Still Rockin'

Thirty pounds gone and I'm still rockin'!! And there's nothing better for kicking a little ass on the eliptical machine than AC/DC. I'm Back in Black, baby!

(click play button to listen)

It's A Girl!

Announcing the arrival of

Amari Jolee

Born December 18, 2007
1:18pm
6lbs, 15oz

My sister and Amari are doing great and Dad didn't even pass out! I'm so thrilled to be an aunt (again) and so excited to watch this little girl grow up.

Merry HO HO. . .

One glimpse of these "Santa Face Socks" as I stepped off the escalator at my local JCPenney store and I knew I had found the gift of the season. I'm really not sure what possesed someone to design a set of socks like this, or even more so who in the JCPenney purchasing department

thought this was a must have for the Christmas season, but boy I sure am glad they did. There is nothing like imagining the look on the face of a someone special opening these fantastic slipper socks to fill my heart with laughter and joy. So much so, I bought two.

Every Parent's Worst Nightmare. . .

This morning sometime shortly after dawn as the kids ran circles around the bed tearing at our covers like pint-sized barracudas, Damonn and I lay in bed weighing our options in regards to the brain shredding day of whining, fussing and sibling rivalry that stood before us.

Me: What if we locked in them in a room to fight to the death and just raised the one that survived?

Damonn: Nah, our luck they would join into one superhuman child with the power to overthrow us.

To My Sister, With Love. . .

I wanted to take a minute and write you a letter before the whirlwind of your first baby to tell you how excited I am about the pending arrival of my niece. You will be a wonderful, loving mother and I look forward to raising our children together just as we planned while playing house all those years ago. While we may not live next door to each other, and somehow we did not marry men named B.J. and Jim, I am thankful we are still close and our children can grow up having sleepovers and holidays together with their cousins.

I am also excited that you will soon be initiated into this magnificent, overwhelming, wondrous and sometimes terrifying sorority known as motherhood. There is nothing like it in the world. It will be everything and nothing that you imagined and no matter who or how much you’ve ever loved in your life it will be but a dim comparison to what you will feel for this child. Anyone who dares even insult your child will be met with the rage that every mother possesses and you will be willing to give your life for hers without the slightest hesitation. Yet in the same moment you may feel overwhelmed with the emotions and demands that come not only with a newborn baby, but with motherhood in general. They can be as demanding and never-ending as a ride on a hamster wheel so remember to give yourself a break. Not just physically, but mentally. Unload the guilt of thinking you can or should do it all and realize that no one can. No one can. I’ve been there and there is nothing worse than the crushing feeling of guilt when you think you aren’t being the mother your child deserves. You are everything she needs.

And please don’t hesitate to ask for help. Demand it if needed. Ask your husband when you need help with diapers or dishes; ask friends and family when you need a night away; ask pediatricians or child psychologists when you need help understanding your daughter; and ask God when you need guidance on the path of your family. And although admitting that you don’t know how to do something is not a popular concept in the family we come from, I’ve learned that asking for help is not a sign of weakness, but a trait of a strong mother willing to search out what is best for her child.

There are wonderful times ahead; cherish every one of them because as cliché as it sounds, it is the truth when I say that they will vanish before your eyes. In fact, if I can give you one certain truth of raising children it is this: Everything is a phase. Good or bad, exhausting or amazing, nothing lasts forever. Remember this when you don’t think you can stand one more night of crying, one more temper tantrum or one more snotty teenage remark. One day it will stop and you probably won’t even realize it when it does. More importantly, remember the small everyday things. . . . the smell of her hair, the way her face lights up at the sound of her favorite song, the wrong way she says a word. Take note and pictures and video of the funny and the fascinating because the milestones that amaze us are the memories that ache in our hearts when they are gone.

Reading this back there seems to be a certain sadness in my words which was not my intention, but I suppose there is a sadness that underlies even the happiest of moments. It comes from the worry that is inherent to the job of being a mother and the knowledge that everything we do for them is to prepare them for the day they let us go. Perhaps this quote from Elizabeth Stone explains it best, “Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.” Having children is one of the greatest things I’ve done with my life and I treasure the family we’ve created above all else. You too, I’m sure, will realize that the awesome responsibility of creating and guiding someone’s life is the most fantastic privilege one can receive.

