Confession:

 

This is how I feel I look on a regular basis.

 

In my small mind, my makeup is always perfectly applied, my hair looks highlighted and my breasts are voluptuous.  There's no under-arm fat for as far as the eyes can see, and having a double chin is laughable.  My eyebrows are perfectly arched and my teeth are as white as tiny Chiclets, straight out of the wrapper.  My eyelashes are long and flirtatious, and my lips are rosy and perfectly pouted.

 

In my small mind.

 

The truth is, this picture is a better indication of what my life is really all about:

 

 

My husband has been working, quite literally, around the clock to get the new store open and the old store closed.  Moving a million dollar retail store to a new venue is no small feat.  I'm so proud of him!

 

Does anyone else ever feel this way?  I go through this every day, and the guilt is just overwhelming.  I work from 8-4:30 every day, and on Monday and Wednesday nights I teach violin.  Because Liam is at the point where teaching and watching him are virtually impossible, my mom watches him a little extra on Wednesday nights.  On Tuesday and Thursday (and sometimes Fridays) I will go to the gym for 30 solid minutes after work.  Then I go get Liam, and we start our evenings together.

 

Except this week, I didn't go to the gym at all.  Tuesday night we were supposed to have friends over, which didn't pan out, and then Thursday (last night) I had so much to do at home before the sun went down that I ended up mowing the lawn with Liam in the Mobi. 

 

Last week I also had good intentions of getting to the gym, except on Tuesday night, Andy and I had an appointment at 7.  Thursday I was running around like crazy trying to get things together for the wedding.  And Friday was, of course, the rehearsal and whatever else.

 

Confession:  The week prior to that, I did go to the gym.  However, on Tuesday I came home, laid down in bed, set my alarm for 30 minutes, and promptly fell asleep.  When I awoke, I put on my gym clothing, messed up my hair, and went to pick up Liam.  I made little comments about, "Do I look skinny yet?"  And "I must be the only one there on Tuesday afternoons..." and on and on.  But I couldn't help it.  I was just so tired.

 

The way I look at it, people like fat, jovial, well rested people.  But NOBODY likes a skinny, snarky, sleepy person.  There are names for women like that.

 

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Today I will go walking with a friend after work.  We're bringing our babies and walking around the park, so I'm looking forward to that.  Except last night, in a last minute load of laundry containing work clothing exclusively, I accidentally washed my husband's notebook in his pocket of his jeans.  You know, the notebook with all the notes about the big move?  Yeah, completely annihilated.  Not to mention, all this work clothing is BLACK and made out of this STUPID material. 

 

Can you even IMAGINE how upset he was with me?  Can you even CONCEIVE of how upset I was?  I rinsed everything again, amidst angry text messages from the bedroom three floors above, and hung it to dry.  At 11:45, I came upstairs to a crying baby.  Normally he awakens twice.  The second time he woke up, I brought him into bed with us and cuddled him.

 

Confession:  I could have put him back to sleep easily, right there in his crib.  He was still pretty groggy, and I think he just wanted his paci back.  But I just wanted to hold him and breathe in his little head.  In a few days, he'll no longer be a baby...he'll be a toddler.  There will soon be pull ups and big boy beds and training wheels.  Also, he loves me unconditionally.  Who wouldn't want to just hold on to that innocence?

 

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Confession:  I may be the girl in that first picture, but it's all a hoax.  The boobs are courtesy of Victoria's Secret.  The makeup took me almost 30 minutes.  The eyelashes are glued on.  And there's no double chin because I was looking UP into the camera (and I could see myself while I was snapping.)

 

But that second picture?  That's ALL me :)  Love it or hate it, that's what you got.  :)

I don't want your advice

My mom took Liam out this morning after she picked him up.  They went to the market for milk and other things, so when she got home- she could just be home without having to go out again.  He was dressed in his jammies and socks and his little fleece jacket, and he was generally very happy.

