Maybe I Won't Die Young After All!

At least that's what I've come to believe.

There was a time that I didn't think I'd make it past 27, so all of my bad decisions (sleepless night, partying, habitually eating fast food 2-3 times a day some days, and not exercising) seemed just fine.

I really thought I'd die young.

And now I'm 39 fucking years old.

Although, when I was 27, I joined a gym and started working out semi-regularly.  I was one of those girls who would wear nothing but a sports bra...just because I could.

I wasn't completely inept.

That was then.

This is now.

I'm fully in the tankini range and proud of it.  Actually I went bathing suit shopping this morning and didn't feel like breaking out the Sharpie to circle my "problem areas."

I've made some changes.

I work out regularly (including body weight work outs, cycling, some weight training, yoga, and walking).

I've started keeping an eye on my calories thanks to this app.

Source

I've started to think about carbs, proteins, and fats all working together to make my body work.  And I do work...hard!

I'm also nervous about how my routine will change when I head back to work in August.  When will I work out?  What will I eat?  Will I gain 30 pounds b/c I'm back at work and don't have enough time for myself anymore?

Maybe, but I hope not.

I also bought this book and am actually reading it (and taking notes...what a nerd, right?):

Source

I've made some changes...I've integrated smoothies...green ones.  I've tried almond coconut milk...and not hated it.

I've stopped drinking wine during the week.  You should have seen Husband's face when I put the leftover wine in my Box-o in the FREEZER last Sunday night so that I wouldn't be tempted during the week.  He thought I was nuts.  I know my own willpower.  It's not good.

So, things are changing around here and I'm proud of myself.  I'm proud because I'm taking time to think about myself.  I'm proud because I know that I don't want to be one of those hunched over old women I see in the grocery store.  I want to be vibrant when I turn the dreaded 4-0 and beyond.  I want to be able to live my life rather than be stuck watching everyone else live their lives.

I want to live life to the fullest.  When the Crazies head to college, I'll be a mere 52.  That's not old (sure, it seemed old when I was 18, but it's really not)!!!

Husband will only be 48 and I'm going to have to keep up with him too!

So, what I'm saying is that I'm dedicated.  After years of GG telling me that I wasn't eating well or Husband offering me his protein shakes, I'm finally taking it all seriously and I'm proud of myself.  Considering that we both have heart disease in our families, we really need to be on the ball.  Plus, we're setting a good example for the Crazies rather than so much of our country who is set on the "eat whatever you like, be fat, and not care...someone else will pay for it" gravy train.

God...I wrote that and my mouth didn't even water for gravy!

These changes that I'm making...they're a gift that I can somehow give myself every day.  I can lay down at the end of the day and know that I did something for myself.  I gave myself a present...even if it is just three more days when I'm 85 years old.  I'll take it!

Plus, if I write it down, I'm more likely to be help accountable...even if it is just by me.  I'll hold myself accountable.  I'm not looking for huge changes.  I like the shape of my body right now (even if the texture could use some work).  I'm pretty happy with myself, but I know I can be better.  I will be better.  I will commit myself to living long enough to bug the shit out of the Crazies.

Anyone else making some big changes?

Where I Get to Bitch

Mom + Sick = Suckage

It's true.  I'm not supposed to get sick.  There is too much to do.  There are moments to be had.  There are things I want to do.

None of which include laying in bed all day (unless I'm not sick...then it's all I want to do).

I've been feeling crappy all week.  I have an infected cyst on my back (sexy, right?), so I'm on antibiotics for that.  They make me nauseous, so mornings have been very slow and drawn out while I dry heave all over the house in between yelling at the Crazies to get dressed.  

BTW, how in the HELL do women with morning sickness deal with their other children?

On top of that, I was fighting a sore throat all week.  I wasn't eating right.  I couldn't exercise.  I've just been off.

Then Thursday, it all came front and center...I have a cold.

I know, I sound like a man, right?  

Well, my cold is really bad...like the worst you can possibly imagine.

Seriously.

I'm not a man...I swear.

Friday morning sucked, but we made it out of the house on time.  I went grocery shopping, got a pedicure, dropped H at a playdate and entertained two extra boys for the afternoon.  When their Moms came to get them, I was a mess.  I was trying to hold it together, but it wasn't really working.  

Once everyone left and H was dropped off, I collapsed on the couch and hit the OnDemand button repeatedly until Husband came home.  I was wrapped in two blankets, but my feet were so HOT!

I didn't have a fever, BTW...I just think I got sunburned while I took the boys to the playground in the afternoon.

I was out for 15 minutes, so sunburn sounds logical, right? 

NOT!

I think I'm having yet another reaction to this antibiotic.

Maybe I should call the doctor.

Anyway, Husband gets home and takes the Crazies outside.  I wrench myself off the couch to help him out with dinner a little bit.  And I mean a little bit.

I ate.

I tried to keep bedtime on time (didn't work).

I tried to help with showers.

I tried to read to them before bed (didn't work...couldn't breathe).

I said good-night (thankfully they both declined a kiss).

I ran a bath (fucking burned my feet like crazy...wasn't hot enough to clear me out b/c I had to add cold water because my freak feet were burning).

