashbrown into his mouth.

I love breakfast with my son. 90% of the time, he wakes up cheerful and happy. There is not a day in my entire life that I have woken up that way, so it's always refreshing to see his smiling face when I stumble into his room at 8 AM. Or 4 AM, as it has been recently.

Breakfast is the least combative meal of our day. Lunchtime is spent battling the sippy cup and trying new foods and learning to ask for more. Dinner is with his dad, and I know that's generally a mess. But breakfast is a constant in our house. It's always milk, oatmeal, and fruit. This morning, it involves a few hash browns because I'm pregnant and I wanted to grab BK on the way home from dropping off the car for service. No one throw a mommy cow. He's already had all his healthy food.

But this is the most pleasant time of day. That's why it's the something I love.

Photo Challenge: Day 11

2011-02-15T10:35:00.003-05:00

"A picture of something you hate."

Ok. So I'm guessing the point of this photo challenge thing is to come up with deep, thoughtful answers. But when discussing something I hate, olives are the first thing to come to mind. I'm pregnant. I have a one track mind about food. And I hate olives. That is all.

Photo Challenge: Day 10

2011-02-14T05:22:00.003-05:00

"A picture of the person you do the most messed up things with."

This turned out to be another case of a "what picture won't she kill me for" conundrum. Because when you do messed up things with someone, you end up with a lot of pictures. My first choice was of her on a horse, wearing a stolen cowboy hat and giving a thumbs up, but I know she wouldn't have been a fan of it. Instead, I chose one of the few shots I have of her wedding that doesn't involve her bachelorette party.

Anyhow, this is Kelli. And when I saw the challenge today, I didn't even have to think about it. We knew each other from high school, but have only been friends since sometime around 2006. From that point on, the party hasn't stopped. Our acts of insanity include, but are not limited to:

-A weekend in the sticks with our friend Stina, during which we decided to go horseback riding. It poured the entire time.

-Drunken Scattergories.

-Ridding her apartment of a certain piece of man furniture (her husband's shopping cart chair).

-Fishbowls and dancing at our favorite bar.

-Corralling drunk groomsmen into my rented car after her wedding and praying they could hold their liquor.

-Many other acts that are far wilder, but not fit for public consumption.

Sadly, I haven't seen Kelli since her wedding. Actually, I was 5 months pregnant with Sam at her wedding, and moved down the aisle a bit like a barge. But we stay in contact through the wonder of Facebook. I recently called her at 7 in the morning, seeing as she's the only friend I know is up at that time. I never call. We're email people. So when I called, she answered, "You're pregnant, aren't you?" Well, yeah. And the early riser got to be the first to know. Before my husband. Before my mother. As soon as the stick said positive.

So the crazy has mellowed a bit, seeing as we've gotten a little older. But we still have a fantastic time!

Photo Challenge: Day 9

2011-02-13T18:22:00.004-05:00

"A picture of the person who has gotten you through the most."

I can't even explain how long it took for me to find this photo. There are other pictures of us floating around, but they either involved drunken karaoke, drunken karaoke, or pregnancy. I don't think she'll kill me for posting this one since it's now 7 years old. Though I think she might kill me for posting sappy crap about her.

This is my friend Sara. You will not find any recent pictures of me and Sara because the military has stationed our husbands on opposite sides of the country. The last time I saw Sara, she was pregnant with her first baby. And now her second baby is coming up on his first birthday in a couple of months. Our pregnancies have kept us from visiting one another, but that's what military wives do when their husband is home: breed.

Without going into too many details, Sara has dragged me through a lot. There was my first ever deployment, during which she used to come over on her work breaks just to make sure I was still alive. There was my second divorce, which was a nightmare. She dragged her butt all the way to DC after I got married to Jere, just so we could tour the city and visit. She remains one of the few who has ever made the effort to come my way. Then, when she was pregnant with her daughter, Jere was deployed and I was in the middle of infertility treatments, and she would moan about some aspect of her pregnancy, then add on, "Just you wait. You're next. And then I am going to laugh at YOU!" She was right. I was next. And she did laugh at me!

Most importantly, Sara sees me through my bad mom moments. You know, the ones where my kid is screaming at the top of his lungs and I've had no sleep, so I stick him in his crib, shut the door, and rock myself in a corner while I listen? You can bet that Sara's on the phone telling me that it has to stop sometime and that letting him cry it out when I've reached my end is the right move. She corrals her two children in the background while I cry about mine.

What's the best part of this? It's that Sara and I, thanks to the generosity of our husbands, get to live in the same city for a WHOLE YEAR starting in a couple of months. Just when I think she can't possibly have anymore to give, she offered to come to the hospital for the birth of my next child. Not all friends would volunteer for that one, but she's on board...on one condition. "If they ask me to hold your leg while you push, that's where I draw the line."

Photo Challenge: Day 8

2011-02-12T10:32:00.003-05:00

"A picture that makes you laugh."

This picture is from the cruise we took during Jere's R&R in 2008. We had closed down the bar, and that is a purple martini in my hand. I am screaming drunk and trying desperately to navigate stairs in heels without spilling that precious purple drink on my swishy dress.

Why does this make me laugh? Well, because at this point, I hadn't seen my husband in 6 months, and he was laughing while he was taking this picture. And the twenty other pictures he took of me trying to get back to our room with that drink. It's the cruise we almost missed because his flights got changed, which resulted in me hauling my tail down to Atlanta at top speed to go get him so we could drive to the cruise port on time. This is also the cruise where I refused to get in the water, seeing as during the last cruise my husband tried to drown me in both the Gulf of Mexico and a river in Belize. He snorkeled while I sunned. He swam while I took photos. The whole cruise was hilarious. That's what makes me laugh.

Photo Challenge: Day 7

2011-02-11T06:07:00.003-05:00

"A picture of your most treasured item."

Ok. So the baby is not my most treasured item. The most treasured item I own is what that baby is asleep in.

Winston's jumperoo is my lifesaver. We received it as a gift from one of Jerry's Army buddies. I want to hug him. As you can see, he used to bounce himself to sleep when he was little. Now he just bounces himself sleepy. What is wonderful about this living room space devouring device is not that I could stick him in it for hours at a time and leave him there. No, I'm not that mom, though I have gratefully sat him in it and fallen asleep on the floor next to him for 15 minutes when desperate.

Nope. The most wonderful thing about the jumperoo is, now that he's older, I can stick him in it for 45 seconds so I can pee. If I don't contain him, he will, in the time it takes me to even walk to the bathroom, have spilled the cat's water, eaten her food, pulled all the sponges out of the cupboard, and opened a drawer for the purpose of taking out all my ice cube trays and flinging them across the room.

Unfortunately, he is only about a pound and a half away from outgrowing it. Then I'm in trouble.

Photo Challenge: Day 6

2011-02-10T13:16:00.002-05:00

"A picture of a person you'd love to trade places with for a day."

This is my husband, and I believe he's on the deck of the USS Drum in this photo. We've toured so many ships that I've completely lost track.

There are some obvious reasons I'd like to trade places with my husband. I would love to leave the house and go to a job that I enjoy each weekday (even on the days it sucks). I'd love to be tall enough to reach high shelves. I'd love a day where my hair would look fine after just washing it.

But there are other reasons. My husband has a zest for life that few possess. He tends to be carefree and spontaneous, while still living within the realm of the well-reasoned and practical. He has seemingly endless energy and can remember facts and names and dates like no one I've ever met.

Then again, if we traded places for a day, I'd have to put up with myself for 24 straight hours. Maybe I'm not willing to trade...

Photo Challenge: Day 5

2011-02-09T07:56:00.003-05:00

"A picture of your favorite memory."

You know, I'm pretty sure that, as a wife and mother, my favorite memory should have something to do with my husband or son. And I looked at some of those pictures and thought about it. They're good memories, most of them. But I always glance at the picture and remember what was going on behind the camera, and sticks in my mind more than the happy moment. My wedding day was, well, lackluster and slightly odd. My favorite vacation photo of my husband and I was while he was on R&R from his last deployment. I found out I was pregnant with my son while on vacation in Rome and was desperately sick. They're great memories. But as I said earlier, I have trouble defining myself by motherhood, and choosing one favorite moment with my son would be pretty difficult.

This photo is of me in Istanbul. Right before this, I'd had lunch in a Turkish cafe and fallen asleep at the table from jet lag. I had just finished touring the mosque you see behind me. What you can't see is that it is insanely cold and windy. The skies opened up with freezing rain about 15 minutes after this. And it was one of the happiest moments of my life.

Before I went to Turkey, I'd never been further out of the country than Canada. I had no concept of "foreign." Even being in Turkey for a day before this was taken didn't make me feel like I'd really gone anywhere, seeing as everyone spoke English. I had spent months learning basic Turkish on my iPod while riding the metro and driving to the grocery store, and I hadn't gotten to use it. But this was the moment that I felt like I was somewhere else.

I have, of course, learned some things about travel since then. Layers are important. And the only words you need to know are for coffee, shopping, and it helps to know how the locals toast. The last one being very, very important down the road for the amount of beer I drank in Ireland.

Photo Challenge: Day 4

2011-02-08T04:32:00.003-05:00

"A picture of your night."

Unh. This post isn't easy to write. Why? Because that green light in the background of this photo is my clock, and it says 4:24. Yeah, AM.

Lately, my son has been getting up at this time every single night. He will probably stay awake until somewhere around 6. This is the only time of day you will see this mommy give in to the call of Baby Einstein. Winston is full of energy when he wakes up, and I don't have the energy at this time of night/day to keep up with him.

What terrifies me about this is the fact that we'll be putting away the bottles this week, which means any chance of him going back to bed easily during these wake ups disappears. Somehow, a sippy cup does not have the same comforting effect. He just doesn't seem to get enough food during the day yet, and wakes up for 6 ounces of formula during the night. The formula disappears this week, too. He likes milk, so I'm not too worried about that one.

It just seems that we are expected to flip a switch when he turns one. No more bottles. No more formula. More solid foods. He should be saying "this many" words. Our pediatrician already gives me dirty looks, so I'm dreading his 12 month appointment. How do I explain to her that even if he's not quite up to speed in certain areas, he's still leaps and bounds in front of other kids in his MacGyver skills? He's perceptive and quick and can find the tiniest gap through which to escape into the kitchen. I see the evil genius in my kid.

See? I don't just get up with him at night. It's the time when I worry. And that's my night.

Photo Challenge: Day 3

2011-02-07T06:41:00.005-05:00

"A picture of the cast from your favorite show."

So...this one might be a surprise for those of you who read earlier that I know I can't cook. The gorgeous lady on the right is Nigella Lawson, and she has a number of cooking shows.

Why on Earth would I, someone who struggles with weight on a near constant basis, subject myself to a cooking show that is far from lowfat? Because Nigella is human. Watching her eat anything is, pardon me, a near erotic experience. She's buxom and curvy and just about the sexiest woman alive (and my husband would agree). Even when I am having a knock-down drag-out with my scale, I can watch her and be reminded that food is something to enjoy and savor. After catching her show, I am more able to then turn around and lusciously devour my next meal. It may be sugar free chocolate pudding, but I'm darn well going to lick the lid.

I love food. I will moan over a good dish at a restaurant if I let myself eat without guilt. I have the same reaction over a bowl of hot buttered noodles or a spoonful of Nutella. Sometimes I just need to be reminded that getting to enjoy really fantastic food means I'm never going to be rid of those last 10 pounds. But those pounds are WORTH IT because food is one of life's greatest joys. Nigella reminds me of that.

(Now that I have written an entire post about food at 6 in the morning, I think I'm off to make some noodles)

Photo Challenge: Day 2

2011-02-06T12:34:00.002-05:00

"A picture of you and the person you have been close with for the longest."

This is my baby sister. She just turned 21 this past week, and I got to buy her first legal drink. There's no prouder moment in a big sister's life, I swear. This kid has been everywhere with me. Together we've snorkeled in the Bahamas, shopped in a Mexican market, gotten lost in Venice, sipped orange Fanta in Bosnia, relaxed on a boat in Croatia, seen every ruin in Greece, and gone on a wild hunt for the best gelateria in Rome. She was the first to know when I was pregnant with Winston (and the first to induce morning sickness by ordering pizza). She's my polar opposite. She's bright and happy and fun and social. We're close even though we live 1000 miles apart. My son adores her when she comes to visit. She's here right now, chilling out with him in the living room while I get ready to go down for an afternoon nap. She's a good kid.

Photo Challenge: Day 1

2011-02-05T07:37:00.004-05:00

So a blogger friend of mine has been doing this neat little project on her blog, and I'm stealing it. I have been so impressed by the pictures she's posting and the topics she's writing about that I have to do it. Plus, I can't talk about being fat and pregnant all the time.

If you want to see a list of the 30 topics, I recommend popping over to her blog. I, on the other hand, am going to jump right in.

"A photo of yourself with 15 facts."

1. This is a photo of me in Berlin in 2008. I am standing across the street from the Russian War Memorial, and that is Brandenburg Gate in the background.

2. Despite the fact that, since this photo was taken, I've become a mother and I'm pregnant with baby #2, if you ask me who I am, this photo shows you the answer. Not everyone is changed in the same way by having kids, and it is a constant source of guilt for me. I am not one of those women who is defined by motherhood.

3. I am desperately jealous of those women are defined by motherhood. Despite the fact that I'm not motherly, I desperately wish I was. However, each time I doubt my mothering skills, I'm reminded that having a military husband sometimes means I have to be mother and father, and that my sturdiness and surliness make me a strong mother. It makes up for the fact that I'm not a cuddly mom.

4. I don't like having my nose touched.

5. I'm a college student. And when people ask what I plan to do when I graduate, I laugh. I have no plans to work, but I love to learn.

6. I can't cook. I have an ex-husband who will tell you that's a lie, but his opinion is based on fried chicken alone. My current husband will cringe in fear if I tell him I'm cooking dinner.

7. Despite not having the cooking gene, I got some random, recessive baking gene. I'm constantly asked for my chocolate chip cookie recipe, and tell people to look on the back of a bag of Nestle chocolate chips. I can't tell you why they're so good.

8. My son has a nanny. She's only here once a week most of the time. I have taken more heat for having a nanny than I ever thought possible. Despite the fact that my friends or "friends" have said terrible things to me about hiring someone, she is the best decision I ever made. And you know what I do most often when she's here? I either sleep or I sit in bed and stare at the wall. I feel like I am a better mom to Sam when I emerge from 8 straight hours of solitude.

9. I miss traveling. I miss it so much that we stuck our son with us on a plane to Philadelphia for a long weekend. My son, however, does not like travel quiet yet. So I'm stuck at home for a few more years.

10. I know you're not supposed to wish your kids' lives away. But I am excited for the days when my kids are old enough to learn about the world. I intend on homeschooling them so I can drag them wherever we go. Want to learn about the WW I or classical composers or a volcano? Let's get on a plane!

11. Bacon is quite possibly the world's greatest food.

12. I married my husband after only meeting him a few times. I've been told that's crazy, but there's nothing crazy about marrying someone you genuinely like being around for practical reasons. It's been almost 4 years, and we have such a comfortable marriage. Being married to one another is really easy for us. He honestly is my best friend.

13. Despite being the anti-mom, I am really enjoying this stage of my son's life. He's a speed demon and constantly on the go, so I'm exhausted, but I spend a great deal of time laughing at the things he does despite the mess.

14. I really want Little Debbie cakes right now. And pudding.

15. I'm writing this at 7 in the morning, and have every intention of going back to sleep now.

First glimpse

2011-02-03T23:55:00.002-05:00

Due to some scheduling issues, we finally got to hear the baby's heartbeat today during our first ultrasound. At 13 weeks, the due date is now "official" and we learned our new daughter or son is healthy. And is the only one in there.

My local hospital here does not accomodate VBAC's, and at my inital appointment, I was not given any option of how I would deliver when I spoke to the nurse practitioner. I knew this wasn't a problem, as I am not going to be delivering here. I know the place we're going is probably going to let me try, but I'm prepared for a battle. Today, however, I got to see one of the practice's doctors for my ultrasound and other routine stuff. Knowing the practice's policy on VBAC, I was shocked when she asked what my plans were for the birth. She explained about VBAC bans, and since she knows we're moving, she wasn't sure what policy I was going to run into. I told her that there is no ban where I'm going, but that I'd do what my doctor there was most comfortable with as long as they had a good reason for that decision. And she said, "But what are YOU comfortable with?" I said since Jerry will be gone and I will still have to take care of Winston, a VBAC was my ideal wish. And she gave me her blessing. I knew what I wanted before she asked, but having her tell me that there was nothing to be concerned about gave me the extra confidence I needed in my decision. Obviously, she reminded me about the problems with Sam's delivery and explained the situation may occur again, but that there was certainly no harm in trying. I'm ready now.

Conversations from today -

Doc: "You're measuring a little big. Are you sure about the date you gave us?"

Me: "Yes. We were trying, so I kept close track."

Husband: "Maybe it's twins!"

Doc: "Don't say that! Look at her! Just saying it made her break out in a sweat!"

(Note: I was measuring big. The baby, once we got up the ultrasound, was exactly on track.)

Doc: "There's the head, and there's the body."

Husband: "Looks like an oyster to me."

Doc: "Huh. What do you know? It kind of does!"

Husband: *looks at the monitor while we're waiting*

Husband: "Wonder if we can get the news on that thing."

*After sending the ultrasound picture to husband's coworkers*

Coworker 1: "Is the baby throwing up a peace sign in the middle pic? That is impressive."

Coworker 2: "Obviously, a very talented child."

Today's lesson: The first few weeks of pregnancy can be spent in fear. But it is amazing how just one look can wipe your worries away.

Cravings

2011-01-30T20:26:00.004-05:00

The past four weeks have been full of exciting pregnancy cravings. There has been, of course, the requisite pickles and ice cream, grilled cheese sandwiches with mayo, toast with more butter than the human heart can handle, French fries, meatballs, and so many more. Two nights ago, I sent my husband out at 10:30 at night for egg drop and wonton soup. I ate the egg drop, and planned on eating the wonton the next day. So yesterday, I walked into the kitchen and made a beeline for the wonton soup in the fridge, only to find hubby finishing off the last of an entire quart of it. Needless to say, he soon found himself back at the Chinese takeout to replace the soup.

As you might be able to tell, I am of the belief that men have two jobs during pregnancy: foot rubbing and craving fulfillment. My husband is a pro at both, as he has generally acknowledged that he certainly does not envy MY jobs during pregnancy. This is the wonderful man who shows up with brownies and sugar free pudding cups, and knows to call me before he heads home each day to see if there is something I can't live without. Because if he doesn't call me, I'm likely to email him at work in a panic because I have to have salt and vinegar potato chips NOW!

But tonight I was faced with a dilemma. Facebook is quite often a source for craving ideas, as many of my friends are pregnant and we share what we're eating with the online world. This time, however, it was one of my guy friends who mentioned cheese yesterday evening. I thought, "Hm, I could really go for some colby jack, but it's 11 o'clock at night. It can wait until Monday." Except it couldn't. The craving grew from wanting colby jack to craving a full fruit and cheese platter with all of my favorite things.

