Birthday Party Bonding

I took Arwen to her first ever birthday party that was not held by a family member. We got dressed in our finest and set out for a Mother/Daughter milestone. I was embarrassed that I didn't know the location of the store and therefore relied on my Mother's wisdom. It caused me to be 8 minutes late (thank god others were much later than myself but still).

We gathered at the Build A Bear workshop. I'm not against build a bear honestly, just freaked out a bit by the concept of it. I will admit this however, the little routine they do with the hearts is cute. Basically, the kids get in a circle, play a few rounds of duck duck goose and finally are given 2 velvety red hearts. To these hearts they do things like rubbing their heads to make their bear smart, rubbing their tummies to keep the bear full, you get the drift. Then when they are done they place one heart into their bear and the other into the birthday girls bear.

So we get there, Arwen gets into the circle and I listen to as the girl writing her name onto a sticker says repeatedly, "Arwen from Lord of the Rings! I love that name, you're named after that elvaan princess!" (that is a topic for another day, yes I named my child after the character from the BOOK I read in high school. The movie happened to come out 3 weeks before her birth, a complete coincidence, trust me.)

When all kids are set, they march off toward the back. I follow and am left standing there. It's obvious which Mom's know one another. They are in a group, chatting away. It makes me uncomfortable but I'm there for my child, so I make faces at her and smile when she gets excited and says "look Mommy!" and tries to include me.

Then a woman approaches. "Which girl is yours?" She is flanked by another Mom. These women are a good 10 years older than myself. I begin wondering if I'm dressed appropriately. I have on my tank sweater, jeans, sandals and vamp nails. "Arwen." I responded, smiling at Arwen in the circle, taking her turn as the "goose".

"I knew that!" the smaller woman responds. "She looks just like you." I ask which children are theirs, they tell me. Then the larger woman (as in very tall) begins to ask about my other children. Upon finding out if I have 4, asks if I have "help" that comes out to the house. I smile politely and answer their questions. Tell them no, that I have one child in a special needs program for autism. The smaller woman listens and then announces "I want coffee! do you need some?" I thank her but say no, she walks away leaving me with the green giant.

We continue to make small talk, she brings up adoption/fostering. She tells me her two oldest children were foster-adopts and how it works. She begins getting tears in her eyes. I apologize for making her upset, she tells me it's blocked tear ducts and once it starts it won't stop, I let it go.

As the kids finish at build a bear, Arwen is having a blast, she runs to me, gives me hugs and kisses and says she loves me. I notice she is the ONLY child that holds their Mother's hand as we make our way out of the store to the food area. I smile to myself and think how lucky I am we share such a close bond.

The giant sits next to me, I notice she doesn't talk so I try to strike up a conversation. Then a child comes up and blows the birthday whistle at me, in play I jump back, gasp, and say "you scared me!" The little girl laughs but I see the face of the giant. She isn't amused. So when the little girl does the same thing again to me, I yell in fear even louder, the little girl squeals in delight.

When it's time to leave, I look for the giant, thinking perhaps we'd made nice enough that I could tell her it was nice to meet her and such. To my dismay, she is gone, nary a word to me. I don't know if I should feel disappointed or snubbed. I shrug it off and find the birthday girl and her Mother, I thank them for inviting us.

As we walk away, Arwen requests a ice cream cone, so we head over to Ben and Jerry's. I end up forking over 3 dollars (freaking 3 dollars for a small cone!) and then we head over and get my coffee. Arwen wants to ride the bungee thing they have set up, it's 6 bucks a ride. I tell her ok. As I squat down to grab my purse coffee shoots down my arm from the overfull cup. I see no napkins so I stare at my arm for a second, pondering what in the world to do with the droplets. I can't wipe it on my pants or my shirt.

I must have sat like that for 30 seconds before making my decision. I quickly licked my arm, it takes several swipes to get most of it. As I look up, I see the woman at a counter (in the beauty store no less) staring straight at me. I can't read her face but decide it's best to mosey on to the ride for Arwen than to step in and explore their polish racks. My face is red.

I take Arwen to her ride and fork over the 6 dollars for 3 minutes. These people are making a killing. I yell to Arwen as she flies in the air and absorb her laughter into my mind and heart, making a memory I'll store for a bad day. She twists her little body, trying to perform a flip. I cheer her on and a woman next to me says "that little girl is fearless!" I nod, but don't think she's talking to anyone in general.