I went downstairs and drank two glasses of water.

I went to bed and read.

I turned off my light before Husband (never happens).

I slept through (rarely happens).

Matt bursts into our room at 6:43 am saying, "You guys forgot to give us our allowance!  You guys forgot to give us our allowance!!!!"

He was insistent...and loud.

Husband somehow got him out of the room.

It was decided that I would skip softball this morning.

I didn't put up much of a fight.  "Are you sure?" doesn't really sound like much of a fight, right?

I've pretty much been in bed ever since.  

It's driving me nuts.

And I still have one clogged nostril.

I planned out the next two weeks of meals (we are busy as shit).

I started reading this book (I'm going to be a goddess...nah, nah, na, nah, nah).

I blew my nose 1,259,394 times during softball practice.

I had to miss a Pampered Chef party last night, softball practice this morning, and a Jazz Under the Stars event tonight.  I like doing things.  I like going places.  I like being around people.  I do not like being sick.

I did go to the basement to play Mario at Matt's request.  He spent the whole time telling me what I was doing wrong.

Hailey keeps asking me if I want something to eat or drink.  I love watching her echo what I do when she's not feeling well.

HGTV has given me a million and one ideas about how I want to do our blank canvas of a backyard.

I'm done.

I'm supposed to have a friend from NY over tomorrow, so I'd better be ready for that.  

Anyway, that's all.  I had to bitch.  I only get two days with Husband and I'm missing one.  We only get two days to work on things as a family and I'm missing one.  Whatever...I'll list some good things:

1. Meals are planned for the next two crazy weeks.
2. I've started a new book.
3. I've used some of my cookbooks to plan meals and the softball team party next weekend.  Did I mention that I purchased a cupcake caddy?  It's like I'm a real Mom now.
4. I've planned and replanned our backyard.
5. I've texted GG several times (she's babysitting for Cassie while Sister is away for her 10 year anniversary).
6. I've sent emails that I've been putting off.
7. I've had 1.5 conversations with Husband that didn't involve the Crazies or how annoying the pool is.
8. I emailed my future supervisor an awesome Algebra blog for the Common Core (I hope that didn't look suckup-y).

That is all...this is where I come to bitch.  You're lucky I'm sparing you the picture that H took of me to show me "how bad you look."  Like I didn't know...hope you're all having a better weekend!

Mother's Day

I asked for one thing for Mother's Day...one thing.

I wanted to go to brunch after church.

Okay, well I guess that's two things considering it's like pulling teeth from a dragon to get Matt to wear a button-down shirt when attending church (yes, I still believe in church clothes).

Husband made reservations (after several consultations about the appropriate time) and that was that.  I was getting what I wanted.

After that, I didn't really think much about Mother's Day other than creating gifts for the special mothers in my life and buying a multitude of cards.  Cards are expensive in case you haven't noticed.  I just don't know why we do it so much!

Anyway, when it came to Mother's Day weekend, I made a list of things I wanted to complete...five things, to be exact.  

To date, I've completed half of one of those things.  I'm not even going to do the math b/c it's pathetic.

I woke up on Mother's Day morning...6:00 am and there was no going back to bed, so I blogged from my phone.

Husband brought me coffee in bed and let me lounge watching HGTV.

Then I hear some commotion downstairs as they're creating my cards...love my cards...homemade is the best.

After that, they come clambering up the stairs to bring me my gifts...one of which I'd mentioned just that week:

Source

Why do celebrities feel the need to put their face on the cover of their books?  Don't they know it's messing up my lovely cookbook display in my kitchen?  The last thing I need is their smiling faces mocking me as I screw up one of their recipes!

Then Husband gets down on the floor.  I, naturally, assumed that one of the Crazies had dropped a Lego.  He comes up with this gigantic orange Coach box.

Here are their faces while they waited for Daddy...they knew something was up.

What?  Whatever could this be?

I had no clue...completely surprised.

He announces that it is a Mother's Day/Back to work present.

I excitedly open it to find this:

Source

I was speechless.  I knew we'd received a 25% off coupon, but I never expected it to be used!  It's amazing...love the color...love the room I have inside.  I just love it!  I debated keeping it until I really start working in August, but I can't let this be hidden in the back of my closet waiting for the "perfect time."  There's no such thing!  I need to let this one out right away!

I thank them profusely and kiss their faces.  Then he says, "there's more."

WHAT???

MORE???

They had stashed things in the pockets...things like this:

Source (mine's more blue though)

And this:

Source (to commemorate our recent trip to DC)

He just really outdid himself.  I am so so so lucky to have a husband that put in this sort of time and thought for my gifts.  I know the Crazies, at this point, have little to no say, so I do give him all the credit.  All I wanted was brunch, but he went above and beyond...in his typical Husband-y way.

God, I love that man.

Anyway, we went on to get ready for church (always a harried process).  I shoved a cheese wheel down my throat b/c I was saving all my room (and calories) for brunch.