I look forward to meeting this new little person that is already so loved. And to see the strong, sassy, determined, and loving woman she is bound to become. . . . just like her mother.

Love,
Your Sister

Caution: Know-it-all Ahead

On the way home last night. . . .

Adam: Hey mommy, ya know what that sign means?

Me: It means that we need to watch for people crossing the street.

Adam: Uuugh! No, mom, it means dat sometimes cars, umm, go up on the sidewalk and, umm, get dare wheels stuck and, umm we need to watch out for dem when we're walking so we don't trip.

Me: No, I think it means we need to watch out for the people that are walking.

Adam: No. Mom. It doesn't. It doesn't.

The Lowest Bidder. . .

This popped up as an advertisement on Google today. Some things just aren't worth the discount. . . .

Plastic Surgery Prices Even w/ Our Limo Service from San Diego Airport You Can't Beat Our Prices! Tijuana-Cosmetic-Surgery.com

Happy Thanksgiving to all. . .

Not what we say about our blessings, but how we use them, is the true measure of our thanksgiving. ~W.T. Purkiser

Bon Appetit!

In our pursuit of a healthier lifestyle Damonn and I have been trying a lot of new recipes. Some of them hits, some misses, some just need a little personal tweaking either to suit our tastes or our limited time in the kitchen. Here are a couple of recipes that have become family favorites. Both of them are from The Sonoma Diet Cookbook which is filled with wonderful, healthy and for the most part, simple recipes. They even have desserts! The recipes below are written as they are in the cookbook with our personal changes in parentheses.


Grilled Mushroom Turkey Burgers – In our kitchen these days ground turkey is as versatile and as common as olive oil and garlic. These make great burgers, meatballs and by just omitting any particular “shape”, a great filling for tacos.

2 Tbs dried porcini or shitake mushrooms (I chop up one small can of canned mushrooms to save time)

1 cup boiling water (can be omitted if not re-hydrating dried mushrooms)

12 oz ground turkey breast

1/2 cup bottled salsa (we love marinara as well for an Italian twist)

(1 egg - I add this to help the patties hold their shape)

2 tablespoons chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley (we usually omit)

6 cloves garlic, (1 Tbs minced from jar)

2 tsp chopped fresh sage (we use 3-4 shakes of dried)

1/4 tsp kosher salt

1/8 tsp black pepper

4 whole wheat hamburger buns, toasted

Lettuce, salsa, sliced red onion, avocado, tomato (optional)

Rinse dried mushrooms and place in bowl of boiling water for 20 mins (If using). Drain and chop.

Combine all ingredients through black pepper in mixing bowl and mix well. Form into 4-5 patties, 3/4-inch thick. Cook on grill over medium coals or in frying pan on stove on medium-high until no longer pink (165F). (If cooking on stove you may want to cover with lid to help them cook through more evenly) Serve burgers on buns with desired toppings. Crunchy veggies make a great side!



Crustless Feta and Cheddar Quiche – When you just can’t take another cold salad and need something a littler richer, a little heartier this is just the ticket. Serving it with whole-wheat toast and some fresh fruit rounds out the meal.

Olive oil cooking spray

4 beaten eggs (we use five)

1/3 cup whole wheat pastry flour (I've used regular flour as a substitute)

4 cloves garlic (2 tsp minced from jar)

1 Tbs chopped fresh dillweed, thyme or mint (we use 2 tsp of dried dill)

1/4 tsp black pepper

1/8 tsp kosher salt

1 1/2 cups low-fat cottage cheese

1 10-oz pkg frozen chopped broccoli, cooked and drained (or medium head fresh, boiled and chopped)

1 cup crumbled feta cheese

1 cup shreeded reduced-fat cheddar cheese

Preheat oven to 350F. Lightly coat 9-inch pie plate with olive oil. In medium bowl, combine the rest of the ingredients and spoon into pie plate. Bake for 40-45 min. or until knife inserted in center comes out clean. Cool on wire wrack for 5-10 min before serving.