When the ride is over my little girl runs to me and I sit her down to place her sandels on her tiny feet. I notice she will need new shoes soon, her feet have grown again. I look into her flushed face and lean forward and plant a kiss on her cheek. She wraps her arms around my shoulders and pulls me to her. "I love you Mommy! you're the best Mom ever!" I feel myself melt into the hug and I tell her I love her so much.

As we stand to walk away I'm grateful for this "first" we conquered together. I'm even more blessed to share it with this little girl, MY little girl. I wouldn't have it any other way.

"Can we do this again Mom?" she asks.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world sweets."

Grossed Out

As an extension of the POST below:
The picture above is only a smidgen of what I dealt with personally. The person who snapped this shot obviously cared about keeping it somewhat clean. That or he wanted a good shot of the deep fried artery blockers he just ingested. But I digress, back on topic.
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Just imagine outside of the camera frame...chicken bones sticking out of the ranch cups, on the floor, in the seats. Cigarette butts snuffed in plates and napkins soaked in ranch and hot sauce, left sitting atop plates and thereby absorbing even more nasty liquid into it.
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Better yet, imagine all of that with a huge obese man sitting in the middle, across from his obese girlfriend, both chewing down on a wing bone, with ranch on the corners of their mouth, making strange slurping sounds...and, if you just wait for it...they will lick each and every finger. But even then, it's still not over! Listen closely enough and you'll hear the "pop"ing sound of each finger being sucked clean. (I cringed inwardly while writing that part) I should also mention they are working on their 7th basket of "All you can eat" wings that come in batches of 8 at a time.
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Ever since those days, anytime I see ranch or blue cheese (or even wings for the most part, buffalo style) I feel dirty all over and immediately want a shower.
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So, as a way of showing your appreciation to others who will carry the permanent mental scars like I do, directly associated to what I witnessed as a server, tip your wait staff.

To Serve

I'm addicted to reading several types of blogs. I love Mom blogs for obvious reasons, medical blogs as I aspire to be a L&D nurse, and finally, restaurant/waiter/waitress blogs because I used to be a server.

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Reading the serving blogs really takes me back. I worked in a privately owned video store during college and directly next door was a popular wings joint (that has now grown into a mini chain in our area). The owner of the wings joint came in to rent movies often (I would hold new releases for her and the family) and when we spoke I would often talk about my strained finances, being a poor college student. She offered me a job on several occasions and I declined each time but the day came when I could no longer afford necessities like coffee and I relented.

The job wasn't so bad. It was fast paced and you had to learn quickly and adapt or be left behind. I caught on fairly well and was lucky because the clients from the video store became my 'regulars'.

As with anything there was a downside and it was simply that I worked in a "Wings" restaurant that offered a daily lunch "special" consisting of all you can eat wings (just ask any server the hell the word "special" involves). Lunch was always packed, and customers ran a large gambit. We had men in business suits driving BMW's and the local construction crew workers.

I ran myself ragged doing that job. It was one of the most disgusting things I've ever done (and a huge reason I rarely eat out anymore). I've peddled more "wet" wings, dry wings, blue cheese and my personal favorite "ranch" dressing to last a lifetime. Let me tell you, some people will eat a tire if they can coat it in ranch dressing. I still cringe when I picture the face of some man eating wet hot wings with ranch dabbed on the corners of his mouth and speaking with his mouth partially full as he flags me down, "can I get another side of ranch?" Nasty.

I have a huge respect for those that serve others. It takes patience, nerves of steel and dedication. The next time you go out to eat, please tip and tip generously. These people don't choose to serve food and beverages to you because they are just so damned lucky. They deserve your respect and therefore your tip.

Keep this in mind, every time you stiff your server, a kitten drops dead. So save the kittens.

I also wanted to pass along this particular blog written by Lobster Boy. I've met women just like the one he posts about in person. Don't ever allow yourself to stoop this low. She should be ashamed but it's obvious she has zero self respect.

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** I just had to add this as well. Not tipping well for a bad server is acceptable. Someone who doesn't work well with/around people should pick a different profession. I've met many and if you can't take it, don't serve.