We made it to church and I cried through half of the service.  Not only were they talking about mothers, but mothers that wanted to be, mothers that lost children, mothers who had passed away (this being my first Mother's day without my Nana, I was a little teary), mothers who acted as mothers for those who didn't have one, mothers who adopted and loved those children as their own...I just cried through half the service.  I couldn't help it.  

Then we traipsed over to Kohl's to look for summer shoes for the Crazies...that a fiasco. 

Matt ended up getting a pair of sneakers and Hailey a pair of jelly flops.  All Matt kept asking was "when are we going to brunch?" as if he'd known that word all his life rather than just learning it that morning.  Ugh...this kid!

We make it to brunch and have a lovely time (thanks to me deciding that I was going to fight about behavior today...I was just handing over the phones).  We discussed the house, our upcoming vacation to OBX, me going back to work, and just little things.

I had Chesapeake Benedict with a side of corned beef hash.  It was amazing.  Every mother had a complimentary mimosa, but I also had a Bloody Mary...what's brunch without a Bloody Mary?

I also had Husband take this shot...I just love my Crazies.

Then we went home to play in the yard, start opening the pool, play video games, and just enjoy each other.  The day ended with filet mignon on the grill and roasted asparagus in the oven.  It was such a wonderful day that I didn't want it to end, but it did anyway.

So, now I have to nail it on Father's Day...lots of pressure here!

How were your  Mother's Days?  I'm going to try to actually read blogs and comment now, so wish me luck!  I've been terrible for the past year...life took over...what are you going to do?

Bitch at the gym

So, I'm in pain today from an irritated cyst on my back...sexy, ain't I?

Anyway, I wasn't about to let that keep me from exercising. I can't do my balls and weights kick my ass class, so I decided to do spin. 

We got there on time (miraculous). I brought the Crazies to the Kids Zone. I went upstairs, laid out my towel on the handlebars, set my seat, left my water and phone, and went to use the bathroom.  No one wants to pee their pants in the middle of spin. 

I come back into the room about 7minutes later. What??  There was a line!

When I got back, I notice that my bike seat was back at the highest position. That was weird bc I knew I'd adjusted it. I look to the woman on the bike next to me and notice she has my seat. Typically this would just be weird and rude, but the problem is I'd chosen this particular bike bc the seat was the type I wanted. For whatever reason, many of the bike seats are tipped in one direction or another and they're uncomfortable. If I wanted to literally ride something, I have a husband!  Lol!!

Anyway, she notices that I'm staring at her seat with a confused look on my face and says, "oh...I didn't think anyone was sitting there."

What the fucking fuck???

Are you fucking kidding me???

So, I feel my face start to turn into major bitch mode as I gesture to my things. At this point, I can't see her face. All I can see is her bright fucking orange tank top and this stupid unusable bike seat. 

I start to look around for an acceptable seat, but through my rage at this rude, ignorant, biatch, I realize that there is no way I'm going to be able to cycle through a 60 minute class with her fat ass all comfy on my seat. 

That's right...I threw in a fat reference...I'm still pissed. 

So, I shoot her one more look, grab my shit and leave. 

I'm not quite sure what I'm more pissed at...the fact that no one said anything as she was doing this, the fact that she was indeed present while I was setting up my bike (I remembered this later), or the fact that she thought it was okay to do this in the first place. It's just so damn rude!!

So, lets pretend that she didn't see my shit and she's just that wrapped up in her own life that she missed a bright white towel, pink phone, and purple water bottle. I guess it happens (on mars). I'm going to pretend that I was the offender. As soon as the person returned from her potty break and was as surprised as I was, I would be off my bike changing things back!!!

And I wrong here??

Anyway, I left and seethed for a whole. I had a decent workout considering I don't have full function of my arms. I thought about waiting for her after class and confronting her, but what's the point?  She won't get it. She'll figure out some reason to prove that's she's right (in her own world...on mars). She just won't get it. 

I just wish I could have said more in the moment. I was just stunned by the lack of consideration that she showed...stunned into silence. That doesn't happen often. 

What would you guys have done?

Mother's Day wisdom...by me

A few things I've learned along the way:

1.  Laughter really is the best medicine. You can have a hurt kid, a sad kid, an angry kid and if you can get that kid to crack a smile, you're golden. 

2.  Sometimes it's better to just walk away. 

3.  I am never more needed than when someone skins their knees. Sometimes I'm feeling unwanted, so I consider shoving one of them down on the sidewalk, but that would just be mean, right?

4.  You can be a mom, a good one, and still look cute. Life doesn't have to be yoga pants and stained t-shirts. 

5.  Sleep is optional. 

6.  It's important to stay hydrated. I'm telling you, this is a big one. I've been so irritable and irrational due to dehydration. Sounds crazy, but so do most things in my life. 

7.  There are some days when I tell have to utter the phrase "get your hands out of your pants" as much to the girl as I do to the boy. 

8.  You can be your child's hero by mastering just one video game (says the winner of plants vs zombies and super Mario galaxy 2).

9.  It makes me cry when one of the Crazies is genuinely sad...and that's okay. Your children can see you cry. I'm going to be a basket case when one of them has their heart broken. I'll try to revert to lesson #1 at that point rather than hunting the heart breaker down and ripping their arms off only to beat then over the head with them. 

