Crap! We have to start making our bed.

The other day I took the Monkey to the library for the second time in his life (the first doesn't really count because he wasn't old enough to destroy anything). They have an area with tables and chairs that's very well suited for him. I have never seen chairs that small, and he was able to sit down with very little help.

Our routine became: sitting together at the table, getting up to get new toys, taking a lap around the table, and finally sitting back down. We did this several times before the most wonderful, awful thing happened: he stood up from his chair and pushed it back under the table before leaving!

First I was beaming. I texted everyone I know to brag about how my 14 month old son is not only a genius (duh), but he also has manners. (Because they just come out that way, right? Some babies are just born rude, bless their hearts. But not mine. Nope. He's courteous.) I was so proud and a little impressed (I may or may not know another person with a similar genetic makeup, who seems to forget to push a chair in from time to time.), until it hit me: He was merely imitating me. That's what all people his age do. They see a parent do something, and if their motor skills cooperate, they do the same thing.

On the way home I realized he's going to start imitating us more and more, which means we have to start leading by example. Guess we have to start going to church more often and eating right. Read more. Drink less. Volunteer more (O.K., fine. just volunteer at all...for anything other than setting the DVR). Cut back on using "adult" words (it's just unrealistic to eliminate a part of my language cold turkey; it has to be gradual). And after a 20+ year hiatus, I have to start making my bed (ugh!). Thank goodness I've got pushing my chair in down pat! Looks like my other habits need a makeover!

What old habits have you tried to break since your little one arrived?

A Little Bit of Fun

I've been having fun as a Mom lately. My son is old enough to walk around and get into everything, but still young enough to find the handles on dresser drawers fascinating and laugh every time I sneeze or cough. For some reason the whole theatrical cough thing, that started at age 2 months for him, just never left. And I love it! I hope he always thinks coughing is funny (though this might put him in some awkward social situations eventually, but by then he can just snigger in his head), because if I can just have this one thing, I can hold onto his babyhood for.e.ver. Of course next will be farting and laughing, but for now...

I love that I get to read books to him in funny voices and accents, and he just eats it up. I feel like I'm being given the opportunity to perform on a type of stage, and there's no one else I'd rather have in my audience. He loves to hear me sing, see me dance, and he adores making funny faces with me at breakfast. He's hilarious, and he thinks I'm hilarious. It's kind of like being a movie star in my own home, which is a relief because now I won't need to pursue my dream of becoming the first Real Housewife of my town.

So. Because I've had my coffee today and a little fun with my Monkey, for the rest of the day I will focus on all of the happy surprises that come with Mommyhood. And maybe I will have the wisdom and foresight to revisit this post on the (sometimes many) days of the week I feel inadequate or can't see past the tiny finger prints on the glass door.

Dairy Free Brownies

I get very excited now when I see a recipe for something "dairy free," so I'm feeling a little guilty about the title of this post. Yes, these brownies are in fact dairy free, but only because I swapped out a couple of ingredients. Otherwise, these are Rachael Ray's Basic Brownies. So nothing revolutionary--or even terribly creative--here, people. Just one woman's desperate longing for a little chocolate in her dairy free life.

Here's my ingredient list (compare with link above, if you wish):

1 3/4 C sugar (I ran out of sugar before reaching 2 C, so in an effort to be completely forthcoming, etc.)

1 C almond butter (the kind I used is lightly sweetened with maple sugar and salted, so if you use homemade or unsweetened, consider that when deciding the amount of sugar and salt you will use)

1 C melted dark chocolate chips

3 eggs

2/3 C flour (I always use less than what a recipe calls for in cakes and brownies, because I like the texture better. They seem gooier.)

Preheat oven to 350. Grease baking pan (9 X 9, or whatever you typically use for brownies). Blend almond butter and sugar. Add eggs one at a time, blending well after each, set mixture aside. Melt dark chocolate over very low heat, stirring constantly to avoid burning. Add chocolate to mixture. Add flour a little at a time while blending, so that mixture is consistent. Pour into pan. Bake for about 30 minutes (I would begin checking after 20 because everyone's oven is different.) Enjoy!