** Note the highlighted well above. Even crappy service warrants a tip generally. If you have service that is bad enough you don't even want to leave change off the dollar, please talk to a manager.

Out of the mouth of babes

Backstory: My Mom's sister (aka my aunt) moved in with my Mother and Father a couple of months ago until she got back on her feet (this isn't the first time). My daughter recently went to spend the night with her Grandma. This conversation took place a few days after.

Arwen. "You know that lady that is staying with Gran?"

Me: "Yes, that's your Aunt. She lives with Gran and Poppie."

Arwen: "No she doesn't."

Me: "Yes she does sweetie, you saw her there."

Arwen (getting irritated): "No she doesn't! She has her own house, we just have to put her up from time to time!"

Me: "....."


Where do they come up with it? I'm standing by my original theory that she overheard my Dad talking about this to a buddy.

Punishment

"I don't want to do my hair!!!!" Arwen stomped around the kitchen. Her normally beautiful face a mask of ugliness. Her hair, a curly tangled mess atop her head.

"Arwen, we have to do your hair. Come on, you still have to eat breakfast and we're late." I finished packing Logan's lunch and walked to the freezer to grab his ice pack. We were running behind this morning and I still had to do Arwen's hair, clean an apple for her snack and get shoes on and tied.

"but I don't want to!" Arwen shouted.

"I swear!!" I stopped zipping Logan's lunchbox. "I'm going to go on strike! Then you can go to school with a nappy head, no shoes and no snack! I'm going to go upstairs and go back to sleep with the baby."

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My husbands voice came out panicked, loud and squeaky.

"Great! Punish me why don't you!"

It's takes a Mom to make the world go round. Mornings like this one make it painfully clear.

Blood work and Mothers Milk

Things went well I suppose. Annabel was a complete angel, making me so proud. I went in and hit the dreaded scale first and...WOOTGA!!! I'm 7lbs away from my pre-pregnancy weight. I knew I'd lost more weight but not that much! I've lost 15 pounds in a month, Not bad if I say so myself.

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Then I had a finger stick (yikes), EKG, blood draw and physical work up. Things were great. Doc came in, talked to me, the normal drill. Then suddenly things took a turn.

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"How long do you plan on nursing her?" he nodded toward Annabel, sitting in her car seat, just looking around, giving us that gorgeous baby grin.

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"A year". I said, smiling at her. She returned the smile with one of her own and a lovely coo, I started to melt.

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"How old is she now?" He moved closer to me, making me a bit uncomfie. He had a serious look on his face.

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"8 weeks". I kept my eyes on her, trying to ignore how uncomfortable his staring was making me.

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I realized why he had moved so close and was staring at me. It was time for the "Doctor" talk. He began to tell me how nursing is only beneficial for the first 3 months and that anything after is unnecessary. He pushed really hard for me to stop nursing, because he said I'm under alot of stress and he wants to give me some medication for it. (he gave me Zanax before and I hated it). Then he gave me the "spill". "If you formula feed, your husband can help with feedings", "formula is just as good for her", "you need to do what is best for YOU".

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I told him about Annabel's excema and how essential it is to nurse to lessen the severity of it. He countered that with it's more important to be on top of my health as if I'm ill I cannot be a "good" Mother to them, not because I don't want to be, but because my body wouldn't allow me to.
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In the end, I was firm but polite and told him I wasn't budging. I AM nursing my daughter for a year, baring any huge complications in my health. He pushed for a bit longer but finally relented and accepted I was going to nurse my daughter. His only condition was that I contact him immediately if I got worse and/or if I changed my mind about formula.

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I'll admit I was furious. I've got some experience in "anti-breastfeeding" comments and lectures. When I had my first child and chose to nurse, I was told I was a pervert. I had people constantly asking "when are you going to stop?" and the best yet "they really like that titty milk huh?". Nice.

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But I digress.

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The EKG came back fine (thank god!) the blood work will come back today. I asked about some other issues but he said to take it one step at a time, wanting to focus on my blood work first. So now the wait begins, cross your fingers for me. I just want my life back and I'm hoping this will set me on that path.

Yes they are real!!

Just wanted to share some photos I've taken of manicures recently. Please just scan past this post if you're not a polish fanatic like myself (this is for you LeeLee by the way, hope you like them!! <3)

Finally!