My husband, talented as he may be at craving fulfillment, blinked at me when I said I wanted cheese. He does not have the cheese knowledge that was needed for this particular yen. I awoke from a nap this afternoon, half-conscious and crazy eyed, and knew I NEEDED cheese. I threw on jeans and a sweater and headed for the door. Jerry once again blinked. He did not understand this concept of me leaving the house to get what I was craving. He was used to doing it for me, and I almost think I messed with his comfort zone a little. But, good husband that he is, he moved his car out of the way and laughed as I set out on my pilgrimage.

Publix was heaven this late at night. I wandered the aisles with my basket and pondered the combinations. First was colby jack and swiss, the store brand because they're not bad and Sam likes them. Off to find crackers. Through the produce section for grapes, strawberries, and an orange (the orange had nothing to do with the cheese, but I wanted it anyway). Then off on a tangent for fruity sparkling water, seeing as I usually have wine with cheese and that's not really an option. And then I focused my attention on the happiest place in the store: the cheese fridge by the deli, where I grabbed some brie and chevre along with some fruit spread. $45 later, I made my way home and gorged myself on my acquisitions. I am full and happy, and probably just put on 5 pounds. It's the best feeling.

(Note: Before the pregnancy police read this and have a fit, everything was made with pasteurized milk. This is the US, people. We have laws here that keep us away from all the fun food. Getting the real stuff involves either a local dairy or a trip to France, and since I went to neither tonight, berating my choice of haute pregnancy cuisine is unnecessary.)

Today's lesson: Food is powerful motivation. Pregnancy hormones are even more powerful motivation.

If you give a kid a cookie...

2011-01-10T09:09:00.004-05:00

Ok, I totally did not GIVE my kid this cookie. He walked over to a plate of them and STOLE it.

My husband does not grasp the concept of keeping things out of reach.

Of course, I went to go after the cookie, but I just couldn't bear to take it away from him.

As his mother, I worry about sugar and fat and putting crap into his adorable little tummy.

Then again...

...I think only a few crumbs actually made it into that tummy!

Today's lesson: If you give a kid a cookie, you're going to have to get out the carpet cleaner.

Another peaceful Christmas, with some extra thankfulness

2011-01-01T20:53:00.005-05:00

My aunt was in a car accident a few weeks ago. One of those car flying through the air monstrocities that left her Jeep totalled and sent me running to my car with an overnight bag while screaming Winston's care instructions to my husband as I pulled out of the driveway. I spent the evening hunting the vending machines for the Sprite she was craving, ordering takeout with the IMCU staff, making all the necessary phone calls to my family, and joining the 3 AM pilgrimage the nurses made to the surgical ward, where they had the "good coffee." And I was grateful that I got to be close by.

But I'm mostly grateful for this, a few weeks later:

Then, of course, there was this little surprise...

Anyhow, Christmas was exhausting, but quiet and sweet. My son has inherited the Christmas Scrooge gene from me and his father. He wanted nothing to do with presents. In fact, he kept escaping into the kitchen to play with the Mountain Dew bottles on the tile floor. And in the end, we gave up, let him play, and enjoyed opening our gifts. It was a beautiful, fun, memorable first Christmas for our son.

Today's Lesson: You can lead a kid to toys, but you can't make him play. Or focus on what you think he's supposed to be doing, for that matter.

The Complete Idiot's Guide...

2010-12-03T07:29:00.005-05:00

...to surviving Christmas as a Scrooge.

I know Christmas is supposed to be the great holiday that caps off the end of the year. I know we are supposed to spend the month of December being jolly and buying presents and drinking cocoa. But for me, Thanksgiving is the climax of the year, and everything else beyond is downhill. Come on. It's a holiday where you get to eat great food, but you don't really have to decorate or give presents. A whole day during which you get to watch parades and dog shows and football and basically gorge yourself mid-afternoon, and then live off the leftovers for the rest of the day. And, if you're us, the next 4 days.

Yum, turkey!

Christmas somehow comes closer and closer to ruining Thanksgiving each year. In fact, a good deal of my friends went out to shop the Thanksgiving Day sales after dinner. I had no desire, and instead lazed around and watched football with my family, then went home, ate leftovers, and passed out early. It was beautiful. Then, of course, the Black Friday shoppers are out by midnight. Don't get me wrong, I know this holiday shopping is a tradition for some people and that's wonderful (my mother included). But you'll never catch me out there.

He's not a fan of Black Friday, either.

I hate the mall before Christmas. I hate the stores before Christmas. I live in Florida, and hearing White Christmas on the radio makes me roll my eyes. I always feel like Christmas is an intruder, getting in the way of my usually chilled out shopping routine. I am inundated by the bell ringers and every checkout girl asking if I'd like to make a donation to such and such, and getting dirty looks when I say no. "But it's just a dollar!" Uh, no. If I donated a dollar to every charity at every checkout before Christmas, I'd go broke. Ok. Maybe not broke. But don't assume I'm heartless. I just like my charitable contributions to be accounted for en masse so I can deduct them on my taxes. I swear I donate to good causes. Don't look at me that way!

I am Scrooge. I hate the Christmas season. It's over-commercialized and makes people drive like idiots and act like jerks. It causes stress and debt and, to those of us who have large families to buy for, a bit of animosity until everything is bought, paid for, wrapped, and shipped out.

My family gets bigger every year.

So, with my significant lack of holly jolly, how do I manage to put a good face forward during the holiday season?

I have 97% of the shopping, decorating, and planning done before Thanksgiving.

I start in December, the day after Christmas. This is the time to hit the Hallmark store and the craft stores for deeply discounted wrapping paper, Christmas cards, and even some very cute gifts. I save the gifts bags we've received. I store it all in a box marked "Christmas" and I put it away with the tree and the decorations. And I forget about it until at least July.

When July comes along, I slowly start the Christmas shopping. I pick up a gift card here and there to spread out the cost. I pick up gifts as they're on sale and as I see them. I'm not rushed. I have time to be thoughtful with the gifts I buy because I'm not panicked or broke.

By Thanksgiving, the presents are wrapped so that I can enjoy the day. The tree is up not because I want to have it up early, but because at some point during November I've cleaned out the garage and decided that I may as well do it while everything's out.

This is the week before Thanksgiving. Done and done!

Today's lesson: Not everyone is particularly amused by this holiday. Some of us would happily run away to somewhere tropical and skip it all if we could. We tried it once, but the evil power of the holiday season delayed our flights and killed our plans. So be warned!

Never discuss religion and politics

2010-11-04T08:21:00.003-04:00

Isn't that the old saying? I think Facebook has changed all that. However, since I refuse to start religious or political debates on my Facebook, I'm going to make my short statements here.

1. Religion - God is love. Grace covers all manner of sins. But being a jerk does not reflect kindly on your religion. That is all.

2. Politics - As I age, I find politics gets more personal. People treat elections like football games and create intense rivalries. I'm not going to say how I voted (I'm an Independent, so I'm freaking Switzerland). I am going to say that for all the sore winners and losers out there, please shut up. Respect the electoral system. Respect the fact that more people voted for one side than the other, and that their votes are just as important as yours. This goes for both parties. For those who are happy with the way the election went, remember that other people voted for different candidates because they have different beliefs. Not because they're stupid. Get a grip, everyone.

That said, I am proud of my super-political friends for being gracious to one another. I have not had to referee any "status cat fights" despite opposing political views. I have found it's the people who are only political around election day who are having 12-year old style temper tantrums.

And now for a cute picture of my son, Narcissus:

Today's lesson: I'm just thankful that we live in a country where our vote still means something. We're unhappy? We have an honest to goodness way to show it, whether we're at the polls or sitting on our couch dialing frantically to vote for our favorite American Idol. Or, if you're me, voting in the latest election from the comfort of your couch early and absentee.

I will do it MYSELF!

2010-10-19T23:23:00.003-04:00

My son is having a sudden independent streak. He's crawling at full speed, holding his own bottle, saying "Hi" to random women when we go shopping...he's really starting to get a personality. And it's a big one.

But my favorite part of his independence is this:

Today's lesson: Learning is a messy business. Though I probably could have chosen food that wouldn't stain...guess I learned something, too!

The making of a perfect family photo

2010-09-19T21:01:00.011-04:00

The women in my family have been obsessed with their mortality as of late. This led my mother to organize an impromptu four generation family photo session in my living room. My house is poorly lit. There were screams about bad hair, no makeup and someone's death bed. And judging from our last effort at a family photo, I knew it would be a challenge.

Our last generations photo resulted in the photographer breaking her camera and us running wild with my aunt's point and shoot and the studio's backdrops.

And props.

So this photo was important. Four generations. All the women and my son. So I set up the tripod, adjusted my camera, and gave it a test shot.

Oh dear. But the light is as good as it's going to get in my house, so I decided to go for it. I set the timer and made a run for it.

Well, that went well. How about another shot?

Oh, great. I'm going to need the flash to catch that wiggly little man.

Oh, that's even worse.

"Honey, come hold the button down and let's see what happens!"

"Son, hold still!"

Almost...one more try...

And we got it!

Today's lesson: The best memories do not always lie in your best photographs. Sometimes it's worth taking a look at the in between shots to really appreciate the moments captured.

Sick

2010-09-18T23:28:00.003-04:00

As a parent, there are few experiences more trying and difficult than your kid getting sick. We have been extremely lucky, because other than a few short lived tiny fevers that disappeared the second I showed up with the Tylenol, Sam has been healthy.

Last week, I took Sam to the pediatrician for his well-baby appointment. He weighed in at 20 pounds, and was 28 inches tall. He got his vaccines and was fine and happy for two days. Then it happened. To put it nicely, Sam had some, uh, "gastrointestinal issues." I've heard other parents talk about the doctor's office being a cesspool, but I never imagined it would be this true.

Two days into his illness, I called the pediatrician's evening number in a panic. Winston was screaming and refusing food. The doctor on call, who wasn't Sam's doctor, made me feel reassured that I was a good mom, that we were doing a great job keeping him hydrated and comfortable, and that, once again, I should throw my parenting books out the window. This made me laugh, because our regular pediatrician recommended the book.

Another two days went by, and I took Sam in to his doctor. She checked him over, confirmed that it wasn't a vaccine reaction, and sent us home to wait it out.

Oh the misery. It was another two days before his illness started to disappear. He was tired. We were tired. Nanny was tired after an hour with him. When she came, I answered the door and said, "Welcome to hell." There were days filled with screaming, baking soda baths, a formula switch, and pedialyte, which Sam does not like.

He's fine now, thanks to soy formula, carrots, and time. But I think this entire household is traumatized. Especially since I ended up sick after our second doctor's visit. Cesspool, I tell ya.

Today's lesson: It is possible to be annoyed by your sick child, and that's ok. It's also ok to rock your screaming baby and cry along with him. And to lie on the floor and nap with your kid. And to run Baby Einstein non-stop for five days because it's the only thing that makes your sick child happy.

Charmer

2010-08-30T17:10:00.008-04:00

My son is a very serious boy.

It usually takes some pretty determined tickling for me to get a smile or a laugh out of him.

Apparently, I'm just not his type.

My husband takes Sam with him to Costco whenever he goes, and this past circular had a good coupon for diapers. So off the men go to do the heavy duty diaper shopping. They come home, and Jere shows me that he has another diaper coupon. My son decided to flirt with the lady behind them in line, smiling at her with all the suaveness a 6 month old can muster, and she handed over her extra diaper coupon all aflutter.

Of course, when he comes home, he looks at me like this:

Normally, I would chalk this up to coincidence. A nice woman who obviously didn't need the diaper coupon just happened to notice that my husband obviously does. So the men went out again this past weekend to buy some more diapers using the nice woman's coupon. And when they arrived home, my husband had yet another diaper coupon in his possession.

My kid had flirted with another unsuspecting woman. I feel betrayed. I feel envious. But I can't blame these poor ladies. Who could resist this heavenly smile?

Of course, if his smile ever fails him, he can just show them his cute butt.

Today's lesson: Beware a man with a charming smile. They usually have an ulterior motive. In my son's case, you'd better lock up your coupons.

The face of guilt

2010-08-15T21:04:00.010-04:00

We left our son. For a whole week. We knew we had reached the end of our sanity. Every marriage needs nurturing. And between the dirty diapers and the spit up and the passing one another in the kitchen with a mumble while we get breakfast ready for the kiddo. So we handed off Sam to my mother and hopped a plane to Seattle, where we boarded a ship on its way to Alaska.

We drank (well, I drank).

We sang at the piano bar.

We ate so much that I was squeezing into my formal dresses by the end of the week.

A good time was being had. The glaciers, the cold wind, the 19 hours of sunshine that we blocked out with the blackout curtains so we could sleep at any time of the day, it was fantastic. We were having a lovely time.

Except for the face of guilt that followed us around all day. Jere's watch broke, so we carried my cell phone to tell the time, and there was our son on the front screen every single time we opened it up. We were told by everyone that we would be miserable without him. That we would worry. That we would miss him. But you know what? It wasn't that bad. We had a great time reconnecting with one another without a screaming, puking little person between us. We (and he) did just fine. No worse for the wear...except for that pesky guilt thing.

That is, until we got home. I'm convinced that the second we walked out the door, Winston decided to somehow accelerate his growth. He didn't even look the same! He was doing things and making sounds we'd never experienced. My husband even said, "I don't think this is our son. This can't be our son." Because no way could our son have grown up that much in a week.

Uh, Mom? Did you bring the wrong baby home from the mall?

Today's lesson: If you ever doubt how fast time flies when you have a child, leave for a week. You'll get a whole new perspective of what can happen in seven short days.

Devil Mom

2010-07-15T09:03:00.008-04:00

I've been frequenting a message board since I got pregnant with Sam. The members all got pregnant at the same time, gave birth around the same time, and now all of our kids are around 5 months old. There are good and bad things about sharing with so many women with so many varying opinions on the right way to raise a child. While it's great that we're all seeing the same milestones at the same time and having similar difficulties, sometimes you get mixed messages on what is the "right way" to raise a child. And if I judged myself solely by the opinions of other moms, I'd have no self-esteem at all. There are so many decisions to be made about what kind of diapers to use, what's best for feeding, what cleaning products are safest, and what the best way is to entertain baby. And sometimes, thanks to the perfectly valid opinions of other moms, my decisions leave me with doubts about my judgment.

(My mom, who hasn't questioned a single one of my parenting decisions, except when it comes to putting Sam in silly hats. Thanks, mom!)

I feel like that all the time. Except probably more, because I'm the anti-organic. I'm one of those devil moms who could have at least pumped breastmilk (Sam couldn't latch), but hated doing it so I quit. I feed him *gasp* soy formula! I sit my son in front of the TV so I can get laundry done. Cloth diapering was a blip on my radar, and I not only considered it, but actually bought some cloth diapers. Now I rejoice in the joy of being able to toss the Huggies in the Diaper Genie. I swear in front of my kid. Neither his food nor his clothes are organic. I started him on solid foods at four months to the day. I let him lick donut frosting off my fingers. I am addicted to lysol wipes. I don't do playgroups. I read to him from my textbooks and sit him with me while I'm watching my lectures online. I take him out shopping for hours at a time and hold up shoes and ask him, "What do you think of these?" In fact, the little diva boy has his own closet full of shoes as well. And when 5:00 comes, and my husband walks in the door, I hand him our son and walk away without a second thought. And I leave them be until I can unwind.

(Solid foods at four months. Try telling my kid he can't have sweet potatoes. He'd fall into a deep depression.)

So, moms, don't ever feel bad. Because here is the important thing: no matter what you do or do not do when it comes to raising your kids, loving them is what counts. I hear all the time how terrible I am for all of the above offenses, but that little boy is my world. We all go through so many changes when we become parents. We become different people. Our marriages/relationships change. In my case, even my car changed LOL. If we ask too much change of ourselves, who are we in the end? Our kids are supposed to add to our lives, not take away from them. It is entirely possible to compromise and find a middle ground.

(He does like formulas. Both soy and Pythagorean.)

If I spent every diaper change preoccupied by the guilt over what kind of diapers I use, I'd miss the fact that my kid giggles uncontrollably when I tell him what a mess he is. If I drove to the Whole Foods, I'd lose 45 minutes in each direction of playtime with him (not to mention I'd put him in danger, because our Whole Foods is in an area with heavy and violent traffic). If I selfishly took care of Sam after my husband got home from work, thinking I could do it better or more efficiently, I'd miss hearing the two of them giggling about goodness knows what in the other room. If I was still trying to pump for him, I would be distracted by the frustration I felt, so instead I give him a bottle of "rat poison" and enjoy the time we spend bonding (yes, it is still bonding even with a bottle).

(I don't care how his dad entertains him if it means I get to shower in peace.)

All moms prioritize differently. And that's not wrong. That's what's right for their life. They have thought through their choices, and made decisions based on the fact that they love their kids. Are organic foods important to me? No, but I love to hear about when my friends go to the farmer's market or Whole Foods and find wonderful things. Is it a priority in my home that we use only organic clothes, bedding, or cleaning products? No, but I am more than happy to encourage my friends when they're trying out some new recipe for a natural toilet bowl cleaner. My priorities are different. My family is different. I try not to keep friends who don't demonstrate that mutual respect.

(My best friend Rachel's son. Because it's important to have mom friends who are crazy, opinionated, wonderfully accepting and encouraging, and just as addicted to Starbucks as you are.)

I will never understand why, as moms, we are so judgmental of one another. And I will NEVER EVER understand the moms who actually SAY something. I might be thinking in my head, "Hey, that's a little crazy." But it's not my life, it's not my kid, and far be it from me to criticize as long as it doesn't involve dangling them from a rooftop by their big toe. I want my friends to be happy mothers, no matter what that means for them: stay at home, have a career, go to school, coach a sport, breastfeed, bottle feed, cloth diaper, whatever. And putting people down for their well-reasoned choices? That just makes them feel terrible. I know it makes me feel terrible when people say things to me. But it doesn't change me, either.

(Sarcastic moms, unite!)

Today's lesson: Just keep on doing what's right for your family. Love your kids. Make educated decisions, and then accept them without guilt or regret. And don't let anyone else tell you they could do it better. You're the mother of your kids. No one can be a better mom to them than you are.

Four months, three shots, two kicking feet, and one hand always in the mouth.

2010-06-22T14:13:00.005-04:00

My sweet four month old son is sleeping. I get to call him sweet now, because he isn't driving me quite as insane. He sleeps through the majority of the night, and takes three naps a day. Most of the time, he goes down without a fight. He seems to realize that once he is in his crib, he gets to sleep. He likes sleep.

What is Mr. Churchill up to this month? Well, we started feeding him food from a spoon. He likes the rice cereal, but he has to have his bottle first, otherwise he gets too hungry and impatient. This morning I gave him some oatmeal cereal, and he grabbed the spoon in his impatience, threw it across the room, and started to chew on the bowl. I dread the day he realizes where the food is well enough to find it with his fingers.

Speaking of fingers, he's got those in his mouth all the time now. He's learned how to pick things up, like his favorite rattle. His fingers, no matter what is in them, take the same route, straight to his mouth, everytime.

Winston is full of smiles and laughs. He used to only laugh at his daddy, but I've been graced with a few giggles in the past couple of days. He has a precious smile, and it makes me melt when his little face lights up!

This month saw the purchase of the mommy-mobile (which I love), the mommy-haircut, and a mommy-sized video camera. Handy for catching those moments that need more than a photograph!

http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v480/physics_angel/?action=view&current=VID00003.mp4

Today's lesson: It's sad to watch him grow. But hilarious to watch him eat. :-) It's even more hilarious to watch his daddy make a goof of himself to get a giggle out of Sam.

