Long Party of Five

The Days After Christmas

2012-01-24T15:49:00.001-05:00

I've been so busy trying to keep up with our Project 365 blog that I've started to neglect this one - which isn't the intent. Yikes! I still have catching up to do in for the days following Christmas! So again, with a lot of photos and a few words...

Deonne had a meeting in Myrtle Beach on December 27. What better reason to head down to the beach for a night? We found an insanely good deal on an oceanfront condo with an indoor pool... and I'd wager a guess that our one night at the hotel was the highlight of our children's Christmas break.

They swam a lot...

... floated in the lazy river a lot...

... got to see a drive-thru light display (that was nowhere near as cool as Saluda Shoals, for the record)...

... got to witness a winter storm over the beach ...

... that cleared up in time to ride the giant Myrtle Beach ferris wheel, the SkyWheel ...

(like the sweater Ashley? it's been stuck to james like glue since he received it...)

... take a winter walk on the beach to see the surf...
'

... twirl and dance in the wind...

... look at and poke at strange things on the beach (that was later discovered to be bird poop)...

... chase seagulls...

... and take a walk on the recently refurbished Myrtle Beach Boardwalk.

Deonne had a hand in this - designing the structure of the boardwalk - so it was pretty neat for him to show and explain the boardwalk to the kids.

(Anna thought it was neat - James could have cared less...)

All in all - a fun 24 hours at the beach. A nice break from routine, a refreshing place to gather our thoughts, feel the ocean breezes, and prepare for the new year to come.

The Story

2012-01-13T13:17:00.003-05:00

I've not spoken or written much about what happened to our family nearly five years ago. I'm not sure if it is because I wasn't ready to disclose the events, feelings, and drama of this life altering event, if it would somehow make it truly 'real' to have it out here for all the world to see, or if in some way I was protecting someone by not actually writing it.

And truth be told, I'm not entirely sure I'm ready to write about it now. And I wonder if I'll be brave enough to hit 'publish' when I'm finished - or if I'll hide it away with the other 'draft' posts I've started throughout the years but never finished.

So why now? I'm not really sure. While I want this blog to be a chronicle of the fun, silly, and asinine things my children do, I also want it to be a snippet of our life. Our real life. The one that isn't always daffodils and lollipops. The one where I often turn into psycho-mommy as I try to grapple with thoughts and emotions that are, at times, just too much to handle.

Perhaps, if I'm brave enough to share this story, my children will one day read it and have some sort of understanding why their mother was as crazy as am, and why the crazy always seems to surface during holidays or special days, like birthdays or Mother's Day, or in this case, Christmas Eve.

With that being said, if you don't want to know the gory details, if you don't want to read the un-fun things about my family, stop reading now. Come back another day when there are fun pictures and stories documenting life in the Long house with three young children.

Don't say I didn't warn you ... a lot of this just ain't pretty...

So.

Let's begin.

To understand the magnitude of the impact of these events, you first need to understand the relationship my mother and I have - or, as the case seems to be, had. We were close. Abnormally close. Lorelai and Rory Gilmore close. I suspect that has a lot to do with the two of us being on our own after she left my dad (when I was 13 years old.) We were so much more than mother and daughter - she was my best friend, my confidant, my mentor, and (not to be cheesy) my "everything" rolled into a 5'2 1/2" package. We did everything together. Everything. I told her everything. Everything. There were no secrets between us. She had the ability to tell me when I needed to pull my head out of my ass and when I needed comfort. She was right by my side for all of the 'important' events, like school graduations, my wedding day, the birth of my daughter, and held me in her arms after the death of my father, allowing me to weep like a child. But more importantly, she was there for all of the 'unimportant' events, like the inevitable ups and downs of girl friendships, what color paint would be best for the kitchen, and what menu to plan for Christmas dinner. We were the kind of mother and daughter that talked daily, multiple times a day even, just to hear each other's voices. We were truly the best of friends.

When Anna was born, the first thing that came to my mind was how happy I was she was healthy, followed closely by some strange relief that I had a girl, and we would one day grow to be thick as thieves, just like my mother and I. In those few moments after her birth, I had a flash-forward of her entire life, a near duplicate of mine in my relationship with my mother.

In February 2007, mom flew to be with us for my scheduled induction date when we would welcome James into our family. She was there to care for Anna in those few hospital-bound days, and to help tend to me as I learned how to be a mother of two. I don't remember the exact date she left, but James was about two weeks old the last time I saw her - with all of her vices.

Four weeks later she suffered a major brain injury. The specifics of how it happened aren't important. What is important is that we figured out just how serious the problem was the Saturday night before Easter of that year. Sunday afternoon found Deonne and I, kids in tow, driving to Atlanta to catch an early morning flight to Seattle on Monday morning. (And for the record, the drama on TV where people go to the ticket counter and get on planes that very day is a load of garbage. The earliest flight we could take from anywhere near home to Seattle was 4 hours away, the next day.)

Anyway, after a long and complicated journey, we arrived in Seattle late Monday afternoon. We immediately went to the hospital where mom was in ICU, hooked up to a gazillion machines, and clearly doped up by the medications they were giving her to relieve the immense pain she was in. We barely had time to see her before I was pulled out of the room to go nurse James. And after that, we had just a few minutes more before we had to leave to go to my stepsister's house to get the children settled.

First 'if I had only known' moment ... if I'd have only known it was the last night I'd have with my mother as I knew her, a thousand armed soldiers couldn't have pulled me out of her room.

But we didn't know.

The next morning we went to the hospital before her 6 am surgery was scheduled to begin. We walked with her from her ICU room to the surgical floor. We hugged her and kissed her goodbye, and I remember telling her 'I'll be right here when you wake up.'

15 hours later, her surgery was complete.

When her surgeon came out, he looked fatigued. Beaten. Weary.

He gave us the best news he could - that it looked like it all went well. Informed us that she was in recovery and that we couldn't see her. So we left. We went home to my stepsister's house, trusting her in the care of the hospital staff.

The next morning, we headed back to the hospital. I dropped Deonne and the kids off in the ICU waiting room, and went back to my mother's room. Nothing could prepare me for what I saw.

(Here comes the horrible gory part.)

