The Not-So-Divine Secrets of -Motherhood-

Pinterest, my newest fad

AS IF I have time for this? It started off small. I noticed my friends on Facebook were sharing links via Pinterest. Some of them looked kinda cool, although I had a few friends that literally "pinned" and shared every.single.link.they.found. It was a little overwhelming actually so I was a little turned off by it.

But then one of my friends posted something I really, really liked so I gave in. I went to Pinterest and registered. However cool Pinterest is, it doesn't really come with much instruction. I surfed all these cool boards, and thought I was re-pinning a bunch of cool stuff. Until I got back to my own page and saw it was still blank. So I surfed again, trying to locate all of that cool stuff again. I re-pinned and thought I figured it out. Except it still wasn't pinning.

Duh, it turns out I had to CREATE boards that I would be pinning to. Once I figured that out? Well, the addiction is complete. The other night I spent hours surfing Pinterest and just re-pinning things that others had already pinned. I found recipes, crafts, furniture, all kinds of things. I pinned like a madwoman. Good thing the iPad lost connection with the internet or I probably would not have gone to sleep that night.

I've had a few friends post on Facebook that they don't understand Pinterest and, well, since there really aren't any instructions, I can certainly understand the confusion.

The problem is, now that I do understand it, I have spent at least the last four hours just surfing, pinning, and re-pinning everything from building my own outdoor pergola (which I really, REALLY want to do) to making my own lemon sugar scrub. You know, for my rough, calloused hands after I build the pergola.

No lie, I am totally hooked. And FINALLY, totally INSPIRED. We have two guest bedrooms with no furniture in them, just beds on iron rails. I have found headboards that I can make (for about $20 apiece). I am going to go yard-saling to find a broken down, junky dresser that I can turn into a shelf unit to store all my crafts (instead of stuffed into a closet). I am going to look for broken pallets that I can re-purpose into a wall shelf to display photos. I am going to create wreaths. And try some of the most amazing food recipes EVER. I am going to whip up some interesting cocktails, which I will also display in beautiful glass dispensers (which I must add to my shopping list and go buy). I am going to host dinner parties that rival Martha Stewart because I have found decorating and entertaining tips that will WOW my friends.

Umm yeah. Somewhere in between all of this exciting, fun, inspiring stuff I will have to work, keep my house clean, and finish 13 weeks of school. I can do it. I think I'll just give up some of my less important tasks, like sleep.

I'll be sure to post photos or stories as I try my Pinterest finds. If you haven't already checked it out, I highly encourage you do so!

She lost her first tooth.... boo-hoo!

She's only five years plus two months old today and she lost her first tooth. I thought kids didn't start losing teeth until they were seven or eight years old? I.am.not.prepared.for.this.

She started wiggling it on Saturday. It was a bit more loose on Sunday. By Monday it was pretty wiggly, and Monday was a holiday so she said she was going to go back to school on Tuesday and have her teacher pull it. Apparently that's what all the cool kindergartners do, they have their afternoon teacher pull their teeth. Caitlin did it. So did Lilly.

Last night she was wiggling it something fierce. We had some family over last night and we all joked about helping her pull it. By the end of the evening I knew that tooth's days were short and I just hoped she wouldn't have one of her friends help her pull it at school.

This evening I received this photo via text:

 

The next great debate was, well exactly how much does a tooth fairy bring these days? When I was a kid, it was a buck a tooth. One particularly rotten, cavity-ridden one netted me a dime. If she was older I don't think I could pull one over on her, but she's five years old. She doesn't even know what a dollar will buy her. She'll probably want to use it for candy. I was thinking a dollar would be adequate but my sister in law ribbed my husband and told him we had to pony up five bucks for her first tooth.

And I'm just thinking, FIVE BUCKS?

We don't want to set a precedent around here.... Especially as she does get older and starts to realize exactly what five bucks WILL buy her.

So we settled on two dollars. You know, due to inflation and all.

And now the tricky part. I'm so exhausted I can't even keep my eyes open but I have to make sure the Tooth Fairy's job gets done correctly tonight. As much as I adore my husband, he wasn't so great when The Elf was his responsibility and I just have to make sure she gets her visit from The Tooth Fairy.

After all, she did write a nice note to The Fairy.

It would have been much longer (this kid's gonna be a writer!) but I had to dictate how to spell everything for her and I kept losing track. "T....O....another O..... wait, what were the last few letters I just gave you?"

I'm not at all prepared for this kid to grow up. She's the tiniest little five year old you ever did see. She's a good kid. She mostly listens, she's a good helper, and she has a kind heart. I'm so not ready for her to grow up, venture out into this world, and become a young lady. I know five years old isn't the end of the world. I'm not the only parent that has had to deal with a child losing their first tooth. I am however realizing that five years has gone by much too quickly and that one tooth is going to lead to another one. I'll try not to cry but you'll have to forgive me because this definitely makes me emotional.

Now, before I fall apart, I must go figure out how to score one tooth and leave behind some cash under the sleeping head of one very, very excited child.

 

Goodbye 2011

It's that time of year, where everyone recaps what happened to them during the year and what they hope to accomplish in the coming year.

It wasn't the easiest year for us but it turned out to be one of the best years. My husband lost his job on April 1st, which is never really a happy thing but turned out to be the change of pace we really needed around here. We have both been in the mortgage industry for the last ten years and have lived through all the turbulence of the credit crisis and the mortgage meltdown. We took our kids out of pre-school/daycare for the summer and they had a chance to truly be kids for the first time since they were born. No ten hour days of childcare. One parent home with them all the time to take them to the library, the park, or just out in the backyard to swim every single day. He taught Hayley how to swim without floaties in July. Then two weeks later Sam learned how to swim without floaties (a month before her 3rd birthday mind you).

I changed channels within my own company and took on a position managing a retail branch instead of a wholesale branch. I have loved nearly every single minute of it- I have had the opportunity to build my team literally from the ground up. I started with ten employees in May and am now up to twenty three employees. I have openings for six more and then I'll have outgrown my office space. I've put in some crazy long days- usually 13 hours a day, five days a week. Yes, it's been hard on me and I'm especially emotional these last two weeks as I'm finally hitting that wall of sheer exhaustion, but it's been rewarding and not something I would change in the least.