Click this link to go to The Sonoma Diet Cookbook link on Amazon.com

Death - 100% Satisfaction Guaranteed

Across the street from my office.

Afro Ninja. . .

Here's your laugh for the week. . . . My favorite part is when he tries to get back up. LMAO!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BEtIoGQxqQs

Courtesy of youtube.com and rickemerson.com

A Bleeding Heart. . .

Anyone who spends much time with me is pretty quick to realize my feelings on personal responsibility. I believe we are all responsible for ourselves and the choices we make. Going through life with a victim’s attitude will get you no where and that we, above any government or social organization, are responsible for the safety and well-being of our families. It is because of this belief that I am a registered Republican. I know that can be a dirty word these days as can stating that you voted for George Bush, which I did. Twice.

I realize now that may be one of the biggest mistakes I’ve made. The thought that I’ve had anything, even a single citizen’s vote, to do with the chaos and devastation that has been brought upon the people of Iraq, breaks my heart. I didn’t vote for Bush because I thought going to war with Iraq was a good idea, but I figured if it happened, it would be similar to the Gulf War – short and easy. We’d walk in, find Hussein, put a U.S.-approved Iraqi leader in power, CNN would send in a few correspondents and we’d be home by Christmas. I’m apparently as naïve as our president.

What we have done to that country, to its citizens and to an entire generation of children is unconscionable. We have drug a global war into their living rooms and dropped it in their laps. A war that has no front lines but instead is fought in every corner market and every neighborhood school. A war that has brought such ruin that most do not have such basic necessities as water and electricity. A war that not one single Iraqi citizen instigated. A war that has such widespread violence that even The Red Cross cannot manage to have a presence. We are responsible for this. I am responsible.

Anyone who knows me also knows that beyond my views of personal responsibility I am also a participant and promoter of helping those that cannot help themselves. Charity, which to me means the responsibility we have to help one another, is a theme, a moral code I strive to teach my children from a very early age. I hope as they grow up they will come to understand that the two things that make a successful life are taking care of yourself and taking care of others. And that is what I am asking of you today.

Whether you voted for our president or your foresight was better than mine, we as a country have a responsibility to help those that we have harmed. Please read about the work the Iraqi Red Crescent is doing across their country and more importantly what needs are still waiting to be met.

"Today and for the last three years, the Iraqi Red Crescent Organization has been the primary humanitarian provider on the ground in Iraq. The employees and volunteers work under severe conditions and safety is never guaranteed. Global relief agencies like the United Nations and the International Federation of the Red Cross/Crescent have not been able to sustain a notable operational presence inside Iraq. It is up to the Iraqi Red Crescent along with its offices in Jordan, Syria, and Iran to bring to bear the technical capability, and financial support to ensure a rapid and successful response to the present humanitarian crisis facing the Iraqi people." - Iraqi Red Crescent website

Click here to help.

Article on CNN.

A Crack In My Psyche

"I don't know what to say about this — the way I incline towards sadness, latch on to it as it floats past, ride up into its currents. But it keeps me grounded somehow, however paradoxical that may sound." - Catherine Newman, Dalai Mama

I hate having my blog seemingly ride the coat tails of Catherine Newman's (read entire article here), but I'm not sure truer words have been spoken about my psyche and it seemed a good intro to a post I've tried to write several times, but never could get the words to say exactly what I wanted them to. I'll give it another try. . . .

They say things happen when you least expect them. I learned that when I was ten. Never once while I lay in bed in the dark at my grandma’s house that night, straining to listen to hear what the man at the door was saying or what the muffled commotion in the living room was all about did I imagine that they were talking about my mom. I knew that something was wrong, that someone was hurt or not well, but when you’re ten and the only death you’ve seen in your life is that of the family dog, even the far stretches of your mind cannot grasp the loss of someone close to you. Even when the thought of dying had flittered “what ifs” across my mind it was always about how sad my mom would be if one of us kids died. Never was it about losing her. I think that must be a type of self-preservation built into children.