I'm going to see my family doctor today, FINALLY. I've waited patiently to get my release from the OB's office and get an appointment, now the day has finally arrived.

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There was a time in the past when I dreaded a doctors visit. I was always nervous of the finger sticks and blood draws. The poking, prodding and god forbid my worst nightmare...the scale. I'm happy to say most of that has changed. I still don't "like" being stuck or examined but I can handle it and the dread I once experienced has gone. I am sad to say the issue with the scale still remains but I've been assured by my husband that "all women complain about that" so I suppose it's normal.

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Wish me luck. I know I'm having an EKG and blood work. I may or may not be sent for an ultrasound on my thyroid. I just hope I can walk out of that office today with some answers and better still, a sense of relief and assurance.

Bitches Brew

It's the name of the Lippmann polish pictured above. I've wanted this polish for a very long time but I couldn't justify paying $15 bucks for it. Thanks to my Mom (and hubby) I finally have it and it's as beautiful as I imagined.

It's back

This morning I felt the first signs. I became light headed, disoriented, sleepy, tired and my breathing was shallow. I couldn't find my pulse easily and started my normal routine of panic. I calmed myself and called Jimbo. He came home and I laid down for several hours.

I hate being sick and more so I hate being sick and not knowing WHY. It's so scary to have this impending feeling of doom that you can't erase because you don't know what's causing your sickness. It's even more disturbing when I 'think' I'm experiencing anxiety but instead of the racing heart it seems to barely beat at all...I have to fight the notion I might actually die from this. It's very scary stuff.

I go in to see my Neurologist next week as well as my family doc. I'm guessing this is a direct result of my thyroid again but it's impossible to tell your brain that when you feel your reality slipping as you fight fainting and passing out. If I don't blog for a few days this is why.

Mom confession of the Week

I have tons of jeans in my closet I can't seem to part with. For some reason I have this misguided notion that one day I will revert to my former size 5 self and might "need" them.

The face of autism

Another face of autism and what a beautiful face it is.

The link posted at the end of the video no longer works. If you suspect your child or someone else's might be autistic and you need help, please go to www.helpautismnow.com.

Another late night manicure...

I couldn't sleep again. I think it has something to do with Annabel keeping me up late and having issues finding the sandman on corresponding nights after. She went to bed and slept the majority of the night but alas I tossed and turned for hours until I gave in, got up, did a mani and was finally able to get some sleep.

I know I look like death warmed over but I promise you, I'm very much alive. Don't worry. Although Halloween is right around the corner, this is not a costume.

Grateful

I saw this while shopping in Hell-Mart yesterday. I quickly grabbed a copy and brought it home to read.

Jenny and Evan do not share an identical story with myself and Logan, yet I could feel my heart aching for her and knew exactly how she felt at times. I know how devastating it is when your child stops being affectionate, becomes withdrawn and stops engaging with the family. I remember watching the early warning signs of stacking objects next to one another. In fact I can share a story.

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One morning I had just taken Logan downstairs. Vincent was still just a baby so I placed him in his bassinet and went to prepare a drink for Logan. I came upstairs, made the drink, used the restroom and walked back down to the playroom. As I unlocked the gate and turned around I gasped at the sight before me.

Logan was sitting on the ground, looking at the toys (in this case, riding toys and huge trucks) he had placed in a perfectly straight line. The trucks reached from one wall to the next. They made an assembly line across the floor, like a man made traffic jam. An eerie feeling came over me at that point. I stared for a long time before Vincent's cry brought me back to reality. This was before Logan was diagnosed.

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A lot has happened since we were told "we think Logan has autism". Jim and I have dealt with many things and I'm so grateful our marriage is strong as is our love. Otherwise who knows where we'd be, or even if we'd still have our family together. I couldn't imagine going it alone. You need someone to share your inner fear and doubts with.

Bravo to Jenny for sharing her son and his autism with the world. We need a face placed with the word "Autism" and I think his is a beautiful one that will hopefully shock the world into acceptance and action. The article is very good, with excerpts from her book. I plan on purchasing the book and will let you know how it is.

Mom confession of the Week

I treat my children like "little people" and not inferiors. Meaning I allow them the right to make decisions in their lives and voice opinions openly to both my husband and I. I feel that if we respect our children and they know that, they will give us more respect in turn.