Hayley turned five this year. Sam turned three. My girls have inspired me in ways I never expected. Motherhood has been rewarding, and challenging no doubt. Sometimes I feel like mother of the year, sometimes I feel like I'm the worlds worst mother. But my girls have pushed me in ways I just never expected. I'm thankful for two healthy, beautiful kids.

My husband turned 40 this year. I can't believe he's 40, and I can't believe that means I will be 40 in just a few years. I'm not one of those people that gets all freaked out about age, I just can't believe our ages are creeping up there, it doesn't seem like that many years have passed. I mean, we just got married....almost twelve years ago.

The only resolution I have for 2012 is that I want to find ways to be more patient. I want to not let myself get so worked up over the little things. I want to make more time for myself. I want to treasure the little things.

Let's see how 2012 goes!

 

I have been so uninspired

I keep thinking, I must blog. I come across a cute little incident or something that makes me think, and I say, I'll blog about that later. But then later comes, and I've totally forgotten it. Or all of a sudden after thinking about it eight hours later it doesn't seem so cute and blog-worthy.

In fact, I've decided, I am downright boring.

I have nothing exciting to share. I have no witty stories. Yep. I've got nothing.

The only thing I can share with you that I'm pretty proud of is my one and only crafty handiwork for pretty much the whole year. It came out great and I'm loving looking at it every single time I walk by it.

This is the culmination of twelve years of corks. Almost 200 of them- and I still have the entire outside of the wreath that needs to be covered. I figure every time we open a new bottle of wine I'll also heat up my hot glue gun and glue it right on so that it doesn't take me twelve more years to complete the rest of it.

Every time I walk by this (it's hanging on my pantry door incidentally so you can imagine I see it about a bazillion times a day) I look at a different cork and remember with fondness all the fun that came from the bottle of wine associated with that cork. I put my favorite corks on the top layer so I could see them all the time. I put the cheap wine corks on the bottom layer, since cheap wine is always plentiful around here.

Making the wreath wasn't all that hard, although it probably took me longer than it should because I spent time reminiscing as I pulled out some of my favorite corks. I burned myself only sixty-two times with the hot glue gun. It only took me two sittings to complete it, totaling about 6 hours between the two. I think I used 31 glue sticks (but about twenty-five percent of those wound up on my fingers during the sixty-two burns with the glue gun).

All in all, it was worth it. Other than this cork wreath I have been completely uninspired. I couldn't even muster up enough creative energy to write my annual Christmas letter. I know, RIGHT? The woman of so many words couldn't even find enough words to write up a few paragraphs to cover the events of the last 11 months.

I've even resorted to checking my own blog every day just to keep up my daily stats. Ok just kidding about that part, but seriously I would be surprised if anyone even bothers to come back here anymore, it's been a blog-ghosttown.

I can't make any promises that all of a sudden I'll be back to blogging regularly (or have anything worthwhile to blog about) but I am definitely hoping with the holidays behind me that I'll find time to write more often. After all, blogging is probably the only thing that keeps me sane some days. Well, blogging and wine. But blogging + wine is probably Jenn at her finest, so I'll hope for some of those days soon.

The Plague has settled in again

It comes every year. That time of year where no one in your household is healthy, you keep passing it around to one another, and you become dangerously close to wiping out the entire world's stock of Kleenex.

Last year things hit such a terrible spot for us that we went nearly two months where one or both of our girls would get sent home from school sick every single week. It was maddening.

This year, well, it wasn't so bad. The kids went back to school and pre-school after having the summer off and sure enough Sam came home with the sniffles within a week. We lived through it and all seemed to be fine.

My husband is a firm believer in the flu shot, except he can't handle shots, so he is a firm believer in Flu-Mist. He took the girls and they all got dosed up. Me? I never get flu shots. I never get the flu either. Yes, I know, according to the nurse assistant lady at the local pharmacy walk-in clinic, living without getting a flu shot every year is like driving recklessly wearing no seat belt. You can lecture me later.

Anyway, my husband and the girls went for Flu-Mist. Which, according to the nurse assistant lady at the local pharmacy walk-in clinic is the worst thing you can do because it contains live virus, as opposed to the actual shot which has no exposure to virus. She can lecture my husband later. But within two weeks of them getting the Flu-Mist the girls both came home with raging fevers and were throwing up. It took them each nearly 5 days to kick the fever although it took them only one day to kick the stomach part of it. Knock on wood but neither my husband or I got it.

Then not a week later, the school called and they wanted Hayley picked up. She had pink eye.

Now... I'm 36 years old. I've never had pink eye (that I can remember). Because pink eye is pretty much something you would remember. And apparently it is a virus, so once you've gotten it in your life, there's a chance you'll get it again.

My husband goes to pick up Hayley and he asks the school nurse to give him her professional opinion. He appeared to also have pink eye. I should insert here that the school nurse is also certified in serving lunches, if that gives you any background as to her medical skills. I made fun of my husband and told him there was no way it was pink eye. I may have even told him to buck up and stop whining about it.

Seriously. It was pink eye. Like the worlds WORST case of pink eye. Which quickly turned into pink eyes. Both of his eyes swelled shut and he looked scary hideous (sorry sweetie, you know I love you!). He went to the doctor, got fifty eight different prescriptions for drops, and we all began rigorous hand-washing, towel-washing, sheet-washing, pillow-case washing....

He had it for 6 days and I was really patting myself on the back for our cleanliness as no one else had contracted it. Then.... I woke up with only one eye. Seriously I have to say, it was hideous. Miserable. Even more hideous. I went to the local walk-in pharmacy clinic during my lunch break, because, yes, I did go to work with pink eye, and walked out with plenty of bang for my buck. I got a prescription for eye drops as well as a lengthy lecture about the importance of getting my flu shot. And taking allergy medication. Not sure how it was all related but it was the best co-pay I've ever spent, I think she took at least 30 minutes with me.