Excuse me, but he weighs HOW much?

2010-04-17T13:57:00.003-04:00

My son. Just call him beefcake. 16 hefty pounds of gorgeous baby! It's heavy enough to demonstrate that he's going to be big and broad like Jerry (and Jerry's dad). And that I'm probably going to have to watch him with the donuts down the road.

We had Sam's two month pediatrician's appointment this past week, and his doctor was in shock at how hefty he is. As was I. She wasn't one bit worried, however, as his height and head size are above the average as well. He's happy, healthy, and strong. And will probably be starting solid foods right around the time of his next appointment, since his appetite is so monstrous.

I am grateful he's not one of those obscenely fat babies, though. You don't look at him and think, "Gee, that baby is in the 99th percentile for weight." He's surprisingly solid. His shoulders are so wide! He's still comfortably in some 0-3 months clothes, however.

With growing maturity and weight come longer sleeps. He's going to bed later, which bothered me at first. And then he slept for 5 hours one night. And then 6 hours. Last night? I'm actually embarassed to admit that he slept for a whopping 9 hours! He woke up once around 3:30, but I didn't even make it to his room before he had passed back out.

My mother came to help me out last weekend, thank goodness. After about 3-4 weeks, I hit the wall and need a weekend of homework and sleep. This usually coincides with a big paper coming due. This weekend was no different, and once I handed off my son to my mother, my brain seemed to click back on. Paper done in no time, and I felt human again.

We decided to hit the mall to get the adorable shark outfit I saw at Gymboree for Sam. At the same time, I decided to give up and buy some bigger clothes. Anyone who has followed my blog over the past couple of years has gotten to see my journey with weight loss. I went from a size 14 to a size 6 over the course of a year in order to get my fertility under control. I was in love with my new body. And the healthy lifestyle obviously served its purpose. I have a beautiful brute for a son! But my figure is shot, and I hated staring at my clothes, knowing that only about 5% of them fit. So I bought some bigger clothes. And stored the smaller ones where they aren't on display, mocking my baby weight.

Speaking of the mall, my husband and son are there. I'm not sure why Jere wanted to take Sam to the mall today, other than Jerry realized the gift card I got him for our anniversary was still sitting in the drawer. I should be taking the opportunity to exercise or do homework. Instead, I think I will take a nap.

Today's lesson: What you see is not always what you get. Whether it's a normal looking baby who weighs as much as two gallons of milk, or a size 12 with the closet of a size 6.

Morning person

2010-04-08T06:35:00.004-04:00

Oh, this can't be my kid. They must have switched him at the hospital. There must have been another baby boy born that night who happens to be the spittin' image of my husband. Because there is no way I gave birth to this small person who is grinning and giggling at six in the morning.

Welcome to eight weeks and the beginning of our schedule. Sam went to sleep around six last night, which wasn't the plan at all. In fact, it was so not the plan that we hadn't fed or bathed him and had to do so when he woke up a little before 10. He passed back out and mommy and daddy took some alone time to engage in some sweat inducing physical activity...

Wait, wait, not that! We played Just Dance on the Wii. Hilarious, and it made for a date night that didn't involve us watching TV while on our respective computers in the same room. Well, for awhile anyhow. Had to watch the new South Park. One more feeding a little after midnight, and SuperSam slept nearly five hours.

Mornings are contentious around here. I object to waking up. No one is going to be happy in this house until I'm sitting down with my first cup of coffee. It means that Sam wakes me up with his screaming, and I make him wait. He gets to continue his fit in the crib while I put on the coffee, make his bottle, and grab some breakfast. Sometimes I even make him wait while I make myself some eggs! I subscribe to the airplane "loss of cabin pressure" theory of child-rearing. I put my oxygen mask on first, then take care of the small child.

Of course, I feel awful by the time I go get him. My punishment is usually soggy cereal, cold eggs, or tepid coffee that I take in with the one hand I have free during his bottle.

Sam will be two months old at the end of this week. Jerry and I are trying to integrate him into our normal life a little more, so we booked our yearly vacation to Myrtle Beach. We'll see how that goes. If he's good, I might take him to Michigan in June. Maybe.

Other updates? He spends a good amount of time chewing on his hands. I prefer this to outright sucking his thumb. He loves music and lights, and refuses to live without this Baby Einstein toy I picked up for him last week. I sing to him at night and found that "American Pie" is a good lullaby, except when I can't remember what order the verses go in. He's wearing some 3 months clothes, and should be headed to the pediatrician next week for a routine visit (depending on if we can get in or not).

Sam and I spent Easter at his Nana's. Jerry stayed home to catch up on his sleep and the laundry. That meant a two hour drive in each direction without my extra set of hands. It went surprisingly well. He managed not to cry on the toll road, which is all a mommy can ask. He fussed most of the time we were there, but managed to make friends with my aunt's puppy.

Sam's Grammy will be here tonight to take care of him while I dig myself out form this pile of schoolwork. Despite giving birth while in the middle of taking my last class, I managed an A. I'm trying desperately to continue the trend. That's me. Always in pursuit of perfection.

Wait. What's this? A mid-morning nap? Yeah, I guess he is my son...

Today's lesson: It's one thing to see the physcial genetic traits you've given your child: his daddy's ears, my nose, his aunt's lips, his Poppa's hair and eyes. It's so much more amazing when you see bits and pieces of your personality mirrored in the tiny image. Unless, of course, you realize that your son dances like your husband. It must be genetic, because it certainly can't be taught.

Dealing with guilt

2010-03-18T13:21:00.002-04:00

When it came to my pregnancy, nothing went as planned. I feel guilty, but I have to admit that despite praying to get pregnant, I hated it. Hopefully the very act of admitting that will help someone else to realize that it is possible to be overwhelmed with joy and still be miserable. The day I rolled over into my second trimester, I was attacked by debilitating migraines. The first one lasted three straight weeks and involved three trips to the ER and one extremely fantastic neurologist. At 25 weeks, one side of my pelvis decided to sit higher than the other, and I added a weekly trip to the chiropractor to my to do list. At 26 weeks, I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes and had to give up everything I was craving. I made it to 35 weeks without a single stretch mark, and then my belly broke out in angry lines that caused my husband to gasp in, well, I'm not sure what. I was found to be group B strep positive. And then the due date came...and went.

My doctor induced me at 41 weeks. My doctor broke my water 9 hours into the process, which brought on nightmarish contractions. I went from no contractions to less than two minutes apart within 15 minutes. I screamed for an epidural. And then the anesthesiologist hit an awkward spot in my back and I ended up having a bad reaction, so she had to do it again (note: not her fault, actually, as my back is a mess anyhow, and I loved her). I still wasn't dilating. The baby still wasn't dropping. They started pitocin. The baby went into distress, I was put on oxygen. After watching the baby, my doctor checked me again and I was only at 3 centimeters. The baby's heart rate concerned him, so he decided on a c-section. I agreed, since we were 24 hours into the process and going nowhere. They sent Jere off to get ready, and I cried to the anesthesiologist through the whole surgical prep.

The c-section was fantastic. My son came out healthy. I was healthy. But mentally? I wasn't ok. It wasn't because of the surgery. The surgery was easy and quick and gave me a beautiful son. It was GUILT. They gave Jere the baby and then offered to lay him on my chest. I said no. My husband followed our son back to the recovery room while they finished closing me up, and the anesthesiologist patted my forehead while I said over and over, "Is he ok? Did I screw him up? Why didn't I want to touch him? Why doesn't it feel like he belongs to me?" And she answered, "He's fine. He's perfect. You'll want to hold him later and never let him go, I promise."

I made it back to the recovery room, and my family was there passing Sam around. And I still didn't want to hold him. Then the nurse asked if I wanted to breastfeed him, and I said yes, and she cleared everyone from the room according to my wishes. The two nurses helped me try to feed him, but he didn't seem ready. It turns out he never would be. More guilt. I sent him to the nursery the first two nights on the advice of the best nurse in the world. I let everyone else take care of him. I tuned out. I hurt. He wouldn't feed. The first lactation consultant told me I just had to "try harder." I was grateful when another LC came on duty and checked Sam's tongue. He was severly tongue tied and couldn't latch. By then, I had already started letting him supplement with formula and pumping as well.

Long story short. I ended up staying in the hospital FOREVER. It took three weeks to organize with our insurance to get Sam's tongue fixed. I was exhausted from pumping and feeding (remember, it takes twice as long when you have to feed the baby, get the baby to settle down, and THEN pump...only to have to repeat the process almost immediately after finishing...do you see time for sleep in there?). And by the time they clipped his tongue, his latch was so unbelievably screwed up that feeding him actually caused me to scream and sob. Jerry and I decided Sam had gotten plenty of breastmilk over the last three weeks, and it was time to cut our losses. More guilt.

So the guilt, in list form:

1. I feel guilty about the medications I had to take during my pregnancy to control my migraines. Maybe I should have just dealt with the pain.

2. I feel guilty that I ended up with gestational diabetes. Maybe if I'd controlled my eating, it wouldn't have happened.

3. I feel guilty that I wasn't able to give birth to my son "naturally." Someone once told me I wasn't built to carry children. I will always feel like that is true.

4. I feel guilty that I gave in to an epidural. I thought, at the time, that the screwed up epidural was my punishment, and the resulting spinal headache was a continuation of that punishment. I hear all these stories about women giving birth without drugs, and I don't understand it. Mentally, I will always wonder what would have happened if I had just hung in there with the contractions. Maybe he'd have come out on his own.

5. I feel desperately guilty about not breastfeeding. I'm sick of hearing that I should have worked harder and stuck with it.

Today's women live in a world where they're inundated with stories of harrowing drug-free births and the "breast is best" mantra. The heroes are those women who can push their children out, go home the next day, and breastfeed them for a year. Instead, I couldn't put in any of the work. I was in the hospital for 5 days. And I was actually relieved to switch to formula. But the guilt still stares me down. It's there when I'm cuddling my son and he tries to root through my shirt and I have to distract him with a bottle or pacifier. It's there when I see him stick out his tongue. It's there when I find a stray nursing bra that hasn't made its way into the storage box. It's there everytime someone asks if I'm breastfeeding. And it's there in every book I own that has 90 pages on breastfeeding and 3 pages on formula feeding, every health article, every support group, every fan club. I have more than once cried to my husband that I feel like a terrible mother.

I hope that someday, the guilt goes away. My son is happy and healthy. Well, mostly happy. He's a very serious baby, just like his mom.

Today's lesson: My anesthesiologist was right about one thing. I did eventually want to hold my son. And sometimes my husband has to pry Sam from my arms so I can get some sleep.

Back in the saddle?

2010-03-09T13:20:00.006-05:00

It's been a busy couple of weeks. We're trying desperately to return to our normal life (yeah, right). My poor son had a slew of doctor's appointments, and I know he's grateful all of that is over. And my husband and I are slowly adjusting to parenthood. We've thrown some good advice out the window in favor of doing it our own way, and are actually starting to feel like we can successfully raise this boy while still maintaining our sanity. Or at least Jere's sanity. Mine was already being calling into question.

There came a point where I was crying because I wanted out of the house. I wanted to go on a car ride that didn't involve the doctor. And my wonderful husband obliged. We packed our son up and took him to the mall. Sam fussed the entire time and demanded to be carried. We stopped in the family lounge to feed and change him, and what a wonderful invention! We bottle feed, but it was nice to have some privacy so we could sit down with him. I managed to get a little shopping done, thank goodness, and then we went over to dinner. And you know what? He slept. We've taken him out to dinner two times since then, and he sleeps! It's fantastic! Granted, he gets home and has a cow and stays up until 4 AM. But we're slowly starting to develop a life WITH him.

And then my wonderful husband gave me a 6 hour break so I could attend a luncheon with my friends. I love this yearly luncheon, but I haven't been able to go for the past few years. I wasn't sure I'd make it to this one, either, but Jere took the baby from me, loaded me into the Mustang, and yelled, "NO GUILT!" out the front door as I drove away. And I swear I only called to check on him once. During the luncheon that is. I MAY have called on the way home, too.

Everything is settling into a shaky routine here. It doesn't really have a same time each day pattern. But we're getting closer to it.

Today's lesson: It is possible to keep pieces of your old life when you have a baby. Though the pieces are likely to be covered in spit up and other choice bodily fluids...

All it took was a single cup...

2010-02-23T08:52:00.003-05:00

This cup, to be exact. I'm trying to get into a routine with my son. We wake up, and I go out to the kitchen to get both our breakfasts ready. Warm his bottle. Brew my coffee. Putter around and get together random breakfast foods while those first two things accomplish themselves. If I'm lucky, Sam waits patiently. Today, Sam was not patient. He was already screaming, and I was trying to rush around to get organized. So everything was ready and lined up on my bedside table. Everything except the coffee.

I poured in some cream, stirred it up, turned to put the spoon in the sink, and then turned back to grab the coffee.

I wish I'd gotten a picture, but my mind obviously didn't go there at that moment. Or for several moments after.

I spilled the coffee. Obviously. And I don't mean spilled it on just the counter or just the floor. No. I did a grand job. Start with the counter. The momentum carried the coffee onto my stovetop, into the drip pans, and then under them. Then it sloshed down the front of the cabinets, where it immediately stained. Continue down the door of the oven, and into the oven, and down into the storage drawer. And then the floor. The coffee hit the tile floor with force, splashing it across the room and under the refrigerator. It was, for lack of a better word, spectacular.

But I think I handled it well. I swore. I swore so terribly that, were I Catholic, I would be left hoarse from the number of Hail Mary's it would take for atonement.

Next logical step would have been throwing things, right? Or crying? Screaming? Nope.

I sloshed through the mess, put the mug back under the Keurig, stuck in a fresh coffee cartridge, and pushed start.

You can't tackle that kind of mess without coffee.

Today's lesson: When you go two weeks without mopping your kitchen floor, it will inevitably find a way to force itself to the front of your attention. And this means drowning out the screaming, desperate baby while you get your surgically wounded body down on its hands and knees to mop up the mess. The upside? Kitchen floor's clean.

There once was a woman...

2010-02-13T01:51:00.006-05:00

There once was a woman...

who left a prayer on a wall.

One week later, that woman was in Rome...

and saw the beginning of the prayer being answered.

And after many months of waiting, the woman got to see her prayer face to face.

And for that? I have no words.

Welcome to the world, Sam.

I am becoming a walking (waddling) joke

2010-02-03T02:01:00.008-05:00

Welcome to my due date. How nice of you to come. I have the nursery completed, all the clothes washed, the cradle next to my bed, and the carseat installed in the car. The only thing missing?

The baby.

Last week, the nurse practitioner examined me and announced that the baby is "done." However, baby is not aware of that. Despite the lovely contractions I had the day before my appointment, my body has made no progress whatsoever. And then the NP said the most lovely words I've ever heard: "Don't worry. We're going to induce you." YES!!! I was so excited that I went skipping to the front desk. I signed a little paperwork and was told the scheduling coordinator would call me after my doctor reviewed my chart. I thought the end was near!

Then I got the phone call the next morning. They'd like to schedule my induction. For two weeks from that day. That was a week ago. Still another week and another doctor's appointment before the baby comes. Which is, of course, perfectly fine and perfectly normal and very prudent of my doctor. But there's a problem.

When I got pregnant, I started to frequent a pregnancy messageboard for moms who were going to give birth in February. My doctor and my nurse both told me that was the worst thing I could ever do, because everyone's pregnancy is different. But did I listen? Uh, no. And despite the fact that I'm due at the beginning of February and everyone on the board has due dates spread out all over the month, half of them have already given birth. And 2/3 of those births have been by induction. I know my baby is healthy and happy and can wait another week. So what is with these women giving birth by choice SO SOON?? Now, I'm not talking about perfectly healthy moms having perfectly healthy inductions around 39 weeks because that's when their doctor has room in their schedule. Or the moms who develop pre-eclampsia or other problems and NEED to deliver early. I'm talking about the crazies who are electively inducing as early as 37 weeks. I know how bad they want the baby out, but seriously??

On top of it all, I have gestational diabetes. Doctors will quite often induce diabetic mothers at 38 weeks to keep the baby from getting too big. Not me. I had to be obsessive about controlling my sugars, and my son is of perfectly normal size and still has room to hang around for the extra week. 41 weeks of pregnancy. I will hold this extra week against my son down the road when he complains about making his bed.

So even though I'm uncomfortable and impatient, I am eternally grateful. Because my doctor is doing his job. And as he's told me several times, he's impressed with the way I've done mine when it comes to the gestational diabetes. My hard work means my son is safe and healthy, and can afford to live in the belly condo a little longer. I get one more week of happy baby kicks to share with my husband.

This doesn't mean I haven't given every single old wives tale about inducing labor at home its fair shot. Especially the spicy food. Next try? Pineapple.

Going out to dinner has become interesting. It's really the only place I go these days. I'm too uncomfortable to do anything else. But now when we get seated by the host, they all say, "Two of you tonight? Oh, well, two and that baby!" I had a woman in the restroom of a nice restaurant reassure me that if I went into labor, there was a nurse sitting at her table. And the looks I get! My husband is smart enough to stay close, otherwise I look like I'm 13 years old and hugely pregnant. I've put up a picture of me from a week ago at 39 weeks. I haven't taken the 40 week one yet, but I'll get right on that. *rolls eyes*

Today's lesson: Hard work can really pay off. And comparing yourself to others can make you miserable. And it took the help of my nurse practitioner to realize it. "You are not everyone else. You are healthy. You've done everything you can to stay that way. Stop comparing!" And then she very sweetly saved me from having to beg for an induction by suggesting it herself. Blessed woman.

Three conversations

2010-01-20T11:13:00.004-05:00

#1: Conversation with my OB during my 38 week exam -

Dr.: Uh, nope. No progression. No dilation. No dropping.

Me: Nothing?!

Dr.: Nope.

Me: (banging head on exam table)

Dr.: I know you're ready to be done. But he's not overweight. He's doing perfectly fine.

Me: But he's GIANT!

Dr.: No, he's not giant. You're little. You might just need to realize he could very well be late.

Me: But...but....I wanted some time with him by myself before my mom comes down.

Dr.: When is your mom coming down?

Me: The 12th.

Dr.: Uh....are you sure she doesn't want to attend the birth? Because he may not be here by then.

Me: (bursts into tears)

#2: Conversation with my regular Starbucks barista -

Me: (at drive thru Starbucks window) I'd like a grande decaf latte.

Starbucks guy: Alright. Drive on around to the window, please.

Me: (at window, hands over method of payment)

Starbucks guy: Still on decaf, huh? How long have you been ordering decaf now?

Me: 38 weeks.

Starbucks guy: You're kidding.

Me: Um. No. They are NEVER going to let me have this baby.

Starbucks guy: See, I have no intention of getting pregnant for exactly that reason. Can't live without the caffeine. (laughs)

Me: Don't make me hate you.

Starbucks guy: Oh. You want to really hate me? I get to leave here tonight and have a BEER.

Me: Huh. And I get to leave here without giving you a tip. Isn't that nice how that works? (smiles)

Me: (leans out window and puts a five in his tip jar just because he made me laugh)

#3: Email conversation with my husband -

Me: No progress whatsoever. I need comfort food.

Jere: Boston Market, Mimi's, Mexican?