She had been given about 26 Liters of fluid during her surgery. That equals about 26 pounds of fluid. She was swollen beyond recognition. I remember thinking - where did her neck go? She was laying with her head to the side - with the side of her head where they had completed surgery exposed. Her jet black hair had been shaved off that complete side of her head. There were no bandages - just a thick red scar with thick black sutures, that circumnavigated her skull from temple to base of her neck. (I later found out that portions of her skull were missing - kept in a 'bone bank' - because her brain had swollen beyond the cranial cavity.)

She looked nothing like my mother.

I gasped. I remember feeling the tears immediately well up - thinking 'there is no way she can survive this.' Her nurse that shift was an angel. She came over and gave me a quick hug, then very matter-of-factly went about explaining all that was going on - what all of the beeps and alarms, machines and tubes were for.

She was intubated, of course, and I remember focusing on the breathing machine in an effort not to throw up. I watched that little accordion thing go up and down, up and down, over and over, and counted constantly to calm my nerves.

It was all surreal - like a bad dream. Like a nightmare really. My mother, my best friend, my light was lying on a bed, swollen beyond recognition, looking like a creature out of a bad horror film.

I didn't know what to say, what to feel, what to think. The days that followed were a complete blur - living out of the ICU waiting room, nursing James when I was called back to see him, allowing different people to care for my children - family I hadn't seen in years as well as complete strangers who were somehow companions as they also waited in that room to see if their loved ones lived or died.

Days stretched into weeks - and eventually Deonne said we needed to go home. He had a job. I had a job. Our life, our home, our commitments and mortgage were all in Columbia. It mattered that my mother was comatose - but we couldn't put our lives on hold - especially not knowing what the outcome would be.

I still don't know how I left. How I was able to walk out of that hospital room. I remember holding her hand up to my cheek, feeling the dead weight, telling her how much I loved her, and that I would be there as soon as she woke up.

I think it was some sort of auto-pilot moment.

So we returned home, and the next few weeks and months were a blur. Every time the phone rang my heart skipped a beat - was it someone calling to tell me she had opened her eyes? If so, how could I not be there for that defining moment? Was it someone calling to tell me she had died? If so, how could I have missed that moment?

There were several trips out that summer - ones I took by myself, one I took with just Anna, one with the whole family. Eventually mom started coming out of her coma. It began with staring at the ceiling, blank stares with little to no recognition. Slowly she started to recognize, months later, with simple blinking of her eyes to communicate.

It was amazing.

And, over time, she recovered to the point she could go home. She had oodles of therapy, occupational, speech, physical - you name it - to get to the point that she is today. It truly is an amazing thing. In all honesty, she is still a shadow of who she once was. She is confined to a wheelchair, and has difficulty speaking. I want to believe she remembers me, my children, and our life together, but in all honesty, I'm not entirely sure.

So that's the first part of the story - the tragic events that brought us to the second part. And I'm not sure how to even tell the second part.

Over the last five years, she has been cared for 100% by my stepfather. He has been amazing with her, and I honestly feel that if it weren't for him, she wouldn't have come as far as she has. She might very well still be bedridden, in that horrible convalescence home where people wait to die. His love for her is beyond words. He is her biggest advocate. The love of her life.

I appreciate that. I appreciate him. And I love him for all that he has done, all that he continues to do for my mother.

But here's the ugly truth. Somehow, in all of this mess, I've become the target for the anger and frustrations surrounding what happened. And I truly believe that. (For the record, it took a lot of therapy to understand this.) I'm not there. It looks like I'm the absent daughter. In his words, I don't visit enough, I don't do enough, I don't call enough. And as time has gone on - that has turned into complete hatred for me, for my spouse, and my children.

Somehow, my inability to visit on a regular basis, my inability to call on a regular basis, my inability to do anything on a regular basis has turned into his conclusion that I just don't love my mother. And if you listen to him long enough, he'll convince you that I never did.

Which is completely insane.

He doesn't understand what life is like for me - working full time, raising three very young children, trying to support my spouse, trying to keep my head above water. Yes, he had three children of his own - but with different mothers, and to my knowledge, never had all three children under one roof at one time. And, he was the 'dad,' which any mother will tell you is extremely different in the parenting world than the 'mom.'

It has turned into a choice - he has turned this horrible and tragic situation into a choice between my mother and my children. How in the world can I make such a choice?

I know one thing for certain, if my mother had all her vices, if she was truly the mother I remember, she would tell me to focus on my children. That nothing is more important than them, except my marriage. I know that - because it is what she taught me. And I know that because it is what I would tell my own children. I find comfort in knowing that I am doing what my mother instructed me to do.

But it doesn't lessen the hurt of being isolated and excluded from my family. His children and my aunts and uncles gather routinely for weekend get-togethers, holidays, birthdays. I'm not a part of that. It's unbearably hard to see pictures of your mother celebrating with her family on facebook, and know you are not only not a part of it - but didn't even know it was happening.

In his ire, my stepfather has turned over power of attorney for his and my mother's affairs to his children, completely ignoring my brother and I - which gives me pause. Should something happen to him, his children will make decisions for my mother. Sure, I'm not physically there, but I am still her daughter. It seems either my elder brother or I should have some say in her care. But we've been left out of it - and have been since day one - since the day I set foot on the airplane that took me back home and away from my mother's bedside, if you want to know the truth.

And let's not forget the glaring fact that is out there that no one seems to want to address. This happened to me as well. So far, I've tried to take the proverbial 'high' road. I've clamped my mouth and bit my tongue when I probably shouldn't have. I've tried hard to sympathize and empathize with family members who have been hurt and distraught over this tragic event, being criticized for not providing enough support to them, all the while facing days when it took everything I had just to go about the daily motions and breathe.

So somehow, in all of this, the fact that this happened to me has been forgotten. Outside of her spouse, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was my mother's closest friend. So this didn't happen to just my step dad, it didn't happen to just her brother or sister, or step-children or step-grandchildren. It happened to me. I've been hurt by all of this. And it is amazing to me that no-one in my family has paused long enough to say, I wonder how Kristen is doing with all of this? No, it has become much easier to point fingers, to whisper, to ignore, to suppose and assume than it is to say 'hmmm, I wonder why it is that Kristen hasn't called lately.' And so it seems, that in addition to losing my mother that dreadful Tuesday morning, I also lost my family.