But seriously, my husband was still battling pink eye. I had pink eye. Our kids had just had some sort of the flu. And Hayley had pink eye. My father-in-law who is visiting from Canada had pneumonia. The only healthy person left in our house was my mother-in-law and thank heaven for her, she was my savior when it came to keeping our washing machine running on the sanitize cycle.

Today I am finally able to see with two eyes again, although it took me 6 days to clear up. It took my husband 13 days to kick it. Flu shot? I'm wondering why the heck they haven't come up with a pink eye shot yet!! Let's just hope this was the worst of our seasonal Plague.

There's just something about getting a mani/pedi

I swear to you all, I am NOT a girlie girl. Except, I kind of am.

When I was in high school I used to get my nails done, with these big, long, acrylic laden tips. And they used to be painted colors like neon pink. It was cool.

Even in college I still used to get "acrylics" when I could afford them. The problem was, that wasn't often. And when I could afford them, I often couldn't afford the fills every two weeks so I would be left with lifting, cracked, broken nails that I would wind up gnawing at and peeling off until my actual fingernail was left barely intact underneath.

I know. Not pretty.

Then one day I realized, I actually have decent fingernails. They grow nicely, I'm not a nail-biter, and if I take care of them, they actually look ok.

Except I never have time to take care of them.

It's been interesting working with a corporate headquarters based in New York because, well, the women there are very worldly compared to the women out west. Don't get me wrong, I'm not suggesting that we're a bunch of savages, I'm just saying, it became very obvious to me back in May when I first visited our New York office that I was going to have to step up my game.

And I did. I beefed up my wardrobe. My pocketbook (fancy word for purse as I have always known it). My accessories. My overall demeanor.

But what I haven't yet done is change anything about my hands. So this weekend I used a gift card to a spa, spent an exorbitant sum on a manicure, and ohmygoodnesscan'tstoplookingatmyhands.

They're beautiful. I feel like a million bucks. Which is good, because the manicure cost almost that, lucky thing for that gift card.

Still, there is something about a manicure/pedicure that makes me feel oh-so-feminine. Beautiful. Worldly.

Without a doubt it is not in my budget to go for these regularly, but I'm definitely going to find time to take care of my own fingernails from now on. It's something I think every woman should do for herself- find that one thing that makes you feel beautiful and splurge every now and then. It's worth it. Totally worth it.

Here I am!!

I know, I know, I have been the WORST blogger EVER. I'd be surprised if anyone has even checked back on my blog in WEEKS.

So in my six week break from school, what exactly have I been doing? Well let's see, I wanted to get myself back on the running circuit. I wanted to read a few books for pleasure. I wanted to visit with my friends more. I wanted to deep-clean my house. I wanted to blog, tons. And somewhere in there I wanted to sleep in a few days.

I don't even know where the last six weeks went. In case you are wondering, I didn't get ANY of that done. I did power up my treadmill twice. I did read for pleasure, if you count scouring ads for stealin' deals the day after Thanksgiving. I cleaned out one of my daughters closets (netting 8 giant garbage bags of outgrown clothes... it's a walk-in closet, don't judge me). I blogged once I think. But I don't remember sleeping at all, let alone sleeping in.

Yep, I pretty much got through everything on my list, albeit not in the magnitude I would have liked.

I went back to school almost two weeks ago and honestly, I think it just might kill me. I've been working 12 hour days- and most people would probably complain about that but I absolutely love my job with all my heart so it doesn't bother me to put in the 12 hours every day. Well, except for being so exhausted and missing time with my family. That part stinks. Other than that though I truly do love what I am doing, love my employees, and love the rewards that come with my job.

But going back to school? It just might be too much for me. I only have three classes left, I've already made it through nine classes (it's been a blur honestly). Some days it's all I can do to get up in the morning, push myself through the day, and fall into bed at night. I keep telling myself, it's only three more classes. I'll be done by mid-May. Mid-May will be here before I know it....

So anyway, if you wonder where I've been, well, I'm here. I've been very uninspired to write, which is probably why I feel so run down. Writing always energizes me, gets my brain moving even when my body doesn't want to. I'll try to find more time for my blog in the coming weeks but just in case you miss me just know that soon enough I'll be back, in full force.

We are quite the sight

You may remember that I found a new love of canning earlier this year. I even went so far as to buy a pressure canner. I didn't immediately use the pressure canning feature on the canner, I used it as a waterbath canner because canning jelly doesn't require pressure.

So last weekend I needed to pressure can a batch of my dad's secret spicy pepperoni red sauce. We dug out the pressure canner, read through the instruction manual, and set about to can this batch of sauce. When I read the instruction book it said to fill the canner with 3 quarts of water. The picture in the instruction manual pointed me to which line to use. I filled the canner, inserted the jars, and the canner was nearly full to the brim. I put on the lid, turned on the burner, and waited for 20 minutes to see if it pressurized accordingly.

After about 20 minutes I could hear noise in the canner, and there were some bubbles coming from the pressure valve, but it wasn't "rocking" the way it was supposed to. Upon re-reading the manual I discovered I had put three times as much water as I was supposed to (hey, I was just following the picture, they should have done a better job at pointing to the BOTTOM line) and also that I filled the canner more than 2/3 full, which the manual definitely says NOT to do. Thank goodness I didn't blow up my kitchen.

I corrected my error, put the lid back on, and turned the burner back on. This time I was a little gun-shy and was a little worried that the lid was going to blow off the pressure canner. I hid behind the kitchen island listening for any noise that indicated it was either working or was going to go horribly wrong.

At one point I stepped away from the kitchen to tuck the kids into bed. As I was walking back down the hall I heard a distinct "ping!" and instantly freaked out that the lid was going to blow off the pressure canner. I came around the corner to the kitchen and there was my husband, standing with a spatula looking like a mad scientist. I asked him what that noise was and he demonstrated, he was hitting the pressure nozzle with the spatula, trying to get it to "rock".

Turn up my freak-out mode about ten notches.

After all that, about 15 minutes later the valve did start "rocking" on it's own accord. Once it started rocking we started the timer, we needed 90 minutes to pressure can the sauce because it had meat in it. About 65 minutes in, we could smell spaghetti sauce and then I started worrying that a jar broke in the canner, however I couldn't very well stop the processing just to check it out. We waited until the 90 minutes was up, we waited an additional 20 minutes for it to de-pressurize (and by now it's nearly 11pm) and we opened the lid to discover that thankfully all the jars were intact. However (likely when I filled the canner with too much water the first time) one of the jars did overflow during canning and therefore didn't seal properly.

