Moments

She sits staring at the red cola can on the desk. Her little eyes focus in as she reaches out her left hand while balancing her body with her right. Her legs shift with her weight to keep her straight as she leans forward. Her soft brown eyes shine brightly as she focuses in on the can.

When she tips too far forward, I lean her back. She smiles at me and tries again. We repeat our little reach and hold several times before she's had enough. She beams at me and begins to babble. I babble back and reach down several times to rain little kisses on her soft cheeks and forehead.

As I kiss her, I breathe in her sweet smell. She's a mixture of the softest cream and lavender, combined with her faint baby breath. I breathe her in as deep as possible, as if I could somehow keep some part of her that is a baby inside of me for safe keeping forever.

I will miss these moments and I need to remember to cherish each and every one of them before they pass me by.

Hannah Montana and the Essay of Doom

Alright. I made a entry about this only to delete it. If you're not aware of the news story let me give a brief synopsis. Club Libby Lu (or however you spell it) decided to give away a makeover and tickets to a Hannah Montana concert. In order to win you had to enter an essay and the winner would receive the grand prize. Pretty simple huh? Well, not if you're this Mom. She decided to write the essay for her child and stated her father died in the war in Iraq and she was giving her Mommy the necklace her Daddy gave her when her Mommy gave birth to her, or something along those lines. Club Lu picks her, brings her in for the makeover, and what do you know?? News reporters everywhere. It seems a reporter did some homework and the essay was false. The little girls Father was very much alive and not a soldier. Mass anger and chaos ensue.

After I blogged I deleted. I wanted to focus on my daughter and her big day and so I did. Then I came down to check my mail and Youtube subscriptions and wow oh wow. It seems I started a big old shit storm over a comment I made in regard to all of this on a video that was posted.

Basically, what I said about it was this:

"Technically, she didn't break any rules. I don't think the sponsors of the contest should change rules after the fact for a mistake they made when announcing the format. However, I do find what she did to be incredibly immoral and hope that in the future rules are made to prohibit this sort of behavior from others in the future." (I said something close to that, I don't wish to back and forth from Youtube lol).

Boy was that the wrong thing to say. People are telling me things like "come on!" or "She Lied!!" or "how can you defend that" or "how can you say what she didn't isn't wrong??"

Aside from the obvious (did I really ever say I defend this woman and what she did was right? I suppose that's open to interpretation). I'll be honest. I didn't have a ton of time to truly think the matter over. The comment I made was my first instinct and feeling at that particular moment. Some of how I feel has changed but some hasn't.

On one hand, I stand behind what I said in regard to the rules being changed. In a way I find it funny that nothing was in place to stop something like this from happening. Why? Because Hannah Montana tickets are rare due to ticket scalping. People buy them in bulk to make a buck. They know parents will do whatever it takes to get Betty or Jane tickets to see their hero. If you know the tickets are in such demand because of this, why not cover your ass? So that part of me, the mean and evil bitch, thinks it's a bit late to get angry that you were scammed. Because I've gone into Libby Lu and they had no problem marking up costs on a dollar item 100% because it sported a picture of Hannah on it.

However. It really, really eats my goat that the essay stated the girls Father died in Iraq. To me that just isn't funny at all. In fact, it's downright sick. If this wasn't the basis of the essay, I don't think I'd care at all, which got me to thinking.

I don't think anyone would care if this essay weren't about a soldier dying in Iraq. Or at least not for the most part. Maybe that is why people are so angry with me. And I understand that.

In the end what anyone thinks doesn't truly matter. The tickets were taken from the girl and given to another and Hannah Montana is still sold out across the nation. I think the true crime here is that people feel the need to be false and stoop low to keep up with others that have the money to buy those tickets for their children. I have a feeling this Mom regrets what she did (and rightfully so) but I wonder if her actions weren't fueled out of desperation in some way.

This is something I could think over for at least a week and have no definitive answer.

Dwts 10th Week - Marie Osmond - Free Sytle

Wow, do any of you agree with me that this is NOT dancing? What was she thinking?

This is why I stopped watching (I did check in last night to see this though).

Jeezus.

Pain

How can something so tiny hurt so bad. I don't want to imagine the pain burn victims experience.

I did this tonight while preparing ravioli with homemade spaghetti sauce. I accidentally slipped the top of my middle finger into the sauce boiling on the stove.

**My oh my. Talk about nasty. This morning my finger looks and aches something terrible, it's blistered and yucky.

Dear Cook's Pest Control Man

Dear Cooks Pest Control Man,

I'd like to take a moment to apologize. I didn't realize my husband called you out to spray our back porch deck. Had I known this, I would never have been caught in the position of dancing around without my shirt, to the wiggles 'Big Red Car', with my children.

I'm sure the sight of a still slightly "poochy" baby belly, nursing bra and stark white skin have possibly caused irreperable damage. I tried to jump into the adjacent dining room as quickly as possible but by the shock in your eyes I'm fairly certain the damage has already been done.

I promise in the future I will never "take a chance" and dress in the living room again. Having two glass doors should have been reason enough but the embarrassment and shame will do a much better job of reminding me in the future.

Sincerely,

A Mortified Mommy

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P.S. Thank you for placing our billing statement on the door in the plastic baggie. You were correct in assuming we'd seen enough of each other for one month, I appreciate your thoughtfulness.

Anatomy of a Gallbladder Attack

Heated pressure in my abdomen. My eyes flutter and my pupils dilate as the wall of my room comes into focus. I look to my left and watch Annabel as she sleeps, the bathroom light casts a soft glow in the dark. Her little face is peaceful and I find myself wishing I had the same restful sleep she is experiencing. The pressure in my abdomen grows, reminding me what is coming.