I want more than anything to talk to my mom - but simply can't. Her physical state restricts me from doing that. Her inability to speak well prevents it. So when we do try to call, we need help - translating, for lack of a better word - what she's saying. It's much easier to understand her when you can be there face to face and read lips. It's impossible to understand her over the phone. Once upon a time my stepfather helped - he would repeat what she said so that we could respond and converse through him. Not anymore. Now he sits there, muttering to himself in the background, and not helping in any way. Nor does he respond to Deonne or I or the kids.

And that is what really hurts - his treatment of our children. The last time we tried to talk - Anna tried diligently to talk to her 'Papa.' He completely ignored her. Ignored a 6 year old child who just wanted to share about her school day. After we finished the call, she looked up to me with tears in her eyes, not understanding why her 'Papa,' the only grandfather she knows on my side of the family, wouldn't speak with her.

How do I answer that?

After that call, I vowed never to let my stepfather hurt my child again. So the calls lessened and lessened and eventually stopped.  And although I was repeatedly berated by family who told me over and over how much of a disappointment I was because I didn't call my mother - I never explained why. I tried my best to be the bigger person, to not point the fingers back at my stepfather, to just take it, and hope and pray it would eventually get better. Clearly that was a mistake.

Time went on. Pictures showed up on facebook - that are a double edged sword - good to see my mother enjoying herself, painful to see her enjoying holidays in the absence of her daughter and biological grandchildren.

And then. Christmas Eve of this year.

I'll admit it - I was in 'psycho-mommy' mode. So sad and hurt and angry at the situation, wanting desperately to talk to my mother, knowing that I couldn't. So Deonne, bless his heart, called my stepfather - to tell him that the kids and I wanted to call and talk to them later that night.

The conversation started off bad, when he answered "Deonne? I don't know any Deonne." And then went downhill as he proceeded to berate my husband, telling him how awful he and I are, that we treat my mother terribly, and then the best part, that as far as he is concerned, he doesn't exist as a 'Papa' to my children.

Tears still come to my eyes just typing that.

I don't understand - I can't get my mind around the notion that anyone can be so cruel to children as to tell them that they no longer have a grandfather. I don't understand his ire with Deonne or I either, but at least I can handle that. I can pull my 'big girl' panties up, suck it up, and deal with it.  But my children?  No. Game over.

I finally had to explain to Anna why I was so sad - because it all came out en route to Deonne's brother's house on Christmas Eve for dinner - and I was so distraught, so hysterically crying, that I couldn't go into their house and put on a fake face and make merry. So while my husband and children enjoyed a family dinner, I drove around in circles for two hours - and I wonder how in the world I didn't die in a fiery car crash with my incessant sobbing.

But Anna is now old enough to see when mommy is clearly upset - so that night, after we tucked them into bed, after they had put out their cookies for Santa and we had read our Christmas stories - I sat on her bed and tried my best to explain the situation.

She was tearful herself, wanting to know why Papa was so angry with her that he wouldn't speak to her. Wanting to know if Nonna even remembered her. Wanting to know if either of them loved her anymore.

Those are some pretty heavy questions to answer for a 7-year old, especially on Christmas Eve. But Deonne and I did our best, assured her that Nonna loved her very much, and that deep down Papa does as well - even though he may not act like it. I think it helped put her mind at ease - I hope it did - and that she had sugarplum filled dreams that night, unlike her mother who was still wracked with sorrow.

I still haven't spoken to my mother.

This is the first Christmas since my birth that there wasn't even an attempt to communicate on the most holy night of the year. And it was horrible. Horrible beyond words.

I'm not sure where to go with this now - what to do with this now - or how to fix the problem. One thing is for certain, it can't happen over the phone. As such, Deonne and I are trying to figure out how and when we can take a trip to Seattle - to knock on the door - and hopefully be granted entrance to see my mother.

It's been a hell of a ride - nearly five years of pure hell, that is.   Missing my mommy, needing her, wanting her. Wanting to hear her voice, to take in her counsel, to hold her hand. Needing to be a part of a family that seems to want little to nothing to do with me anymore.

I have to believe, to have faith, that one day it will get better. That there will be some Divine Intervention that can help my step dad see past his anger (anger that I still don't understand.) I firmly believe I've done nothing wrong. While I wish I could be closer to help care for my mom, to help around the house, heck to just visit, I've not done terrible things. And you know, if I could ask what exactly it is that I've done that is so wretched, I wonder if there will be a specific reply.

I suppose I am guilty - guilty of loving my children, of loving my spouse, of putting them before all others, and doing the best I can to raise them in the way I was raised. And if that makes me a horrible and wretched person - I guess I am.

Project 365

2012-01-11T12:08:00.002-05:00

Kathy, one of my favorite people and fellow bloggers, started a new blog last year - titled 'A Little Bit of Life' that is based on the Project 365 idea. Basically, she took one photo a day, for each day, added a short note, and chronicled her family's day-to-day life.

I love that idea. I grappled with starting something similar last year - but by the time I got around to it - it was the end of January - and going back and starting the project was daunting and overwhelming.

I'm a bit more on the ball this year.

Sort of.

I've started our own Project 365.

So far, so good. Unless you count the first few days of January when I forgot to take photos. (oops.) Great start, right?

But I'm doing better now - and loving it.

So far.

I invite you to follow along as we go about our daily life - you can click on the sidebar of this blog to take you to our Long Party of Five Photo A Day blog.

Christmas Re-cap

2012-01-11T12:02:00.000-05:00

A friend of mine posted on her blog recently that it is a challenge/struggle to keep up with blogging over Christmas. Ditto that. I tried diligently to keep up with the goings-ons of the Party kids - but as the actual holiday approached, time became scarce, activities and obligations grew, and the blog was neglected. So here is our Christmas - in pictures and a few words...

Anna covered in chocolate - her babysitter/friends who kept her the week before Christmas had loads of fun making chocolate dipped pretzels!

Christmas Eve - just home from church service and dinner at Uncle Darron and Aunt Carla's

Time to open one gift - Christmas PJs!

Preparing for Santa - Jack loved the musical milk mug

Selecting which cookies Santa might like.

Not pictured - mommy filling up Santa's mug with wine. So we were out of egg-nog - and we convinced the kids that Santa might be tired of milk - so a glass of Merlot might be a good idea.

What, what's wrong with that?!?

Saying goodbye to Happy - he's perched on the tree right above their heads.

One of our new snow globes this year - Santa praying over Baby Jesus.

Reading the Night Before Christmas - from the pop-up edition of my childhood -

the book my mom used to read to my brother and I every Christmas Eve.