Highlights

We have had a great week around here, though not necessarily frustration free. The Monkey is experimenting more and more with limits, and he seems to get frustrated over not being able to communicate with me...or his toys. So there's been hitting and more than a little screaming. Thankfully, we have both been able to move on from it pretty quickly. Still, I'm glad it's Friday, and we have two full days with two extra hands...minus those six or so hours of golf on Saturday (that my Other will be playing. He will also be compensating me with a few hours to myself on Sunday...so don't worry. I'll be getting my time too. Rest easy.).

I found the picture below when I was sorting through some photos from earlier this month. My son has my eyes and many of my expressions. Everything else on him looks like my husbands. But this? This looks like me, even on a perfect day! Therefore, it's one of my favorite photos of him. In fact, it's sort of descriptive of how I feel (and look, really) as a Mom most days.

Another challenge I've been facing with the Monkey is boredom (his, not mine. O.K., mine too). He loves to be around people and see new things. So when he has the pleasure of spending the entire day with just me and his ho-hum toys, he gets a little cranky as the week progresses. To sort of ward that off we've been getting out more. Here are some highlights of what we've been up to this week:

Edible Play Dough. Of course, this was at home, but something new nonetheless. I used this oatmeal play dough recipe, hoping he would squish it and sculpt a masterpiece. Here's what he did instead:

Library. Though the toys didn't bear the highly valued VTech logo, or sing to him, or teach him Newton's theory of relativity, he seemed to enjoy himself thoroughly.

Nature Center. Someday soon we will try a hike out there, but this week we just explored their museum. It's nice to discover another place in town to help me wear him out where he can learn and grow.

Graham Crackers. Did y'all know that graham crackers are dairy free??? I don't remember what day I figured this out (they all run together, when surviving living moment to moment), but they literally saved me from the pit of despair that particular day. I ate approximately one full sleeve of them. (Just a teeny confession here: I fell off the dairy free wagon on my trip back home, but I'm back on now. What? Like I wasn't supposed to eat Mexican food in Texas? Besides, Jesus forgives. That's the premise of Easter, so consider it an experiential Bible study, K?) 

Date Night. Tonight I will wrap up a great week with a romantic dinner with my Other at our favorite Italian restaurant here in town, while the Monkey spends some quality time with his grandparents. (We have a gift certificate there that expires in a couple of days. I just adore mandated romance, don't you? But I'm certainly not one to look a gift certificate or free child care horse in the mouth. I will be savoring every moment and bite...do I have to wear makeup?)

How do you keep your little one busy week to week? I'd love some ideas!

Memory Lane

Last week I had the pleasure of revisiting my hometown. It was the Monkey's first long road trip, and we had a blast! It was so great to see family and friends I haven't seen in years, but we just picked up right where we left off the last time we saw each other. Here are a few highlights (I'm still not great with the camera, but I'm working on it):

We stayed near the site of my high school, which is now a parking lot for the new Dallas Cowboys Stadium. It was a tiny private school, and I was there for both elementary and secondary education. While it's hard to believe there's nothing left of the place I knew, the memories I made there are indelible. (And see? It doesn't look so bad after a little photo doctoring!)

We also went back to my grandparents' old neighborhood. The railroad tracks below are where my Grandfather and I used to ride bikes during the summer. I'll never forget the day we saw a snake, and he urgently told me to get away, saying (thick with his North Carolina accent), "The only kind of snake I know is nineteen feet long and poisonous!" Thus I grew up with an unhealthy fear of snakes. Thankfully, I've traded such childishness for a more rational fear of flying.

Our last full day in town was filled with several pleasant surprises. We ate at Don Juan's, a place at which I literally grew up eating. I vaguely remember sitting in their hazardous 1960's style high chairs, and it was one of the last meals I had before I moved away in my twenties. I kind of knew it was still open, but I was thrilled to see business still booming during the lunch hour, hoping it remains successful in the years to come so my son can have his own memories there. He sat in one of the hazardous 1960's style high chairs, and we shared a half dozen several Kiddie Burritos. (I've heard they have other menu items besides that and chips and guacamole, but I can't corroborate that because I have never ordered anything else.)