Evidently a lady had the AUDACITY to say to my mother, "I'm wondering why you have a baby of his age out at this time of morning." 

Mom was of course taken aback.  When she told me about the interaction, I too was left speechless.  What right does that woman have to question my mom, of all people?

Why do people think they have the right to give their opinion to everyone?

A friend of mine was shopping for cold medicine (she's being induced next week).  A woman literally came up to her in the medicine aisle, slapped her on the rear end, and said, "Take care of yourself.  You're pregnant." 

Really?  This isn't just gas?

Come on people, really.

It's no secret that Liam doesn't sleep.  He barely naps.  He's very sporadic.  I'm exhausted.

EVERYONE, and I mean, EVERYONE has advice on what we're probably doing wrong.  Hear that?  What we're doing WRONG.

"Well, you're probably training him to wake up."

"Well, you're probably not dressing him warm enough."

"Well, you're probably putting him down wrong in the first place."

Really?  Really people?  People who do not even have kids HAVE to give their opinion.  "Well, my SISTER did this with HER kids..."

Now let me just stop for a second.  There is a correct way to give advice, and I will tell you a story to describe it.

I have two cousins who are older than me, but not SO much older that they're "irrelevant"- do you understand what I'm saying there?  Their children are K-garden and older.  I mentioned on FB that Liam had a diaper rash.  Within minutes, Cousin #1 posted a cure, within hours Cousin #2 was at my door with said cure. 

See how that worked?  There was action behind the advice.

See the "been there done that" attitude?

OH, then there was this one:

Did you see an inquiry for advice there in the post?

No, no you didn't.

See how I shot her down?

Yes, yes you did.

And I IMPLORE you- please shoot me down as well if I start giving you advice.  Unsolicited, of course.  We all know I'm a WEALTH of info ;)  But seriously- sometimes a sister needs to keep her mouth shut.

With that?  Rant is over.

Livin' on Love

 

This is Brynn.  Brynn sleeps with her mouth open (but not in this picture).  Brynn has stolen my heart.  Jackson and Emerson are on their way (each respectively to different mommies).  What a blessing to share so many pregnancies with so many ladies- girls I've grown up with, who I'm now going to stand beside as we watch our kiddos grow up together.

 

When I was sitting with Brynn's mommy, she asked if I wanted to hold the baby (um, duh?) and she started to pick her up to give her to me and then was like, "Oh, I guess you already know how to do this..."  and I was like, oh, I guess I do.  Because it's funny, but you're so busy LIVING, you don't realize that you're also LEARNING.  You're acquiring knowledge and more importantly, you're becoming WISE. 

 

You're learning when to call the doctor and when to "keep an eye on it."

You're learning what each cry and whimper means.

You learn what's important and what can wait.

 

When I put Brynn down, her bunting had come undone (okay, maybe I went and peeked at her feet.  But it's only natural...)  I swaddled her back up without even thinking about it.  I was like one of the nurses at the hospital- wham, bam, thank you ma'am.  Swaddled.  And then I was increasingly thankful that my son is almost one, and for a moment I wondered if we'd have another one, and then I left.  It was a wonderful experience.

 

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And then THIS guy!!!!  Look at him getting a hair cut.  He say really still, and then asked for more when she was done!  What a Little Love.  He didn't want to take off the drape either- he toddled around in it for a bit until I took it off of him (for fear he'd gag himself!)

 

It was our fourth anniversary on September 12th.  My handsome husband has been working on this massive project and we have had little to no time to do anything for ourselves.  Our priorities are Liam, Work, and then Ourselves.  It shouldn't be this way- but guess what?  It is.  I told Andy- I will be here when you get back.  I'm not going anywhere and I'm not neglected.  You've been given an opportunity and you need to take it.  I'll see you when it's over.

 

So we decided to go out to eat on the 12th, but there was one problem: There was only 42 cents in our checking account.  A card from Andy's parents had come in with $25, so there was our budget!  Andy took this personally.  "Some day we'll be lounging in the Carribbean on our anniversary..." he dreamed aloud.