All told, we didn't blow up our kitchen. The sauce canned nicely (and safely!) and both my husband and I have a bit more confidence in our domestic ability.

Oh yeah, and a few nights later we used it as a pressure cooker and my husband made the most awesome pot roast EVER. We had some friends over for dinner and were telling them the story about my husband tampering with the pressure canner during processing. Our friend (who is an engineer) kindly reminded us that it was canning under 10 pounds of pressure PER SQUARE INCH and it is a 16 QUART POT.

Yes, I'm thankful for our ignorance in exactly how much pressure that really was that night. But we are no longer ignorant and I must throw in the official disclaimer here, "People, DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME." Messing with the canner that is. Otherwise, follow all instructions and no one will get hurt.

Black Friday, I sold out

While I was none-too-happy to have to cut short my holiday festivities to accommodate the earlier store opening times I still sold out and did it. Why you ask?

I had an epiphany while standing in the middle of an angry mob that was rushing a pallet of cheap video games. For me it's not about saving an extra buck (or twenty). It's about the sport of it. It's about mapping out a route, making a list of cheap must-haves (because they are cheap, not because I must-have any more stuff). It's about getting in, grabbing a deal, checking out, and moving on to another store. It's about seeing how many of the items you can cross of the list as scores and how many you have to write off to misses.

I started at Walmart. I made but one rookie mistake (even after 12 years of doing this)- I waited in the mob of people at the shrink-wrapped pallet of video games. I was actually 3rd closest to the pallet so I figured I would at least wind up with one game, maybe two by the time the first three people grabbed their few and moved on.

Was I ever WRONG.

I got there about an hour forty five minutes before the main release at 10pm. There was a lady practically draped on the pallet, protecting her "territory". I knew I was in trouble when I discovered that she had brought two additional people with her and they were the front three circling the pallet. They had been there since 4:30pm. REALLY? You really needed video games bad enough to go to the store nearly 6 hours before the release of the games? The pallets were shrink-wrapped in black plastic so you couldn't even have known for certain you were standing in front of the Xbox games. What if you had been standing there all that time and they pull back the plastic to reveal you are holding Wii games? I mean that lady was seriously all in on this.

I still naively believed I would at least be able to reach one game. At one point I contemplated giving up and standing in front of something really useful (and more necessary than video games) like the Rubbermaid plasticware, or the less-than-ten-dollar electric griddle (which I'm sorely missing this morning as I contemplate making some pancakes). However at that point I had already been standing there nearly an hour. There were an additional hundred people that had gathered by that point so I figured I would stick it out.

I'm not entirely sure what any of us were thinking. There were at least 200 people crowded around this display and when they did finally cut the plastic off there was a mad rush from behind, pushing all of us at the front into the display. The games were gone before I could even see what was going on and I was left being crushed into the cardboard display, which had caved in and which already had two or three people laying in the middle of. I threw out my elbows and backed out of the crowd with as much force as I could- hoping not to become fodder for the morning news.

At least I made it out of the crazed teenage boy crowd but that was the least of my problems. I suspect the store was way over capacity as you could not walk anywhere- there simply were too many people, too many baskets, and too many pallets to trip over. It was sheer madness. I grabbed some cheap jammies, a stick vac for 8.74, and a handful of 1.96 movies. I was out of Walmart at 10:12pm. At least I hadn't forgotten all my Black Friday know-how. I parked in one of the furthest rows from the entrance thereby guaranteeing a quick escape.

I decided to hit Target since they weren't opening until 12. There wasn't anything I really NEEDED. Again it was just for sport- could I really get the items that were cheap and get out of there? Umm yeah. That was all good in theory but when I pulled into the parking lot and the line wrapped around the building nearly 2 hours before opening I decided the $7 jammies just weren't worth it.

Instead I headed home and began online shopping. I had made one previous attempt on the Toys R Us website, which kept crashing and I had given up on. I also hit up Kohls, grabbed a few steals and added some Kohls cash to my wallet. I knew Toys R Us would have additional sales starting at 5am, but what I didn't know was whether that was 5am local time or 5am EST.

I hit my bed around 12:20am, set my alarm for 2:45am, and grabbed a few hours of much needed rest. I got up at 2:45am, logged on to Toys R Us, grabbed a few of their 5am doorbusters (WOW!! Finally, a "win") and went back to bed. Then I got up at 6:30am, headed back out, and completed my shopping.

Surprisingly, another Walmart just two miles from our house still had video games from their doorbuster sale so I grabbed a bunch, got some of the Rubbermaid that was gone in an instant from my escapade the night before, and pretty much felt like I got everything I needed/wanted/didn't really need.

I do have to say though, I'm loving the online situation. Have you ever tried to brave Toys R Us on Black Friday? It's a madhouse. It's a joke. And yet I got some of their 5am doorbusters without ever having to stand in line. Love it, love it, love it.

While I must admit that I am none-too-pleased about the stores starting on Thanksgiving Day, I am definitely loving that they run online specials on turkey day.

And now, I think I may head back out for a little bit more aimless wandering, just to see what kinds of deals may still be lurking. At least I don't have to fear being crushed by an angry crowd today. And I'll be tucking that experience in my memory for future reminders.

On being thankful...

This is not meant to sound obnoxious or anything, but every year when November rolls around, people start making a concerted effort to note the things they are thankful for. For example, I have a number of friends that are currently posting one thing per day they are thankful for.

I struggle with this concept just like I struggle with celebrating Valentine's Day in a very over-the-top way. It's a bit obvious, don't you think? Are we really so shallow that we only think of what we are thankful for (or express it vocally) during one holiday a year? Just like we only express our love outwardly on one holiday per year, Valentines Day?

I live my life every day thankful for my blessings, not only during the month of November. If there are others that specifically need one holiday a year to remind them they should be thankful, well, ok.