I cringe inwardly when I see parents talk down to their children and make all their choices for them. If you don't allow your child to start out simply, by choosing their clothes or what they want for breakfast for example, how can you expect them to make more responsible decisions later in life?

Sleepy, Black Eyed, Blues

First the black eye.

Yesterday, in a gesture of good will, Vincent decided to run to me as if giving a huge hug and head butt me at the very last second. Pain shot through my eye ball cavity (or whatever the correct term is, I believe it's socket) and I sat holding my face for at least a minute. As I felt my cheekbone the flesh was already raised and sore. I went into the bathroom and had a nice goose egg under my left eye. This morning it's a nice blue/black color. Fan-Tas-Tic!

Later in the afternoon when Jim got home with Arwen, he immediately started poking at my now bright shiner. I became annoyed at his humor in the situation so I hurried away and grabbed Arwen's school folder. Inside was a note asking us to please speak with our child as she is getting into trouble too often at school. So I spent the better part of the evening speaking to my daughter and trying to explain how important it is that she try her best at school. I walked away feeling as if I'd failed. Arwen just doesn't 'listen' well. It doesn't help that she also thinks she is smarter than me, her father, or any adult.

Her teacher called this morning and we had a nice chat. It seems that Arwen's major problem is yapping and not paying attention. We agreed on a game plan and I'm crossing my fingers that it will work. We have a long road ahead. Arwen is so incredibly smart and that intelligence is beginning to work against her.

Then to add insult to injury, Annabel pulled another all nighter. She finally drifted off to sleep, in the bed with me, at around 4am this morning (around then anyhow, at some point I quit looking at the clock. It's just depressing realizing I have to get up in 2 hours).

So this morning, I..

Am so sleepy I'm having problems functioning.

Resolved an issue with my daughter's teacher for the time being, doing so while my brain is on an extended "no sleep, no thinking straight for you" strike.

And got to walk my son to the bus, in my jammie pants and Brown's T-Shirt and a nice big black eye.

Life is good, I love my life. Or so I keep telling myself.

I love my life...I love my life...I love my life...

A link in Autism numbers?

What I'm about to relay to you I openly admit is second hand knowledge, so forgive me if I make a mistake or two. However, overall this information is accurate.

My Mom#2 (mother in law) told me she recently, while driving to work, there was a specialist on autism discussing rising numbers here in autistic children on the radio. The specialist said the increase is directly related to the number of engineers we have in the area. She also explained that new studies have found that engineers think with a particular side of the brain more than the other and this in turn can effect the likely hood of having a child that has some sort of autism (in other words genetic probability).

My husband is an engineer. I rag him constantly on how "different" he acts at times. He always handles situations with rational thinking, not emotional. He is very precise and often offends others due to his blunt ways of speaking (that is directly linked to his blunt way of thinking). He is very smart but not quite "logical" if you get my drift. It's as if he could save a world crisis but not understand why it offended my Sister when he said "why would you wear that???!!!"

So after hearing this news, I'm not surprised. I'd wondered why Early Intervention had seen such a surge in special needs children in our area recently, now I know. It will be interesting to see the newer studies they are working on now in comparison to other cities. It will also mean possible new research and developments for treatments and therapies, which is always assuring.

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Now the terrible wait begins as I worry about Annabel and the possibilities for her. It's hard to think about but irresponsible not to.

Gallstones and a Lick-tenstein?

Last night was hell. It started out innocently enough. I made a home cooked dinner consisting of Mom's Salsa Meatloaf, Green Beans, Mashed Potatoes and Mac and Cheese. We all ate (as usual I wolfed, I don't have time to sit and eat just yet). It was bath night so Jim took the boys, me the girls. We got them set and came down to the family room together.

Around 8pm I felt it. I knew immediately what was coming and I started to panic. I've not had a gallstone attack in several months but the pain of one was still very clear in my mind. I told Jim what was happening, rushed upstairs, grabbed 2 Lortabs from Annabel's birth and took them. Within 15 minutes the attack was in full swing and I was vomiting. I prayed some of the Lortab stayed in my system and hugged the toilet in agony for an hour or so. The attack lasted about an hour and a half.