10.  I hate hate hate when my kids are mean to each other. I know it's part of being siblings, but it makes me cringe. 

11.  There is no better sound on this earth than hearing my children laugh. It's so pure and musical that I could listen to it for hours (except, of course, if they're making fun of me...in which case I shall invoke lesson #2).

12.  A good husband makes a world of difference...and I landed a whopper of a husband. It's amazing what we've been able to create and accomplish these last few years and it has truly brought us closer together. 

13.  It's okay if your kid wears the same shirt 3 days in a row. No one notices as much as you. 

14.  Accept compliments about your kids. I'm still struggling with this bc I'm so sensitive about them joining the rest of the "world of the entitled," but it's important for you AND your child to hear good things. Stop downplaying or joking. It's good to hear good.  Take it before your start getting phone calls from his/her teacher about things that aren't so good!!

15.  Show them pictures of when you were young. They need to know that you've been there too. 

16.  Wash your hands. Kids are gross. 

17.  Sometimes the latest parenting craze isn't for you...and that's okay. 

18.  Get on the ground with your kids.  It's amazing what you can learn from down there. Just make sure you can get back up!

19.  Let your children take risks...and maintain a calm exterior. Your heart may be violently pounding inside your chest as you watch them try something for the first time, but it's so important to let go at that moment. The look on their face as they succeed us totally worth it. 

20.  Try not to freak out. Remember when they were babies as you trained yourself not to freak out when they fell down...that their reaction would match your reaction?  The same holds true years later. If they fall out of a tree and you're screaming like a psycho, chances are they will too. If they get a bad grade and you go stomping around the kitchen blaming the teacher, chances are they will too. If a friend chooses to be mad at them for no reason at all and you get all huffy and puffy and indignant, chances are they will too...or they'll stop opening up to you at all. If you keep it calm and rational, you have a much higher chance of having a kid that will comes back to you with problems in the future. You can freak out, but make sure it only happens when it's truly necessary. 

So, that's what I've learned in just four short Mother's Days. Wonder how long this list will be when they're teenagers...yikes!!

Outside with the neighbor girls

So, when we moved on to our very quiet circle, we knew the neighbors had older children. Some were empty nesters, but others had upper elementary school ages kids. 

Lucky for us, there is a set of 9-year old twins right across the street.  

They are outside all the time and love playing with the Crazies. They find inchworms, play hide and seek, teach them how to use their scooters, and just generally entertain the Crazies just about every afternoon.

Here's my problem though...the Crazies are still only four years old. I don't feel comfortable letting them outside with no supervision. Now, I don't expect my neighbor to be out with her girls. They're older. I especially wouldn't expect her to be out with my kids!  I get that it's my responsibility. I have no problem with that. 

Here's my problem:  I can't get a fucking thing done while they're out playing with these girls...not.a.fucking.thing. 

I sit here like a lump of shit on my chair waiting for something to happen, someone to fall, someone to yell at. 

It's truly pathetic. 

I sit here in a slight depression knowing that if I were inside I'd be getting the dishes done, emptying hampers, and tidying up the place (aka sitting on the Facebook, Pinterest, or blogs thinking of how much I have to get done). 

Now THAT is truly pathetic!  

So, I think I'm going to have to start limiting things. I'll start setting timers. I'll make sure they're in my yard so I can at least hear what's going on.  Ugh...these boundaries can be so hard sometimes!!!

What boundaries are you guys struggling with these days?

Future POTUS??

While I was snuggling** with Matt this morning, he had a few things to say!

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

"I don't know, mama. The boss of everyone in the world."

"Oh...that sounds good.  Do you want to make things better or make them worse for the people of the world?"

(In the most evil voice I've ever heard) "I want to make them WORSE!!!"

So, I may have been snuggling with the future POTUS. Don't be jealous. 

After I released him to play Pokemon rumble (did I mention we've introduced the wii?), he stares at me and says "I hate veins...veins in your eyes. I think they look like blood cracks."

Well, good morning to you too, sunshine. 

**. I force him to do this before he gets tech time. I'm such a mean mommy who will take it when it comes. 

Guns, guns, guns

So, as the Crazies start having more drop-off play dates, something has been sticking in my brain. I have never asked one of those parents if they keep a gun in the house.

Until today.

I moved out of my comfort zone as the easy going parent and asked the parent if they keep guns in the house. It had nothing to do with this particular parent, but I heard a story last night that freaked me out.

I met a few friends out for dinner and drinks after tutoring. We were talking about the normal stuff and then I asked them if they ever ask about guns. I was just curious.

Then one of my friends starts telling us about her neighbor (and good friend) who had an intruder on her property the other day and ran up to get her gun just in case he was interested in more than what was in we car.

My friend was freaked because her daughter had visited this house frequently and she hadn't known they had guns!

I don't blame her! I would be freaked too!!

Anyway, from that moment I vowed to start asking. I am pro 2nd amendment. I don't have a problem if you have a gun in your house. What I need to know is whether or not I should have the gun talk with my child. I need to know if I should warn my child about what to doing another child brings a gun out. I need to know if I should remind her about 911 and what it's used for.