Me: It's an after dinner blood glucose reading night. I shouldn't have Mexican. So let's go out for Mexican.

Jere: That'll work.

Me: Enabler.

Someone please help me.

Today's lesson: Take one stubborn woman. Marry her to one stubborn man. Let them reproduce. Guess what you're going to get...well, see above picture of the baby adding onto his belly condo. I swear I did NOT approve his permits for this expansion.

Ryan's Random 7

2010-01-15T13:46:00.006-05:00

Ok, I know I went random yesterday. However, I read this blog quite often, and wouldn't you know that Ryan's challenge of the day was to post a random seven. And I'm never, EVER opposed to randomness. I swear I'll make this quick.

1. I woke up from my afternoon nap yesterday to find my husband in my kitchen. This terrifies me. He'd gotten it in his head that he wanted to make dinner, and proceeded to fry up bison steaks that he'd picked up at the commissary. Where on Earth this sudden desire came from, I don't know. Is he nesting? Luckily he cleaned up the kitchen when he was done, and I didn't have to freak out.

2. We received a random gift yesterday from one of Jerry's old Army buddies. Isn't it adorable?? But the real gift was the photo that was included with it. I thank the Lord everyday that my husband no longer has that mustache.

3. My friend Rachel challenged me to do a 365 photo a day project. She's doing one so she can learn to use her Nikon. I'm doing mine to be supportive. It is, by far, the most frustrating project ever. I'm not so hot with photo-editing, and I have no interesting subjects to photograph at the moment. I will say that I have learned things. I'm just not sure I've learned anything I can use!

4. Sandra Lee is making cupcakes on the Food Network. Pregnant women and diabetics should never watch the Food Network. I really want cupcakes now, and I'm betting that all the ingredients are hiding in my kitchen.

5. The toughest decision everyday is what we're going to have for dinner. I don't cook. This does not mean I CANNOT cook. I just don't. Living within proximity of a large metropolitan area leaves our options wide open for meals, and we quite often can't decide and fall back on our regular places. However, I think my husband is looking for a change, seeing as he just ordered me cookbooks. I have nothing against cooking, except for the fact that restaurants do it so much better!

6. My in belly child is making me do weird things, like put cream in my coffee. What's up with that? I generally prefer my coffee to be like rocket fuel.

7. My kid is squirming and hiccupping and is generally unhappy with the current lack of space in his belly-condo. I think a bath and a nap are in order for me. Maybe that way he'll be less angry. I'm not sure he was a fan of the peas I had with lunch.

Welcome to the random

2010-01-14T10:21:00.006-05:00

There's so much to say. So much to praise and complain about. I've gone from the freak side of angry to the even stranger side of patient. I'm less than three weeks from my due date, and this baby is welcome to come at any time. According to my doctor, though, my son is happy in his warm little home and is making no indications that he'd like to leave. I suppose I should just give in to my list making tendencies before I start off on random stream of consciousness.

1. Me, at 36 weeks. About a week ago. It's as painful as it looks, and is getting worse.

2. I had a fantastic baby shower this past weekend. I would have pictures, but my aunt hasn't gotten them up yet (hint, hint). Everything was camouflage themed, including the cake and balloons. And my mom flew down from Michigan.

3. I love my FedEx guy. The one I used to have here would leave monstrous packages on the porch without even ringing the bell. The new one noticed that one of my recent big packages said "crib" and made doubly sure to not only ring the bell, but to put the box where I wanted it. I mention this now because he brought my glider this morning, saw my current size and said, "You're not going to try building this, are you?!" I assured him that construction duties had been handed over for the duration of the pregnancy.

4. My husband committed dispicable subterfuge yesterday. "Hey, look, your favorite show is on!" And then he snuck out to play 9 holes of golf. *grin* I laughed when I caught on.

5. I want to go shopping. But I have nothing that needs buying.

6. We went to Michael's to get a frame for a cross-stitch project that I had finally finished. And the after Christmas sales were awesome. I won't need to buy a darn thing to wrap gifts next year!

7. I got a flash for my camera. Let's just call it what it is. True love.

8. We've had to make some tough decisions about certain things and people. There's been a good amount of hurt and confusion involved, but when we sat down and looked at our son's future happiness and well-being, the decisions were easier.

9. That said, there is a difference between a good person and a nice person. My husband says I'm a good person. But I've never been particularly nice until late. And I'm quite finished being nice. As my best friend put it recently, "I love the shrew you can be." You can still be a kind person without being saccharin sweet.

10. No matter how much kindness you show to some people, they will always throw it back in your face. Or, more appropriately, they'll throw it at you when your back is turned. These are the people you walk away from. Seriously, if you get far enough away, their arm strength is bound to fail.

11. I am blessed with more wonderful friends than powerful enemies.

12. I watched Paula Deen make a baked rice pudding last week. I want it real bad.

13. My doctor has been fantastic the last couple of visits, and this last one took the cake. He looked at my blood sugars, told me to test only twice a day, and then said to go wild because I apparently know what I'm doing. Then I went out to Sonic for a cheeseburger and had heartburn for 18 straight hours.

14. Today will be a happy day. Because today I get to go online and buy more K-Cups for my Keurig brewer. And happiness is a hot cup of black coffee.

Drama Free Christmas

2010-01-01T11:02:00.011-05:00

I deserved it. For once, I deserved a major holiday without flight delays, stupid bickering, long drives, malicious intent, or the constant reminder that I am the bain of certain people's existence. And this year? Not only did I get my drama free Christmas, but I got to share the lack of excitement with my husband. Who also deserved a drama free holiday. Oh, how he deserved it.

So how did we manage such a pleasant day? We stayed in Florida. And had Christmas with my grandma.

Meet my Florida family.

You know me by now. Right?

And you know my husband? (Apparently, judging by the gift, my family knows my husband as well.)

This is my grandmother. If you don't catch a candid shot of her, you end up with a posed picture of her snarling at you. Not on purpose, but because that's just her "photo face." This woman can cook. And set a beautiful table that we never made it to that evening, because we were too impatient and made a buffet of her lovely meal. But she didn't care. She had made plenty of food on which we could graze.

This is my grandma's husband, Henry. Let me fill you in on the conversation that led him to give me that particular sarcastic look.
Henry: "I'll open this one. It's all wrapped up and I can't tell what it is."
Me: "Uh, isn't that the point of wrapping the present?"
Henry: (see above photo)

This is my Aunt T. She's smiling in this photo because she's opening the gift from my grandma. And because she picked it out herself, she knows exactly what it is.

This is my uncle. My aunt and grandma managed to get him the camera he wanted on Black Friday, then told him the store had run out. He had that thing open while we were all sitting there with the rest of our gifts....then promptly handed the camera to my aunt and said, "Teach me how to use it!"

And this little beauty is Bayli, my aunt and uncle's dog. I'd have a picture of my grandma and Henry's dog, but she lounged far away from us the whole night. In this family, the pets are not just part of the family. They actually exchange gifts. Bayli got Miss Ginger some lovely collar charms, and Ginger bought Bayli pink squeaker toys.

Here's what made Christmas magical. No one fought. No one bickered. No one said anything remotely unkind, unless it had to do with football. Everyone sat in the same room. No one ran off to another part of the house to do something else. Despite the fact that we really do see each other a lot, we sat around and visited. And watched Jeff Dunham's Christmas special on the big screen. And ate in the living room without fear of reproach. We opened our gifts one by one, so we could watch each other enjoy them. It took over an hour, but it was nice to actually see someone open the gift you bought for them, instead of missing it in the frenzy and having to ask later.

And the best part? When we left to go home, we all still liked each other. And each other's spouse.

Today's lesson: The point of stressing over the holidays before they arrive is so that they aren't stressful when they actually get here. And the best way to ensure a happy holiday? Spend it with people who actually love you. Thank you to my family for giving us the peaceful Christmas we desperately needed.

Progression of a pregnancy

2009-12-18T09:54:00.004-05:00

I'll admit it. I haven't been posting blogs. Nope. I have had nothing positive or happy to say. Most of the time I feel grumpy and fat. I just figured that no one out there wanted to hear me whine. And I really didn't want to whine, because despite all the frustrations of this pregnancy, I'm thrilled. I just can't verbalize it.

And I still can't find the words to say. It's been up and down. There have been many doctor's visits and trips to the ER. I've had migraines and gestational diabetes. I miss fruit snacks and jelly beans. And I'm tired. The baby's kicking is still adorable sometimes, but others...well, he takes pleasure in my pain! Something I'm convinced he'll continue to do for the rest of my life.

My husband, however, has kept photographic record of my belly's growth (with the help of a couple friends). And that's what I'll share with you now, in lieu of happy words.

21 weeks. Jere calls this the "Where's Waldo?" sweater. I promptly put it back in storage after that.

25 weeks. At my mom's house. The point at which I started to waddle, and couldn't stand doing my own hair. Thank goodness for the lady at the salon!

Also somewhere around 25 weeks. At my baby shower in Michigan. Bless Joana for taking a picture I'm proud to be in.

29 weeks. My kitchen. And probably the last time this shirt got worn, seeing as I'm pretty violent on maternity shirts. Also the point at which someone said to me, "Look at you! You're HUGE!"

32 weeks. Most recent picture. Those are maternity pants that no longer fit. Also the week that my little Asian pedicurist said laid a hand on my belly and said, "You have BABY! Must be a big baby boy!" She was at least correct, and did a beautiful job on my toes. Or so I'm told. I can't see them.

I'm up to a whopping 33 1/2 weeks now. I'm living in Jere's t-shirts and sweats whenever possible. My hair is four inches shorter (but still long). I'm still well under my maximum weight gain. And we've finally started work on the nursery, which would be coming along a whole lot faster if the dresser would get here.

I suppose it's time to stop blogging and start cleaning. I wish the nesting would kick in, because it would make all this so much easier. Today's plan was to wash uniforms, but Jere noticed me struggling with getting them in and out of the washer and dryer, and did them before I even noticed. *Sigh* I'm determined to keep my energy up so he doesn't have to take over any other of my jobs!

The verdict is in....

2009-09-17T08:59:00.004-04:00

I went for the big 20 week ultrasound yesterday, and it turns out Jerry and I are having a big fat baby BOY! He is so happy. And I'm thrilled because he's happy. I know it's important to him that he has a son to carry on his father's name, and I couldn't be more pleased that he gets to do that with his firstborn. Here's a picture of our son:

Wait. You didn't actually think I was going to put up the ultrasound picture with him waving his little man part around, did you? I'm giving my son a little dignity and privacy. *grin* Actually, the ultrasound tech couldn't get him to flip over so she could get a good picture of his face. He was laying in the perfect position for us to see the sex. Butt up, legs spread, showing it off, very proud. Oh boy. I really am giving birth to my husband's son. But my little fish wouldn't show his face, so the only pictures I got were of his, well, you know.

And no. It's not twins. I had two people at the mall ask me that this weekend. I am 4'11''. The baby has nowhere to go but out, silly people.

That said, I am looking and feeling enormous. And as a bonus, I'm feeling healthier. I can eat again (oh, how I can eat). I can drive again. And yesterday after the ultrasound, I went to the mall to buy my son some clothes. By myself. I even went and had a sit down lunch by myself. If the air conditioning guy doesn't get here today, I'm going to end up heading to a movie by myself this afternoon when the thermometer hits 91.

Now, can we talk about the cuteness of these clothes?

The first little shirt is a gift from my stepdad. Both he and I are big into our computers, so he had that sent to me a few weeks ago. And the GVSU onesie and socks? My mother and sister bought those this weekend while I was up in Michigan. My sister attends Grand Valley. I keep telling her this baby is going to get a complex about which college team he's supposed to be rooting for. Between the GVSU onesie, the Gator bib from my aunt, my undying support for Ohio State (GO BUCKEYES!), and my husband being a VMI graduate, this kid is going to have no idea which way to go. Though I think VMI is a safe bet as to where he'll attend college. *wink* Jere's Brother Rats have already claimed my son for the VMI class of 2032. Seriously. We're already getting facebook messages congratulating us on our future Keydet.

I am, however, running into a problem. I HATE the majority of the baby clothes selection in my mall. You know it's bad when I can't even go to Macy's and find something I like. I'm pretty particular about what I put on my body, so you can imagine just how picky I'm being about clothes for my little boy. I'm not so into these pastel blues and onesies with animal faces on the butt. Does anyone have suggestions on where I can find cute baby clothes? Because I've been to every children's store and department in my mall, and I'm coming up short. Even Babies R Us wasn't making me happy.

I spent this last weekend in Michigan throwing a bridal shower, and I have pictures and stories to share of that as well. But it'll have to wait until I edit those photos, which is a job for another day.

Today's lesson: It is amazing how one sentence can so profoundly change your life. A picture may be worth a thousand words, but I think there are moments where only words can suffice. And yesterday it was three tiny words that made everything finally seem real: "It's a boy."

Excuse me??

2009-09-06T20:17:00.003-04:00

Where did all THIS come from? I'm coming up on 19 weeks, and this monstrosity decided to pop out over the past few days. I feel huge. I have nothing else to say, other than I feel like a cow.

Let's talk about real life and love

2009-08-25T13:32:00.007-04:00

The blogs, you ask? Where are the blogs? The blogs are in my head, but my head has been out of order for the past few weeks. Apparently, the growing baby has brought along a surprising side dish: immobilizing migraine headaches. I've been in the ER three times. I've had an MRI. I've been on every pregnancy acceptable medication known to science. So five doctors, two blown veins, one nursing student chasing me with a catheter, and many sleepless nights later, I was referred to a neurologist who knew exactly what to do. Headache is still slightly there, but I can walk and see now. In a few more days, I'll be as good as new. Or at least as good as the expanding child will allow me to be.

The one and only benefit of this ordeal has been that I've had the time to notice some things that happen around me. Usually I'm too busy or hormonal to see them. But let's talk about true love for a bit.

-My husband dropped absolutely everything yesterday to take me to my neurology appointment. My family doctor said I wasn't fit to drive, so Jere walked out of work, drove the 45 minutes home, and proceeded to help me get into the tub. He had called on his way, and I was in tears because it was Monday, and I'd been sick for two Mondays, which means the sheets hadn't gotten washed. And I cried over it. So while I soaked in the tub, he stripped the bed and put the sheets in to wash and dry. And when we got home from the neuro, he made the bed and put me in it.

-Jerry has sat through all three trips to the ER with me. All at night. All on nights before he had to work. He even pushed me around in a wheelchair this last time, and answered questions when I couldn't form coherent sentences. He fell asleep face first at the end of the hospital bed.

-He keeps the fridge stocked, and constantly checks to make sure I'm getting enough fluids.

-He checks on me every 15 minutes while I'm resting. I usually don't need anything but company or a water refill, but he always checks.

-He's been a great sport about takeout food. It's hard to cook when you can't even walk straight, but there's always something to eat.

-He worries constantly about two things: my calorie intake and my fiber intake. When you're not particularly hungry due to a migraine and vertigo, it's hard to eat enough to satisfy an avocado sized baby. This has prompted him to bring home things like granola snack mix and ultra fiber cereal and a whole lot of steak.

-He keeps me, the baby, and himself rolling in cookies and milk.

-He washes his own uniforms, and never says a word when we're out of towels.

-The poor man has skipped numerous trips to the gym just to get home to be with his sick, moody wife. This may not sound so big, but after 4 years at VMI and 23 years in the Army, PT time is sacred.

-I told him the baby can't actually hear him talk yet, so he's taken to making vibrating noises on my belly, convinced the baby can feel it. (I get an extra big smile at that one)

-He loves his mama. Maybe that doesn't sound like a way that he loves me, but trust me, it is. The two call each other several times a week. I pray my kids love me like that when they're grown (not to mention I pray to have even half the class my mother-in-law has as I get older).

-Jerry has no idea how to clean a kitchen. If it's not growing things, it's not dirty. However, he sure tries! And I get to be treated to a beautiful sight everytime I walk in there: the dishwasher is always either loaded or unloaded. I've never had to ask. It just happens. And it's a prettier thing than snow covered mountains or white sand beaches.

Today's lesson: It's difficult to see how much a person truly loves and cares for you until you're unable to care for yourself. And unable to walk yourself to the bathroom, for that matter.

I am truly loved and truly blessed. And am now going to have myself a cookie.

Organization + Planning + Etiquette = True Love

2009-08-04T17:11:00.006-04:00

There's something so beautiful about plans. Something enchanting about lists and clean lines and everything in its place. I've spent some time planning my friend Kelli's bridal shower lately, and I'm enjoying it so much! Today I addressed the invitations. Is there anything prettier than a stack of neatly addressed invitations?

Let's delve further into this obsession with neatness and niceness. I'm a planner. I keep a calendar on the wall, buy birthday cards six months ahead of time, and finish Christmas shopping in October (if not sooner). I have a box in the closet filled with presents so that I'm always prepared just in case I forget (not that I ever give myself that opportunity).

What's that? Is that a giant etiquette book? And what is that stacked next to it? Is that.....no way. A stack of ridiculously expensive stationary?! Oh, yes it is. I love the feel of good stationary between my fingers and under my pen. It gives me happy shivers. And having the answers to all my questions about the proper way to address said stationary before I send it off at my fingertips makes me absolutely giddy.

I love order. I love proper behavior. I may swear like a sailor at home, but when out in girl world, as someone so sweetly put it to me yesterday, I am "classy." Playing by the rules is just as fun as breaking them.

Though I am prone to reset the table in restaurants when it's not properly done when I sit down.

And our child had better come out of the womb expecting routines and slightly psychopathic organization. We don't even know the sex of the baby, but he or she is already well set up with a neatly organized dresser.

But wait! What is THIS? Is that my DESK????

Today's lesson: Everyone has a dark side. Despite the bookshelves organized by subject and the very neatly addressed stationary that leaves my mailbox, I, too, have a wild side. I mean, it's only a messy desk, but inside I feel like it's the ultimate rebellion. *grin*

The things people say

2009-07-29T11:53:00.006-04:00

The "glowing" face of pregnancy.

First off, let me say that my husband has accused me of neglecting my blog. He apparently doesn't know what's going in my world if I'm not writing. My apologies, but I wasn't in a great big hurry to recount to you all the miseries of pregnancy's glorious first trimester. To sum it up: aching back, headaches, morning sickness, evening sickness, random crying, cravings, and one episode of hitting my husband with a water bottle. Don't worry, he didn't suffer any ill effects, unless he strained himself laughing.

And now, to start you off, I'm going to link to one of my favorite blogs. Go. Read it. But don't get lost over there, because it's very possible to do so. Be sure to come back. :-) I'll wait...by the way, I'm comment #125.

http://thepioneerwoman.com/blog/2009/07/amanda_jacksons_wig_redux/#comments

Reading Ree's blog this morning plunged me deep into thought. Why do we say these things? And I'm far from perfect. I haven't made her particular blunder, but I've certainly had my share of moments where I wanted to sink down into the floor. And thank you, Ree, for reminding me of all the blogs I've wanted to write about this over the past few weeks. I'm just now finding the energy again.

Ask before you rub! This is me and Feisty. She lovingly invited to rub the belly for pregnancy luck, and it completely worked.

I've been getting pregnancy comments from everyone, most of which are very welcome and appreciated. I am completely in love with the girl at my uncle's birthday party who, upon hearing that I was not only pregnant, but constantly nauseous, recommended some Preggie Pops, which is morning sickness candy. I love hearing the congratulations and the "you're glowing" comments (thank you, Ericka, for actually being the only person to say that). I even love being told that I'm going to be a great mom, mostly because sometimes I have my doubts.