After what seemed like hours of listening and my grandma had left in the car with her sister, I decided that it must be my great-grandpa that was not well, as he was in his eighties and they had taken turns taking him to respiratory therapy for years. The thought that he might be dead didn’t particularly bother me. I had only occasionally visited him with my grandma and he had been sick most of my life. In fact, after I came to this conclusion I was able to rest my mind and went to sleep. That was the last night of the first part of my life.

I learned a very important lesson that night. Expect the unexpected and prepare yourself for the worst because it can happen to you. And so, just like Catherine, I am drawn to sadness, to devastation, to heartbreak like a moth to a flame. Because if you can see it, imagine it and prepare for it, maybe it won't be so bad when it actually happens to you.

And this somehow, as she says, keeps me grounded. I know how lucky I am to have the people in my life that I do and I know how quickly it can be taken away. I know I am not above being dealt pain and grief in my life and I will never again say, "I never thought it would happen to me."

They Are Scaring Me Out, Man. . . .

. . . . is how Adam described any front porch decorated with more than a bale of hay. Even the flickering glow of a benign jack-o-latern was enough to keep him from the inevitable bounty of treats awaiting him on the other side of the front door. He managed to find a few houses that met his non-goul criteria where he scored what must have been nearly every “Reece’s Peanut Butter Butter Cup” in the neighborhood – well, except for those that managed to hide themselves behind the decorations of Satan himself. He then returned home where he gorged himself according to our newly sanction house rule of “all the candy you can eat on Halloween night”. Unlike his usual nature, he didn’t even stop to ask about the contents of each treat and instead was opening his next morsel, sucking up chocolate drool, before he had even finished chewing his last. In the end the count was seven, at which point he simply picked up his trick-or-treat bag, announced that he was done and retreated to the family room to watch A Pup Named Scooby-Doo – the one where “they are trick-or-treating just like I did”.

Reading My Mind. . . .

As you may or may not have noticed, I've added a few links (on the right) to the pages I frequent. One of them is Catherine Newman's Dalai Mama blog on Wondertime Magazine's website. I have been reading her since she was on BabyCenter and I was pregnant with Adam. I swear she looks into my home and reads my mind on a weekley basis. So much so I could have written this myself - well, you know, except for the brilliant wit, insight and perfect grammar.

Enjoy!

http://wondertime.go.com/parent-to-parent/blogs/catherine-newman-blog/10292007.html?seeAll=true#comments

I've asked myself the same thing. . .

"Why in the world would anybody want to do that?" Quote from Adam in response to me explaining that his Aunt Kim would soon be going to the hospital and then bringing home a baby.

Small Victories. .

I mentioned last night to Damonn that I am now only seven pounds away from my weight when I got married and he suggested I try on my wedding ring again. IT FIT! I haven't been able to wear it since I was pregnant with Jamie almost two years ago!

I'm doing the happy dance!. . . . . I'm doing the happy dance!. . . . . .

23 lbs down. . . .The next goal - the weight on my driver's license! LOL

Girls Rock The Boys. . .

For not walking until fourteen months or even crawling until eleven months, Jamie has become quite a little powerhouse. She fights us to join Adam’s soccer games, “carpet surfs” standing on her little rocking chair, pushes her way through any crowd and makes it her personal goal to find the highest point in the room. We’ve gotten used to her brutish ways and laugh that she’s our little bull in a china shop, but a couple of weeks ago, she surprised us all . . . . most of all, Adam.

On this particular night, Damonn was out of town on business so I was tasked with refereeing the maniacal monkeys until the blessed hour of bedtime. And referee is an accurate job description for what “watching the kids” has become lately. I’m thinking of getting a whistle. Adam was lying on the floor watching TV and Jamie was doing her best to reach something of which I can’t quite remember. . . . a glass?, a fork? . . . . something that could be confiscated and be turned into some kind of shank later that night in the confines of her crib. I told her “no” which of course sent her onto the floor in a tizzy resembling a Pentecostal healing. Adam glanced from the TV over his shoulder to see what the commotion was all about. I know from experience that he wasn’t so much interested in why Jamie was upset, but if there was an opportunity to infuriate her further. There was, he took it, and lived to regret it.