And I think I deserve that right.

So, what do you think?

If you have guns in the house, do you tell parents?? Do you ask if people have guns in their house?

P.S. I don't want to turn this into a gun debate. Some people have them. That's their right. I want to focus in how you handle it with your children.

P.P.S I wrote this on my phone and had no idea autocorrect was pro "fun."

To Judge or Be Judged

In general, I am too busy to judge people.

There are times that I have and that mostly revolves around how you treat your children and how you treat the children of others.

So, it happens...it's just not something I do all the time.

However, something happened to me this morning that I just can't shake.

I was walking out of preschool and a mother stopped me to invite Hailey for a playdate on Friday.  I said that could probably work b/c Matt was already invited somewhere and that she'd be thrilled.

Then this mother (who I really like, BTW) said, "well, just don't judge my house...it's not as big as everyone else's."

I started rambling on about how I never thought I'd be where I am and how I wouldn't judge her, but then I just stopped.

Why was I defending myself when I hadn't done anything?

I simply ended the conversation by saying, "I wouldn't judge at all...that would just be mean."

Everything I said replayed in my head on the drive home, during my shower, and while I got ready.

Do I seem like the kind of person who would judge someone by the size of their house?

Do I come off as someone that would have to be warned ahead of time NOT to judge?

Do I really need to be so concerned about her saying this given that it might not have anything to do with me and more about her own insecurities?

Damn...this is really eating at me!

That's why I'm writing a million miles a minute.

I seriously don't have time to judge.  I can think of two times during the entire preschool experience of playdates and field trips and all that other shit that I have judged a parent.

One whose child repeatedly cut her hair off and the parent would say "I just don't know how she keeps getting the scissors!"

Ummm...put the fucking scissors away.

One whose house was so dirty that it made me cringe b/c she ran a day care out of it.

That just shouldn't happen.

They happen to be the same person.

Here's the thing though...sometimes I think I have the right to judge.

I am allowed to judge you if your house is unsafe and you invite my child over.

I am allowed to judge you if your child hurts another child and you do nothing.

I am allowed to judge you if you make unsettling decisions for your own child and then want mine included too.

There are times when I am allowed to judge because that is part of my job as a parent.

I am supposed to pass judgement on others in order to figure out what is best and safest for my children.

That.is.my.job.

So, I will judge and I may be judged, but let me say this first...I never thought I'd be in the position I am.  I have a great career that I can return to after maternity leave.  I have a wonderful husband who works his ass off to provide for us.  I have a side job of tutoring that allows us to keep our head above water financially.  I have a great education for which I worked my ass off.  I have wonderful friends and make an effort to keep them in my life.  I have two beautiful, funny, smart children that I almost didn't have (thanks Science!).  I have a great house that we prayed for, worked hard for, and are thankful for every single day.

My life has turned out exactly the opposite of what I thought it would because I have worked my ass off every single day and consider myself lucky as well b/c there were several times when everything could have been washed away by one bad decision.

And there were MANY bad decisions.

Bottom line...I will judge you if I feel like it's in the interest of my children.  I will not judge you based on material things...I don't have time for that.  However, I do not think I should be judged because I am in a different place in my life and because you think that I will look down on you in some way that is bothering you in the back of your mind.  Before thinking that I'm going to judge you, think about if you're already judging me.

Ahhhhhh...I got it out.  I feel so much better.  Thank you blog...you've saved me from another uncomfortable confrontation.

10 things on a Tuesday

1. I'd be typing this on my computer, but hailey woke up and demanded math games. Who am I to deny her such pleasure?
2. Trying new things is intimidating, especially if they're physical, but it's a lot more fun with a friend.
3. Kickboxing (or it's also known as combat) is hard shit. I'm still glad I tried it.
4. The Crazies got moved up to level 3 in swim (did I even mention that we've been in swim lessons for three months since I'm petrified of having a pool in our backyard this summer?). They're very excited about their accomplishments of floating, bobbing, holding their breath, and kicking. I knew Matt's huge quad muscles would come in handy!
5. I have never spent as much time outside as I have this spring. Between sports practices, playing outside, working on our garden, and practicing for the sports practices, this is getting ridiculous!!
6. This summer is quickly filling up and looks really great. It'll be so nice to NOT have to sell a house or move!!
7. I got new jammies and I love them.
8. We had our first non-family visitors this weekend and it was so nice. Having enough space and the kids getting along was awesome. What a fun weekend!
9. We started to teach the Crazies how to use the wii. Now I'm addicted to super Mario galaxy 2. Yes, I'm a loser.
10. We had the bedrooms in the house painted a few weeks ago and I adore the colors. It's so nice to start to make it our own space. My favorite room so far is hailey's with a nice French gray on the walls contrasting with her pink bedspread and curtains. Once we get stuff up on the walls, I will take pictures.

What's happening on your Tuesday??

Worrying...

Waving good-bye this morning...Husband was late b/c we have a couple of sick Crazies here.

Do you believe that worrying is something that is genetic?

I never gave it much thought until I was married for a few years and I noticed that Husband was often preoccupied with something...some sort of worrying.