So now I'm going to have to continue with my surgical plans to remove my gallbladder. I was really hopeful the pregnancy was the underlying cause but obviously it is not. I'm nervous and worried but it has to be done. The worst part is I'm not sure what medications I can take safely if I have another attack. In the past I was prescribed Meperghen Fortis but I know I cannot take that due to the phenegren in the drug (not safe for Annabel). Worrying about this is an added stress and I've finally pulled out the pump to start stashing food for her.

I climbed into bed and slept until 11pm, when Annabel decided it was time to wake for her playtime. She kept me up from 11pm until 4am. During that time I decided to just bite the bullet and bring my sore behind downstairs. On a whim I changed my manicure, which brings me to the Lick-tenstein part.

Just seeing the name of this bottle of polish gives me the giggles. Where in the world did they come up with a name like that? I can't wait until someone asks "what's that polish". They will look at me like I've lost my mind when I answer.

It's the little Things

It hit me suddenly today. I was playing with the kids and Logan was running around, his normal wild, carefree self. Everyone was laughing and having a wonderful time. As it often occurs, Logan became excited without warning. He jumped around wildly, arms and legs flailing about. I immediately calmed all the children in an effort to suppress his sudden surge of excitement. Not doing so could have resulted in a hurt child, possibly himself.

As the day wore on, we all read, played and shared our afternoon together. Eventually bedtime rolled around and it was time to tuck them all into bed. As is routine, we all go up at once and I spend time going to and fro between my daughters bedroom and my sons. I kissed Arwen, expressed my adoration for her and said goodnight. I made my way to the boys room. I nuzzled Vincent's soft neck and told him I loved him. He responded by pushing me away, his way of saying "I love you but enough already!".

I cuddled up with Logan and asked for a kiss. He gave me a quick kiss and a giggle. I wrapped my arms around him and repeated over and over how much I love him and how much he means to me. He smiled but quickly became bored and I made my way out of the room, down to the office.

What hit me today? My son, who just turned 4, has told me one time in his life that he loves me. It was a sunny Saturday morning and he was preparing to go to his Mimi's for the weekend. As I adjusted his seat belt I leaned in for my kiss and told him I loved him. Clear as day he smiled and said "I love you". It was one of the best moments of my life.

I've dreamed of when I'll hear those 3 little words from him again. I'm not sure if or when it will happen. But it's something so small that keeps me going each day. Each night as I tuck him in or each day when I hug him before he climbs onto the bus, I wait to see if today is the day he tells me he loves me. And until then his happy smile and soft grey eyes let me know exactly what he can't express in words just yet.

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It's the little things that really make life worth living. It's the little things that truly mean the most.

Nathan Michael Gentry

Please consider making a donation to help cure childhood cancer.

A Worthy Cause

September is Pediatric Cancer Awareness Month, please consider making a donation that will go toward helping these brave children who need it most. Also, please make an educated decision on where your hard earned money will go.

Head on over to Will's Page to find out more about how money is divided up. It's not exactly what you think when you make a donation. That is why I donate to ThemagicwaterProject. Take a look and see if perhaps you'd like to help out.

If this were your child, wouldn't you hope people would reach out and help? I know I would.

Adding to the 15 seconds...

Adding to the 15 seconds of fame "Chris Crocker" is receiving. Be forewarned this video is NOT safe for work and has language that is offensive. Here's the link...

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

I'll wait while you watch....(I need to learn how to post videos on my blog...I'll work on that).

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Wow right? It's definately one of the weirder things I've witnessed in my life. Aside from Britney Spears performance at the VMA's that is.

Mom confession of the Week

I adore my husband. He is the one person that I can count on, no matter what. There is no "secret" to what makes our marriage work. We are normal people with normal issues. We've set ground rules and never go to bed angry with one another.

The beauty of a good marriage is seeing what is great about the person in front of you versus looking at their faults and how nice it looks on the other side of the fence. And for me personally, it's about the fluttering of my heart when I watch him with our children and realize he is the best Father in the world to them. There is no better aphrodisiac.

Late Night Manicure

So what's a girl to do when she can't sleep (due to a baby that won't sleep) and there is nothing interesting to watch on the tube?? For me the answer is easy, manicure time!