Every single day of the year I get up, look around my home, and realize how much I have been blessed. I look at my husband of 11 years and think how lucky I am to have found someone that will put up with my Type A tendencies. I look at my beautiful girls, the ones I never thought I was cut out to mother, and know that I have been blessed in more ways than I will ever know how to keep track of. I think of my job, a job I absolutely love, and know that even though I work crazy long hours I could not be happier with my career.

Yes, I'm a very thankful person. I try hard to live every day reflecting that, not just the days in November. I was once told that actions speak louder than words. In the heat of that moment I didn't understand how that could be. I'm a need-to-hear kind of person but at that moment I reflected on how someone's actions could reflect something more than what their words were (or were not) saying.

I learned a valuable lesson in that moment. Live with passion. Don't be afraid to speak up. Trust until you've been given a reason not to. Love like you'll be gone tomorrow. Or they'll be gone tomorrow. Live like this every single day and, well, you'll live every single day with gratitude.

So this month (and every month) I'm thankful for the opportunities that have made me who I am today. I'm thankful for the opportunities (and challenges) that I will face through the rest of my life that will help shape me into who I am in five years. Ten. I love my life, I love my family, I love my career, and I love my opportunity to make a difference every single day.

Yes, I'm thankful. If you don't hear me say it out loud I would certainly hope that my actions all year long would point to it. But just in case they don't, let me assure you, I have much to be thankful for this year.

 

Black Friday 2011, is it just me???

I think I posted about this last year too. Somehow, Black Friday has ceased being about "Friday" and has now crept into Thanksgiving Day. This is outrageous. Last year things were opening up at midnight on Thanksgiving night/Black Friday. I participated, simply because I had to. The good news was I did get some scores on jammies, which seem to always be in short order in our house. The bad news was, I didn't make it to my usual 7 or 8 stores simply because they were all staggered and I couldn't make it between midnight and 5am. It was a killer.

As if I thought this year would be any better?

Now instead of opening at five am on Black Friday, or midnight on Thanksgiving night/Black Friday they are opening at 9pm THANKSGIVING DAY. Waitjustoneminutehere....

So... Greedy retailers and desperate shoppers are now going to desecrate one of the last remaining holidays that we have been able to enjoy with our families? Because let's be real here, I enjoy a bargain just as much as the next shopper, but I do love me some wine with my Thanksgiving dinner. After all, Thanksgiving for me has always been about spending a day with my family and friends, enjoying good food, good company, and yes, lots and lots of good wine.

Thanksgiving Day has also been a day to eagerly open my newspaper with bated breath, having no idea what is going to be on sale, or where. Planning a strategic route that criss-crosses the city, trying to hit the maximum number of stores while making the most of my budget. Oh yes, and trying to be home by 9am so I can make breakfast for my family, unload my goodies, and start hauling out my Christmas tree and decorations.

Last year I was really thrown for a loop. I did start at midnight, but I came home and went to bed for a few hours before hitting the rest of the circuit. Consequently I didn't go to nearly as many locations as I previously would have, nor did I spend nearly as much money as I probably would have if they had all just stuck with the 5am opening time. ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME BIG BOYS? YOU AREN'T REALLY GETTING MORE MONEY OUT OF ME FOR THESE EARLIER OPENING TIMES. IN FACT, YOU ARE LOSING OPPORTUNITY.

There. I said it. Curse me if you will, but I happen to believe that not only should the holiday be sacred for shoppers like me that want to enjoy it with their family but I also think it should be sacred for those that work in retail. Why should they be punished to have to give up one of the VERY FEW holidays they are given with their families without penalty?

Sadly, with the economy the way it is, there will be many families that absolutely have to take advantage of these start times and doorbusters just to make their Christmas special. I wish there was a way as consumers that we could all protest this and truly make our voices heard. Don't get me wrong, I want the bargain just as much as the next shopper, but this is just WRONG. I'm morally opposed to the desecration of one of the very last holidays in the US market. What's next? Shopping on Christmas Day?

I'm disappointed to see what Black Friday has turned into. It is no longer Friday. With all the websites showing the "leaked" ads all the fun has gone out of the thought of opening the Thanksgiving Day newspaper. And yes, I'm wondering who else (besides me) will forego the 9pm shopping because they are still buzzing visiting with family on Thanksgiving Day.

Testing...testing.... is this thing on?

Three weeks ago I blogged that I would be taking a six week break from school and planned to blog my heart out during that break. I didn't intentionally LIE about that but somehow I haven't had a chance to get around to it. I don't know why that is...

In the last few weeks we have had a weekend with a friend's birthday party, a weekend with Hayley's birthday party, and a weekend we went to Vegas to celebrate my mom's induction into the honor society (GO MOM!!). Last night when I got home from work I frantically started thinking if there was somewhere we were supposed to be this weekend because suddenly it didn't feel right that we have a weekend with no commitments. I couldn't remember any, but if there was somewhere we were supposed to be this weekend or someone we committed to doing something with I will just apologize right now. My mind is completely drawing a blank right now.

There are lots of things I WANT to do this weekend- like clean out the kids closets and donate or give away the clothes they keep trying to cram their bodies into. Last night Sam comes running to greet me when I got home from work and she was wearing a pair of 12m shorts. The child should be wearing 4t. They were so tight they looked like boyshort undies on her. Sadly, even though they appeared to be cutting off circulation, she didn't seem bothered by them.

I want to organize my own closet. And the garage. And the basement. I want to get out some harvest decorations, since I completely missed decorating for Halloween, *GASP* my favorite holiday. I'm getting tired just thinking of all the chores I want to do this weekend. Maybe I will do nothing at all. Maybe I will read a book, catch up on tivo shows, walk on the treadmill while watching a chick flick.

Anyway, I want to apologize for making a commitment to blog more regularly and then falling short on that commitment. Work has been insanely busy (deja vu from this same time last year), life outside of work has been jam-packed, and I'm running out of time to do much else. I will try to get back to regular blogging. Don't give up on me!

Good friends... the kind you've never met

I'm trying to wrack my brain to remember exactly when I came upon Babycenter.com. Well, thinking back, Hayley is five. Plus 10 months of pregnancy. Plus two years of infertility. So it must be that I originally went on BBC (lingo) at least 7+ years ago.