We discussed it and he admitted that he worried frequently about things in his life, in the world, in his job, and even things over which he had little/no control.

One day, I brought it up to MIL.  She mentioned that she did notice that about Husband, but that she was also this way.  Then she apologized.

No apologies needed.  I think that some people are just bound to worry about things and some people aren't.

Then I had kids and couldn't have a normal thought or complete conversation and I kind of let it go.  I didn't really think about it until lately.

Matt has started waking up really early in the morning to say good-bye to Husband before he leaves for work.  This would be cute, but he's not going back to sleep and he's irritable for the entire day.

We questioned him on this and he said that he's worried about us when we leave the house.  We reassured him that everything was okay and that he'd be taken care of.  Husband gives Matt his running ID bracelet for him to hold...and hold it he does...right until he falls asleep. 

Even so, he's popping out of his room at 5:15 AM clutching the running bracelet asking if Dad has left for work yet.  He pees.  He comes out again to make sure he hasn't left yet.  He lays down for a little bit.  When Husband goes into to say good-bye, he asks if he can watch him leave.  He watches from the guest room window, Husband blinks the lights to say "good-bye," and he goes back into his room.  

These days are torture for me and Hailey.  He's essentially getting up 2 HOURS before his typical wake-up time and he's nasty and mean.  We're left walking around on eggshells not knowing what is going to set him off next.

I'm starting to wonder if he has the worry gene.

Is there even such a thing as the worry gene?  Or is it a learned behavior?

When it first began, I thought that maybe it was just a Daddy thing, but lately when I leave for tutoring, I get a flurry of questions as well.

How many hours will you be gone?
How many students do you have tonight?
What time will you be home?
Will you come in and say good-night?
Will you beep twice?  (that's our way of showing love in casa de Crazies...beeping your horn and alerting the entire neighborhood that we love each other)

The babysitter hasn't said that it's been an issue when I leave.  There are no tears.  I get no phone calls or texts, so I don't think it's a problem after I leave.

Maybe he's just starting to understand the world.  Maybe he's just trying to figure out where we go and what we do when we leave.  Maybe he just misses us.  Maybe he knows that with me going back to work next year, things are going to change big time.  Maybe he's just going through a phase.  Who knows?

So, back to the worry gene...I think he may have it.  I notice that he really internalizes things.  He doesn't talk a lot about things that happen at school.  When he's upset, he doesn't let it out, but I can tell he's thinking...all the time.  He never stops thinking...just like his Dad.

Do you guys have a worrier in the family?  Do you think it's genetic?  Or am I just losing it?

New Post Private Peeps

Here is the link.

Mommmmmyyyy...it was bound to happen

I love when the Crazies call me Mommy.  It's one of the sweetest sounds I've ever heard.

It can also be one of the most morose when it's heard at 11:06 pm after your sweet daughter has just puked her guts up all over her room.

I have to admit, we haven't had a stomach sick like this in over a year.  We've been very lucky.

It was bound to happen.

Husband and I shoot out of bed.  We were barely asleep, so that made it more surreal.  You know the part of sleep where you just started to really nod off after a long day of being outside and you're jolted out of that loveliness into pukeworld...you know that, right?

Anyway, we trudge down the hallway to see Hailey in her doorway look as pathetic as ever.  She said, "I just frew up."  I felt so bad for her.  Husband tackled her and changing her clothes and I got started on the room.

It didn't dawn on me that it had actually happened in this room...that I was actually crossing the threshold of the crime scene.

It also didn't dawn on me to turn on the light.

Or tread lightly.

Or get my glasses (blind as a bat).

What did occur to me was that maybe she didn't really throw up.  Maybe she made a mistake.  Maybe this was all just a terrible misunderstanding.

So, I crossed the room (hmmm...what did I just step on?), threw back the covers, and slammed my hand right into her bed into a large pile of puke.

Motherfucker.

You have GOT to be kidding me!

She really puked...god damn it!

Okay, what should I do?  

This is fucking gross?  

There's gotta be a youtube video on situations like this.

Turn on the light, genius.

Get all this shit off the bed.  Who the fuck needs 48 stuffed animals and 25 books in bed with them?  This shit is ridiculous.  We will be discussing this tomorrow, so help me God!

Oh my God...the smell is horrific.  What did she fucking EAT???  Pizza...it's Papa Joh.n's pizza.  It smells just like it.  That's sort of amazing...and totally disgusting.

Okay, got all the shit off the bed.  Time to get the sheets off.  Holy shit...it was on the comforter that I carelessly threw back all over those goddamn stuffed animals.  Now it's everywhere.  I'm so fucking stupid!!!

Why wasn't I more careful?  (sob, sob, gasp for clean air)

What did I just step in??? (probably the fourth time I asked this question of myself)

HOLY SHIT!  She didn't just puke in bed!  She puked over here too?  WTF???

And I've stepped in it at least 7 times...awesome.

Carry the comforter, sheets, and mattress pad downstairs to start the laundry.

Husband asks if I want to bring her pajamas down too.  I seriously stared at him for a good 30 seconds b/c I was already halfway down the stairs.  I had everything strategically wrapped up so I wouldn't have to touch puke.  He gestures that he's going to drop the pajamas over the rail on to my pile of puke laden linens.