Anyhow, that's my digits, in a bright and wowza!! blue. OPI's Blue My Mind.

I know, I need to get out more.

10 Things about Me

I have a severe case of writers block. I'm not sure why (umm actually isn't that what writer's block is, duh Jaime).

I've wanted to write something clever, funny and upbeat. Something that will entertain anyone out there who drops by from time to time to read what I have to say. It's frustrating when I sit and stare at the blank page and think...well think nothing actually. It's just a big blank slate.

So, I've decided to share some random thoughts and things about myself, 10 of them. I've never been tagged or whatever it's called so I suppose I'm tagging myself.

10 Things About Me!

1.) I love scary things, be it books, movies or TV shows. So my favorite movies are scary ones (and I mean old school scary, not this new Hostel stuff) .

2.) I decorate my house as soon as the fall rolls around. I have 4 tubs in the attic full of decorations. One for fall, Halloween, thanksgiving and Christmas. I put decorations both in and outside. I've been told it's reminiscent of a school classroom.

3.) I love to read. I have so many books I've run out of room for them all. I read everything, from the classics, to the modern. Two of my children are named after books/poems that I adore.

4.) I hate mustard. As a child I had to drink some concoction to make me throw up that contained mustard and I've never forgotten. Just the smell makes my stomach churn.

5.) My oldest son is autistic. He is the light of my life and I wouldn't change any part of it. He is the child I'm most protective of and the one that made the greatest positive impact on my life as a Mom.

6.) I didn't want children earlier in my life. I was actually in my 20's and didn't want children. I'd decided in high school I wasn't a "kid" person. Then my niece was born and I fell in love. Soon after the baby bug struck and I've been a lover of little people ever since.

7.) The first blog I ever read was Bun in the Oven (http://www.texasbelle.net/) I couldn't stop reading. I read the entire blog in two days and have been a frequent visitor since. She is the person who started my addiction. One post of hers really sticks out in my mind, http://www.texasbelle.net/?p=1308 , it cracks me up but also reminds me alot of myself.

8.) I have a weird thing with smelling my children. I love to smell their little heads and necks. The youngest two have it really bad since they both have the "baby" smell. I will nuzzle them constantly. After bathing the baby I will smell her little clothes as I'm taking them to the laundry basket. As for my 2 year old, I smell his blanket as I'm making his bed. I can't stop help myself.

9.) I love unicorns. I know that is so 80's of me but it's true. I have two cabinets full of them and love adding to the collection. Oh and to clarify, these are Lenox, Windstone, etc. Not generic unicorns found for $1 at the flea market.

10.) I've been soul searching and thinking very hard about pursuing a degree in nursing. If I do so it would be to eventually work L&D. The birth of my last child was so difficult, both physically and emotionally. My L&D nurse made my experience a positive one and kept me calm during a very scary time. It touched me deeply and has perhaps altered the course of my life.

So there you go. Until I get past this writers block it's the best I can do.

Admit It...

You know you've done this, or someone you know has.

*****

The scene: 6:45am, kitchen, early morning, breakfast time.

"Want Milk!"

Stumble to fridge, pry open door, reach for milk, fill cup, hand cup to child.

"Want Chocolate!"

Sit the cup down, reach for the chocolate, pour and begin to stir. Wait for chocolate to mix, continue stirring. Stop and wonder what is wrong with the chocolate. Look around for container but only see French Vanilla liquid creamer on counter.

Moment of clarity. Walk to sink, dump out drink, rinse and repeat.

*****

You've all done this, admit it.

So terribly Wrong

I'm angry. No, I'm beyond angry. I'm raging.

A year ago I was watching the local news (as is the norm for me, while preparing dinner). I paused when I heard a familiar name mentioned and gasped when I heard "authorities were dispatched to the home where a newborn baby was discovered dead". My mind raced and I immediately felt horrible for them. I hadn't seen them around in several years but I knew the family of the father (as they lived in the same area I grew up in).

Fast forward a year. I'm again cooking (peeling potatoes this time) and hear the name again. I immediately hurry to the tele and watch in shock as the reporter explained the couple, both the man and wife were arrested. The Father on charges of Capital Murder, the Mother chemical endangerment. Details were finally released on the baby. The little boy was born with cocaine in his system as his Mother obviously smoked crack prior to labor, he died of blunt force trauma. To add insult to injury, this family was cleared of charges following the death of their 6 month old a couple of years ago.