He ever so casually rolled over next to the sobbing baby beast, and gave her the slightest poke in the ribs. This no doubt roused the demon within and she took a rabid swing at him haphazardly connecting with his head. He recoiled, holding his head, screaming that she had hit him. I had seen the whole thing so I told him to leave her alone and sent him back to watch his TV. Fueled by this new assault, Jamie continued her wailing turning alternating shades of pink and pinker as snot ran down both sides of her face, surely rehashing any and all transgressions ever committed against her being.

Adam retreated to his spot on the carpet lying facing the TV with his back to Jamie. All seemed calm for the moment – or should I say under control – until Adam decided to execute his next plan of attack. Again, ever so casually, he held a conveniently available DVD case above her head and nonchalantly dropped it onto her tear-streaked face. This was apparently, to Jamie, the greatest of indignities and before I could rise from the couch to stop what I knew was inevitable, she had rolled with lightening speed up onto her knees, had one fist on Adam’s chest and was pounding his face with her other. Adam screamed, “She’s hitting me, she’s hitting me” as he laid on his back like a turtle flailing his arms and legs in a pathetic attempt to stop the rage he had brought upon himself. She was in full attack mode and got at least three or four good strikes in before I made it across the room to pull her off. Adam lay wailing like a beaten dog and trying once again to play the victim card, to no avail.

I separated the kids in different rooms to stop the insanity, but didn’t have the heart to punish either one of them. Adam had just received more than I’d ever give him and hopefully, but doubtfully learned his lesson. And Jamie, well. . . . I couldn’t help but be proud of my little rebel-rouser. Rock on, girlfriend.

Aaahhhchooo!

Following the recent voluntary recall of Infant Cold & Flu medicines by Tylenol, pediatricians are now urging the FDA to ban cold medicines for children up to six saying, "over-the-counter medicines shouldn't be used in children under 6 because they don't help them and aren't safe". Whether it's safe or not, I can't say - I'm not a doctor nor a scientist. I trust that if I'm using medicines in the normal recommended dosage that I'm in the clear. But whether or not it works - I can say it absolutely does. I don't give my kids cold medicine out of "fear and vulnerability" as the article states. I give it to them because they are miserable and/or can't sleep - not to mention the sheer exhaustion of both of us - and I've seen it work. The snot stops, the coughing stops, they can breathe through their nose and get the sleep they need to fight off the virus that many times turns into ear or sinus infections.

So what do they recommend for kids up to age six (and are pushing for kids up to age TWELVE)? Love and Liquids. Yeah that will work. How about they try that for themselves. Nope, doesn't matter if you've been coughing for three nights in a row, doesn't matter if it feels like your head is going to explode and your nose is raw from the constant stream of snot - have another glass of water and ask someone for a hug. That will get you through.

Of course I'm willing to try more naturopathic remedies, but its not easy to get a one-year old to blow their nose much less gargle salt water or drink more than a sip or two of honey-lemon tea. I will continue my search, but herbal remedies can be just a risky as manufactured drugs.

So what's a mother to do?

I do my best to prepare my kids for the germs they come up against. I feed them a balanced diet including fruits and vegetables - and plan to up their servings of yogurt this cold season, they get daily exercise and adequate sleep. I teach them to wash their hands and cough into their arm rather than their hands, but they are in daycare. Daycare is a giant petrie dish of toddler germs and no matter what I do I can expect at least a cold a month (usually more) up to age two. It then slows down to around three a year once their immunity is built up a bit, but that first couple of years is rough and cold medicine is sometimes your only salvation to a much needed nights sleep and the rest they need to heal.

If they find that its truly not safe, then yes, I will stop giving them the medicine - and hope they provide some real alternatives, but they are losing credibility with me when they say it doesn't work. I've seen the results in my sleeping, easy-breathing children.

See the article on CNN.com here.

Demise of the Dinosaur

The other day I overheard one of Adam’s teachers lecturing a group of his classmates on the proper etiquette for playing dinosaurs. Yes, apparently there is a right and a wrong way to play with dinosaurs – at least within the confines of the Fireflies classroom. I was not witness to the original paleontological faux paux, but by the tone and context of the conversation at hand and I am guessing one of these young pre-schoolers had had the audacity to growl. Gasp. They all sat there, wide-eyed soaking in the lesson on how growling dinosaurs are scary and how it would be more appropriate for these prehistoric beasts to be strolling for food or taking care of baby dinosaurs.