One last photo before heading up to bed!

And then Santa came! Anna loved her Barbie Princess Charm School items.

While James relished his 'po-po' stick. I'm still not sure about this gift - Santa didn't send

an extra insurance policy along with it...

And Jack adored his new stick horse!

Part of the aftermath from Santa's generous haul.

Jack was very serious opening his gifts.

A Christmas morning breakfast of snowman donuts, sausage and egg casserole, fresh strawberries, and of course, Christmas cookies!

Our Advent wreath is finally fully lit.

James tries out his new po-go stick.

Jack gets in on the fun as well.

And Anna tries out her new Barbie scooter.

Chocolate cake, chocolate ganache filling, swiss buttercream icing, white chocolate snowflakes.

Yum.

Aunt Mary - who helped me make her mother's recipe for crown roast of pork.

It was as delicious as it was beautiful.

Tanner - breaking into his Christmas cracker.

Grandpa Jimmy - looking a bit like Ray Charles in James' new spy glasses that Santa brought him in his stocking.

Uncle Harry and Aunt Mary's gift to Anna - a hand painted 'Clara' ornament from Germany.

It was a lovely Christmas. Some of it was really really good. Some of it was really really bad (topic of another post.) But all in all, we celebrated this most holy of holidays with family, friends who have become like family, and our own little Party of Five.

Merry Christmas to All, and to All a Good Night.

Christmas Dinner With Friends

2011-12-21T11:42:00.001-05:00

We hosted a small dinner last night with some very good friends from church. I know I've said this before, but let me say it again, I heart St. Johns. We've felt so welcome there and have made such good friends - it has truly become a church home. One that our children adore as well - looking forward with eager anticipation to both the Wednesday night programs and dinners and the Sunday services and 'Sunday' school classes.

I truly believe there was some Divine guidance that led us to St. Johns at the time we started attending - turns out it was the same time the Bell family was also starting to visit, and to make a long story short (if that is even possible for me), over the last year our families have become very good friends as we have a lot in common, are at the same stage in our lives, and have three children each that love to play together.

At about the time that us and the Bells were (independently) making the decision to become full-fledged members, the Fleischers moved to Columbia (so that Scott could serve as St. John's Assistant Priest.) They too are at about the same stage in life, and also have three children, who ours love to play with as well... all that to say that over the past year, we've been very blessed to grow friendships we cherish, and our kids have done the same.

So like I said, the kids look forward to Wednesday nights with a passion. When the fall season of programs and dinners ended, and the kids didn't have the chance to see their friends (us too), we knew we needed to figure out when we could all get together and celebrate the season. A small dinner together came about.

Six adults + 9 children. How to seat this size crowd? I adopted my parents' philosophy from dinner parties they used to have in an era long ago....

The 'Little Boys Table'

Complete with tree decoration - made lovingly by James.

The sweets table. I love filling the role that my mom's cousin Maria Aveni used to play -
piling platters with homemade treats and cookies to satisfy every sweet tooth.

The Adult Table

The Kid Table
In the kitchen. And for the record, I agree with Scott. We need to put that door back up between the dining room and the kitchen - to keep the squealing and shrieking somewhat at bay.

Seven of the Nine Kids
James, Brooks, Jack, Maddie, Anna, Isabella, and Samuel

Dylan and Jack
The best behaved table of the evening, by far!

Scott, Victoria, Deonne, Me, Nicole, Gene
Don't we look awesome! And sort of like we're posing for prom photos?

Yay for girls!!!

I had a great time. I prepared my Nonna's recipe for lasagna, the Bells brought homemade chocolate cake (Gene is the baker in that bunch - have to give proper snaps for his a-ma-zing cake), and Victoria brought yummy bread and salad. Victoria and I laughed about growing up in Italian families (she also comes from an immigrant Italian family - and grew up in California.) So it was fun to reminisce about life with old-school Nonno's and Nonna's, the weird foods they made us eat, the things they used to say, the traditions they handed down.

It totally made some of that ever-present homesickness go away. At least for a night.

The kids had so much fun. It did get out of had a bit (because of my two older monkeys that somehow thought playing with friends meant screaming at the top of their lungs and playing rough and tumble and piling on top of each other.) But after a firm talking to - they settled down.

I can't wait until the next get-together! (Although - next time we'll have to put a little 'something' in the kids' milks, maybe make them a little bit sleepy or God help me slightly sedated, so they can play without shrieking!)

My Favorite Things

2011-12-21T11:13:00.002-05:00

My good friend Ashley started up a new business venture this past year. She became an official Trunk Keeper (TK) for my now beloved Matilda Jane clothing line. There are numerous reasons I love having Ashley as my TK - she alerts me to sales as they come along, she keeps me abreast of Matilda Jane happenings (like dates new lines will be released), and is ever ready to help me add to our growing collection. All I have to do is shoot her an email with my most recent 'need' and she'll stick it onto whatever show order she happens to be working on. And all with a super cute smile and a cheery personality.

I don't know the details of her first season with Matilda Jane (I don't have a head for business or dollars - I just like to spend them), if it was super successful, moderately successful, or what - but it must have been pretty good (thanks, in part to Matilda Jane addicts like myself). So to thank us 'Janes' (that's what Matilda Jane calls the hostesses of their trunk shows) for hosting said shows, Ashley hosted a little shin-dig the other night.

A time to gather, gossip, dish, drink poinsettias, munch on yummy treats ... you know, all stuff us 'Janes' are really good at. But it wasn't all just gossiping, dishing, and poinsettia swilling - no, it was also a My Favorite Things party. When I got the invitation, I didn't quite understand. (I can never seem to keep current with superstar talk show trivia - no matter how much E! Entertainment News I watch.) Anyway, this was a My Favorite Things party modeled after Oprah's party of the same name. (Except that we had gifts with a $5 maximum vs. Oprah's multi-gazillion $$ gifts.)

So we were asked to each bring five of our favorite things that was five dollars and under. What to bring? What to do? Of course I stressed out about it - because that's part of my OCD disease and all - finally settling on $5 gift cards to Starbucks. (After all, a Pumpkin Spice Latte is just about my favorite under $5 treat.) Every girl there had her name entered five times into the bowl - and we went around the room - each drawing out five names (re-drawing if a duplicate or our self) and then gifting out our treats, with a short blurb about why the item we brought was a favorite.