And in a case like Ree's, I even found it adorable when my grumpy grandfather put a hand on my belly and asked, "You carrying twins in there?" Though it prompted a shirt change.

This is the only man who can get away with twins comments, got it?

But I am really self-conscious these days. I had joined a messageboard of pregnant women who were all due the same month as I am. It was all going well until someone started a post asking if anyone else was losing weight. What started out as her being concerned turned into a line of responses bragging about how much weight each of these women had lost! Responses ranged from a couple of pounds to 15! I felt so discouraged, because I've gained a portly 3 pounds. Then a woman had the audacity to say (and I sort of quote, but not really), "There's NO reason for ANYONE to have gained ANY weight in their first trimester."

Um, excuse me? Didn't I read somewhere that in women of normal weight, a gain of 3 to 5 pounds was normal? And that any weight loss isn't exactly ideal for that baby?

Now I understand that morning sickness can make some women lose weight during the first trimester. I've heard a lot of horror stories, and was fully prepared to be constantly ill. But I consider myself lucky that I've been able to choke down meals and hold down my prenatal vitamins. It involves holding still and waiting for the room to stop spinning each time I take a bite, and trust me, I've fallen asleep on the bathroom floor more than once. But I sucked it up, which doesn't mean I'm stronger or more determined than other pregnant women. It just makes me darn lucky that I wasn't so severely ill that I couldn't eat. Really, really lucky. So lucky that I've been able to gain that completely healthy three pounds. But try telling me that on a fat day.

The other series of thoughtless comments have come from, *GASP*, my husband himself. I'm calling the poor guy out here, and fully invite him to defend himself. Let me preface, he's been 95% wonderful. He goes to the store almost nightly on his way home to fulfill my cravings, rubs my feet and back, makes a ton of grilled cheese and chocolate milk, and puts me to bed everynight when I start to hunch over the computer. But that last 5%?

-"Wow, you look really pregnant today!"

-"Between your big hair and acne, people are going to think you're a pregnant 12 year old."

-"Is that your boob all the way down there?"

Now, I know he means well and is trying to commisserate with me and make me laugh. But there's a difference between me saying these things, and him saying them. When I joke about them, I'm voicing my own insecurities and looking for reassurance (which he's good about, I swear, when he's responding to me). But the out of the blue comments? OUCH! And he learns his mistake pretty fast when I burst into tears. Ugh, I hate hormones. Hate hate hate them.

He's a wonderful husband. He's going to be a great dad. Unless we have a girl, and she gets to be a teenager and asks, "Dad, do you like my new haircut?" And he'll make her cry. Just you wait. :-) But I love him.

Today's lesson: Have you ever heard that you should think about what you're going to say for 10 seconds before you say it? Well, the pregnancy book my husband is reading told him to wait 45 seconds just to be safe. I think it's pretty sound advice for anyone!

Unexpected end

2009-07-13T18:18:00.006-04:00

I have pictures of our days in Rome.

I have pictures of Vatican City.

And I have pictures of the Colosseum.

I even have pictures of the Trevi Fountain.

But of all the photos from Rome, my favorite was not one that I took.

And it was a complete surprise. I'm due in February.

Today's lesson: It's not original, and it's not witty. It's simple.
EXPECT THE UNEXPECTED!

If I didn't miss my husband, I'd never leave Santorini

2009-07-08T09:11:00.000-04:00

Can you even describe it?

We wandered the narrow streets, surrounded by white washed buildings, only to find that the best view was just outside a dress shop. What a lucky shopowner.

And the second best view was from the restaurant where we had orange Fanta, pasta, and moussaka.

Then we wandered the streets, eating gelato.

Today’s lesson: They say you can’t go home. The truth is, you can go home, but you can never go home the same person you were before you saw true beauty.

I need a day off!

2009-07-07T09:00:00.000-04:00

Karalyn and I spent this cruise running at full tilt. Touring ruins, mostly, in the summer heat and humid air. The jet lag was still kicking us over a week into our trip, and the ports were starting to run together in a blur. So it made me happy to realize that in my foresight, two months ago, I had planned for this burnout.

We spent three hours at Tsambika Beach on Rhodes. I tried to stay fully covered and under my umbrella, but it just got too hot and the water was too inviting. I don’t swim. I am ridiculously afraid of water. But Karalyn got in first to prove that you could go out for yards and never have it touch above your waist. And it was so clear and calm that you could see the little fish swimming around your toes in the soft yellow sand. Magic.

Today’s lesson: Even in the midst of a vacation, sometimes you need a vacation. Don’t feel like you need to see it all. Sometimes skipping what’s considered “important” can prove to make you appreciate the places you visit even more.

I lied.

2009-07-05T21:16:00.000-04:00

I have seen someplace more crowded than the Acropolis on cruise ship day. And it is Kusadasi, Turkey.

I’ve actually been here before, toured the exact same places. I wanted to share them with my sister. But the last time I came was in November, a year and a half ago. It was winter, and freezing, but the spaces were empty and wide open, and I was free to explore without getting elbowed and smacked in the head.

Our first stop was the house of the Virgin Mary. This is the home in Kusadasi that the Vatican recognizes as the place where Mary spent her last years. It’s a bit of a pilgrimage for some Christians, and the first time I went, I was touched by being there.

Not so much this time, as it took standing in a line four people wide to get into the tiny house. Nightmarishly hot outside.

But this time I remembered to bring a tissue, because next to the fountains of holy water is a wall of wishes. You write down a wish on a tissue, think of your wish while you’re praying in the house, then go down the hill and tie your wish to the wall.

And then it was on to Ephesus. Where Karalyn got to see this.

This is a carving of the goddess Nike. For those of you who have known me awhile, you know we had a Great Dane growing up who was named Nike. She was the best dog we could have had, especially after the long line of bad luck we’d had with puppies. Nike lived a long and happy life, but my sister had to put her down not long ago. Our beloved dog lives in my mother’s curio cabinet, as they had her cremated so she could be with them no matter where they move.

Karalyn saw a couple of Nikes on this trip. This one. And the one in the museum at Olympia, which they wouldn’t let her pose with.

Nike was the goddess of Victory. But our Nike was the victorious one, making us fall in love with her after so many bad experiences. She is truly missed.

Today’s lesson: It can sometimes take traveling halfway around the world to finally come full circle and close the doors on your grief.

More pictures of the happy ruins girl

2009-07-02T15:11:00.001-04:00

See this rough sea? I thought we were going to die a horrible, salty death.

Ok. So it doesn’t look as bad as it actually was. But we were soaked from the waves by the time we came back from Delos. And my sister? So excited by the wind and sea that she was narrating video as the ferry back to Mykonos slammed up and down. Except I don't have the video. I just have this fantastic picture of her laughing at me as I grip the rail of the boat for dear life.

We spent our day in Mykonos 22 km from the actual island. There is a tiny island called Delos that was known as the birthplace of Apollo and his sister, Artemis. It was also the center of trade and commerce in the Mediterranean during the years before Christ. There are ruins. So of course, Karalyn was in her element.

You’ll notice there are no pictures of me in this port. That is because in all the photos my sister took, I am an unsightly shade of seasick green. But the ruins were breathtaking, and completely worth the treacherous boat trip.

Today’s lesson: The journey may not always be pleasant, but it is quite often worth it. Even if you come back covered in saltwater and terribly seasick.

Because you'd have to be crazy...

2009-07-01T16:57:00.005-04:00

…to tour Athens when there are half a dozen cruise ships in port.

What a mess touring the Acropolis. I’ve never seen so many sweaty tourists in one place. Except maybe Disney World.

We eventually escaped the madhouse and went shopping in the huge flea market in downtown Athens, called the Plaka. And while we were there, I found happiness and air conditioning.

Today’s lessons: No matter how far away you are, the comforts of home are a true blessing. Even if it is just a cold smoothie in a Greek Starbucks.

Another dream

2009-06-30T07:29:00.002-04:00

You want to talk about making other people’s dreams come true? I know I talked about my husband making my dream a reality while in the process of a previous blog, but what I didn’t mention was that my sister just about fell through the floor when I invited her to go on this trip with me.

Karalyn is a lucky girl. It’s just as expensive for one person to travel as it is for two. If you want to go on a guided tour alone, like I did in Eastern Europe, you have to pay what is called a “single supplement.” It’s to make up for the fact that there is a price difference between a double room and a single room, especially in Europe. The single room is cheaper, but not quite half the cost of a double room. My favorite tour company is great about really low supplement costs, so I still tour on my own.

But cruise lines are different. On a cruise, you pay per person. There are no single rooms, because they can make twice as much if they require you to pay for double occupancy. So even if I were to go alone, I would still have to pay for another person, whether I bring them or not. My sister is simply lucky because she tends to be the only one with the available time to go with me. And she’s lucky that she’s a good travel companion, minus the bathroom hogging. She needs a lot of rest, just like I do, and won’t go at the insane speed I’ve seen people her age go at on these cruises.

The bonus? I, thanks to my husband, get to take her to see the world, bit by bit. Up until two years ago, she’d never been on an airplane. I’ve taken her to the Bahamas, California, and Mexico. And now, I’ve taken her to see something that had her speechless. Yes. That’s a miracle.
We all have something we love, some subject we love to study more than any other. It’s the reason my husband tours Civil War battlefields. It’s the reason why I’ll give in and watch hours of WWII documentaries on the History Channel. And it’s the reason why my sister took several hundred pictures while we were at Olympia. She’s a Greek mythology fanatic.

We arrived at Katakolon after our stop in Corfu. Olympia is an archeological site where the first Olympics were held, and now there is a museum and acres of ancient ruins. And Karalyn quickly lapsed into a trance when we walked through the doors of the museum.

This is a satisfied kid.

Doesn’t she look at home among the ruins?

And who is this cranky woman roasting in the sun?

Today’s lesson: While getting away on your own can be relaxing and fulfilling, there’s something about bringing along someone who can share in and appreciate all the amazing sights this world has to offer.

Make a wish!

2009-06-29T09:03:00.008-04:00

There is a wishing well in Corfu at the Monastery of the Virgin Mary. The monks say you have to toss a coin into the well over your right shoulder and think your wish…

…and toss!

Ah, to be a dreamer.

This monastery was so peaceful, despite the heat and the throng of tourists. Even I looked mollified.

In fact, this may have been the second happiest day of the cruise for me. It was ranked first until later, but, as you know, I’m writing this way after the fact.

This was the coldest water ever. Colder than Lake Superior in the fall.

But I’m the happiest girl with goosebumps.

Today’s lesson: Getting your feet wet can be even better than diving in head first. Especially if the experience is bound to shock you either way.

Another day, another country (or two)

2009-06-23T03:48:00.003-04:00

Croatia:

It’s always a numbers game. I want to see as many countries as I can. I want to see as many places as I can.

So when the opportunity to drive through Bosnia-Herzegovina during our stop in Dubrovnik, Croatia came up, I jumped on it. It turned out to be the best excursion we could have chosen. A beautiful drive up the coast, a stop for a snack overlooking a bay in Herzegovina, a boat ride through a marsh delta in Croatia, and lunch by the river.

Since there really are no words, here are the best of the best of our pictures.

Here I am in Herzegovina. Another country down. And darn happy that I just got to have orange Fanta out of a glass bottle.

And Karalyn being dweeby while I’m trying to figure out how to set the camera so we actually show up in the photos.

Ah, here she is, looking carefree in a way I’ve never found possible for me.

There is a Croatian tradition that you offer your visitors a shot of brandy and a dried fig.

Here’s Karalyn with the brandy (rocket fuel, I tell you, and yes, she’s legal to drink in Croatia).

And biting a fig.

You can’t beat this view from our riverside restaurant.

Me again. I know exactly what’s going through my head at this moment.

“I hope my hat doesn’t fly off. Again.”

Today’s lesson: Sometimes you have to shut up and take a look at what’s surrounding you. I guess that’s a less demure way of saying you should stop and smell the roses.

The blogs begin

2009-06-22T13:30:00.003-04:00

I'm sitting at a desk in the beautiful St. Regis in Rome. Things have finally settled down enough here that I can post at least one of the blogs I have already written from the cruise. So here goes!

Venice:

How do you make someone’s dream come true? Well, I suppose it’s different depending on the person’s dream. And some dreams are easier than others. I’m blessed. I really am. Because my dream was a tall order, and my husband not only decided to foot the bill, but he carried my luggage and stuck me on a plane.

Those of you who read my blogs know I’ve been many places. But I’ve always felt that going to Greece had to be special, like it was the final step in my travel journey. I thought once I got to go that it would be the end of my traveling days. We’ll just have to see about that.

After laying over in JFK and Rome, I met up with my sister in Venice. We caught a cab out to the port and promptly passed out in our stateroom. Jet lag is a killer, and Karalyn swore up and down she wouldn’t get it. Since I’m writing this blog days after our arrival, I can confirm that jet lag is still kicking both our butts.

I wish I could say that Venice was a dream. It wasn’t. We ended up being there before 10 in the morning, and all the really good shopping was closed. It was fine, but Venice really is a city for lovers. It’s all about romantic restaurants and gondola rides in the moonlight. So K and I wandered around, took our pictures, and got back on the boat to go back to the ship. That was that. That was Venice.

Today’s lesson: Don’t underestimate the effect messing up your schedule can have. 17 hours in airports and a jump ahead in time can feel like crashing into a brick wall when it finally catches up to you.

Meet Karalyn

2009-06-05T08:48:00.000-04:00

This is my sister. I will admit that I lovingly stole this picture from her Facebook page. It's a pretty accurate portrayal of her attitude, I swear.

What prompts me to write a blog about my little sister? Well, blog readers, you'll be seeing a lot of her in the coming weeks. My husband is sending Karalyn and I on a Mediterranean cruise this month. I offered to take him, but he's sending my sister instead so he doesn't have to take any time off work. :-) Actually, that's only partly true. He's also sending her because, like me, sometimes she just needs to escape.

To say my sister and I are alike would be an outright lie. She's outgoing, and I'm an introvert. She's a little tall, I'm a lot of short. She likes very different clothes and very different shoes. She likes to spend time on her hair and makeup, whereas I have a perm so I can shake and go, and my makeup lives in my purse so I can put it on only in the event of an emergency.

Then again, we're not opposites, either, which is not to say it's genetic. We spent a great deal of our childhood alone together, rebelling against the clean and beating the stuffing out of one another. She is 6 1/2 years younger than me, but grew much, much faster. We began arguing over clothes when I was in high school, my wardrobe slowly disappearing into her closet, piece by piece. Every month I had to make a pilgrimage into her room and bring all my shirts back to their home in my room. And the white shirts? Never survived a day if she wore them.

So now that we're grown, we have our own styles and our own lives, but we still come together to whine about our parents, men, friends, pets, and whatever randomly pops into our heads. We get online or on the phone and watch movies together, 1052 miles apart. I miss her. I know how much she loves where she lives, but I sincerely hope she makes her way down here someday.

That said, now that I've been given the gift of travel, I love dragging her with me. We do cruises together, and it's a riot. She never puts down her phone, but she also walks my drunk butt back to the cabin after I've had one too many blue cocktails. She gleefully dresses for dinner and goes with me to dance to dances we don't know the steps to. We get stuck at group tables on cruises, always the odd ones out, so I'm glad to have her. I've now seen enough of the world that I'm excited to share it.

My sister, like my husband, is a history buff. Which is another place she and I differ. I'm a science and math nerd, and she really blossoms when the talk turns to history, especially of the ancient sort. She can research and write fantastic papers without a whole lot of effort. So when I mentioned Greece and our upcoming itinerary, she was all over what we had to see and the stories behind each location. And, for once, I get to teach her something, because our cruise makes a day stop in Turkey. Not only have I been to Turkey, I've been where we're going. Plus, I can shop in Turkish. That's right. Turkish. I can't wait!

Basic facts about my sister:

1. She has had a part in ALL my weddings. She was in the first two. And she helped me with a dress emergency at the last minute with my dress for the third. "Kris, do you OWN a slip?"
2. She changes her major at least as often as she changes her hair. The current one is history, and I think she might just stick with it! Mostly because it was my idea.
3. She doesn't eat pork. She just doesn't like the taste.
4. She loves animals. She has a house full of them.
5. Speaking of which, Karalyn lives in my house. She's taken the little place I bought with so much hope and turned it into her home. I had a lot of sad endings there, so I'm glad the house has renewed purpose.
6. Her luck with cars is much like mine. They're either crashed or they break down.
7. Karalyn has a million friends. I mean it. A million. She'll out of the blue start talking about someone and I'm always like...."Who?" With a big, bubbly personality, she is a magnet for friends. Unfortunately, that means lots of enemies, too. Family tradition, I suppose.

8. She is not the most camera savvy. Which is why when we get back from our trip, you will see 300 pictures of her, and maybe 2 of me.

9. Her first plane ride was only two years ago to see me in DC. Shortly after, I surprised her by dragging her on another plane for a cruise to the Bahamas. And she can snorkel like a pro.
10. The kid commits more cell phone homicides than I'd have ever thought possible. I mean it. For as much as she loves being on the phone, you'd think she'd be kinder to the ones she owns. But not so much.

Today's lesson: Stolen from Mulan. "The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all." My sister and I didn't have the most idyllic childhood, or even the friendliest relationship during out younger years. But by standing together through the roughest of times, we get to enjoy each other with unconditional love. Even when I trip over her doing the electric slide, or she lands another phone in the electronics morgue.

What's your happiness?

2009-05-18T15:01:00.013-04:00

It's been a long year. And I don't often think about the amount of time my husband has spent away from me in terms that break my heart, but I think back over the last 12 months, and it hurts when I realize that he's basically missed a full year of our life together. He missed Europe, both our birthdays, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and our anniversary. He missed picking out the house we're renting and buying furniture. He missed helping me pack and move. Now he keeps roaming around the house, looking for his stuff and laughing when I tell him I honestly have no clue where it is.

Thankfully, we've picked up where we left off. Well, no. That's not true. We're BETTER. I often talk about just how easy marriage comes to us, and it's more true than ever. Even when I'm freaking out about the Mustang breaking down or the fact that I don't own any pants that are the right size. I didn't realize how lonely it was here until I got to share the space with him. I love it.

So what's happiness?

I think I know.

Today's lesson: You can make up for lost time. And in trying to fill in what you missed, you can make some truly special memories.

2009-05-01T10:41:00.008-04:00

This insomnia/nightmare thing is beginning to get out of control. First, I can't fall asleep for anything, no matter how tired I am. And I wake up so much throughout the night. I've been sleeping until noon trying to make up for it, but it feels like my days are just escaping from me. I'm an early morning person. Getting up with a cup of coffee and having the day's tasks done by 10 AM always makes my day right. And getting up this late? Well, it's kind of kicking my butt.

And lately, you can add nightmares to the mix. I'm not talking monsters and zombies. I'm talking about dreams that prey on my worst fears, then exploit them. Twice this week I've woken up completely heartbroken. There's always this ache there, but when I wake up in the mornings, it's like I've been ripped open and left to bleed. Horrid dreams that make absolutely no sense to me. Or maybe they make better sense than I realize.