I had almost wished that my child had been one of the poor souls having to endure this lesson on “friendly” dinosaur play because then it would have been my business to tell her – in a diplomatic, non-growling type of way – that she’s full of shit. Dinosaurs growl, they fight. Has she never seen Land Of The Lost? There is nothing “friendly” about dinosaurs – except maybe Barney but that’s a completely different life lesson in tolerance and acceptance. If you don’t want the kids growling, don’t give them dinosaurs. It’s like giving them race cars and telling them not to make tire-screeching noises.

I guess maybe I’m a little more critical of this because I have a boy. Boys are loud, boisterous and love things that crash, destroy, fly and growl. This is ingrained into their souls and brains and almost anything, from carrot sticks to a piece of gravel, put into their chubby little fingers will be turned into some kind of flying machine shooting lasers at the bad guys within a matter of minutes. And to squash this imagination, to condemn the essence of what being a young boy is, to me is senseless and detrimental. Not to mention it is lessons like these along with other such hits as – everyone wins and everyone gets a turn that is making my son a passive, wallflower weenie that doesn’t understand that no one on his pre-school soccer team is going to “give” him a turn. He needs to take it. Just like he is going to need to take that college scholarship if he wants it, take that job promotion and take that chance on the girl of his dreams. Of course I want my son to be friendly, forgiving, sensitive and empathetic, but very little in life will be handed out. We need to take it. And sometimes we even need to growl to get it. Go get it , Adam.

Thin the herd!

And another idiot joins the competition for this year's Darwin Award. This is classic.

Click here to Read how a blind man dies when he drives an ATV into a tree.

Gators have rights too!

So the indignity of ending up as some Mexican's belt buckle isn't bad enough? Now the poor gator must live with the fear of being gutted in front of crowd as paramedics retrieve what had been his lunch because some idiot couldn't read the "Beware of Alligators" sign posted where he decided to snorkel. Absolute injustice! Has the gator contacted the ACLU? Well, of course not - HE'S DEAD!

Full story here.

Excuses. . . .

Reading my last post I don't know what is more embarrassing. . . . that its been four months since I last posted something or that it has taken me four months to lose twenty pounds. Maybe if I didn't lose and gain the last five pounds over and over at least three different times my gut wouldn't still be eclipsing the view of my shoes, but as they say. . . . . slow and steady wins the race. Unless you're not actually moving.

And on the writing aspect, its not that I have had anything to write about. Almost daily I find myself saying, "I've got to write about this on the blog", but when (almost) no one is actually reading what I type I find its almost impossible to tear myself away from a Tivo'd episode of Hell's Kitchen and pen something brilliantly witty. But I will try to do better. For the one or two of you that occasionally drop by.

A healthier diet. . .

I'm eating an apple instead of the Mesquite BBQ kettle chips that verbally solicited me in the break room. The bastards should be taken to the parking lot and smashed beneath my shoe. But having to lick them off the pavement when I give in and eat them an hour from now would just be embarrassing.

Easter in Oregon. . . .

All this for two lousy plastic eggs filled with. . . . . . CANDY, MOMMA, LOOK CANDY!

I know this is kind of late, but I just got the pictures downloaded from my camera.

Question. . . .

Is it mean that I've sent my child into a recently occupied bathroom like a canary into a coal mine?

Funniest Thing I've Seen This MONTH!

Wedding on the Bayou!. . . . .

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wlqhb9D6ajg

Raindrop was here

Do you ever have one of those days when you just have an absolute, undeniable, searing urge to vandalize something? Stress is a bitch.

Quote of the week. . .

Dude was crazy. Dude was, in the memorable phrasing of Nikki Giovanni, ''just mean.'' Essentially there's no story here, except for a paranoid a--hole who went DEFCON-1. He may have been inspired by Columbine, but only because he was too dim to think up such a scenario on his own.

- Stephen King on the Virginia Tech murders and subsequent reports that Cho Seung-Hui had raised alarms in the English department with his writing.

See entire article here.

A Priest, a Rabbi and an Imam walk into a bar. . .