                                 

Per my sister's request, we stopped by the day care we both attended growing up. My sister is 12 years my junior, so the fact that we shared the same preschool and kindergarten teachers already seems pretty incredible to me. So imagine my surprise when--30 years after the fact--I ran into my kindergarten and first grade teachers, still there, and still teaching! We had a nice visit, but the best part was introducing them to my son. I can say with certainty that he's someone they never would have expected to meet. It filled me with the best kind of pride and sense of accomplishment that I will try to remember as we stumble back into our routine here at home. (I was somewhat perplexed that some of the playground equipment I played on as a child was still there, but I'm sure it's just because it's made of metal and very durable; there was hardly any rust.)

Dairy Free Pancakes

I love cake. Any cake. Or anything cakey or cake-ish. So breaking up with butter has been downright awful at times. (It's not like I can bury myself in a gallon of ice cream while I grieve.) A couple of weeks ago, I finally just couldn't take it anymore. I had to have some pancakes. Somehow I managed to pull off something all three of us thought delicious. I just made some changes to a basic pancake recipe I found on the Googleweb. Here's what I did:

Ingredients
1 C all-purpose (unbleached) flour
2 TBSP organic pure cane sugar
2 TBSP baking powder
1 TSP salt
1 egg
1 C unsweetened almond milk (more or less, depending on desired consistency)
2 TBSP (unsweetened) almond butter

Mix dry ingredients in a large bowl. Add egg, milk, and butter, and blend well after each addition. Lightly coat large skillet with cooking spray, and cook over low heat. Yields approximately 12 pancakes.

Next time I will use whole wheat flour, but at the time I didn't have any on hand. We ate every single pancake over the course of 3 days. They were still delicious left over!

My New Journey

I gave up dairy for Lent this year. I've been sick--and I mean really, really sick--for the last three months. Based on what my friends have been experiencing, that doesn't seem to be so unusual this year; but I'm tired of getting some sort of infection, being on antibiotics, well for a week, then sick again. A couple of my friends quit dairy a year or so ago, and they both said they noticed a dramatic change in their overall health.

So I thought, "What the hell? How hard can it be? I can give up cheese on my burgers and milk in my coffee. That's why there's soy, right?" Little did I know (when my judgment was clouded by all sorts of symptom controlling drugs) that I would be giving up anything worth eating. Dairy is in everything! I was so surprised!

Oh, what a tangled
Web we weave,
When we fail to realize
We are being naive!

Well, it's with mixed emotions that I announce that giving up dairy has done this body good. It has forced me--a girl who grew up eating all things heavily processed--to eat more whole foods. I eat more fruit, more veggies, and (in recent days) a ton of almond butter. It's my new chocolate milk.

It's not for everyone, but I feel great! And I've felt great for almost two full weeks now, which is a record for me over the course of the last 3 1/2 months. So I'm thinking I'll stick to it long term. And I've had a chance to pay more attention to the messages my body is sending me because I have to be extremely conscious about what I put in it now. (I'm not a nutritionist or any type of scientist by any stretch of the imagination, so if I read an ingredient on a box that I don't recognize or can't pronounce, I just put it back. It's not worth my time looking it up.)

The first few days were brutal. I had to remind myself on several occasions that if I can bring a child into this world I can do this. I still miss butter every day; not as a spread, but as a baking ingredient. I adore my sweets! I crave something scrumptious several times a day: a berry crumb bar; pound cake; or even just a chocolate chip cookie. The good news is I'm sort of learning how to recreate those things dairy free. They don't taste the same, but they are delicious, and I'm excited about posting some of my concoctions here in the near future!

Oh, and I'm not losing weight. Not yet. My cravings have been so strong that so far I have been replacing my dairy calories with other (for me, healthier) fats that have equal or more calories.  My goal is to be and feel better. If I shed what's left of my baby weight in the process, that will just be (dairy free) gravy.

This experience has been everything but boring, and right now I'm enjoying and am intrigued by the discovery and personal growth that has happened along the way. (Of course, I did just have some coffee, and a little dark chocolate. Don't ask me how I feel about it first thing in the morning. In fact, don't ask me about anything first thing in the morning.)