As he released those pajamas, I quickly surmised that if he missed or if they hit me in the face, he'd be sleeping on the couch for the remainder of the week.

It's amazing how I could make that decision so quickly, but couldn't pull myself back from the fact that she hadn't really puked.

Anyway, he made the throw with his amazing athletic prowess and I started the laundry.

Wash hands, wash hands, wash hands.

Gotta clean the carpet.  How exactly does one get pizza puke out of a carpet?

The answer is, it's fucking impossible.  Just rip the carpet up and start from the subfloor!

All I could see was chunks of pizza crust, tomato, and grilled chicken (that's right...Husband even puts grilled chicken on his pizza) in front of me.  One second it would smell appetizing (as pizza often does) and the next minute I'd be wretching at the fact that I just thought about eating Hailey's puke for one second in this totally disturbing scene!

Dis-GUST-ing!!!

Holy shit...Matt's still sleeping.  That's a miracle.

Please keep sleeping.  Please keep sleeping.  Please keep sleeping.

Husband hands me new sheets as I'm spraying carpet cleaner over the affected area.  I don't think we have enough, but I'm going to keep spraying...like a total lunatic.

We get the new sheets on the bed when I realize that I hadn't checked the pillows that I'd so carelessly thrown aside when changing the bed.  There was puke on one of them too...shit.

As I'm finding blankets for her bed, Husband is wiping down the dresser and laying a towel over the carpet area that is now soaking wet b/c of my relentless spraying.  I just had to make it smell better.  

Regenerated pizza is not a smell that I take well.

I take more gross shit downstairs and Dog starts nudging around for some food.

Get the fuck out of here, Dog!  It's not your time!  Don't you know what we're going through upstairs?

Of course you don't...you eat your own puke and love to nibble on rabbit shit.

What was I thinking?

Laundry is going, hands are washed, I need blankets.

I find them on the couch and head back upstairs to tuck her in.

Who the fuck put all of these stuffed animals on the bed again???  WTF???

Oh, whatever...I just want to go back to sleep.

What do you mean there's puke on the fucking $110 Ameri.can Girl doll...are you fucking kidding me!!??!!

Why am I so bloated?  I feel like I'm pregnant again!  Does this happen to anyone else?  Seriously, 15 minutes after I fall asleep, if I'm woken up, I am the most bloated person on earth!

Okay, where the hell is Hailey?

In our bed???  Well, that's fucking gross.

Okay, yes, I'll grab your puke bowl...come here.

Take her temperature.  She has one.  Husband wants to hold off on meds b/c her tummy is upset.  

He could have talked me into anything at this point...I was blind tired.

Fine...she looks so sad and sick and pathetic.  I love this girl.

She tells me that she's still cold.  We find another blanket.

We tuck her in tight and convey our feelings of love for her (when 10 minutes earlier, she had a slight resemblance to the Exorcist).

We hurdle the huge towel the puke and carpet cleaner part of the floor and return to bed.

Neither of us utters a word.  We fall into a fitful slumber.

Matt wakes from a dream a some point.  I've blocked this out, but I know I got out of bed and went into his room.  I also know that I prayed really hard that he wouldn't puke tonight too.

There are times when we hear her get up.  There are times when it's real and times when we're just hallucinating.  Around 4:20, she gets up to puke in the toilet (holla...she's getting good at this shit).  Husband takes her temp again and wants to give her medicine.

Fine...do you need me?  No...okay.

He can't find the medicine.  I hear him go downstairs.  I hear him in the linen closet.  I get out of bed.  I find three containers of acetaminophen in 12 seconds.  He didn't want to give it to her b/c of the dye.  I can't even question him on that...if she needs medicine and this is all she has, this is what she gets.  

I know he wasn't thinking rationally at this point either.

We give her the medicine and lay her back down.

We stumble to bed again (hurdling the huge towel on the floor again b/c we're as spry as Olympic level athletes...we're getting good at this shit) and fall into fitful sleeps.

Husband gets up at 5:00 for work...like a boss.  I could never have made that wake-up call.

I sleep through except to say good-bye.

Both Crazies show up in my room at 6:54 complaining of hurting tummies.  Matt's is moving from his tummy to his back (?) and Hailey's is just pukey.  

After dry heaving on my nice white sheets, I shuffle her to the bathroom to try to puke.  She can't.  Matt's still complaining.  They both want to be set up on the couch.  I handle that, move the laundry around, and come back to a writhing Matt and a sound asleep Hailey.

Matt's messing around...I can tell.  Maybe he pulled a muscle or something.  Whatever.  He doesn't have a fever, so he'll live.

I make coffee and come back to the living room to find Hailey awake and asking if we're still going to Panera for breakfast...as if!

The good news is that this is our first stomach thing in over a year (for the Crazies at least) and we will survive.  It was bound to happen, but I seriously hate puke...and the fact that I never fail to stick me hand right in a huge puddle of it.

Softball...she loves it!

So, Hailey had her first softball practice last weekend and she's in love!  She loves the uniform, the dirt, the helmets, and just being out there with her friends.