Well not quite, but if they did we might see more world peace.

I've recently been reading a book titled, "The Faith Club: A Muslim, A Christian, A Jew-- Three Women Search for Understanding" which is the diary of three women who sat down to write a children's book about the commonalities of their three faiths and ended up with a friendship that endured not only the discovery of differing faiths, but the dissection of their own and in turn a revelation of what each holds to be their own personal truth. It is a wonderful read that demonstrates just how similarly rooted our religions are, and how connected we all are as human beings in our search for that connection and guidance from something greater than ourselves.

One great thing I took from this book was the permission to question religion, including a quote, by an Episcopalian priest, "The opposite of faith is not doubt, but certainty. It's okay to have doubt, everyone does." If we could all find the courage to ask these questions of ourselves and each other and listen to the answers provided without judgement, our earth could be a much more peaceful place.

Carpooling with Rain Man

A recent car ride home with Adam. . . . .

The sun goes up, the moon goes down. The moon goes up, the sun goes down. The sun goes up, the moon goes down. The moon goes up, the sun goes down. The sun goes up, the moon goes down. The moon goes up, the sun goes down. The sun goes up, the moon goes down. The moon goes up, the sun goes down. Mommy, there’s God’s house! Remember when he had his Christmas lights on? The sun goes up, the moon goes down. The moon goes up, the sun goes down. The sun goes up, the moon goes down. The moon goes up, the sun goes down. The sun goes up, the moon goes down. The moon goes up, the sun goes down. Bugs can’t hurt us. If we didn’t have bees we wouldn’t have fruits and flowers. The sun goes up, the moon goes down. The moon goes up, the sun goes down. The sun goes up, the moon goes down. The moon goes up, the sun goes down. Buzz Lightyear gets Zurg. He says, “Not today, Zurg!” Pew, pew, pew, pew. The sun goes up, the moon goes down. The moon goes up, the sun goes down. The sun goes up, the moon goes down. The moon goes up, the sun goes down. I only have fwee Care Bears. Four Care Bears. . . actually two. I need to get another Care Bear ‘cause I only have four Care Bears! The sun goes up, the moon goes down. The moon goes up, the sun goes down. The sun goes up, the moon goes down. The moon goes up, the sun goes down. Mommy, don’t sing. I don’t want to talk right now! The sun goes up, the moon goes down. The moon goes up, the sun goes down. The sun goes up, the moon goes down. The moon goes up, the sun goes down. . . . . . .

Let her be healed. . . .

Jamie got tubes in her ears last week. If you’re not familiar with this procedure you can get details here, but basically they put a tiny passageway in her ear drum so fluid will drain rather than build up and cause infections – which has happened almost as many times as she is old. We were referred to a doctor at Doernbecher’s Children’s hospital which is wonderful in the sense that it is the best, most advanced hospital in the state but bad in the way that I have always said a little prayer every time one of those telethon things were on that I would never need to step foot through those doors.

But step we did, out of the cold, gray, dawning sky, through the swoosh of the automatic doors and into that uneasy, heavy silence of the hospital lobby. As we waited our turn to check-in, I scanned the room filled with grade school artwork and whimsical statues. A twenty-foot mobile of colorful handcrafted birds soared above us, all of it a fanciful façade for the life and death scenarios playing out within the building. . . . the tests, the prayers, the results, the hopes, the relief, the goodbyes. Every door holding the potential for each, like a game of Russian roulette played between fate and the lives of our children. My throat tightened at the thought.

They called our name at the front desk and then proceeded to batter me with routine questions. . . . Child’s DOB?. . . . SSN#?. . . . Insurance policy number?. . . . . religious preference? Religious preference? My mind reeled as to why they cared about our religious preference and then it hit me. Like a 2x4 to the back of the head. My mouth opened, but it was a second before the words fell out . . . . no preference. I thought about saying Christian, or Jewish, but the only thing swirling in my mind at the moment was, if Jamie was in the position of actually needing prayers, would it really matter which one? Just pray, dammit.