Well, onto less interesting, but less pessimistic things. Since my day is starting so late, I've opted for tea over coffee. And since I woke up in such a foul mood, I'm having chocolate madeleines for breakfast. These little cake/cookie type things are so good that I have dreams about them (the good kind). They were doing a sampling of them one day at my Starbucks in Staunton, and I haven't been able to live without them since. So, this is me shamelessly plugging Starbucks, once again. Buy the chocolate madeleines. Happiness in a snack size package.

Of course, being me, I had to take it a step further and order madeleine pans. I'm convinced there's a way to make these tasty little treats somewhat healthier. Wish me luck with that one.

Yesterday was rewardingly stressful. It involved paperwork, a lot of tense waiting, and cleaning my garage. Why you ask? Because my husband bought me a present! Anyone could tell me right now that they have the world's best husband, and I'd probably fight them to the death. My husband rightfully deserves the title at the moment.

Two years ago, when I came into this marriage, I brought a truckload of baggage. Financial baggage and emotional baggage. And Jerry's done his darndest to get rid of both. One was easier than the other. Part of this involved selling the first car I'd bought on my own. I was so far underneath this car that I couldn't see the light of day, and we lived in DC, so having two cars was ridiculous. But when I let go of the car, I felt like I let go a little piece of me. Which was funny, because I pretty much hated that car. I bought it on one of the worst days of my life, and it had behaved accordingly ever since.

Not having your own car, or anything of your own for that matter, can make you feel like you're a visitor in someone else's world. I've felt like a visitor in Jerry's, and he knows that. He's tried so hard to reassure me that all these things are mine as well. He even let me do my bedroom in VA in a black/white/pink Audrey Hepburn theme. But I still felt like I was drowning in his 45 years worth of stuff. There wasn't enough room for everything. Until now.

When Jerry said we were moving to Florida, it became my mission to find the right house. And, lucky for us, the right house came along fairly quickly. And in its square footage, I was able to find something that had always been missing in our decor: us. Not me. Not him. Us. There was room for our tastes to blend, room to add little bits of me to some of the things he's collected. It was the memories that we'd made together that inspired me, specifically, our disastrously delicious trip to Hawaii. And with the help of my aunt and grandma (I say help, but there has to be a stronger word for everything they did for me) , my vision became real. And I feel like WE live here. But there was something missing.

I was still driving around Jerry's Saturn. And soon enough, we were going to need to need two cars. I'd been browsing cars and usually ended up getting frustrated and giving up. But a couple days ago, I found the car I wanted. And without any hesitation on his part, Jerry sent me to buy it. My gift from him. A trophy car for his trophy wife.

I keep running to the garage every hour or so to make sure it's not a dream.

Today's lesson: Sometimes it's alright to hand your baggage to someone else and trust them to take care of it when it's too heavy for you to handle. Even if it takes some time, the right person will help you throw back the convertible top and toss that baggage right out into Tampa Bay at 70 MPH.

Amazing weekend, good reading

2009-04-20T19:47:00.010-04:00

I will admit that last week was difficult. The best laid plans changed. I was outsmarted by several stacks of books. And my emotions (and the emotions of those I love) were feeling worn down and stomped on. So when the weekend came, it was time to escape, and my Aunt T had provided just the opportunity.

I had planned to see the Hannah Montana movie the day it came out, but thanks to my new sleep schedule, I slept right through the showing for which I'd bought a ticket. Which turned out to be nice, because my aunt and I made plans to see it the following weekend. I got in my car Saturday, put on the Twilight soundtrack, and enjoyed a nice drive. The wonderful thing about living in Florida is that I no longer panic about getting lost, because I've been here on and off my whole life. It's already in my brain.

T and I met up, stopped in at a birthday party for her friend, then went to get my hair done. I so badly needed it permed, as the humidity was making my old perm flat. Everytime I move, I have to find a new everything: new dentist, new doctor, new favorite gas station. Lucky for me, my aunt recommended her hair stylist. I'm not only in love with my hair. I'm in love with all the ladies in the salon. They talked about everything, no holds barred. And I've been invited to go with a group of them to see the next installment of the Twilight series when it comes out. Look! Instant friends!

Next, T and I went for pedicures. It's the first time I've had a pedicure done by a man. A little odd, but he did a fantastic job. Then the little girl came over and painted tiny flowers on my toenails. So cute! And so needed, because my poor toes looked awful.

That night we went to see Hannah Montana. As a treat, T took me to this little theater that's nothing more than a hole in the wall. But they have a full menu, including wine and beer, all at more than reasonable prices. There was just something ironic and wonderful about watching Hannah Montana while nursing a Bud Light. Great movie, by the way. My favorite part was being surrounded by little girls who were singing along with all the songs. It was adorable! I almost joined in...

After the movie, we went for sushi. I have a very big problem with the whole "eyes being bigger than my stomach" thing with sushi. I want it all. And I've actually been having dreams about sushi, which made it worse. But it was so good, and despite the fact that the spicy tuna roll cleared out my sinuses, I walked out full and slightly buzzed. I hit the bed that night with my eyes closed and didn't wake up for 9 1/2 hours.

We had breakfast Sunday morning, then headed into Orlando to see Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. My aunt has season tickets to the Broadway Across America program in Orlando, and there's always an extra ticket for me. It was a cute show, but I'm of the opinion that Broadway shows and kids don't mix. It's not like a movie theater. It's a major issue when someone has to "go potty." And you would think that the show planners would have said, "Hey, this is a kid oriented show. Maybe we should have two intermissions instead of just one." It's a thought.

I had such a good weekend that I didn't particularly want to come home.

Two things happened today that are worth noting. First, I had a solicitor come to the door. We get a lot of them around here, and I've finally figured out how to get rid of them. The guy asked if my parents were home. I simply told him no. *grin*

And the second thing was that I got a box from my husband. He sends me as many care packages as I send him, but lately it's been that he's sending things home that he doesn't want to drag in his bag. Today it was letters. My favorite thing about deployments is reading the cards and letters that he's gotten while he's there. I know, this is my first deployment with him, but this isn't my first deployment go round. And it opens your eyes as to who really cares about the man you love when you see who did and didn't bother to write to him. My thanks goes out to my family. You are all truly wonderful, because a great number of the cards came from you. It also reminded me that my husband has great friends. I love you all.

Today's lesson: Good family is more valuable than even the most expensive shrink.

I am HAPPY!

2009-04-16T19:16:00.003-04:00

There are so many things in life that can bring you down and break your heart. I've been through a few of them. But some days you just have to sit back, look at your life, and rejoice at the beautiful things you've been given.

1. I have the best husband in the world. In fact, he's given me just that: the world. I've always wanted to travel, and in our two years of marriage, I've been more places than I've been in my entire life. Most recently he decided to send my sister and I on a cruise to Italy, Greece, Turkey, and Croatia.
2. I live in a wonderful place. Florida is where I was born. It's where I belong. And being here makes me feel like I've come home. I get to sit by the pool and read or eat sushi or have a beer, basking in the warmth and drinking in the sunshine.
3. I am talented. Which is something I haven't been entirely upfront about. I've played the piano since I was 8. I love it. But I hate performing, mostly because the last time I performed, I made a little goof (it was at church) and this other kid at church mocked me mercilessly for it. I'm going to guess my second husband didn't even know I could play. I hate my nerves, but I love the way I sing and play for myself. And I once again have to thank Jerry for making the investment in what I love. I now have a piano that is easy to drag all over the US, no matter where we go.
4. I am smart. Darn smart. I'm good at math. I'm good at writing. And I'm surprisingly good with history, now that I've been exposed to it.
5. I'm darn pretty. Yes, I know that sounds conceited, but I've worked my butt off. Literally. Hard work pays off, and I'm proof.
6. I am a good wife. I can bake, I can cook, I can clean, and I care deeply about my husband and what happens in his day. I am good at what I do. And being a wife is my career.

What brings this on? I don't know. I guess I'm tired of thinking about the way others see me. I know the way that certain other people see me, and it's completely not fair. So I'm taking the time to wonder at myself and just how blessed and gifted I am. And I challenge each of you to do the same. It's not about being proud. It's about being honest with yourself about your worth.

And just ask my husband. I am completely worth it.

Today's lesson: There's nothing wrong with singing your own praises, as long as you know who to praise for your gifts.

Beach escape

2009-04-08T23:27:00.001-04:00

What a completely fantastic day! And trust me, I needed one. The weather here has been iffy, what with thunderstorms and wind, so I haven't been spending a whole lot of time outside. I've kind of holed up in here watching/reading Twilight. Yes, that's dual immersion right there. For two solid days.

So when my aunt and uncle invited me out for lunch and a little beach time, I was thrilled! They're down with my cousins for spring break, and were headed out to Anna Maria Island today, which is just over an hour from me. I've lived here for a few weeks now, and haven't really made it further than the nearby shopping centers.

Most of the time, when I was a kid, the beach meant Daytona, New Smyrna, Cocoa, all Atlantic coast beaches. I made my first remembered trip to the Gulf coast a couple Christmases ago with Jerry, when we stayed on the beach and watched lightning hit the ocean out our balcony window. There's something magical about the Gulf and its light colored water and white sand beaches. It's as beautiful as the Carribean, but in such a different way. And today out at Coquina Beach, the sand was warm and perfect. The sun wasn't too hot, the wind wasn't too rough.

I showered and drove to the beach with the windows down and the radio blasting. My aunt, uncle, and cousins were there, already laid out in the pristine sand, my cousin Tavia surrounded by the shells she'd collected from along the water. We sat around for awhile, then headed out for lunch at this neat little restaurant right on the beach. Plastic chairs, palm trees, and coconut shrimp. I can't wait to bring Jerry back to this place!

I think I have a new favorite place in Florida. I love Key West, and I love wandering on International Drive. I love Daytona and New Smyrna and the Everglades. But today I sat with my toes in the sand and really felt like I have come home. Thanks to my aunt and uncle for showing me such a beautiful beach and for helping me feel some of that Michigan love. After all the years of living in the frozen north, it's easy to appreciate the wind and the waves.

Today's lesson: Listen to the recommendations of others. Their knowledge can be pricelessly valuable, especially when they lead you to a place of perfect happiness.

Keep your family close, and your enemies far, far away

2009-03-23T20:45:00.004-04:00

I've never been more grateful to be near family. There is so much that I needed to do this past week, and there's no way I would have kept the motivation going without them. I know I was a wreck and a great big meanie, but they sure hung in there with me.

I drove down to Florida last week after members of the Staunton PD came on their day off to load my moving cubes. They made this last stretch of my mood so stress free that I was able to get in the car and drive off the second they were finished. Bless them and my friends for helping me out (including all of you who live a full day's drive away and STILL offered to come, you rock my world), because I certainly wasn't going to get any help from anyone else.

I drove through the night, napped at a rest area, and made it to Florida late in the afternoon. It was sunny and warm, and I walked in the door of this beautiful house, then immediately fell asleep on the new carpet. I slept most of the day and all of the night, and woke up still exhausted the next morning.

My grandma came on Friday, and my aunt on Saturday, and they stayed here with me. We shopped, filled cars to the top with food, random decor, and chairs. They kept me moving forward, kept me shopping, kept me accomplishing what needed to be finished before they left with their roomy vehicles.

I was, of course, surly and stressed out, not to mention snippy. I'll admit it. So when the moving company told me they could deliver my things a week late so I could have a whole weekend to unload, I took it. It means I have some time to sleep and search out my sanity.

So, I guess the short story is that I'm here. Ginger is settling in fantastically, spending a ton of time on the patio, sunning herself. She loves all the space in here. As do I. There are new chairs lovingly built by three very goofy women. And I'm comfy on my big air mattress, waiting for all hell to break loose. Until then, I have chairs and beer. And leftover grandma food. Life is truly wonderful.

And Happy Anniversary, honey. Maybe next year we'll actually get to spend it together. Thank you for making these the easiest two years of my life, despite the Army throwing wrenches in our plans. We could be stranded on a desert island, and you'd still find a way to make my life sweet and simple. I love you.

Today's lesson: You can never know how much you need real family until you spend time without any. Thank God for my family. I am so happy to have finally made my way home.

I've made it onto "Crazy Lady"

2009-03-22T20:08:00.002-04:00

I am so proud! Everyone check it out!

http://crazyladysawwhat.blogspot.com/

A courtesy explanation for the men...

2009-03-15T16:37:00.002-04:00

I think, as women, we confound the men in our lives during that “special” week every month. During PMS, our significant other can’t do anything right, say anything right, or wear the right facial expression. Their poor minds must just spin with questions. “Why is she standing in the bathroom, screaming and crying because her hair won’t do what she wants it to?” “Why is there a hairbrush flying across the room toward my head for saying her hair looks fine?” “Why is she surprised her jeans won’t zip when she just ate an entire king size Hershey bar?”

This PMS thing is a new concept to me. For many years, I haven’t been on what one would call “a schedule.” I’ve talked before about my fertility issues, and have only recently gotten on medication that ensures that, like clockwork, I become a raging hormonal crazy woman one week every month. (Note: I hear my husband laughing, because he’s thinking about the crazy woman I am during the other three weeks.)

While I’m grateful that my medication is working, I’m a little concerned that I haven’t learned to cope with PMS like other women my age. I haven’t had as much experience as they have, and I tend to go absolutely insane. So, I figured I would impart my new-found knowledge to our men. Especially mine, as he’s never had to deal with this before. He has no idea what he’s coming home to. *grin*

PMS makes us do things we wouldn’t normally dream of doing. I woke up this morning, bright and early. And then went back to bed two hours later. It’s been up and down all day here. I look at everything that needs to be done for my move, and immediately feel overwhelmed and hide under the covers. I doesn’t matter that 99% of my stuff is packed. The 1% is mocking me.

The craving for food is what hits me the worst. The rest of the month, I could easily live without chocolate and ice cream. But this afternoon I needed ice cream. It wasn’t a choice. I threw on my fat jeans and a sweatshirt, went out in the cold and rain, and headed to Hell-mart on a Sunday. Normally, I wouldn’t dream of going there on Sunday. But the call of junk food was so strong that I parked and nearly sprinted to the ice cream aisle. Then I grabbed a slab of chocolate cake from the bakery, some milk, and headed for the checkout.

This chocolate thing is something I just don’t understand! I am a healthy eater. I stay awake from pork, white bread, and potatoes. I never, EVER eat candy bars. I just don’t see the appeal. But for this week, every month, it’s like my hormones take control of my body. I walk like a zombie around Walmart, mindlessly grabbing whatever my crazy alter ego is craving at the moment. Then, when the week is over, I find the things I’ve bought and can’t even remember putting them in my basket. It’s a truly out of body experience. Many candy bars have made it home that way and gotten thrown away because they never get eaten.

I can, however, live with the cravings. Despite chowing down, I never put on any weight that my body doesn’t take off immediately. What really gets me are the mood swings. For example, I drove back from the store this afternoon to find that, in the 20 minutes I had been gone, some asshole had taken my parking spot. I have a favorite spot that I park in here that’s closest to my door. I’m pretty possessive about it, just because my apartment is so oddly situated and the parking lot is pretty poorly lit. It’s just a safety issue for me, not an assigned parking space thing.

So I see this awful white car in MY parking spot, and I am all of a sudden overwhelmed by the urge to run headlong into it. And in my mind, I’m weighing the pros and cons of ramming this car and sending it down the hill. I mean, I’m insured. But thankfully, the second I thought that, the line from 10 Things I Hate About You came into my head: “My insurance does NOT cover PMS!” And I grumbled and parked way at the other end of the lot. And trudged all the way to my apartment, trying hard not to run over and smash anyone’s windshield. I’m still stewing over it.

Today’s lesson: I guess what I would tell the men in our life is to please be patient. We are just as frustrated by our crazy behavior as you are, if not more. We can’t control it, we aren’t right in the head, and while we’re aware of it, there is absolutely nothing we can do. Keep your distance, and slide us some chocolate under the bathroom door if we’re having a bad hair day.

The value of a shopping trip

2009-03-05T21:01:00.003-05:00

It's hard to see progress when you're watching it unfold on a daily basis. Dieting has been a challenge with the upcoming move. I hesitate to grocery shop, since I have to toss anything I still have from the freezer and refrigerator when I leave. So my diet has consisted of Domino's, McDonald's, and oatmeal. On top of all that, I put on three pounds eating nothing but my grandma's chicken and dumplin's while I was in Florida.

The last week, I've felt stressed out, fat, and depressed. The weather was gray and cold, and it eventually snowed. I haven't wanted to move from the bed, but there were things to get finished. Yesterday I headed out with Ginger to her vet appointment. She got her rabies vaccine, and consequently feels like crap right now. She has to go in for some dental surgery next week as well. She's going to hate me.

I haven't been lifting weights because I've been lifting boxes. My poor body is covered in bruises, and every muscle aches. I was worried that my diet of pure junk was going straight to my thighs. I haven't been able to drop anymore weight, but I wasn't worried because I can now do enough pushups to max out an Army PT test. I am STRONG, and I'm more proud of that than the pounds I've lost.

But junk food makes you feel like a failure, even if you are burning all the nasty calories off and more. So I felt frumpy and awful when I went out for tea at The Beverley with A today. We had a fantastic tea, then hopped across the street to Design at Nine. If anyone local reads my blog, go there. It's the place in Staunton I will miss the most. A and I shopped for awhile, and I found a dress to try on that was 50% off. I headed off to the dressing room, and A said to me, "You know, your legs are looking FANTASTIC! Really, I mean it, you can tell you've been working out."

Of course, I was in a pair of fishnet tights, and felt like a cow because they're so much work to put on. But I got in the dressing room and took off my clothes, and stood there in bra, tights, and heels when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. And A was right. My legs rock! My whole body rocks! Head to toe, I looked long and lean, which is a miracle considering I'm short and stocky.

I put the dress on (another size 8!), zipped up, and walked back out into the shop, where A gasped and said, "Your waist is so tiny!" The girl in the shop looked over and called out, "Yeah, what do you have, an 18 inch waist???" I felt sleek and sexy, and the ladies were right. I looked amazing. Despite a diet of banana cream pie and chicken nuggets, weight training and box lifting have not only strengthened my body; they've strengthened my confidence as well.

My other cheer up came in the form of Sara calling me this evening. I told her I'd only packed one box today, and she laughed. But then I looked around and realized I had only packed one box because I'm almost finished with the things I can do ahead of time. Plus, Sara had a great tip for packing the kitchen stuff I'm still using. :-)

It's bedtime here. Ginger is laying in my lap, looking miserable, and I need to stop typing so she can sleep.

Today's lesson: When you feel like you're failing at a project, take a step back and look at it through someone else's eyes. The span of your accomplishments will often surprise you.

Blog fodder

2009-03-02T22:41:00.001-05:00

I woke up early this morning and got right online. I am so glad did, as Feisty was on, and she convinced me that not only should I accomplish my pre-set goal for the day, but that it would make fantastic blog fodder.

For those of you who do not write blogs, let me explain the concept of "blog fodder". Everytime something interesting, embarassing, amusing, or just plain weird happens to me, the first thought in my mind is usually, "Oh, this would be wonderful in my blog!" Quite often, the blogs you read from me have been written through the day in my head, waiting patiently for me to sit down long enough at my computer and type it up. In fact, if you want a good example of everyday oddities becoming blog fodder, try this blog. It's one of my new favorites.