They started with some Opening Day Ceremonies which were really cute.  It's amazing to see how many volunteers (including myself...holla, Team Mom!) make all of this possible for these girls.  We then went to our field and the coach started running some drills.  They learned how to catch the ball in their glove and use their alligator hand to secure it.  They learned how to stand at the plate and swing the bat.  They also learned how to throw the ball.

After a loooooong time of that, they scrimmaged against another team.  It was very cute.  They let each girl have three pitches and if she didn't hit it, they brought out the tee and they hit the ball from there.  

Hailey was hysterical!  She wiffed on the first three pitches (as most of the girls did) and they got the tee for her.  She hit it off of there and started running right for the pitcher rather than first base...she was off flying across the dirt and really had to be rerouted to make sure she was running toward the base rather than storming the opposing team!  It was great!

Matt was a good, patient, and supportive brother.  He ate snacks, played with some of the younger brothers, walked around complaining about how bored and hungry he was, and then helped Dad with a special coaching position.

It was a great day and I think it will be an amazing season for these girls!

All ready to go to her first softball practice!

Waiting for her turn to be up at bat!

Photo montage...Husband was asked to assistant coach and he let Matt be the 3rd base coach with him.  Teamwork all the way!

Days Like These

It's our no-rush morning.  We don't have anywhere to be until 10:15.

So, as the Crazies lay in my bed fighting over the iPad and I take Dog out in my too short pajama pants, I realize it's days like these.

It's the days right after a horrific tragedy where I don't talk a lot...at least not about what has occurred.  I just can't find the words.

I can talk about regular stuff like my kids and tutoring and the weather, but I can't talk about what happened.

None of my words seem significant enough.

I was texting Sister yesterday afternoon and used words like "terrible" and "so sad."  Those words do not do this justice.

I can't find the words that do.

A big problem right now is that I don't understand.  I don't understand enough to really speak on this.  I don't understand who is responsible.  I don't understand how someone could do this.  I don't understand why someone did this.

I just don't understand enough to talk.

There isn't enough information.

Here is what I do understand...an 8-year old was killed.

Those words do not belong in the same sentence.

He was killed waiting for his father to cross the finish line at an even for which he has spent long hours training.  He was killed in a moment of breathless anticipation when he thinks that he has seen Dad's shirt for just a moment...and then realized it wasn't him...not yet.  He was killed cheering for people he didn't even know just because they finished.  He was killed with so many dreams inside of him...dreams that will never come to fruition.

Do you know how many dreams an 8-year old has?

I'm starting to get a clue.  After all, the Crazies are not even five, but this morning, when I asked Matt about his dreams, he told me he would get married when he's 40, have 8 kids, and live in DC Washington.  He then explained that he knows it's Washington DC, but he just likes to say it the other way around sometimes.

Nothing wrong with that, kid.

So, it's days like these that I will get myself ready, drop Hailey at dance class, go to the supermarket, and prepare for tutoring.  It's days like these that I will clean my house, organize cabinets, and busy my hands at much as possible so my brain won't go on overload.  It's days like these that I will do more listening than talking.  It's days like these where I can't find words that are appropriate enough to express my mourning for the loss of the dreams of an 8-year old.  It's days like these that that TV will remain off.

People train for these events.  They train for years.  They have to qualify to even run in this one.  They have spent hours and hours thinking, planning, and running just to cross that finish line.  They're not alone though...for every runner in this event, there were people at home supporting them, encouraging them, and cheering them on.  

I dread to think of how this will change our other seemingly innocent events.  One of the greatest parts of our country is the freedom you have to step out of your door one day and go watch a marathon (if that's what you're into) without having to purchase a ticket, go through a security check, and pass a background analysis.  

Things will change...for good or bad...they will change.

It's days like these that I am thankful for something not happening at Husband's race a few weeks ago.  We were at the finish line.  We were focusing on the runners.  We were not scouring the area for discarded backpacks that could contain IEDs...but we will in the future.

It's days like these that I watch footage or look at pictures of the people who run toward blasts rather than away from them...which would I be?  I hope I never have to find out.  Those people are beyond amazing and I hope that they were able to sleep last night after what they witnessed.

It's days like these that I will see Husband for a few minutes at 9:00 PM before he goes to sleep.  It's days like these that I will relish the quietness of my house at night.  It's days like these that I will embrace the fullness of these walls.  It's days like these that I will pray for the family of that 8-year old and weep for the emptiness that their walls feel.

It's days like these that you know it could have been much worse.  It's days like these that you know that people were lucky.  It's days like these that you become suspicious of everyone.  It's days like these that you desperately seek the good over the bad.

It's out there...the good.  It's overwhelming and it's strong.  

There is bad.  They make their marks.  They wreak their havoc.  

They don't deserve many of my words...not on days like these.

Thank God for writing...where I can say things that I cannot say to the Crazies (my main source of conversation today).  Thank God I can get it out so that I will not be distracted by it all day while trying to care for them.  Thank God I have an outlet for my thoughts and my feelings and my sadness.  If you've read, thank YOU.  

My words are not enough.