We were sent up to the eighth floor, where all surgeries take place. We stepped out of the elevator and followed the signs to our destination – a place I was guiltily grateful was in the opposite direction of the pediatric ICU. We were led back to a curtained area with chairs, a TV and a small bed surrounded on three sides by white metal bars. The “crib” seemed like something from a 50’s era pediatric psych ward and Jamie helped complete the image by jumping on the bed while holding the onto the bars and babbling. Which was almost as charming as when she decided to throw toys in the direction of passing nurses like some kind of zoo monkey.

Over the next half hour they took her vitals and gave her a sedative that I strongly believe should be prescribed to all children between the ages of two and four. At 8:00am I carried her back to the OR doors and kissed her good-bye. After all the emotions and macabre thoughts that had run through my head in the lobby, I was actually quite calm as I handed her over to the nurse. . . and thankful that I now had a moment to stuff my face with the other granola bar I had brought along for Damonn. Which is exactly what I was doing when the doctor came out a mere twenty minutes later to tell us all was well. After another hour of screaming from our tired, groggy and starving child we were given the ok to go home much to the relief of the weary, worried, tired parents in close proximity, I’m sure.

Back in the lobby, clutching my red-faced wailing bundle of blonde curls waiting for Damonn to bring the car around, I couldn’t help but guess at the illnesses the patients coming and going around us might be facing. My stomach churned at the thought of dealing with more than our mere three-hour procedure. How would I deal? What would I do? I guess, in the simplest terms, I would do exactly what I did today. Hand over my child with faith in the best medicine available and pray to any God available that the doctors hand her back healthier than she came in.

Heaven on a Sunday Afternoon

Grins and screeches, elbows in my ribs
Climbing, clawing, make room for three
Peanut butter breath, shining eyes
Love and laughter piled on the couch
Is there anything better than this?

Happy Birthday - I don't think so.

There's no sing in my mouth right now.
- Adam's response when asked to join in the singing of Happy Birthday at my party last week.

Best and Worst Thing I've seen this week. . .

And they're both freakin' hilarious. . . .

Best:
Kevine Federline's Superbowl commercial.

Worst:
Bank of America corporate meeting.

Life Lessons. . . Drove like a stake into your little kid heart

My grandma tells a story of when she was in elementary school and this apparently bratty little girl offered her a candy bar and when she reached out to accept it the girl pulled it back. My grandma readily admits that to this day, nearly seventy years later, this small episode of rejection still haunts her. It is also the reason she gives when I ask why she must try and force-feed anyone that enters her house. I’m not sure how she makes the connection between being tricked by a school-yard brat and badgering guests until they relent and have at least a snack-size Twix, but my point is the smallest of things, things that others may not even have a recollection of, can drop a seed of discontent into our forming minds that grow into life-long struggles.

And that is the thought the crossed my mind as I saw Adam’s face fall in the fish aisle last Sunday at Costco. We came around the corner and were face to face with a bin of bright red crabs, their jagged claws propped against the glass. Adam was thrilled and we both laughed as we waved our "claws" in the air saying, "Hey, hey, hey", in a silly interpretation of the crabs in Finding Nemo. Next was a big bin of striped tiger prawns, whom Adam mistakenly called worms. The lady beside us started laughing at his comment and I chuckled back in a funny-what-kids-will-think-of kind of way until I looked down and saw Adam’s face bow to the side in shame. He peered up and timidly asked, "Well, what are they called then, momma?" I instantly tried to save his little ego saying, "Well, they’re called prawns, but they sure do look like worms piled up there, don’t they?" while flashing the lady my best angry momma bear look, which I must admit came partly from the guilt of my own light-hearted chuckle. I had never seen that look on Adam’s face before, he’s usually such an adventurous, take-it-and give-it-right-back-to-ya type of kid, and it broke my heart to think the embarrassment from such a tiny mistake may cause hesitation the next time he goes to offer an answer or an opinion. Or that maybe he'd be afaid to order any kind of crustacean from the menu for the rest of his life. I’m sure this is probably a moment that will stick more in my psyche than his, but it is a gentle reminder for me nonetheless that as we strive to make them healthy and safe and smart, that it can be their hearts that can be so easily – and permanently – bruised. Kinda like the left eye of the next person that laughs at my kid.