It was so much fun. I received a load of awesome things - from a Starbucks gift card (great minds think alike) to an awesome candle that smells like apple-spice, a ceramic 'to-go' mug to this amazing scented cleaner that freshens your whole kitchen with just a spray and wipe of the counter, and finally some clear nail polish - that not only corrects the home-made pedicures us busy moms tend to have but also (practical use) stops bleeding if you shave your legs too quickly and nick your knee.

I had a great time. It had been a particularly bad day (missing my mom so much that day that I felt like I couldn't breathe) coupled with seeing photos of her celebrating Christmas with family on facebook that I wasn't a part of. (Through no fault of the person who posted the photos - and I was glad to see them and see that my mother is doing well and looked really happy.) But it made me miss her even more. So the day had been filled with lots of tears, horrible emotions, and general gloominess. Deonne literally pushed me out the door to go to the party. I'm so glad he did.

Totally needed that night out. Totally needed the fun, the laughter, the treats, and most importantly, the friendship. So thank YOU Ashley, for hosting such a great event!

Here We Come A'Caroling...

2011-12-20T09:15:00.001-05:00

I can't believe I forgot to post about this.

Last week, a few ladies from our church organized a family caroling outing - meeting at the church and then singing familiar Christmas carols around the immediate neighborhood. Our church is very much a 'neighborhood' church, located right in the heart of Shandon, one of the oldest neighborhoods in Columbia. In fact, in 2012, the church will celebrate it's 100th birthday, hows that for old and historic?

So last Wednesday night, we bundled up the kids in coats and hats, gathered together with friends, pulled out flashlights, pages of carols and hymns, and proceeded to spread our good-hearted, good-natured Christmas cheer.

Other than the never ending fear that James would run out into the street in his utter excitement over the whole thing and be crushed by a passing car, and my shoulders tiring from literally wearing Jack on them, it was a really nice time. A fun, wholesome, good thing to do - and I think our voices sounded pretty darn good, even if we were off beat a few times, and certainly off key. (We weren't the choir after all....)

The most entertaining part for me, though, was seeing the different reactions from different homes that were blessed with our good cheer. One home we stopped at was full of middle-aged ladies, who had clearly been enjoying their 'girls night out' and the toddies accompanying it. They came out of the house in groups of two or three, raised their glasses to us (some of them sang along), and thoroughly enjoyed our presence.

At another home, two college-aged girls came to the door, were excited to see us, and then promptly began snapping pictures with their iphones that I'm sure ended up on someones facebook page.

Several older ladies came and sat on their respective porches, surrounded by the children in our group, sang along and clapped their hands, and thanked us whole-heartedly for coming 'round to sing such lovely songs.

But that wasn't all we experienced. No, for every sweet, sincere, and sometimes wine-induced compliment we received, there were several other things that happened that we could only laugh at.

Take the family that had their home brightly lit; lights on all the trees, Christmas tree glowing from the window, spotlights to highlight wreaths on every window and door, a home that basically screamed Christmas. The kids knocked on the door, we started singing, and singing, and singing, and finally decided they weren't home - and must be the stupid people who leave their tree lights on when they aren't home to catch fire and be one of those unfortunate statistics you read about every year - and think why in the world didn't you just turn the darn thing off? Anyway, all of a sudden, the lights turned off. Yeah, they literally turned the lights off on us. A pre-teen kid came to the door - then was called back in by his mother. Really? You're not going to allow your kid to listen to some good 'ol holly jolly Christmas carols? Nice. You need to watch some more of those Hallmark commercials - or at least one of those Lifetime movies that make you realize your life isn't all that bad - heck, your family didn't die in a fiery wreck on Christmas Eve and Meredith Baxter Birney isn't your mother-in-law reincarnated as the ghost of Christmas past. Get over yourself. And while your at it - pull your head out of your ass. We were trying to spread some Christmas cheer, dammit. Thanks for showing my kids what a true 'Grinch' is.

And across from that house was another that was similarly adorned with wreaths and lights and spotlights - you know, the whole works. Here a man came to the door - looked like he didn't know what to do - sort of waved at us - then ducked back in the house. It looked like he was talking to someone in the front room. We'll never know. He promptly shut the door. In our faces. How about that for holiday cheer? Maybe it was something about that particular block. Maybe they were really Muslim or Jewish people that didn't really want to celebrate Christmas - but felt obligated to put out lights and decorations to 'one-up' their neighbor. Who knows. All I know is that I certainly wouldn't 'want to be their neighbor' as Mr. Rogers used to say.

But the best? Well that happened at the house that is literally a stone's throw from the church steps, from the house that is right across the street from the front of the church. We were returning from our caroling adventure to warm up in the fellowship hall with cocoa and cookies (can't get more Norman Rockwell than that, can you?) At about the same time that we were turning the block, we noticed that a car was pulling into the drive of said home. You've never seen two people get out of their car so freaking fast, fumbling with their keys to get in the house, and shutting the door before the kids could get there. It was like something out of a bad made-for-TV movie (ala Lifetime Network.) Of course we all laughed, and shuttled the kids into the church, trying to ignore the questions they had about said Scrooges who felt the need to hide and slam the door in their faces. If I'd have been a bit more on my game, and not with church friends, I probably would have marched right up the steps to their house, banged on the door, and sang Christmas carols non-stop for hours - poking my face in their windows like in that scene from the film "Skipping Christmas" (which is hilarious - and a must see if you missed it somehow.) Or at least given them a piece of my mind. But like I said, I was with church people. Who probably wouldn't have taken it to well to see me start dropping the f-bomb interchangeably with words like 'Christ's birth', 'good cheer', and 'God's blessings.'

So I refrained. But I do wonder why people are the way they are. I wonder if they thought we were going to ask for (gasp) a donation or something. Like 'hey mister, for $20 bucks I'll sing your favorite carol, its for a really good cause.' It seems in these cases, the better thing to say would have been 'hey - for $20 bucks I'll take this pack of kids and get them the heck off your property.' I wonder if they thought we were there to 'witness' to them, to tell them that last Wednesday night was a perfect night to accept Jesus Christ as their personal Lord and Savior. Whatever. We're Episcopalians. We don't 'witness.' We just drink a lot. Oh, and go caroling, to spread some damn holiday cheer. So there.

People amaze me.