A Little Bit of Festive

I didn't grow up in a faith that celebrated Mardis Gras or observe Lent, but I find it more intriguing the older I get. Add to that the fact that I'm a parent now, and look for any excuse to celebrate something and/or dress my kid up in some sort of humiliating festive garb. Suddenly there are beads, and pancakes, and purple tablecloths!

We had a busy day on Fat Tuesday, visiting friends and playing in the sun. But we (I) managed to pull together our own little feast. We even ate on our wedding china, which we never use (Note: New Year Resolution #138--to use wedding china--accomplished!). It was delicious, and a great farewell to dairy, which I'm giving up for Lent this year (more whining on that later).

The Monkey (whom I shall henceforth refer to as Bam-Bam, due to his disproportionate, super-human strength that allows him to move things 3 times his weight) loved his first taste of pancakes and bacon (who wouldn't?), and he protested vehemently when there was no more. That's my boy!

Fly by the Seat of My Pants Fish Tacos

*When reading the title of this post in your head, please use your best Southern accent for full effect.

Remember when I said I have a hard time putting a recipe together correctly because I inevitably forget to buy a key ingredient (or 5)? (What??? You didn't read that post? Ouch! K. I think I'm over it.) Well, I'm actually becoming a bit more adept in the kitchen, in spite of myself. Last night I wanted to make something for dinner that my son could eat with us (I'm trying slowly to bridge the gap between his meals and ours, knowing my life will be much easier once that bridge is built and crossed.). My intent landed on Fish Tacos with Baked Sweet Potato "Fries". 

The Monkey hasn't had much exposure to fish, so I knew I needed to make it tasty, but healthy. I also didn't have the energy or time to drag us both out to the store before dinnertime, so I had to make do with what I had on hand. Thankfully, my husband (a.k.a. the guy who does most of the grocery shopping) has been keeping lots of fresh fruits and vegetables here, so it was a pretty easy feat.

To glaze the fries, I mixed 1 TBSP of honey with the juice of 1 whole lime. It was dee-lish!

I cubed 1 1/2 sweet potatoes and tossed them in the glaze; spread them on a baking sheet that had been sprayed with cooking spray; salted; and baked them at 450 for about 45 minutes. (Unfortunately, I forgot to take a picture, so you'll have to wait until the end of this post to see how they turned out. Keep reading...please?)

The fish we had that needed to be eaten of choice was flounder. (Living in the Midwest, we mostly eat previously frozen fish, unless we plan a special dinner or eat out at our favorite sushi restaurant, which has their supply flown in daily <queue irrational breakfast sushi craving>. So the flounder was simply pre-packaged and pre-frozen.) I thawed, washed and thoroughly dried the filets, dipped them in egg, and breaded them with crumbs I made from toasted Ezekiel 4:9 bread. I sprayed a baking pan with cooking spray and baked them at 350 for about 20 minutes.

Before putting them in the oven

I made fresh Pico de Gallo from a variety of tomatoes, 1 jalapeño, 1/3 of a red onion, cilantro, and lime. I don't know how everyone else makes pico, but I start with the jalapeño, onion, and cilantro. I chop and mix those three ingredients and add tomatoes, lime, and salt to taste. Adding the tomatoes last, before the seasoning, keeps it very chunky--the way pico is intended to be, as opposed to salsa. I prefer to use cherry tomatoes, because they typically add the most color and flavor, but last night I used several different types.

I chopped up some purple cabbage we had, microwaved some corn tortillas, and voila!

*The above picture was taken with my iPhone. Not the best quality, but it's what I had readily available, and it did not require me to get up from my seat or delay my feast.

This was a pretty quick and easy--if random--process. Next time I will use cod or another white fish, instead of flounder. The flavor was good, but for my taste, it could've been better with a different fish. Otherwise, the Monkey, the guy who does the grocery shopping, and I all agree this dinner is a keeper.

What "fly by the seat of your pants" meals have pleasantly surprised you and your family?

The Hardest, Most Rewarding Job I've Ever Done

In years past, when I would ask my girlfriends how they liked staying home with their children, many of them would respond with, "It's the hardest thing I've ever done." As a single woman or even a married woman with no children, I just didn't understand how someone--who didn't have to get up, get dressed, go to work, and sit at a desk all day--could respond that way. Those women just didn't know how good they had it, or so I thought.