When I first heard this news, I was holding my own infant daughter. I looked down into her little face and I felt immense despair. How can anyone do something such as this? I realize they were both probably high as a kite on crack at the time (as the Father has openly admitted it) but still...that's your child. And I have to ask the question, how in the world is the Mother getting off so lightly? "chemical endangerment"? Please!

This is the very reason some people should not be parents. It's a true crime that some couples have so much love and longing for a child of their own and others murder a newborn baby while high on drugs. What is the world coming to?

A fond Memory

It was 1 week after Annabel was born. We didn't want to take her out but I was nursing and we HAD to get a minivan. She was in the back of our car, sleeping soundly for the most part. We made our way to a car lot we'd researched and took a look at a couple of vans. We found one of interest and I stayed in the car with the baby while Jim went inside to "negotiate" a bit. As I was leaning back my nose alerted me to a "gift" from my infant daughter.

.

I grabbed the diaper bag, laid her carefully on a blanket. I removed her diaper and reached for the wipes...but couldn't find any. So here I am, holding her tiny little bottom up in the air and trying to decide what in the world to do.

.

Suddenly she projectile poops all over my shirt and pants. I'm talking warm orangey-yellow breastfed poo goodness. I sit in shock for a second and see Jim walking toward the car. The smell hits him first, then he sees me and immediately begins to laugh. Giving him the eat sh*t and die look, I cleaned her with the blanket she had just ruined and we buckled her into the car seat and rushed to CVS for some wet wipes.

.

I spent the next few hours looking for a minivan, smelling like infant poo with a huge orange stain on my lower torso and pants. Maybe we cut such a great deal on the van we purchased because the salesman just wanted my stinky butt as far away from him as possible.

.

Shirt-20 dollars

Pants-20 dollars

Baby blanket-10 dollars

Having wet wipes when you need them the most? Priceless.

Mom confession of the Week

I put too many expectations on myself, which ultimately leads to failure on my part. I wish I could be the Mother that heads the PTA, does arts and crafts each weekend, takes monthly trips with the family to the park, cooks everything for her family from scratch and manages to look beautiful while doing it.

I need to realize diversity makes each Mom special in her own way. Accepting this would make me appreciate the kind of Mother I am and not the Mother I want to be.

To your Health

I went in for my 6 week post partum check up. I've got 15 pounds left until I return to my pre-pregnancy weight and everything from the delivery is on the up and up. Then during my breast exam I pointed out the small "lumps" I'd noticed. My OB spent a long time feeling around and finally decided that after a couple of months, if they remain as they are (he is hopeful they are a bi-product of my nursing) he wants to perform a biopsy.

Add this to the list of on going health issues I have and it's enough to make anyone depressed. I was waiting to get the clear from my OB to return to my Neuro (treat recurring migraines/cluster headaches) and family doctor (anemia, hyperthyroid, heart palps, fatigue). Now I can add the potential worry of tumors in my breast. (my mother has a history, thus far she has had 8 tumors removed from her breasts, thank god all were benign)

It's been difficult at best the last few days. The lumps are worrisome but the heart palpitations have returned with a vengeance and are very frightening. As a long time anxiety attack sufferer, I'd always assumed they were a figment of my imagination. Then during Annabel's delivery I would get them and watched in horror as my heart rate dramatically increased on the monitor. I now know it's not my imagination and it terrifies me.

I try to keep a positive outlook that I can finally begin treatment for all these problems and get back on track. This is what I've been waiting for. Yet I'm scared now that the time has come that I'm only going to get bad news that things are worse than I assumed.

Has anyone ever dealt with hyperthyroidism? I've been told it can be a cause of almost every symptom I'm experiencing. From the fatigue (to the point that I can't even feel my heart beating, which really freaks me out) to the opposite, my heart pounding like it's going to explode. I'm not even going to go into how terrible my migraines are. I'll only say they are only slightly better than before I gave birth and during that time I was taking Demerol and Zofran on a frequent basis.

I'm hopeful I will begin some sort of treatment next week. Until then I'll be trying to convince myself that the pounding of my heart isn't indicative of something very seriously wrong.