The Lights Before Christmas

2011-12-19T14:32:00.001-05:00

Following a cookie-decorating extravaganza with the Comer girls on Sunday afternoon (that was so much fun - but so messy and covered in sprinkles and icing - think large kitchen table with buckets of cookies + tubes of icing in every color of the rainbow + too many bowls of colored sprinkles to count - that I didn't take one single picture) we headed out to Riverbanks Zoo to see the annual Lights Before Christmas display.

It didn't disappoint.

This year we attended with one of Anna's friends from school - a sweet girl, Zoe, and her mom. It was nice to let the girls have a play date (even if pestery-James got his feelings hurt that Anna wanted little to nothing to do with him the entire time.)

Checking out the animated tree - that has lights that blink to the music.

Jack was enthralled.

There's always time to climb the turtle statue.

And ride the endangered species carousel.

James HAD to choose one that was in the same row as Anna and Zoe.

Two girls - such fun!

Sweet Girls - with little Mr. Me Too in the background.

Dancing and trying to catch the falling 'snow' being blown from the entrance to the zoo.

Sleepy Boy
Ready for his bed.

The 'Honey' Nutcracker 2011

2011-12-19T14:19:00.003-05:00

Anna and I have enjoyed seeing the Nutcracker together since she was just three-years old. Even at that tender age, the swirling colors and twirling dancers captivated and mesmerized her, keeping her still and perched at the edge of her seat from the moment the curtains opened until the moment they closed. It's always been a special time we've shared, mother and daughter, when I've kept thoughts and memories of my own mother close at heart.

Mom and I always saw the Nutcracker together. Every year, without fail. If we were in the same city at the same time as a production was available, we would enjoy the familiar story together. It was one of our 'things.' Probably stemming from the years and years that I danced in the Nutcracker as a child in my hometown, and the years and years that my mom applied stage makeup, dippity-do to my hair, and heard my constant bemoaning of never being cast as a child, let alone the coveted role of Clara.

So 'Nutcracker' day is a day I constantly struggle with. On one hand, I'm happy to be sharing this special time with my daughter. To create the memories that I hope she will carry with her throughout her life. But on the other, I am incredibly sad. I want to see it with my own mom. I want to reach over to hold her hand when the Overture begins, to feel our fingers lace together, where it becomes impossible to see where one hand ends and one hand begins, like we did every time we saw it together.

This year, things changed a bit. James has been dying to go, and last year had his feelings hurt that he didn't get to participate. But he's a very different child than Anna - where she will sit still and quiet as a mouse, taking everything in, processing it to the extreme detail - James will not. He will ask a gazillion questions, he will wonder how things happened, and why, and sitting still? Well that is a huge challenge for this boy.

So it may seem crazy that I purchased him a ticket as well, knowing full well that it could be a very difficult show - trying to keep him still. I rationalized that because this particular ballet is fast moving, tells a clear story, and is full of bright colors and short dances, he would probably do okay.

So off we went, but not before posing for some pictures - Anna sporting her favorite (read: wear without argument Matilda Jane dress) and James his new bow tie.

But even when posing for pretty pictures - silliness ensues...

One more, and we were off.

I invited Deonne's mom and aunt to join us this year. It's such a special time, I thought it would be nice to include them in our tradition (and an extra few sets of hands to help wrangle James should he start to get bored certainly couldn't hurt.)

I'm not sure if I set my expectations too low (in the back of my mind fully expecting to have to call Deonne to come retrieve James at some point), but I'm happy to report that James did just fine. Of course there were moments when he lost interest, mainly during the longer dance scenes (like the dance of the snowflakes.) But he busied himself by figureing out where the snow was coming from (we were close enough in the orchestra section that he could see the mechanical arm that was sprinkling snow.) Or the waltz of the flowers, where he kept busy by counting flowers, and eventually the stage lights. And of course he wouldn't be James if he didn't ask his gazillion questions, loudly, because James has two volumes (asleep and LOUD), like when the Arabian prince came on to charm the princess out of the snake basket and he asked 'why he doesn't have a shirt on?'

It was a lovely time.

I admittedly got choked up, like I do every year, when the first strains of the Overture started, when I could feel my hand somehow searching for my mother's. And again when the Snow Queen started her pas de deux with her King, mom and I's favorite part of the entire ballet.

But I just held James tighter in my lap (he could see better from my seat than his own), and buried my tears in his sweater. And while I'm not sure he knew if I was crying or not, he just quietly patted my hand, and leaned his head against my shoulder.

After the performance (which was AMAZING yet again - I seriously don't know how it can get better and better every year) we took the backstage tour, allowing the children to see and touch (good for James) the props and things used in the show.)

The Cannon -
used by the soldiers to shoot cheese at the mice during the fight scene.

Clara's Sleigh

Clara's Royal Throne

The Magical Tree That Grows

It's such a big tree!

And after the tour, a chance to meet the dancers and get autographs. (Here's where my camera battery died - because idiot me forgot to charge it before we left....so the pictures below are from my phone.)

The lovely Clara!

The Sugarplum Fairy

The Arabian Dancers
and yes...James did ask the prince why he didn't have a shirt on - to which the prince
promptly replied 'because it is hot in Arabia.' Awesome.

Always a favorite - the Chinese dancer!

Candy Canes and Flowers

James had an amazing time - and he loved the attention the dancers gave him, doting on him when they found out it was his first Nutcracker performance, loving his bow tie, telling him how handsome and dapper he was.

It was a really nice time. I loved sharing this special ballet with my children, making memories for them, while holding my mom close to my heart.

A Breakfast With Santa

2011-12-19T13:42:00.001-05:00

Saturday morning brought a special activity for the Party of Five. We had a great time with Historic Columbia's breakfast with Santa!

We had a yummy breakfast upon arrival - then a lot of time to visit with Santa and make a pinecone ornament. (I think the craft was supposed to be 'period' specific - and while fun - my only criticism is that they ran out of crafting supplies - we could have used more than what was provided for our artsy and craftsy loving bunch.)

Thankfully there was a lot of one-on-one time for the kids to spend with Santa. Anna particularly enjoyed this, talking to him, conversing, and reading to him from 'A Christmas Carol.' (I think she was secretly trying to get back into his good graces after a hard couple of weeks at school and home...)