I haven't always wanted children, but I always knew that if I did have children, I would want to stay home with them. My Mom worked full time, and I still remember missing her...and her missing me. I had what I consider to be a very privileged childhood, and I learned my independence and gained my sense of individuality from my Mom. We were in a situation where both of my parents had to work, and they did the best they could.

Still, I knew what I wanted for my family, if I ever decided to have one. I now have everything I ever wanted. I don't have to get up, get dressed, go to "work," and sit at a desk all day. And it's the hardest thing I've ever done. (O.K., so breastfeeding was probably harder, but it was also temporary.) Now I understand.

Most mornings I work what feels like a full day before my son's 9 a.m. nap. If I were still getting paid to work and accomplished that much in two hours, I might blow the rest of the day off...or at least not work quite as hard. Oh yeah! I would also be sitting at a desk! There's no sitting here. Not in a chair, anyway. I don't even bother wasting my time trying to sit down. I eat my meals, drink my coffee, and do just about everything else standing up. (I do enjoy the occasional trip to the powder room, where I'm able to get off my feet for a full thirty seconds in most cases.)

But the physical labor isn't the only thing that makes it hard. It's hard because it requires all of me all the time. I don't leave or get off at 5 p.m. The only thing that changes in my world at the end of the work day is that I get to see my husband for a few minutes while we both work to cook dinner, clean up the mess, and get the Monkey ready for bed.

It's hard because I'm not applauded for an excellent presentation, when I arrange colorful fruits and vegetables in such a way that entices my son to eat them. I don't get "new business" referrals when my only existing client is pleased with my performance. And my boss doesn't reward me with a high score on my annual review, when I exceed his expectations in my ability to resolve the dirty diaper situation. There are no promotions or bonuses, unless I count the rare occasions I get 8 hours of sleep in one night.

And while I'm not being applauded for a job well done, I'm frequently being questioned and/or criticized for the job I'm doing, typically by total strangers. If I were in an office or at a desk still, I would just let it roll off my back, knowing they had no idea what they were saying. However, I'm not so confident in my new position. I don't know for sure, but I guess if I do an O.K. job, my son will be polite, confident, smart, and kind. That's what I want, but the day-to-day requirements to make that happen get a little foggy sometimes. So I tend to be sensitive to the comments of others. I'm working on that.

And really, what do I do all day? So many people ask me that, but I have no idea how to answer. I'd love to fill them in on our most recent play dates or time spent at the library or Nature Center, but my idea of a successful day is one with two naps and less than 3 fits.

When I start to get overwhelmed by the things that make this the hardest job I've ever done, I try to focus on the things I love about it; the things that also make it the most rewarding. I love that when I walk into a room full of brightly colored toys, grandparents, and wonderful people whose only desire is to give him what he wants so he'll like them, my son still only has eyes for me. I love that I get to see the look in his eyes when he understands how to match identical pictures together, or the first time he sees his shadow and knows it's him. I love that at the end of the day he just wants to rest his head on my shoulder and hear my airy, little girl voice sing The Bar of Soap Song and go to sleep. And I love that I occasionally hear him giggling and talking in his sleep; and I know that despite the tantrums, screaming, and tears, he knows he's loved and safe. That's enough of a performance review for now.

It's the thought that counts!

As I mentioned earlier, we celebrated the Monkey's birthday this past weekend. It was perhaps the most ambitious challenge I've tackled to date. Why? Because I got all crafty and stuff. O.K., so what I did may not count as "crafts" to the group of people I refer to as the Craft Mob (it's a term of endearment and admiration, promise!), but it's the craftiest I've ever been (barring, of course, those times I wormed my way out of being grounded as a teenager, but that's a whole different kind of crafty).

I made the invitations, decorations, and thank you notes. It was quite an exhausting, tedious eye opening experience! It's amazing what a girl can do with a package of card stock, scissors, Scotch tape, and the absence of a well compensating career (yes, I know being a Mom is it's own reward, blah, blah)! Oh, and there's the computer (I used the Pages program) and printer too.