 

In reality, we went to a little local chain called "Twin Kiss."  They're well known because they used to be drive-ins; waiters on roller skates, big finned cars with large white walled tires, girls in poodle skirts, men with their shirts tucked in and their hair greased back.  Today, you go in and sit down, you always order a root beer, and you always order the same thing.  Liam was excited because he got a hot dog.  I was excited because I got my husband's pure, unadulterated attention for more than 5 minutes.  Who needs the Carribbean when you've got a handsome husband and a beautiful son?

 

Would it be nice?  Probably?  But for now, I'll take livin' on love ANY DAY over feeling entitled to extravagant trips and a lavish lifestyle.  Maybe next year, after all we've been through this year, we'll renew our vows for year number five.  But for now...I'll take french fries and burgers and living within our means.

 

 

Exciting times!

Meet Baby Brynn!  She's a little peach!  Clocking in at 7 lbs, 4 oz., she's healthy and beautiful, and judging by the picture, slightly confused.  Where am I and who are these people?  Don't worry, Brynn.  We're all confused.

Brynn is the brand new daughter of one of my FAITHFUL readers and friends.  The lady can quote my blog better than I can- and I lived it!  I'll start telling her something that happened to me, and she'll finish my story.  It makes me feel good!  I'm glad I'm so interesting!  Moreover, I'm glad someone can get something out of all these ramblings.

So for those who are keeping score, out of my five pregnant friends, three have had viable pregnancies and this is the first birth.  Two more to go!  What an exciting time.  They're all huge and uncomfy, and I just smile, because it's a right of passage.  They're all going to make great mothers.

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Meanwhile, we're planning a first birthday party.

Why is this so important?

He doesn't care.  Liam's oblivious.

But this is some huge deal for us as parents!  What is it about this day that makes it so essential to throw this huge bash?  We've chosen a theme, we've bought the cake (a small cake...) from the most exclusive bakery in Dauphin County.  (Why?  We have no money.  Why was that important?)  And tonight I am penning tiny invitations to send to his tiny friends.  Friends?  More like Mommy and Daddy's friends, who happen to have kids at or around his age.

This is probably more of a celebration of us as parents- look!  We put our mind to it and we made a baby and had a baby and kept that baby, for a WHOLE YEAR!  Look what we did!  Pay no attention to the drool coming from our mouths from months and months of multiple mid-night awakenings.  Please do not pull back the curtain and reveal the fights and arguments we've had on multiple occasions.  Look not in the closet and betray the stack of unpaid bills as we've tried to make ends meet week after week, month after month.  Just eat our cake and look at our adorable son!

But as I make the guest list and hand out food responsibilities and put together the little details that make a party great, I look at my little Liam and think- nah, it really is all about you.  Your birthday stands as an example of all the lives you've touched, just by being the wonderful you that you are.  People are genuinely excited to see you grow.  People love YOU.  And this first birthday party is a celebration of your accomplishments and a celebration of one year of sharing in a miracle.

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A lady came up to me at church- I sadly did not know this lady, but BOY did she sure know me.  She said to me, "You were JUST pregnant, and now he's WALKING."  And she was totally right.  IF you want to know how fast life moves, have a child.  Brynn will teach her mommy and daddy this, starting with her first breath at 2:04 yesterday afternoon. 

Discipline

Now that we have a walker, life has gotten a TON more complicated.  It's funny because he looks to little to walk!  I guess that's what happens when you're an over-achiever.  Today Liam turns 11 months.  Can you believe it?  When I think to where I was last year; huge belly, buying new maternity clothing so I could cover said belly, waddling around like a momma duck...  it all seems like it never happened.  I see myself in pictures.  Obviously I have a son to show for it.  But I largely forget my pregnancy.