WOW. Has it really been that long?

I was a total wreck back then. I googled all sorts of things I never should have googled. I self-diagnosed. I was pretty much a fertility doctor without the degree.

I found a chat board and joined it. I lurked, I don't know for how long. Then I found a thread, it was called "Just Need to Vent". How appropriate? When you've been trying to conceive, have no idea why it's not working, everyone around you is getting pregnant and your family is telling you relax, why shouldn't you just vent?

I can't recall exactly how many regular members there were. I knew we had our regular crowd and also we welcomed any newcomers. There were I think 7 or 8 of us that started right at the same time. Within short order we doubled our group. Then tripled I think.

There were lots of infertile days where I never would have made it without these girls. Some got pregnant before me. Some after. It was an amazing experience, you would think if someone beat you to the BFP (big fat positive) you would probably be a little bitter about it, but not with this group. It seemed when one of us did finally get our BFP there was no greater happiness than from our chat board friends. We helped each other through medical test results telling us why we were unable to conceive, medical tests that told us nothing about why were unable to conceive, failed IUI's, then failed IVF's. We helped each other through the ignorant comments that people around us made (Just relax! Stop thinking so much about it...It will happen in due time.)

Somehow after all these years we are still in touch (thank you social networking!). Some of us have had more than one child. Some of us have had no children at all. Somehow even though our situations have changed we all still understand one another in ways I don't think even some of my closest friends would know. Unless you have been through the heartache of being unable to conceive you will never truly know what it feels like.

We've talked throughout the years about how much fun it would be if we could ever have a reunion. With babies, small children, and a poor economy it hasn't really seemed like much of an option. However, we recently decided we are going to shoot to make it a reality. I have a five bedroom house and (six to eight months out of the year) have a pretty amazing climate. I'm throwing open the doors and hoping we can get a good turnout here. From an economical standpoint it'll be one of the cheapest reunions we could ever come up with. We're hoping to get together in April 2012.

In the mean time I'm so excited I can't stand it. I'm wondering if we can get the people at Robert Mondavi's attention since that's how we will plan to share our Venting Weekend- over many bottles of wine. We can call ourselves the Women of Mondavi. I'm thinking of all the fun things we can do when we finally meet face to face- and I'm thinking of all the amazing women in our group. Women who inspire me. Who have become as much a part of my life as the women I spend time with regularly. I think about the ignorant comments from those that had no idea what we were going through and there's only one comment that I think I would deem fitting or appropriate here - "Everything happens for a reason."

I was meant to come to know these women. They were put in my life for a reason. I am certainly hoping that one day we can all meet face to face, and I will hope April 2012 is that time. After all, these women are some of my closest friends, even though I have never met them. It's funny how life works, but I know for right now I am thankful for everything I have gone through to get here.

A little scare

Sometime back in March I went in for an annual checkup. I had a tender spot toward my left armpit and I had no idea what it was. The doctor checked it, wasn't concerned, and I went on my merry way.

Fast forward to late September. Suddenly this tender spot has turned into a throbbing, painful mess. It hurts almost all the time. I made another appointment with the doctor and saw her this past Tuesday. She seemed frazzled and immediately told me she was sending me for an ultrasound and mammogram.

I went home that day and started googling things to try and figure out exactly what it could be. It boiled down to two pretty scary choices- lymphoma or breast cancer.

As you can imagine, I have been a wreck all week.

Friday I went for the ultrasound and mammo. They told me that they would have the results to my doctor on Monday. What? I would have to go all weekend without having any sort of answers?

I freaked out on my way out to the parking lot. Thankfully, my husband was there. I told him I was going to go home and search more online to see if I could figure out exactly what I was up against. He kindly reminded me that I should never google "flat yolk sac".

He was right.

I called my doctor on my drive away from the radiology appointment practically begging her to give me some answers. She told me it was very common that the radiologist wouldn't share any information directly with me (although the last time I had a mammo/ultrasound six years ago they came in and reassured me immediately that there was nothing to be found).

Lucky for me, they got the results late Friday and she called me immediately. The lymph node appears to be a bit abnormal but whatever it is it's benign. *sigh* However, I'm still stuck with a very painful axillary lymph node. At this point, my action plan is to try to stop touching it when it hurts and hope that eventually it clears itself up. In 4-6 weeks if it is still painful I will probably have to make arrangements to have it surgically removed.

You never want to have to think of the things that have run through my head in the last four days. What if? Who will? How can I?

Last night I made cookies with the kids. I think I will remember every single minute of that experience for the rest of my life. I have a coworker who is battling cancer and has said that the experience has certainly put life in perspective. The little things are no longer important. I say, even standing on the brink of a life-changing event has put things in perspective for me. I don't ever want to look back and think "why didn't I?".

Starting today I am going to work harder to let go of the little things that shouldn't matter. To focus on the things that are more important - like making time for my family and for myself. To appreciate the things that are meant to be appreciated - like laughter, good friends, and beautiful weather.

I've been given a second chance without having to endure the pain and the fight that others are sometimes not so fortunate to avoid. I definitely plan to take the experience for what it was - a gentle reminder. I am going to be thankful for the blessings I have. I am going to work harder to help others. I am going to try to be a better mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend. I am going to try to let go of the things that make me crazy in the head and focus on the things that make me smile. I am going to focus on the things that make other people smile.

Today, I am very, very thankful. It is going to be a beautiful day.

And now, back to your regularly scheduled blogging

You likely notice there are large periods of time where my blogging suffers. I'm lucky if you come back every now and then to check on me. Good thing it's not life or death or I may wind up friendless and left inside my house with no one to check on me.

My ninth class just ended. I have three classes left after this. I'm also going to take a short six week leave of absence before I start the last leg of this journey. I'm still exhausted. I still wonder why I took on this challenge (as if I didn't already have a million other things going that could have kept me busy) but I am definitely happy that I am near the end. There actually is a light at the end of this tunnel.

So for the next six weeks I will be spending all my free time enjoying all those things I haven't had much time to do over the last year and a half. I'm going to do lots and lots of blogging. Some yardwork. Some home organization. Maybe a little home decorating. Oh yeah, and lots and lots of blogging. Did I already mention that?