I have a long way to go before being asked to join the Craft Mob, but I'm naively still sharing a sample here. I also learned that I enjoy "crafting," if that's what this is. I miss being creative at work, and using the skills I gained in the working world to make our family's memories special is the most fun I've had in quite some time. Besides, it's the thought that counts, right?

I did my best to dress up a cardboard cake stand
with the 30 minutes I had to do so.
I hid the dirty glass on my china cabinet with cutout stars.
And since I don't know the first thing about cupcake decorating,
I spelled out "Happy Birthday" with squares made of card stock,
taped to toothpicks. Look out, Martha! Here I come!

A Year in Review

We had our family and a few close friends over on Saturday to celebrate the Monkey's first birthday, so last week was chaotic. In fact, it was quite similar to the exact same week in 2011, minus the lactation and Hydrocodone. So in between cutting out stars and soothing a cranky teething toddler (and/or spouse), I did enough reflecting to come up with a few things I've learned about being a Mom over the last year. I'm sure some (if not all) of these things will apply to the rest of my life:

1. Always use the bathroom before leaving the house! I remember being taught this rule as a child, but it's only this year I've discovered why. Using a public restroom (and I still do from time to time because, um...I've had a baby!) with a baby or toddler in tow is one of the most unpleasant experiences I've ever known. And what happens when he's 2 or 3??! (I may need to invest in a catheter for shopping purposes.)

2. The concept of "sleeping while baby sleeps" is bullish*t a myth. Yes, there have been days when I've been able to nap while the Monkey naps. Those are the days immediately following sleepless nights, so in my mind that's just an extension of night sleep and doesn't count. Otherwise, the little creature has a radar that detects when I'm just beginning to relax. That's the exact moment he wakes up, even if he's only been asleep for five minutes. Maybe I'll have better luck with Numero Dos, but I'm not holding my breath.

3. Always take a snack. This goes for baby, Mommy, and most definitely Daddy. I shudder to think what fate may befall me if I'm stuck in traffic with a hungry kid and/or spouse. I know some Moms who have darkened this doorway to hell, and I'll follow in someone else's footsteps, thankyouverymuch.

4. Drive Thru Starbucks locations are God's little reminders to Moms that everything is going to be O.K. (No explanation needed, right?)

5. Judge not, lest... I whined, and postulated, and complained about so called "bad" parents for years. I'm not proud of it, but I have thought things like: "They should really take him out of the store, while he throws his fit." "Why doesn't that baby have her head covered in this wind?" "Dear God, please don't ever let me go out in public like that." These are all things I would never say out loud, but my internal voice screamed them. 

Well, guess what? I'm officially one of those "bad" parents. And guess what else? I really don't care. In fact, I was actually "called out" the other day by a 70-something year old woman in a store, who couldn't believe I had brought my child "out" in "this weather." The temp. was 45, and it was sprinkling. Yes, there are better times to get out of the house. Like June. Or even May. Those would be appropriate months to leave the house, based on midwestern weather conditions. All other months would be indoor months due to the "extreme weather conditions" we have here. I just smiled and thought, "If only my toddler couldn't hear my words, I would say them out loud. But since he can, I will focus on his needs and education and not your asinine-ness (not a word, I know, but this is also not a professional publication)."

Perhaps the most important truth I've learned is that I only have my best to give. And while I work my ass off to be an exceptional average parent, I must find ways to maintain a shred of sanity through the journey (mostly because I can't afford one of those luxurious Malibu coping facilities or a nanny to stay with my kid while I'm away). If I'm fortunate and continue trudging, I'm hopeful I can keep my child out of trouble and maybe even occasionally happy.

Selecting Memories

My son is 1 today. I should be gooey, teary, etc., and I'm sort of getting there. But as I very slowly climbed out of bed this morning (when he woke up an hour early, after going to bed two hours late), I thought, "Oh no. I'm afraid I may hate this day, and then I'll feel guilty for the rest of my life." He was super cranky, of course, because he shouldn't have been awake; but his store brand diaper (don't get me started on this topic in my house) had failed and he couldn't sleep.