So this morning, when I told Feisty that today's goal was to pack the frightening hole in the wall that is my husband's junk closet, her immediate response was, "Blog fodder!" Jere, as many of you know, is a clutterbug and historian. Our home is filled with books and the relics of his travels. I, on the other hand, was raised as a minimalist. Knick knacks are just extra things you have to dust. I am a fan of white walls and clean lines. My husband loves to have everything he owns on display, and I am perfectly content to store the majority of my belongings in boxes out of sight.

Even though Jere wasn't going to be living here, I still needed a three bedroom apartment to fit all of his stuff. And when I moved in, there were so many boxes and so much extra furniture that the people who were hired to unpack couldn't actually do it. In his old place, before we were married, he had a whole bedroom dedicated to storing his things, floor to ceiling. I couldn't have that here. Through organization and compromise, we worked it out. And one result of this compromise? Jere's closet.

My problem today was not really the abundance of stuff. It was the weight of it. Awkward sizes, heavy boxes on the top shelf, all led to bruises, cuts, smashed fingernails, and one very painful squished little toe (the result of an old wireless router falling from the top shelf to my foot on the floor). By the time I was finished, I was sweaty and sore, but I felt the stress melt from my body. Outside of packing the kitchen, this closet was my biggest job. I felt so accomplished looking at the neatly stacked boxes where the mess used to be. One more area completely ready for the movers.

In fact, I felt so satisfied, I packed the office closet as well. Half the closet was my shoes and baking supplies, the other half was Jere's coat collection and old trunks. And now it's done as well. It's fantastic.

I can't wait to get to Florida, where there's not only plenty of room for my husband to enjoy all of his things, but there's also plenty of room for me as well.

Today's lesson: It's so much better to tackle a task you're dreading than to let it hang over your head. Unless that thing that's hanging over your head suddenly falls on your foot.

It's what's for breakfast.

2009-02-28T10:31:00.004-05:00

At one point in time, my blogs were poignant. My writing was thought out, and meant something. But I'm starting to realize that when I sit down to write these, I'm tired and have usually had nothing but a mundane day filled with nothing anyone particularly wants to hear about. So I'm writing my blog in the morning. When I haven't had time for anything to happen in the first place.

I saw something this morning that has me torn. On one hand, it's a blaring example of what's wrong with America. On the other hand, I hope I'm as cool a parent. I think it proves moderation and occasional self-control are incredibly important.

When I woke up this morning, I wanted glazed donuts and a crappy latte, so I headed off to Dunkin' Donuts. Now, I don't know how everyone's Dunkin' is, but ours has a Baskin Robbins in it. While I stood at the counter waiting for my overhot, slightly burned latte the guy had to make with one hand while he held the instructions in the other, I noticed a little boy at the Baskin Robbins counter with crumpled dollars his parents had given him, ordering ice cream at 9:30 in the morning. And in that moment, I wanted to think I would be the mom who said, "Screw it. Ice cream for breakfast!"

And then I saw his parents, sitting with a week's worth of food on their little table, rear ends hanging over the chairs, necks rolling out of the collars of their shirts. And I had second thoughts about ice cream for breakfast. Especially when I saw that the kid had ordered a bigger ice cream than even my super calorie burning husband can put away on a hungry night. Self-control, people, and child-control.

Today's lesson: So what does this mean? It means we can splurge. We can go out and get what is quite possibly the worst breakfast ever on Saturday morning, drink ourselves under the table Saturday night, eat a Thanksgiving sized meal on Sunday afternoon, and as long as we can fit in our chairs on Monday morning, we should be alright. It means we can give our kids ice cream for breakfast, as long as we don't do it everyday.

Let the cat out of the........wait, where'd she go?

2009-02-24T21:46:00.005-05:00

Come here. Closer! Come on, I don't bite. Closer!

Look at that. You see it? It's the GRAY HAIR my cat gave me when she pulled her fantastic disappearing act this evening.

I've been packing all day. Jere's room is floor to ceiling boxes, and I've been working on emptying bookshelves and drawers. I stopped just long enough to order some pizza. After dinner and checking my email, I realized I hadn't seen Ginger in a couple of hours. It was 7 and way past dinnertime for her, and she'd never come out to remind me to get her food. So I went out to the kitchen, put her food in the bowl, and clinked the spoon on the edge so she could hear me. But I got no response.

So I started looking in the usual places. Until I realized I'd packed up all the usual places. For half an hour I ran around, checking under beds, in closets, under dressers, and I heard nothing from her. At that point, I lost it. I started throwing blankets aside, screaming for her. I even looked in the dryer, in case she had someone got in there. Eventually, I called Andrea to help me. I was afraid Ginger had gotten outside when the pizza guy was here, but that's not really her style.

Of course, calling Andrea meant I found the cat after Andrea was already on her way here. I decided to take another look in Jere's room. And that's where she was. Hiding in one of Jerry's drawers. And not an empty one. She had climbed in through an empty drawer, then curled up to sleep in a bunch of Jerry's t-shirts the next drawer over. I had then closed the empty drawer and she'd gotten trapped. When I opened the drawer and found her, she was looking at me like I was an angel sent to rescue her. I have no clue how long she'd been stuck in the drawer. Poor baby!

And this is what a happy, relieved cat looks like. She's lying here with me in bed. She's had (cat safe) milk and a couple of treats, and I've had some (organic) milk and cookies. We've both calmed down from the ordeal.

Today's lesson: If you ever lose something, all you have to do is ask for help. Because the second that person is on their way, you'll find what you were looking for. That's how it works.

The odds and ends

2009-02-22T20:39:00.002-05:00

Let the moving preparation begin! While I don't know the exact date I'll be leaving, I do know it's soon. And I've been trying to clean out random papers, wash curtains, organize my clothes, and just plain keep busy while I wait for my box order to come.

But I'm having the most fun cleaning out my refrigerator. I haven't grocery shopped in weeks because I know that the stuff from the fridge and freezer can't come with me. Last night I had soy sausage links, frozen corn, and chocolate cake with milk. And tonight, it's soy sausage links (I kind of stocked up on them and forgot they were there), a lean pocket, and a bottle of Corona. I was going to make frozen broccoli to go with it, but I took it out and it didn't look so good. I think it followed us from the LAST move.

It's amazing the things I'm finding and throwing away. I've found bottles of beer that have been in my fridge since June, a single sheet of matzo, really nasty veggie chips that made me smell like garlic for days, a million packets of soy sauce, two cans of corn beef hash complete with trans fats, and other crazy, random things that just haven't seemed appetizing over the past year.

This purging my cupboards thing is making me feel fantastic, to be honest. I have clothes to drop off at Goodwill, and today I slipped some books into the library drop box that I no longer needed. I am looking forward to upgrading to 2200 square feet of space and a rocking poolside lanai. After the last two years of moving from apartment to apartment to hotel to apartment, a house is just what I think we need. And in four more months, we'll finally be settled down enough to enjoy it.

Ginger has figured out we're moving, especially when the guest bed (aka - her bed) came down tonight. She's getting needy and clingy, but little does she realize she'll be headed to her happy home in the Sunshine State in just a few weeks. Hooray!

Today's lesson: Every once in awhile, you need to reach into the back of your freezer and discover what you were craving a year ago. You may learn something about yourself.

Diamonds, a hangover, a psychologist, and a wench

2009-02-21T23:18:00.006-05:00

That's what my mental breakdown consisted of right there. Though not necessarily in that order. Or any order for that matter.

After a week in Florida trying to pull together this moving thing, I came home exhausted and raw. Nothing was working right. On top of everything, Jerry was being a grump (yes, honey, you were a grump). Our orders hadn't come. The property manager wasn't available the entire time I was down there. The pilot on my flight home had an odd sense of humor, informing us that he was having a blast playing in the turbulence. I know that was supposed to be comforting, but it's the first time I've had to even think about being sick on a plane. Luckily, I kept my cool.

I don't suppose I should go into details about this week. Except to say that sometimes academics can overanalyze their own friends. Someone said something a couple of days ago that had me sobbing on the phone to Jere. Not because it was particularly mean. But because I thought it was true.

Of course, my husband's grumpiness disappeared. And a pair of diamond earrings with a matching necklace showed up from him the next day, just to cheer me up. He really is the sweetest husband. And everytime I get discouraged, he always knows exactly what I need. Or, in this case, something completely fantastic and over the top that makes me feel like maybe I don't drive him nearly as crazy as I think I do.

I owe another thank you to some of my friends. Feisty, thank you for being my very own Catholic concordance and interpreter of completely freaky signs at 1:30 in the morning. "This is a test of the emergency broadcast system. This is only a test."

And a thank you to my other friend, who will go unnamed for PR purposes. Champagne, strawberries, cheese fries, carrot cake with kumquats, a gorgeous gift, and Walmart were the perfect ways to celebrate everything finally coming together all at once. Not to mention breakfast and the stuffed bunny singing out the car window.

I am now in the process of packing this disaster I call my apartment. I've figured out how everything is getting down there. I've figured out how to get everything into the truck. I'm just waiting to find out what the exact move date is. But I'm happy to wait for my fresh paint and new carpet now that everything looks like it's set.

So now goodnight. Ginger is already snoring. She can sense the move, I can tell. Hope she doesn't sense that I'm going to take her in for a teeth cleaning before we go...

Today's lesson: Well, look at that. We're grown-ups now. We have grown-up problems, have to make grown-up decisions, and, luckily, we have friends who are just amazed as we are that we're old enough to have to deal with this crap.

Idiot policies and some random things I love

2009-02-11T21:38:00.002-05:00

See now, I'm sick and tired of this Army indecision crap. I'm a girl who likes a plan, and all the "up in the air" stuff drives me nuts. I can feel the stress in my shoulders and head. I want answers! I want finality! I want SANITY!

Of course, we still don't have our orders, though my poor husband is trying his best to hurry them along and keep me patient. In the meantime, I'm getting done what I can. This week, it's the house. I've been going back and forth with the property manager and finally nailed down some time to look at it. I wanted it to be this week, and it took him quite awhile to get back to me, so I went to book a last minute plane ticket to Florida.

I got on Mobissimo, looked up tickets, and booked them at a great rate. I didn't think twice about it until I looked in my email at the confirmation a couple of hours later. I had booked tickets for MARCH instead of FEBRUARY. Seeing as February only has 28 days, the days of the week are the same for the dates in both months, so I didn't notice it. I called my grandma and flipped out. I think she was laughing at me on the inside. *grin*

Lucky for me, Orbitz has an "idiot policy". I ran to go cancel the ticket, and they gave me all but the booking fee of $7 back. Apparently, I'm not the only idiot out there who makes stupid mistakes like that. The best part about it? I found a great non-stop flight instead. No layover. Same price.

I'm so excited! And after all that, I had a fabulous day. I was motivated to do some packing and laundry, and set out my outfits for my suitcase. So of course, I started once again thinking of the things that make me truly happy right now. So here goes!

1. Starbucks Caramel Macchiato ice cream (holy fantastic!)
2. Salt and Vinegar almonds

3. Chicken nuggets (because they're better for you than French fries)

4. Anthony Bourdain's new special on the Travel Channel: Food Porn. I can't decide if I want food or sex by the time I'm done watching it. Actually, I know exactly what I want. Really good sex, then to eat Peking duck with my fingers in bed, naked and happy.

5. Nintendo Wii: Endless Ocean. A Godsend for those of us who can't swim LOL.

6. All my friends who are volunteering themselves and their teenage children to help with my move. I am so grateful for all of you.

7. He's Just Not That Into You - The movie.

8. Yummy bottles of Prosecco

9. Bravo's Italian restaurant in Harrisonburg

10. And, of course, Orbitz for saving my ass.

Today's lesson: Don't be embarassed when you make a really stupid mistake. Chances are, someone has already made that same mistake way before you did (and they probably did it bigger and even more idiotic!).

My heart is so full

2009-02-07T23:31:00.002-05:00

I have to thank my friends and family for needing me. There has been so much stuff needing my attention that I haven't been able to dwell on the stress of what is soon to come. And helping out people makes me feel useful again, something I haven't felt in awhile.

Just call me Saint Kristin of Killeen. Jere says the "of Killeen" part is because most of my good works are performed down there in Texas. Patron saint of moms hanging on by their last nerve. I suppose that is one reason why God has not blessed me with kids. It means I'm flexible to help others. You've got to love when you learn God's will in backwards ways. And all the hugs and kisses I get from everyone else's kids make me feel pretty darn special!

I'm also bursting with happiness for some of my friends. Sara and Rickey just became new parents to the most gorgeous baby girl I think I've ever seen. And my friend Kelli has pretty much kicked butt at planning the "princess wedding" she truly deserves. Not to mention I'm already well on the way of having her bridal shower planned, which is so exciting! I love planning parties!

Not to jinx everything, but I've found a house for us to rent in Florida that I'm completely in love with. And word has gotten around that I will have plenty of room and a pool, because everyone insists they're coming to visit. I can't wait! I love having company, and will love entertaining anyone who decides to drop in.

There isn't too much going on this coming week, thank goodness. I have to get to Florida by the end of the week. You know, I never thought there was a time I would have the ability to pick up and just hop on a plane and leave, but I've done it twice in the past few weeks, and am about to do it again. It's not that I ever thought about having the money or time. It's about the lack of planning. I'm usually so OCD about flying and traveling and vacations. But I'm so happy I've loosened up enough to just GO!

This is a totally random blog. Small list of things I've thought about today:
1. How do I own 3 pair of glasses which all seem to go missing at the same time?
2. Is it really ok to go out in my Hannah Montana jammies at 10:00 at night simply because I'm craving chicken nuggets?
3. I really want a new tattoo.
4. What is this need for soda I've developed lately? Not a want. A NEED.
5. Cats probably shouldn't eat chicken nuggets, right?
6. Now that Jere is getting closer to coming home, I'm panicking. Because I have a million freaking things to do, and moving is starting to feel real.

Today's lesson (which has nothing to do with anything I've written, really): Life can be rather strange and ironic. Go with it. You never know where the crazy will take you.

Are you afraid of the...?

2009-01-25T21:27:00.000-05:00

As some of you know, my mom and sister came down for Christmas. We took a day trip to DC, and Karalyn wanted to go off on her own, but we had to drop her at the metro station because she insisted we not leave her alone. I asked her why, and her response made me almost crash the car I was laughing so hard. “Because I’m afraid of hobos.” More specifically, she was afraid they were going to attack her and steal all her change. Hobophobia. I’d think this was weirder, but they based an entire South Park episode about the fear of the homeless. But, of course, her phobia gave me a great idea for a blog.

A phobia is a persistent, irrational fear of a specific object, activity, or situation that leads to a compelling desire to avoid it. And I think we all have at least one. My grandmother is terrified of snakes. And not just snakes themselves, but even pictures of them. And a friend of mine is afraid of falling and scraping her front teeth. As for me, I have a really strange fear of jellyfish, which is the reason Jere has to always snorkel without me. I’m also terrified of popsicle sticks going near my mouth and people touching my nose.

But what about fears that are just completely off the wall? Well, thanks to our friends at Wikipedia, I was able to locate fears that will make even your strangest phobia seem almost rational!

Nomophobia – fear of being out of mobile phone contact
Anglophobia – fear of the English or English culture
Spectrophobia – fear of mirrors and one’s own reflections
Trichophobia – fear caused of loose hairs on clothing or elsewhere
Phonophobia – fear of swallowing
Anthrophobia – fear of flowers
Decidophobia – fear of making decisions
Anuptaphobia – fear of remaining single
Chionophobia – for my friends in Michigan, fear of snow
Xanthophobia – fear of the color yellow
Geniophobia – fear of chins, not to be confused with Genuphobia – fear of knees
Helminthophobia – fear of being infested with worms

Now, my friends, it’s your turn. I’ve confessed mine. Now you confess yours! What is the strangest thing you fear? What is your weird phobia? Let’s get a real conversation going here!

Looking for some advice

2009-01-07T18:52:00.003-05:00

I've reached the point where I'm curled up in bed with a huge mug of tea, a pan of brownies, and a fork. Don't get me wrong, the tea has no cream or sugar, and the brownies are whole wheat and organic. But I've landed here because I've finally lost grip of my little world, and I desperately need to recover.

Let's rewind and take a peek at what got me here. What do you already know? You know Jere is going to be stationed in Tampa. You know I'm going with him. You might know that I was trying to get things squared away with applying to college, finding us a place to live, hunting down a new car, and pulling together the random things like a new vet for Ginger and a new piano instructor.

Everything hinged on the way our orders read, and it all changed with an email and a phone call. I am no longer authorized to live with my husband, but they'll be happy to pay for me to live in Virginia while he goes to Tampa. This is something that's hard to explain to those outside of the military, but they treat their Reservists as second class citizens (note: my husband did not voluntarily leave active duty, but was forced into the Reserve as part of the military cutbacks under the Clinton administration). For all the Army talk about fostering good marriages, they could care less. Instead of making Jere's tour in Tampa a 3 year accompanied tour, they changed it to a 1 year unaccompanied tour with two 1 year extensions. That's 3 years of living apart. Yeah. Let that sink in.

I've had quite enough of this. But my husband loves the Army, and I love my husband. So we ran over the different options, and of course, I would still be moving to Tampa. It would just be more complicated to arrange. On top of it all, since the orders no longer said I had to be in Florida, my move is now considered voluntary and I can't attend a Florida college as a resident. Thankfully, we've gotten some help and good answers from the MacDill housing office, and it shouldn't be a problem for us to go back to our original plans. It's taken care of, but it's just, UGH, complicated.

So we've got that sort of solved, as well as we can without having the final orders in hand. I've started looking at houses to rent, and Jere strongly objects to the beautiful pink house I picked out right next to the Tampa Bay inlet. I know he'll give in once he sees the kitchen. The car thing has, very thankfully, been put in incredibly capable hands. College is out of the question for at least the next year and a half.

I decided last night that I need to get away. I don't particularly care where I go. I want to get on a plane and get the hell out of here before the shit really hits the fan. Because once the orders are printed, I have to start getting ready to move. Packing. Touring rental houses. Nightmare.

So I figured I would go see some snow, maybe ski. And found a great ski package and airfare. I even got the go ahead from Jere. But I couldn't book it. I thought maybe I could go somewhere else and have more fun. And what if it was too cold and I sat in the lodge the whole time? What if I broke yet another bone? What if I got snowed in? And would I have fun there alone? My paranoia set in, and I started the frantic search for somewhere else to go.

I've looked at cruises (where I have to pay for two people even if it's just me), all inclusive resorts in the Bahamas and Curacao (where I have to pay for one and a half people), air and hotel packages to Seattle, Vegas, Niagara Falls, London, Arizona, Boston, and various other places. All are within my self-dictated price range. Now I have too many choices and too much to figure out.

Here's what I'm asking from all of you! What do you think? What places have you been that made you feel relaxed? Where should I go???? Skiing, beach, city? Acceptable answers do not include the phrase "to come see me!!!" I love you all, I miss you all, but I am NOT good company right now. Michigan friends, remember I will be there in June. And possibly before that.