I hinted at this in my last blog post.  How your brain forgets things because there's too much going on NOW, and it crowds out the other thoughts.  Some call this "baby brain" and I largely agree!  Like when you're standing there, trying to carry on an adult conversation and the word you want to say just isn't coming to you.  And you stand there and you blabber like a fool until you finally just say, "I'm thinking the word I want is 'exhibitionist' but I'm really not sure..."

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Liam has started walking and talking (he says the word 'keys,' among others.  Who says 'keys' and not 'momma'???) and that means he's started to getting into trouble.  As we all know, when our kids start to get into trouble, we as parents have to start disciplining. 

Blah.

Liam's a biter.  If you're not giving him 100% of your attention, and he feels he NEEDS 100% of your attention?  Bite.  We've taken to pinching his cheeks and counting to three, stating, "No biting!"  But most of the time he thinks it's funny, so it hasn't really worked.

The other night he pulled down a ceramic picture frame after we had told him and removed him from the area three times.  Of course the frame smashed into many smaller pieces and is now unable to be salvaged.  Andy raised his voice with him and we told him that what he did was bad.  He put his little head down on the floor.  My heart broke.  It occurred to me at that moment that we make or break our children through discipline.  Too much of it, and they become hard and callused.  Too little of it and they become bratty and bold.

We tried to describe what we were doing while I was cleaning it up.  "Mommy has to clean up this mess because Liam didn't listen and this broke."  "See Daddy's face?  It's sad because Liam didn't listen."  I scooped him up and put him to bed early. 

Andy immediately text me from downstairs.  "I yelled at our son."  I assured him it was okay, "I don't think you yelled at him.  I think you used a stern voice."  "But I got upset with him."  "And we don't want a brat, so it's okay."

There's this line that you walk when you discipline an infant.  You want the punishment to fit the crime, and they technically don't know what they're doing.  So you have to describe to them why what they did was wrong and how you're feeling about it.  Why don't we do that as adults?

"Honey, I am angry because you did not take the trash out.  Do you see my face?  My eyebrows are furrowed.  I have a frowny face.  Can you watch me take the trash out first thing in the morning, making me late for work?  When we don't do what we're told, there are consequences.  You will go to bed half an hour earlier tonight."

Oh, and there would NEVER be a text typed in a million YEARS, "I yelled at my wife. :(  "  "I  raised my voice to my husband.  :-/  "  No way!  We'd text, "Another fight."  "He raised his voice with me again."  So why is it so different with our kids?

Maybe it's because they're so tiny and vulnerable.  Maybe it's because we are in the business of teaching our kids to behave, where with our spouses we feel they should already just KNOW.  There really aren't any answers I can give here without the appropriate degree.  I answer phones for a living, not solve people's problems. 

Discipline is HARD but it's NECESSARY.  I'm sure over the years there will be many more stories where this one came from.

I Say a Little Prayer for You

There are certain things in life that leave such an impression on you, that you literally never forget them.  Moments that are forever seared in your mind, and if you go there mentally from time to time, everything about that moment just comes RUSHING back to you.

There are certain things in life that your mind just completely erases, and no matter how hard you try, you can't remember any details from that moment in time.  Maybe it's a defense mechinism?  Maybe it's your brain trying to protect your heart?  Whatever it is, try as you may, you just blank.

I found this out about birth.  I've got three friends who are all due within one month of each other.  We are on full term baby watch for Friend #1, and #2 and #3 will follow in suit.  They're asking me questions about labor and delivery and how this felt and how that felt, and I am seriously wracking my brain to try and remember the answers to all their questions.

I told friend #3- you know, you're going to forget too.  As soon as your little girl comes into the world and you heal physically and emotionally, your life is going to take off and you're going to forget what all this felt like.  You won't forget the big stuff!  But the little stuff is going to take a back seat.  This is probably why people procreate multiple times- because the brain lets you forget the bad and concentrates on the good.