When he and I both are exhausted, it doesn't bode well, until one (or both) of us either takes a nap, or gets some coffee (That's me, not the Monkey. I like a baby who sleeps.) My moment of truth occurred when my Monkey grabbed his cup of milk before I could get the lid on it, and it spilled everywhere, including parts of my kitchen I had no idea existed. I lost my cool for about five seconds (an occurrence which my toddler has decided is hilarious, just like his Father. I may not live past the age of 40, unless military schools are now admitting toddlers and/or 40-something spouses).

I tried to get my former baby, Ginger Sue, the Cocker Spaniel, to help clean up the milk on the floor, thinking it was a win/win for both of us (Don't judge. You do it too, whether you admit it or not; otherwise, there would be no moms with pets.). But she just looked at me blankly like, "WTF are you talking about??? Clearly you're having yet another one of your meltdowns, and I just can't deal anymore!" I wanted to cry, and yell, and start throwing things, and maim my husband (who, of course, is working diligently in his office across town, having no idea what's going on here, but we all know they are never innocent...even if they're not here!).

That's when I looked at the clock, and it hit me: This time last year I had just trudged through twelve hours of active labor, with no medication. Twelve hours.* And here I am now, one year later, literally about to let myself cry over spilled milk. So I stepped it up and gave myself a pep talk. I thought about my Dad's Mom, who raised 3 children--one of whom was cognitively disabled--in the 50's, when it was not only socially acceptable to institutionalize children with special needs, but it was a bit taboo to raise them at home. She said, "Nope. He won't see the door to one of those places, while I'm alive!" And I thought about my Mom's Mom, who raised two girls all alone, while her Marine husband was dealing with frostbite during the Korean War. Sometimes they had money for groceries, and sometimes they didn't.

It seems a little over-the-top to consider such harsh realities and compare them to my own, but it helped me realize that all I have to do is make it through this one day, and do my best to make it memorable. I don't have to have a baby (already got one) or a blood transfusion (been there), or an epidural (done that). I don't even have to stay up all night tonight, and I didn't last night. I certainly don't have to worry about grocery money or the health of my child.

If we (as moms) are honest with ourselves, the first birthday really isn't about the child at all. It's about us, our memories, and a few photographs that we hope our children can cherish later. My son has NO idea what's going on today. He only knows if he's tired, hungry, or happy. My job today is the same as it is every day: to keep him in the happy state as long and as frequently as possible. It's very unlikely that he will remember this day. But I will. So I have to choose what type of memories I will be making for him and for me. Now that he's napping, and I'm sipping my coffee, I'm hopeful that I will choose wisely. If not, at least we'll have some nice pictures, and someday I will have a much more selective memory.

*Yes, I know many of you give birth naturally, feed your kids only things that grow out of your garden, live in energy efficient tree houses, and run Fortune 500 companies. That's great for you, and I'm soooooo happy for you! Bless your heart. But that's not me. At all. I fall somewhere between needing a Tylenol for a hang nail and being able to set my own broken bones, but I'm much closer to the hang nail end of the scale.

Tired

The official diagnosis for my Father in Law came back today. He has not one, but two kinds of that disease. As a family, we are in shock. As an individual, I'm tired. I'm sad. And I'm disheartened. Statistics show that he has a 30-40% chance of surviving the next 5 years. He's 70 years old. A liver transplant may eventually be an option, but...he's 70 years old. Details.

So I'm sitting here, panicking, because this knowledge is bringing back to life (no pun intended) my awareness and fear of mortality. Not just (or even primarily) my own, but that of those I love. Let's say he didn't have that stuff. Let's say he was as healthy as a horse (so to speak). How many years does he have? Based on family history, about 20. That's still not forever, but it's certainly more than 5 years. It's two decades. I think I could finally sort of get my head around this, if I had two decades. At least my son would grow up knowing his Grandfather. At least my Mother in Law would have a fulfilling retirement, traveling the world with her husband, something they've been planning and looking forward to for a number of years. And at least my husband wouldn't be facing the loss of his Father, while still just beginning a life with his son.