Let me dispel the things I know will be said about me.
"Didn't you just get back from 22 days in Europe?"
-Yes. Yes I did. Then I had Christmas with Jere's family and my mom and sister (I seriously had a fantastic Christmas with everyone), and then had a miserable New Years Eve. And then all the rest of this happened. So the afterglow is WAY gone.
"Aren't you going to Paris in April?"
-Why yes. I am taking my grandma to Paris. I can't keep up with her even when I'm at a run, so I'm not going so far as to call that a relaxing trip, though I'm very much looking forward to taking her. And by the time that trip comes, I'll already be living in Tampa and I'll be prepping for Jere to come home. I'll need the distraction then.
"How can you say your life is stressful when you don't work or have kids?"
-This one bugs me. Let me explain. Do you remember summer break when you were a kid? You didn't really miss school, but it was sometimes very hard to get around the boredom. I spend nearly everyday at home, waiting for my husband to get online so I can feel connected to him from 6000 miles away. I don't get to work. We've moved four times in two years, I haven't been able to finish school or get a job. Not that I particularly want a job, but the only jobs available to me without even a two-year degree are pretty limited. Not to mention if I work, I push Jere into a higher tax bracket, and the income I would make would barely account for what we would lose. And I really do miss working sometimes. Rachel makes me miss it. *grin*

The other thing I have to say is this. Everyone has their thing. And most people get to go to work or school, come home tired and stressed at the end of the day, and find their spouse or their child there waiting for them. Everytime I leave, I come back to an empty apartment. The time I spend away from here gives me a chance to forget about that. I don't have my husband waiting for me when I come home, or children to kiss goodnight.

What I have is travel. It's my passion. It's what kills the loneliness. Everything from the plane ride to the crazy foreign food makes me appreciate not only the wonders of the world, but allows me to love what I come back to. Even if when I get home, all I have to kiss goodnight is the cat. But she's one of the things I miss the most when I'm gone!

Besides, if I don't travel now, when am I going to do it? After I have kids to pay for? When my husband and I are too old to appreciate it? I know I'm going to have to slow down after Jerry is home, and you have no idea how much I'm looking forward to resuming my normal life. Looking forward to reality. Because these deployments aren't reality, so I reserve the right to live in my own little world for the duration.

One last question I'm always asked:
"Don't you feel guilty spending all your husband's hard earned money while he's gone?"
-No. Not a bit. I generally don't dignify this question with an answer, so that's all I'm going to say. Except that I don't spend it all.

So back to my original point. What do you all think? Where should I go so that I don't stare at the wall and eat this whole pan of brownies? All happy, positive input is greatly appreciated!

In a weird place today...

2009-01-03T17:31:00.002-05:00

I can't understand why I feel so GOOD today! I'm not complaining, I promise. It's just that I usually don't experience this kind of happiness at home, especially when I have nothing coming down the chute. As I said to Jere earlier, "There's nothing more comforting and maddening than realizing you have nowhere to go."

When I woke up, I wanted Spaghetti-o's. And I very guiltily made them. I don't understand why it made me feel guilty, but canned pasta doesn't really scream "breakfast food" to me. Maybe I would have felt more normal eating Cheerios. But I was pleased that the guilt disappeared after the first spoonful.

Somewhere during breakfast, I decided it was time to really start scrapbooking again. The problem has been space, as in not enough of it. I have a corner of my bedroom and a small desk dedicated to my crafts, but it's usually piled high and there just isn't enough room to spread out and work. So finally, I came up with a solution. Now all the scrapbook supplies are on the dining room table, as all the major holidays are over and I won't have to use the table again until it's been moved to Tampa. I even stuck the leaf in it so I would have even more space. I very happily started scrapping Ireland (avoiding the 400 pictures from my 2007 trip to Turkey).

In the middle of all this, I had a great conversation with someone who really gives my brain a workout. To be honest, my head actually hurts when I talk to him, but it feels wonderful, like the kind of pain you get when you begin a long run. My cousin and I have always challenged each other this way (though I'm still convinced he got all the smart genes), whether it's about politics (we didn't vote the same way this election), religion (actually, even if we don't mesh on that one, it's alright because we seem to have the same questions), even thermodynamics (if he doesn't remember sparking my fascination with Fermi, his brain's probably too full of other really smart things). Today's discussion was spurred on by something totally random, but I get the impression both of us will be picking up a couple new books to further expand our minds.

Jere and I met online in the early afternoon and chatted for awhile during my lunch. I watched Laws of Attraction (getting in that whole Irish vibe), puttered around a bit, and made it to tea time. And this was the most, for lack of a more appropriate word, ORGASMIC part of my day. I have tea between 3 and 4 every afternoon, because snacking is good for you. It's the exact time my blood sugar starts to drop, so not only do I allow myself tea and a snack; I allow myself something sinfully sweet, usually a small cookie or a chocolate.

I've had this box of chocolates from Poland just waiting for the holidays to end. A small, hand-picked assortment of truffles from E. Wedel. I'd eaten a coffee flavored one and wasn't overwhelmed. So today I put a champagne truffle on my tea plate. One tiny bite and I was gone. Better than the best Godiva could ever come up with, better than the first cup of Starbucks on a Sunday morning, and even better than long, slow sex on Saturday night. I can't come up with the appropriate adjective to describe it. All I knew was that I wanted more, and dove headlong into the box, trying a honey truffle, an after eight truffle, a raspberry truffle, a coconut truffle.....my teeth ached from the perfect sweetness. There are now only two left in the box, but I am perfectly sated and sitting here, blissfully typing in the afterglow.

Tonight's plans revolve around exercising and playing dress-up. I am twenty pounds lighter, and need to finally go through my clothes to get rid of what is now too big to get away with wearing. In the process, I hope to make room for some of my older clothes and all the new size 8's. Tomorrow is Sunday. Nothing will get done.

Today's lesson: Sometimes, there are good kinds of pain. Pain when you work your muscles, pain when you're thinking really hard, pain when things are much too sweet. Remember, pain lets us know we're still alive.

Happy freaking New Year.

2008-12-31T20:31:00.004-05:00

This is one of the few holidays that truly brings out the worst in me. In fact, the only holiday that makes me more bitter is Mother's Day.

It just seems that every year, there is such a build up to this one day. All the important things have to be finished by New Year's, and so much emphasis is put on new beginnings and New Year's resolutions. Not to mention that whole "kiss at midnight" thing. Talk about pressure.

Three years ago, I was sitting in the Atlanta airport, where I had voluntarily given up my seat on an overbooked flight. It was the split second choice that changed my life, because it was the night I met my husband. So you'd think this would be a happy anniversary for me, but it's not. Today I can feel every last one of the 6,000 miles between us, and it breaks my heart.

It is a shame that my year has to end like this, spent eating leftovers and drinking my weight in champagne. Because I've had a darn good year. Sure, I still haven't finished college, and, despite my friends quite often being on their second or third child, I have lost half my hair to the fertility battle and am still childless. But I've been to several new countries, lost 20 pounds, started piano lessons, and learned the wonders of a Brazilian bikini wax. Not a bad haul for new experiences.

On top of it all, I had a fantastic Christmas. I got to visit Jere's family and really enjoyed it, then picked up my mom and sister and had a week with them all to myself. Of course, I wish Jere had been here to share it, but that's the way this life goes.

So, in glorious New Year's tradition, here is my list of resolutions.

I will.....

-lose 30 pounds. And just so I don't waste food, I now have three hours to eat the contents of my junk food drawer.

-finish learning the 6 Clementi sonatinas. And if the 31st comes next year and I still haven't done it, I will burn the book.

-make new friends, and let go of some of the old ones who piss me off.

-eat one baby carrot a day.

-start doing manly pushups instead of the girly ones.

-stop using the word "fuck" outside of the privacy of my own home.

-remember to send out everyone's birthday card.

-have more sex, because I sure have missed it this past year. I can hear my husband rejoicing.

-drink at least two full glasses of water a day.

-take myself on a date once a week. I need to stop neglecting me.

-remember to take my meds everyday.

-make my bed each morning.

-load the dishwasher each night.

-get pregnant. If I don't give myself the option of failure, it has to happen, right?

What about all of you? What are your resolutions? And what are your plans to help you stick with them? Anyone have some advice on how I can actually accomplish some of these?

Today's lesson: We only have so many years in our life. Unfortunately, it takes our birthday or a New Year to make us realize it and pledge to live better. Waste not, want not.

A toast to you all! Egészségedre! Prost! Na zdrowie! And Happy New Year.

Kristin's Favorite Things

2008-12-21T05:27:00.003-05:00

Hello my loyal readers. While I was holed up in what is quite possibly the world's ugliest city (Warsaw, Poland), I had a quite interesting idea pop into my head. Unfortunately, I was 4500 miles away from my computer, so this is coming quite late for Christmas, but I'm going for it anyhow. Here is my random inspiration, transcribed from those lovely little note papers they give you in your hotel room.

Every year, the almighty Oprah does her favorite things special. In the past, she's given away DVDs, Philosophy products, expensive handbags, electronics, diamond watches, and the obligatory holiday junk food (twice the woman has given key lime pie), all to surprised and weeping audience members. It is always her most watched show of the year, and, minus whatever she decided to do in 2006, it's a lavish event that even I don't mind watching. A woman not only putting her popularity to use by giving out gifts most people could never afford, but singlehandedly turning little companies into big ones by the sheer force of putting her stamp of approval on them. It's Oprah throwing around her money and power, the one day of the year she unabashedly flaunts who she is and doesn't apologize.

So this year, I was disappointed to hear that Oprah did her holiday special without giving anything away to her audience. There were no gifts of expensive lotions and cashmere scarves, no J-Lo perfume or horrendously costly but delicious supplies of key lime pie. No. Oprah "could not in good conscience give away lavish gifts in such a time of economic struggle" (quoting Wikipedia, not Oprah). One of the richest women in the US decided to give the commoners a list of low-cost or free gift ideas. Included in her list of favorite things this year were:

Gratitude boxes, filled with notes of gratitude from various people
"Oprah's Holiday Hits" compilation album (given away for free on the show Web site)
Treasure boxes filled with mementos
Hot chocolate cones
Regifts (a.k.a. "swap parties"), exchanging unwanted used items of your own for others' used items you would be more likely to use
Gift baskets that include fruits and vegetables from your own garden
Time with a loved one

First off, you cannot put "time with a loved one" under the tree. Try explaining that one to your kids when they hear their school friends talking about all the wonderful things they got for Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa (I'm going with the broad term "holiday" from here on out). No, we don't need to give our kids or families lavish gifts to prove we love them. But this is the holiday season. Buying stuff for other people we wouldn't consider buying ourselves is tradition, and evil or overly commercial as it sometimes may be, most of us still do it. I do not advocate putting yourself in debt over it, but there are better ways to go about gift giving than some of the things the oh so wonderful Oprah suggested this year.

Second point: How is it that a woman who owns seven homes, has called Hermes "racist" for not admitting her after store hours to let her shop, has built a school for poor African girls that contained a beauty salon and yoga studio can in her right mind try to tell us how we should handle our finances in any way? I know she grew up poor. She won't let us forget it. But Oprah has been a millionaire since the age of 32 (she is now 54). I wouldn't go so far as to say she is "in touch" with the struggles of the middle class. And trust me, it's pretty depressing to hear about the financial crisis day in and day out. Now we've got to hear how Oprah would handle it if she were us? Come on, woman! Haven't you heard about people using television as a form of escapism??

Third, and last, point: I live in the South, and Miss Winfrey was born in Mississippi. Maybe regifting is a good idea when you get 20 of the same Burberry scarf from one of your Hollywood friends, but that doesn't fly here. Giving a gift is an art, an act that shows you cared enough about someone to put some thought into what they might enjoy. Good manners dictate you don't regift. And if you do, it's to some far away relative who will never, ever know. Public regifting. For shame.

This brings me to my list. It is a mix of the hideously expensive and the unbelievably cheap; a potpourri of the crazy ideas that have popped into my head. And while I cannot give you all the gifts I am suggesting (I am not a multi-millionaire), I will at least have the respect to give you tangible presents to wrap and put under the tree. So here goes!

-The Body Shop Vitamin E Lip Care Stick: I have not come across a better chapstick in my life. It tastes good, and it really works. I bought mine in an airport when they were having a buy two, get one free sale, and have one stashed in each of my purses. Feeling generous? They have a complete Vitamin E line.

-Gifts from Blarney Woolen Mills: I visited this store in Ireland earlier this year, and didn't actually buy anything woolen. But I signed up for their email list at the checkout, and found that not only do that have great products, they quite often have clearance sales and free shipping specials. Warning for the holidays: you need to order well in advance if you want something to arrive in time. They sometimes ship free, but they ship parcel post from County Cork. Shop about six weeks early. That's how long it took when I ordered.

-Give a vacation: Alright, in no way am I going to suggest you spring for a hotel and airfare for your loved ones to some exotic location. But is there someone in your family who has a dream destination that they'd love to see in their lifetime? Foster that dream! Here is a mini-list of ideas to help your loved one keep dreaming!
1. Lonely Planet Phrasebooks: I have three of these, and can't live without them. They contain basic (and sometimes off the wall) words and phrases, menu guides, and handy tips on navigating a country and its language.
2. Rick Steves Guidebooks and DVDs: Ok, so the man's a bit stuck in the 80's and does PBS specials. But he knows his stuff, and if you're strapped for cash, you can always buy the previous year's edition used on Amazon. The information changes very little, but he only covers European destinations.
3. Books that aren't guidebooks: There are travel books out there that aren't necessarily a list of what to see and do. Fabulous writers like Frances Mayes, Peter Mayle, and Bill Bryson cover their own experiences, and inspire the imagination (happy to give recommendations on this one).
4. Luggage: JCPenney has great sales every Christmas on luggage sets, as does Walmart. Remember to buy something durable and in a dark color, but don't spend a ton of money. The airlines will beat the heck out of them.

-Polish Chocolate: I don't care what anyone says about German chocolate. The best I've ever had was at E. Wedel in Warsaw.

-Paired wine and cheese: Giving a bottle of wine is common around the holidays, but have you ever thought about what goes well with it? Nurse someone's inner wine snob and give the perfect cheese to go with their bottle.

-Nikon Coolpix Digital Camera: Coming from someone with a camera that cost more than her computer, it was a stretch for me to buy something I could fit in my pocket. My husband actually recommended this one to me, and Walmart has it on sale for $90. It's small, pretty good on battery power, and uncomplicated. A good gift for someone as a first digital camera or even someone who has a tendency to beat the hell out of them. And it took nice pictures in cloudy Prague.

-Anthony Bourdain's books: He's such a snarky bastard. I tucked into The Nasty Bits in a cafe, and ended up sitting happily for hours.

-Tea: It's a spin on the classic mug and hot chocolate. Pick up a pretty box of tea, put it in a basket with a fancy tea cup and some little cookies, and it's a cute little gift set.

-Timex Digital Grip Clip: Jere bought me this when I couldn't decide on what style of watch I wanted. I clip it on my belt loop or my purse. It's a Godsend.

-Movie night in a box: My aunt did this for me one year, and I haven't forgotten it! She sent me and my first husband a box with a Blockbuster gift card, microwave popcorn, and movie sized candy. I believe there might have been a Pizza Hut gift card in there, too. And you know what? We really made the effort to use it as our date night, so it there you go. That's how you can put "time with loved ones" under the tree. There are so many different ways you could do this gift, whether it's with a DVD or rental gift cards or even a prepaid subscription to Netflix.

-Champagne and flutes: I'm a sucker for stemware, and am constantly surprised at the beautiful and affordable things I find. You can get a couple of cheap Target champagne flutes and a $10 bottle of bubbly and make a gorgeous gift. Or if you really want to knock someone's socks off, give them these, and opt for them to be gift wrapped. The blue box is always striking.

Thus ends this year's list of Kristin's Favorite Things. I promise next year to stay home long enough to get this out earlier so it might actually be useful. Happy Holidays, everyone!

Not yet, but I promise it's coming

2008-12-20T22:36:00.002-05:00

I got back from Europe late Thursday, and I have a ton of photos and stories. But I don't have the energy to go through it all right now. After I got off the plane, my body decided to give out. I picked up some bug in Prague or on the plane, so now I'm achy and my throat is so sore. So give me some time, and I'll get it all organized, I promise.

In the meantime, today was busy, because sometimes you don't have the option of staying home sick. I had a hair appointment at 9 this morning, and left early to get a latte at Starbucks. I should have skipped it. There was a new girl working there, and it took 25 minutes to get my damn coffee. Now, I'm a nice person. Ok. Fine. Maybe I'm not, but I'm still a lady, so I stood there patiently. I'm going to admit it wasn't entirely the girl's fault. I got stuck in line behind this woman who couldn't make up her mind and took forever to order, so I was getting short on time anyhow.

I've worked in food service. And since I've been there and done the job, I feel qualified to get upset when someone isn't doing their job. And today, this girl's boss threw her into the fire at my expense. After about 15 minutes of standing at the pick-up counter, I grabbed my appointment card out of my wallet and dialed the salon, and told them I would be late. Loudly. It wasn't a problem on their end, and I did end up running only a couple of minutes behind, but part of me did it so the employees would realize that when they run behind, it doesn't effect just them.

Does it ever occur to people in the food service industry to actually serve their customers? I know the customer isn't always right, but shouldn't they at least be considered important until they've proven themself idiotic? Maybe Starbucks should have two lines, like they're putting in at airport security. If you go through the TSA checkpoint at certain airports, they have different lanes for families, casual travelers, and professional travelers. Maybe at Starbucks they should have different lines as well. One for people who don't actually drink coffee and need to think about every aspect of their order, one for people who casually visit Starbucks and know what they basically want, and one for professional coffee drinkers. I can picture that line full of rushed businessmen and overbooked ladies who lunch, screaming out their insane but practiced coffee orders: tall decaf americano 3/4 full, grande half-caf non-fat cap extra hot extra foam, venti whole milk no whip sugar free triple shot caramel macchiato. Yeah, that last crazy one is mine. We are the people who know who we are and what we want. To quote Tom Hanks from You've Got Mail: "The whole purpose of places like Starbucks is for people with no decision-making ability whatsoever to make six decisions just to buy one cup of coffee. Short, tall, light, dark, caf, decaf, low-fat, non-fat, etc. So people who don't know what the hell they're doing or who on earth they are can, for only $2.95, get not just a cup of coffee but an absolutely defining sense of self: Tall. Decaf. Cappuccino."

And my last word on this subject. Yes, there are some irate customers. I am quite often one of them (though I tend to silently seethe instead of making a scene). But when a person counts on someone to deliver a service in a timely manner, and instead ends up waiting, it's hard to stay patient. Because who looks bad in the end? It's the customer, who is now late to wherever they were going. And if you're anything like me, tardiness is the unwritten 8th deadly sin.

The rest of my day was unbelievely pleasant, despite the fact that swallowing takes some effort with this sore throat. Everyone was in a jolly mood at my salon, and my stylist covered up my bald spots by cutting in some layers. I don't know if I've mentioned it, but my fertility meds have caused me to lose hair by the handfuls, and there's not much I can do about it. I guess you can't have it all, huh? Then I headed to the grocery store to start preparing for post-Christmas dinner. It was nice and there wasn't a crowd. And it's been a low-key afternoon. I needed that.

Tomorrow is Sunday, my favorite day. I'm ready for my sick day now.

Today's lesson: No matter how mad I get at Starbucks, I'll go back. They sell me those lovely "legal addictive stimulants" that my day just can't begin without. So it doesn't make a damn bit of difference if I bitch. They will always win in the end.

Preview of tomorrow's blog: Kristin's favorite things ala Oprah style