I'm looking forward to it. I hope I have enough creative brain cells to come up with something worthwhile, but check back... Soon....

I told you so

Yes, my friends, I'm in the midst of another "crazy in the head" episode. I cannot stand the amount of clutter we have. With 4000 square feet and a three car garage you would think there would be zero clutter laying around. After all, according to the realtor that sold us this place, there is plenty of closet space.

Somehow it doesn't work like that.

I keep buying junk. But yet I can't necessarily part with junk as fast as I buy new junk. Consequently you can only imagine how our piles of junk have gotten here.

I like organized junk. Like, labeled, orderly junk. I like it to be in those big plastic bins, like the ones you see sold right after holidays. I am especially fond of the big plastic bins. My husband? Notsomuch.

There are lots of times we take turns with good-ideas-gone-bad. Like the garage ventilation fan he bought, to cool our two-thousand-degree garage. But then, the first fan wasn't the right one. So he bought another one. That hasn't yet been put up.

And then there's my latest harebrained idea. In our old house we had two master walk-in closets. This house, we share one walk-in closet that is the size of my old closet alone. I know. Wah-fricken-wah, right? But before you judge me, I shared my master closet in the old house with the linen closet. So I stored all the excess blankets, sheets, and towels for the whole house. In my closet. See, I'm not that vain.

So this house, we share our master closet. Both of us. And our linens. It's a little cramped in there. Especially since I've gone and gotten all girly in the last year. And I'm thinking, towels? I don't wear a towel to work, so what do I care if the towels have to find a new storage place? Except, well, I do care. Because I'm the one that has to find them a new storage space.

I've been perusing the Ikea catalog lately and I decided I would make use of the empty space underneath our countertop vanity in our master bathroom. I will eventually take photos of it, but for descriptive purposes, you know, it's that area that has a countertop but no cabinets underneath because you are supposed to put some sort of stool there so you can sit while you get ready. Ha! Now that's funny. Who really has time to sit while they are getting ready? Anyway, when they designed this bathroom, it was nice that they thought to put in a vanity counter. The bad news is, they didn't drop the countertop at all. So unless you are sitting on a barstool, you'll never see yourself in the mirror. Hence, useless space.

Currently we store an oversized trash can and a 20lb bag of cat food there. Yes, definitely useless space.

So, I tell my husband that I want to make better use of our space. I want to install some sort of shelving in that space so we can store our towels under there. I ask him to scope out what kind of shelves we can fit in a space that is oddly three inches too short width-wise and conveniently one inch too short height-wise. Darn those builders for creating their own dimensions not convenient to anyone elses standard.

Today I'm running through Target at lunch and I find what I think is going to be the perfect fit for that pesky cubbyhole. It was twenty bucks so I grabbed it. I called my husband on the way home to scope out whether he actually had time to investigate any sort of shelving for that area, and he actually had some ideas. I told him I had a shelf that I thought was going to be perfect and he sounded dubious.

It was the kiss of death.

He took one look at the box I proudly carted in and told me it wouldn't fit. Me, stubborn as ever, optimistic he was wrong, set about putting the shelf together. First of all, the box said no tools were needed. It also said, when properly balanced, each shelf (3 in all) could hold 160 pounds apiece. HA!!

I wrestled with this thing left and right. There was no way it was going to hold 160 lbs total let alone three times that. It was.....chintzy.

I was bound and determined that this was going to fit in that awkward space designed by our builder who was too cheap to create a multi-level countertop or just add additional cabinets in between the two sinks.

I tried everything. Seriously. Everything.

It didn't fit.

So I placed it in another strategic location in the bathroom hoping my husband wouldn't rub my nose in it comment about it and maybe we can just move on. If it so happens that he wants to remind me he was right, I will simply ask him to dismantle, box it back up, and return it to the store for me.

I'm really, really hoping he doesn't say, "I told you so."

Making a difference

Sometime around 13 or 14 years ago I had a particularly bad day at work. I called my mom to cry on her shoulder ask for moral support and a few days later a card came in the mail. It was from my mom of course, and it contained a version of the following story:

Two men met on the beach. One man said to the other, "What are you doing my friend?".

"I'm throwing these starfish back into the ocean. If I don't, they'll die up here."

    "But you can't possibly reach them all. You can't possibly make a difference."

The man smiled, picked up yet another starfish, threw it back into the ocean and said, "Made a difference to THAT one!".

First of all, I framed the card. I still have it to this day. Through the years I have drawn upon this story (and my Mom's love and faith in me) to carry me through the tough times where I don't feel that I am truly making a difference or getting enough done.

Without a doubt though, I need that reinforcement now more than ever. I feel like I'm spinning my wheels. I'm working 60 hours a week. I'm going to grad school. My employees are suffering. My family is suffering. I feel like I am trying but am not able to make a difference.

Yesterday I had a reality check.

I had a borrower that I had to talk to and explain that unfortunately she is not qualified to make certain financial decisions on her incompetent husband's behalf. I suggested she seek legal counsel as to her options. Then the tears started *hers, then mine*. I cannot even put to words all the things she told me. Two years ago her husband was deemed incompetent as he was diagnosed with Alzheimers and dementia. She never thought in a million years she would have to learn how to do the things she was learning how to do (take care of finances, fight for herself, take care of the family). She didn't care if she lost her home after her husband passed, all she cared about was making sure his last time here was comfortable and he didn't have to be displaced.

I cannot even put to words what that did to me.

Instantly, all my trivial issues seemed insignificant. I knew my twelve hour days would pay off if I could make a difference to this one borrower, to this one family. Yes, I am overwhelmed. Yes, I feel most some days that I am spinning my wheels. I'm working a million miles an hour and I'm not getting anywhere. It seems I spread myself too thin. I wish I could do more, or better at the part I am doing. I'm not perfect, and I accept that. But everything I do is in hopes that I will make a difference.

If I can close this loan for her, I will feel as if I have made a difference. My twelve hour days will be worth it. My hard work will pay off. My family will be proud of me for doing something that helps someone else out in such a tremendous way.