But I think the part Anna enjoyed the most was having plenty of time to catch up with her bff Ella Grace. The two have been unseparable since they were three months old. It's been hard on her not seeing her in school, and even moreso this year since their dance classes aren't togehter due to scheduling conflicts. She's missed her tremendously, and was t-total thrilled to spend time talking to Santa, making crafts, and running around the historic Robert Mills house and gardens with her.

The kids had a lot of fun bouncing up and down on the joggling board...

... especially James...

...who ended up having a bit too much fun, was a bit too wild, and ended up having a bit of a reprimand...

Jack enjoyed more time with his buddy Jasper - running around the gardens, playing chase, and eventually splashing together in the fountain.

What little boy wouldn't love that?

All in all, a lovely morning out. And another great family time spent together with dear friends.

An Evening Out

2011-12-19T13:16:00.003-05:00

I didn't take any pictures, lest our friends realize just how much of a dork I am, but wanted to mention our adult evening out. Our very dear friends hosted their annual Christmas dinner/get-together on Friday night. It was so nice to take a break from family-oriented celebrating and enjoy some adult conversation (you know, that didn't entail supervising, referreeing, or assisting with multiple trips to the potty.)

We had one of James' former teachers over to babysit - and gladly left our post pre-school party/sugar-hyped up children in the care of capable hands. Can I just pause for a moment and say how much I appreciate good babysitters? The kind that (even though not expected nor requested) pick up the kids' toys after they play with them, wash the dishes in the sink, and wipe off the counter? It's so nice to come home from a long night out and not have to do a single thing other than turn off lights and go to bed.

Anyway - it was loads of fun. Good food. Good drink. Fun conversation. Laughter. Fellowship. Overall, a wonderful night out.

Can't wait for the next adult gathering!!!

Pre-school Party Fun

2011-12-19T13:09:00.001-05:00

'Tis the season for school parties - and all on the same day (of course.) Last Friday all three Party kids were indeed partying kids, as all three had their school 'winter' party. I didn't get to attend Anna's party - hers was during lunch in her classroom - but I did send along cupcakes, cookies, and snowflake pretzels in lieu of visiting. I hate that I missed - but am realizing that as a working mom of three - I can't be there to do everything with each child all the time. Boo. Hiss.

But I did manage to attend both of the boys' parties ~ thankfully the timing worked out, and James' class was up first. The students made these adorable reindeer antler headbands - it was so funny to walk in and see a sea of reindeer sitting at little tables, stuffing everything sweet they could get their hands on into their mouths!

Jack's party was next. You can't tell how excited Jack is to have his favorite snack ever (potato chips) piled on his plate, can you? Jasper either. He was eyeing the teacher's bowl of fruit - I so wish my kid would eat fruit like his bff J - instead of being a total junk-food, chip-loving junkie....

Once the chips hit the plate, there was no time to look up or smile...

...there was serious eating to do.

The Comer girls arrived and were happy to sit with James at the 'big kid' end of the table. I wish Anna could have been with us - but there just wasn't time to go all the way to her school to pick her up - and then go back downtown to the University to Jack's pre-school.

But we knew we'd see eachother the next day - so I had to put my mama-guilt aside and focus on that.

Happy pre-school party day!!!

Historic Columbia Candlelight Tours

2011-12-19T12:59:00.003-05:00

Our season of fun-filled-family-festivities continued last Thursday (December 15) with a tour of one of the historic homes here in Columbia.

It was really pretty - the homes were decorated with period pieces, including china, furnishings, and appropriate Christmas decorations, all lit by the soft glow of candlelight. The kids really liked it ... well ... except Jack, who wanted to swing and play with the ropes used to keep patrons out of the displays - so he and I left the house early and opted to hang out on the front porch.

No matter, shortly thereafter we boarded a carriage for an evening tour of historic Columbia. It's kind of funny, I've lived here for more than 10 years now, but have never taken a tour of the historic homes in this city. I always want to do the same sort of tour in other cities I visit, like Charleston or Savannah, but for some reason, never did here at home.

I'm so glad we did.

The kids loved the carriage ride - especially Jack - who felt the need to narrate our tour - announcing every time 'the horsey stop mama' or 'the horsey is moving mama' throughout the tour. And it was really nice to see so many of the historic homes and buildings I typically drive right past - not realizing the importance or character they hold.

Thankfully Prince Charming was as charming as his name suggested - and allowed the children to pet his soft muzzle and admire his big eyes and ears.

While we were there, we also got to meet the Victorian Santa, who, as his name suggests, was dressed as a true Victorian-era Santa, down to his green velvet robes. We didn't get a picture with him that night ... but stay tuned!

Sprinkles Anonymous

2011-12-19T12:50:00.002-05:00

In anticipation of cookie decorating day, I took a few moments to clean out and organize my 'baking' cabinet.

I discovered that I have a bit of a problem.

My fettish for fun baking sprinkles, sanding sugars, non pariels, and edible glitter is getting out of hand.

Surely there is some kind of group therapy for this, right?

Something like 'Sprinkles Anonymous?'

I don't know. But you can be sure that our sugar and gingerbread cookie cut-outs are some of the prettiest and sparkley-est darn cookies you've ever seen!

A Few Jack-isms

2011-12-19T12:47:00.001-05:00

It seems that Jack's vocabulary and speech patterns erupted overnight. He went from putting a few words together to speaking in paragraphs, seemingly overnight.

It's amazing how articulate and well spoken he is as a 2 1/2 year old (and that's not just me saying that as his mom - strangers stop us at the store to comment on his verbal skills.)

However, he does have a few mispronunciations and funny names for things - that I don't want to forget. So indulge me for a moment:

1. Volcanoes. He can say the word properly, don't get me wrong, there is no doubt he's requesting 'volcanoes' when he asks for one. But why in the world would a 2 1/2 year old want a volcano you ask? Thankfully Anna can interpret. 'That's a Hershey's kiss mommy.' Oh. Good to know. And that makes perfect sense now that I know why he's asking for a volcano. For dessert.

2. Honey Nut Cracker. Jack's name for the 'Nutcracker.'

I know there are more - but these are the two I want to record. For now. Stay tuned.

Arts and Crafts

2011-12-19T12:42:00.003-05:00

I love this time of year. One of my friends fellow bloggers, Claudia, recently posted something similar - about how much fun it is to see your children come home from school (or in some cases pre-school) with all sorts of homemade projects. And she's right - the random assortment of papers cut and glued and decorated into various holiday decorations have become some of my most prized posessions.