Panicking. What's this going to do to us? What's it going to do to my husband, who is already stressed beyond his limits? What's it going to do to my son? Will there be other casualties? Will my husband's health begin to decline as well, as a result of the stress? Will my son be robbed of his Father too? So maybe that's a little extreme. 

How about this? No matter what, my son's earliest memories will be clouded by this. There's no good time for this to happen in a family, but I am genuinely worried about the effect this will have on his psychological and social development. This stress--this gray cloud in our blue sky--is already affecting him, even if we can't yet see it. 

No, my FIL hasn't been handed a death sentence. Yes, we may have 5, 10, even 20 more years with him. Hell, I may have a stroke before any of these other yahoos bite the dust. But we know this: We know it's there. We know there are only so many things that can be done. And I think the worst thing about this awful disease is the timeline. It's the way it poisons and destroys our lives the way it does an individual's body. It's the 30 days between each scan. It's the 3 days of waiting for the test results, every 30 days. It's the meetings with the doctors and waiting for the phone calls. The next round of treatment. The illness that ensues. And the dread and hope of the next scan. It's the knowing and not knowing. Always feeling like you're in a waiting room, while trying desperately to hold onto some kind of normal in your life. I'm remembering experiences with other loved ones. And the remembering is what's making me tired tonight. 

I love my FIL like I love my own Father, and somewhere beyond the frustration and sadness I will find my strength, and I will fight with him. I will NOT let this destroy my family, no matter what. And I will work to live my life to the fullest and create the same experience for my son, so that this thing will gain no ground. But to do this, I need an outlet. So here I am. Grieving, feeling hopeless, and preparing for the worst. Right here. And as the words flow out of my mind, through my fingers, into this post, I am one step closer to going back to my life as the person I need to be for my family.

Clearing Out the Blogwebs

I'd like to say I can't believe it's been almost two months since my last post. I'd also like to say that time has flown by so fast that (*gasp* my goodness!) I've lost all track of it. But the truth is the last two months have seemed to move more slowly than that awful reoccurring bad dream we all have from time to time. Frankly, I've been uninspired; unmotivated; cheerless, actually downright cynical. And while I've been trying to avoid spreading those negative vibes all over the blogosphere, not writing has meant not being true to me. I like to write. I need to write. So continue reading for more Debbie Downer-isms.

Here's what I've been up to the last two months:

1. Cruise with my Other Half. It was delightful, minus the upper respiratory disease I contracted as our plane landed in Florida, which was kind enough to stick around for a full two weeks after my vacation.

2. Nursing my Other Half while he struggled to survive the illness I so generously passed to him.

3. Nursing my son while he battled aforementioned disease that turned into his very first ever ear infection (score!). There was also a bonus round for me. That would be round 2 of this plague. Are you tired of reading about our sicknesses yet? Ha! I'm just getting started!

4. The biggest fun of all came when my Father in Law had to have a tumor removed from his liver. He's only had the very same surgery 3 other times before, along with the super fun chemotherapy that follows. Yep. Tumor. That kind of tumor. I just can't bring myself to say, or type, or even think the C word. That may be what it is, but it pisses me off so much that I refuse to allow it to contaminate my mind. Dramatic? Maybe. But you've been affected by it. We all have. And I'm sick of it infiltrating my life and the lives of those I love on any level. Whether a "battle" is won or lost, for now I will stand firm against it doing to my mental and emotional health what it's doing or done to my Father in Law's shrinking liver.

*WARNING: Despite my best efforts, I'm about to be a little bit positive.

5. Somewhere in the midst of all of the above, Christmas came and went, and It. Was. Fabulous! Watching the Monkey open presents was the best. He's not really old enough to understand what was happening, but every moment of his life is filled with a sense of wonder and curiosity I wish I could still find in myself. So putting him on the floor and watching him explore one new thing after another was so much more entertaining than even trash T.V. (I know that's crazy talk, but it's true!) We were all somehow able to set aside everything else that was going on and enjoy that one day together as a family, and I am so thankful I have such a beautiful memory to cherish from now on.

So I guess I'm kind of "back." Not really sure what that means, except that this is one step to being true to my(sickly, frail, snot-ridden)self again. And maybe someday soon I'll wake up and be entertaining again! (Let's not hold our breath, k?)