Last weekend we were in our Sunday morning class at church, and we disclosed the MS diagnosis to those in it.  It was a very emotional time for Andy and I.  He sat there an held my hand, tears pouring down his cheeks, as I recounted the last month of testing and retesting and IV's and steroids and pain.  We had truly suffered together- he emotionally and me physically. 

The class, along with our pastor, gathered around us and laid hands on us and prayed for healing and strength.  For a pasture in this valley.  And for all the pain and for all the tears that were yet to come as we traveled this path together.

Right now, as I'm sitting here, I can see the pictures of my arm with that nasty, bloody IV in it.  I can picture myself laying on the metal table with the needle in my back.  But it all seems like a distant memory now.  So many things have taken place since then, my mind has just blocked it out.

And never, EVER, underestimate the power of prayer.  Even if you're not a "church-goer"- who cares.  Pray about something and then release it.  If you don't feel comfortable praying, ask someone to pray for you and then work into it.  I'm not mushy, gushy.  I don't do the rosary.  I don't understand deep theology.  I don't like to talk about religion.  I just know that when I'm hurting, it works.

Right now I have more important things to worry about than my MS.  Like how Liam hasn't slept since he was 8 months old.  Or how we've got a 1st birthday to plan!  But I know those memories will fade as well, as weeks turn into months, turn into years.  Who knows what's coming next?

Sensible Shoes

Steroids make you really really hot and sweaty.  And really, really irritable.  And they take away the filter on your mouth.  And they make you say things you regret.  They do help the MS- I'm back to full feeling in my leg, except for the front portion of my foot and toes.  I still have many more days of pills to take, so we're hoping for the best.

After all the "girl power" surrounding the lumbar puncture, it left me debilitated and run down.  The pain in my back was so excruciating, my mom had to drive me home because I was blind from the pain.  I cannot even tell you the mind numbing pain I was in on Friday.  It was like...  I can't even form words here.  I could not SEE.  I don't know what I was expecting, but I didn't stay on top of the pain.  I wasn't taking the meds until I felt the pain- instead of just getting on a regimen of one pill every 3-4 hours.  When I finally got to that point, that the meds were AHEAD of the pain instead of vice versa, I was able to function properly.  (Not before Liam fell from the middle step and bounced his way to the bottom...sigh.)

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I gave in this weekend and headed to Payless and bought myself some VERY sensible shoes.  I had to have something that strapped the entire way around my foot and was fairly flat.  And I wasn't paying more than $20.

The lines of shoes taunted me- great prices and cute styles.  Pumps and kittens and slings...it was all I could do to focus on the boxes that said "sensible!"  "comfort arch!" "old lady!"  "cankle!"  "birth control in a box!"  Of course the pair I settled with was completely out of my reach, and I was too embarrassed to ask for help.  A seemingly able bodied woman, asking for a clerk to reach something for her?  When the stool is LITERALLY right there?  No, I couldn't do it.

So of course I text Andy.  "I can't reach."  Sad face.  In he comes from the next store, reaches the shoes for me, without saying a word.  A well meaning clerk comes over, "Oh those look comfy!"  Shut your face, clerk.  (NO FILTER.  I BLAME THE 'ROIDS!)

 

The shoes helped me walk better from the get-go.  I was able to un-leech myself from Andy's arm.  I didn't walk out of my shoes.  My knee started to unlock itself.  Amazing what a little $20 pair of comfortable shoes can do for a girl like me.

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I'm a bridesmaid next month.  This weekend was the big shower, and I have to say, it went really well.

Here's Liam and I at said shower:

 

 

Vanity moment: My husband said I looked HOT.  Also, if you look under my left arm (the one NOT holding my son) you can see DAYLIGHT, which means I have my waistline back.  Which means I feel really really good about myself.  There's a lot to be said for that, at the moment.

 

Shout out:  Do what it takes to make yourself feel GREAT about yourself.  Write that novel.  Lose that weight.  Cut that hair.  Buy the shoes that allow you to walk.  Life is VERY VERY short.