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Gently, I pull the comforter away from my body. I lift myself from the bed, using my arms and legs to keep the bed from shifting and waking the baby. I cover Annabel and caress her tummy before walking to Jimbo's side of the bed. I shake his arm softly.

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"I'm having an attack, please take care of the baby." The words come out hushed but I'm close to his ear, to make sure he hears me.

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He opens his eyes, looking as if he's still in a dream and nods. I know that nod, it means to come and get him if I need him and he has the baby. As I walk out of the room I hear the bed shift, he is turning to face the baby and keep an eye on her.

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I walk downstairs and make my way to the medicine cabinet. I down my pain medication first, I say a small prayer that the strong narcotic will have time to absorb into my system before the vomiting starts. I reach for the tums next and make sure to chew several. The pain changes from dull to sharp and I begin pacing back and forth in the basement. I keep the TV off, the only light to illuminate my basement path comes from the hallway.

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Within minutes, the attack truly begins. I feel pain radiating through my stomach, out of my back. My shoulder gets sharp stabbing pains and I walk faster in my little basement circle. I try to keep my breathing slow and not to tense up as it only makes it worse. This goes on for 10 minutes but it feels like an hour.

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Soon I have to make my way into the bathroom, this is where things go from bad to worse. Each time I manage to empty my stomach, the pain increases. It feels as if I've been impaled upon a huge stake and with each heave that stake is being twisted. I feel trickles of perspiration on my brow and I start to shake violently. I try to keep quiet but can't help myself, I always break and begin saying over and over "oh please god, please".

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I rise and try to return to pacing. The pain makes me want to lay on the floor and cry but I know from past experience that the pain is actually made worse by laying down, so I make myself walk. My thoughts become incoherent as my body is immersed in pain, my mind refuses to focus on anything else.

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Thus begins a rotation. Pacing the floor, returning to the bathroom, writhing on the floor, couch or chair. I rock quickly back and forth, arms firmly wrapped around my self as if it will minimize the agony. I've heard other people have suffered an attack for up to 8 hours before. My personal experience has seen 5 hours but it seemed a lifetime.

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Three hours later, the attack finally ends. I am physically and emotionally spent. My entire body aches, my hair is wet and tangled, my throat burns and my right side is sore. I'm also very sleepy from the large dosage of narcotics used to help ease but not diminish the attack.

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I pray none of you ever have gallstones. I can honestly say that apart from the 3rd degree tear I received from having Vincent, this is the worst pain I've ever experienced. I could slap myself for eating that casserole for dinner but I think I've been punished enough for one night.

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I've decided to set up the meeting with a surgeon. I've been preparing for it for the last couple of weeks by pumping for Annabel. After tonight I know I can't keep doing this.

Just for this Morning

I visit alot of blogs. Some of my favorites tell of the battles of children fighting Neuroblastoma. Reading about these inspirational children and their families sometimes moves me to tears but more importantly they help me realize how lucky I am and to be thankful.

Thinking about this I've decided to share a poem I have on my fridge. I've had it up for a few years now and when it gets tattered I print out a new copy and put it up. I see this each and everyday to remind me to cherish each and everyday.

TO MY CHILD

Just for this morning, I am going to
Smile when I see your face and laugh
When I feel like crying.

Just for this morning, I will let you
Choose what you want to wear,
And smile and say how perfect it is.

Just for this morning, I am going to step
Over the laundry and pick you up and take you to
The park to play.

Just for this morning,
I will leave the
Dishes in the sink, and let you teach me how to put
That puzzle of yours together.

Just for this afternoon, I will unplug
The telephone and keep the computer off, and sit with
You in the backyard and blow bubbles.

Just for this afternoon,
I will not yell once,
Not even a tiny grumble when you scream and
cry for the ice cream truck, and I will buy you one
If he comes by.

Just for this afternoon,
I won’t worry
About what you are going to be when you grow up, or
Second guess every decision I have made where you are concerned.

Just for this afternoon, I will let you
Help me bake cookies, and I won’t stand over you
Trying to fix them.

Just for this afternoon, I will take us
To McDonald’s and buy us both a Happy Meal so you can
Have both toys.

Just for this evening, I will hold you in
My arms and tell you a story about how you were
Born and how much I love you.

Just for this evening, I will let you
Splash in the tub and not get angry.

Just for this evening, I will let you
Stay up late while we sit on the porch and count all the stars.

Just for this evening, I will snuggle
Beside you for hours, and miss my favourite TV shows.

Just for this evening when I run my
Finger through your hair as you pray, I will simply be
Grateful that God has given me the greatest gift ever given.

I will think about the mothers and
Fathers who are searching for their missing children,
the mothers and fathers who are visiting their children’s
Graves instead of their bedrooms.
The mothers and fathers who are in hospital rooms
Watching their children suffer senselessly.

And when I kiss you goodnight I will hold
You a little tighter, a little longer.
It is then,
That I will thank God for you, and ask him for
Nothing, except one more day………….

Britney's Regret

I hope this is enough to bring her out of whatever it is that continues to hold her in it's grasp. I feel terrible for any Mother who loses her children but I feel equally terrified that she would get behind the wheel of a car with those boys knowing she doesn't have a valid drivers license. I'm not sure what this woman is thinking or smoking.

As I anxiously await another Chris Crocker video in her defense (ok not really) my heart aches for those little boys. They deserve so much better.

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.

Note to Self...

Dear Jaime,

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In the future, when your daughter asks you to demonstrate the roundhouse kick you learned in Tae kwon-do many moons ago, politely decline and walk away. You are not as young nor as flexible as you used to be and will only hurt yourself.

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In the event this note comes too late, the heating pad is in the closet and the tylenol and left over narcotics from Annabel's delivery are in the cabinet.

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Always looking out for your best interests,

Your Common Sense