Yes, I live to make a difference. If I can just make a difference to one person, one family, I will know I have succeeded. I challenge anyone that reads this to work to make a difference. All it takes is one starfish.

Stop the clock

Before I had children everyone told me how fast the time would go. It wasn't that I didn't believe them, it was just that when I was totally sleep-deprived and in way over my head I don't know that I really cared.

I will admit, I love babies. Typically, I love other people's babies. I love to hold them, I love to snuggle them, and smell their sweetness. I loved my own babies too, don't get me wrong. I'm just not what I would consider a very good baby person on a full time basis. I happen to love when they start getting their personalities and start discovering things for themselves. Like the first time they start cooing at you and they realize they can control it. I love when they discover their hands. I love when they figure out how to amuse themselves with rattles and other small toys. Then when they learn to sit up on their own and are so proud of themselves. I love when they start exploring, and are inquisitive enough to start scooting, then crawling. I love the moment that they take their first steps- the fear and then the pride on their faces. I love when they start talking, and come up with some of the cutest words (baby soup for bathing suit).

But somewhere in my anticipation of their very next milestone, their very next big kid moment, we lose those baby milestones and they are gone forever. I long for them to be back at those baby stages, and yet I yearn to see who they are going to become as a child, teen, young adult. It's torture.

I want the clock to stop so I can more fully enjoy the moments we do have while I know the clock is still racing forward and I am excited to see what they will do next.

Sam turned three last weekend. I don't know where that time has gone. I don't know how three years have passed so quickly. She went from this tiny, fragile baby:

 

 

To this beautiful little girl, full of spunk:

 

 

Somewhere in that three years Sam learned how to coo, discovered her hands, learned how to shake a rattle. Sit, scoot, crawl, and walk. She learned how to talk. She has become a beautiful little girl, full of life and promise. I look forward to her every milestone, while mourning the milestones that are behind us, never to be seen again. I will try to be the best mom I can be, guiding her through those milestones while knowing that there will be some she needs to navigate on her own. I hope my heart can take it when the moment comes that she wants to take things on without my help. I will know that she will forever be my little girl and that even when she doesn't want (or need me) I will still be there for her.

Motherhood is beautiful, and crushing. It is amazing, rewarding, and honestly the single most challenging thing I have ever done in my life. It is a job that will never end and I am thankful for this opportunity. I will try to slow down and appreciate the little moments as they come, I will try not to speed through life on fast-forward.

In the mean time, today I will enjoy the beauty of my children and their (good or bad) moments.

 

 

Dear Samantha,

September 24th, 2011

Dear Samantha,

Today you are three years plus one week old. It is hard for me to remember that you are only three years old. You seem so much older, it seems as if you have always been with me. Maybe it's because my life didn't really begin until I started having children. Maybe it's because you were always a part of my heart, long before you were even conceived.

Three years plus one week ago my water broke, six weeks early. We didn't know whether you were a boy or a girl. We were scared, so scared because you were coming early. When you were born and I heard your loud cry it was the single best sound I have ever heard in my life and I will remember it forever. I will also remember the torture of leaving you in the NICU for ten days. You were healthy in the respect that you didn't need assistance breathing, you didn't require any medication, or machinery. You didn't have jaundice or issues maintaining your body temperature, but you just would not eat from a bottle.

On the 10th day, the day we got the approval to bring you home, I was ecstatic. And scared. You were so tiny and required so much additional monitoring that I wasn't sure if I was going to be a good parent. I tried to remember that God would never give me more than I could handle and that he put you in my life for purpose.

You took it from there my sweet baby. You did things on your own schedule. You have been such a joy, you are such a happy child. When you smile, everyone around you smiles. You have the most beautiful curly blonde hair, which you constantly try to comb out because you want straight hair already. You have dimples. And a smile that can melt polar icecaps.

You are loving, and kind. You are thoughtful, and witty. You have the cutest facial expressions I have ever seen. You are totally and completely a Daddy's girl. You love music and you are a very good dancer. You care about your big sister. You care about people around you.

Mommy loves you more than you will ever know. You have blessed my life, you have made me become a better person, and because of you I will always continue to look for ways to be more and do more. Happy Birthday my dear sweet baby.

Love, Mommy

 

Another birthday has come and gone

I have spent much time over the last several weeks pontificating about my upcoming birthday. I have spent time thinking about how many life experiences I have had, and about how thankful I am for those experiences as they have shaped me into who I am today.

This year I happened to be traveling for business on my birthday. Ordinarily I am not a birthday person. My birthday can come and go without any fanfare and I am typically not disturbed by this. For some reason though, this year I felt the need to be someone for my birthday. For people to know it was my birthday. Why else do you think I have been blogging about it for the last few weeks?

Anyway, this year I had to travel to New York during my birthday week and as soon as the opportunity presented itself I thought, "YEAH! NY on my birthday? When will I ever have this chance again?".

I jumped at it.

I spent a few days in a suburban NY city before my actual birthday (which was Thursday). Wednesday night a coworker and I took the train into Manhattan, where we hung out until we could catch the 12:08am train back to the suburbs. I was on the train when it officially turned into my birthday so I started celebrating at midnight EST.

I had to travel back down to NJ that day for some training and I proudly told my small class that it was my birthday. Later that day someone told the entire class (85+ people) that it was my birthday and they all sang to me. I must admit, it was very heady to have that many people sing happy birthday. All of a sudden I think I was walking a little taller.

We had a business dinner that night then I roped a few people into hitting the hotel bar with me, where I proclaimed we were not going to stop celebrating until 12am AZ time. (In other words I enjoyed a 27 hour birthday). It was awesome. I loved every single minute of it (except the minute where someone guessed I had just turned 42... Ummm. REALLY???).

Other than that though everyone was extremely kind and I had one of the greatest birthday's ever. I missed my family like crazy and was happy to get home to them. My husband (bless his heart) even traveled 25 miles (one way) to hit a Crate and Barrel to get me a set of stemless wineglasses. All in all, I have to say turning 36 was one of the best birthday's yet.

I am happy to be who I am. I am happy to be the age I am. And I am happy for those that have shared in those years and those celebrations with me. Let 36 be my best year yet!