Take this one for example - this would be James' "gingerbread" house. His awesome preschool teachers devised a way for the kids to make a house out of a kleenex box - covered with icing and decorated with love with all sorts of sweets and confections.

James was very proud - despite his fat lip from a mishap at a birthday party the day before - one of those dreaded bounce-house places where he always comes home with some sort of injury.

Of course Anna had to get in on the photo-op - and thankfully James adores her and allows her to be a part of his pictures. Ha! I do have to pause a moment and point out Anna's shirt. That's not just any shirt - nope - it's a special shirt she gets to wear on Tuesdays - that would be the day her class Skypes with NASA astronauts in Houston. Her teacher was one of a few selected across the country to participate in a zero-G program. It's pretty cool. Wanna know what's even cooler? Anna designed the patch that the kids and teachers are wearing for this project. Our little resident artist.

Speaking of Anna-art - she also came home with a pile of holiday creations. Her first grade class took a trip around the world, visiting the other first-grade classrooms, which were transformed into different countries, to learn about how they celebrate Christmas.

Complete with passport and stamps...

they made all sorts of neat things, from poinsettias to snowflakes, brooms to banners, learning the names and foods and customs of celebrations across the globe.

I miss first grade.

And not to be left out, Jack insisted I take a photo of him one morning, chowing down on his favorite breakfast treat - powdered sugar 'do nos.'

Good Grief

2011-12-13T15:06:00.002-05:00

Here's the thing about grief. It doesn't ever really go away. I've written about this before, so its not a new topic, yet every time those overwhelming and sometimes debilitating feelings of sadness come bubbling up to the surface, I'm never quite prepared for them. While the sadness might not be as acute or dramatic as those first few days and weeks after the horrible event, it hangs around - a lingering, chronic, dull, ache - that gets stronger at the most inopportune times. Like holidays. So when they show up - I deal with them at the time - then hope and pray that they'll go away - never to return again.

Unfortunately, that's not the way grief works. I guess it's a true testament of how much we love those who have gone before us - that we miss them terribly and selfishly want them here with us. I guess it shows how important those people are - that we constantly keep them in our thoughts.

Here's my struggle: while my head realizes that living means dying - that it's the proverbial 'circle of life' for death to come after life - and that its our job to keep living despite losing loved ones, my heart wonders how in the world it is okay to do so in the absence of said loved one.

I'm rambling.

The problem is that I feel guilty. I feel guilty for enjoying life. I feel guilty for laughter, for fun, for fellowship. I'm doing my best to enjoy this special holiday season - while that nagging voice in the back of my head keeps saying 'but your Dad can't.' I'm doing my best to remember details of him from my own childhood - to in some small way bring him alive for his grandchildren who never knew him, all the while holding back tears - because what I really want to do is curl up and cry and stamp my feet like my two-year old son over the complete and utter unfairness of it all.

I'll say it. So there's no question. I miss my Daddy. With every fiber of my being. I search for him in the faces of my children, in their silly smiles and belly laughs. Sometimes I get a glimpse of him. Which is awesome. And makes me miss him even more.

And here's the other problem.

I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel about my mom. I haven't touched this subject much on the blog - because I haven't been ready to. Frankly, I'm not ready to now, either - so I'll sum it up by saying that I'm completely unsure about what to do with that situation. She's not dead - she is very much alive - but is very much limited in what she can do, and for reasons that are impossibly complicated and I can't begin to explain, I'm not a part of her life anymore. The stroke took her memory, circumstances took what was left. And the truth? I'm not sure how much she remembers - or how much she really knows about me - other than what is fed to her by those around her or what she wants to remember to try to please.

So grief isn't really the right emotion.

I can't think of a word that describes that emotion. I can tell you that at times it makes me feel like an elephant is sitting on my chest - and I struggle to breathe. I can tell you that at times it feels like I'm missing an arm or a leg or some other natural extension of myself - because that is what my mom has always been. My best friend. My closest confidant. The ying to my yang. I can tell you that at times I feel like just moving my face in the motion of a smile is more than I can manage.

Which then leads to MORE guilt, if that is even possible, when I look at my kids who can't begin to fathom what in the world has possessed their mommy. Who deserve every happy holly jolly Christmas memory I can create for them, and don't need to have their holidays tainted by a mom who is choked up with tears every time a familiar song or smell or tradition is relived.

I'll say it again. I miss my mom. I never imagined walking the path of motherhood without her by my side. This isn't the life I anticipated. Daily I feel like I'm failing - and want nothing more than to talk to her - to take in her counsel - to just hear her freaking voice.

Call me a sappy sentimental fool....

So grief, or whatever you want to call it, is a hard thing to deal with. Exacerbated I'm sure by the holidays - with songs crooning of 'home', 'family', and 'loved ones.'

Good grief.

I'm tired of grief.

O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree

2011-12-12T10:36:00.003-05:00

How lovely are thou branches.

In beauty green will always grow.

Through summer sun and winter snow.

O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree.

How lovely are though branches.

The Singing Christmas Tree

2011-12-12T10:19:00.003-05:00

Friday night's holiday activity was sponsored by Shandon Baptist Church. (Yeah, we're taking full advantage of all of the free Christmas things to do in Columbia this year.) I mentioned in passing to some friends from church (Victoria and Scott) that we were going - and we ended up making an evening out of it with our families.

Me and Victoria - check out our matching scarves - she made those!!!

They're great fun, and our children love to play with theirs, so we were all looking forward to dinner out and a Christmas show. Now, Scott is also the assistant pastor at our Episcopal church, and because we happened to have planned this evening right after seeing First Baptist's Christmas pageant (the Thursday before), I was all the more excited to go out with them. James and Anna both had peppered me relentlessly on the way home from FBC's pageant - asking all sorts of theological questions that I can't answer. See FBC's pageant included the life of Christ, including the crucifixion and ressurection. Beautiful. Moving. Dramatic. Prompting a discussion/barrage of questions from the kids.

Four of our six kids - the oldest and youngest children, the 'Jack's' were missing - our Jack because he was feeling grumpy - their Jack because he was at a friend's birthday party.

It's not that they hadn't heard the Easter story before - rather they hadn't seen it come to life with Jesus pulling the cross down the aisle, being nailed to the cross, then rising three days later. So the questions ranged between James wanting to know why they didn't take the shroud out of the tomb after Jesus rose to Anna who wanted to know why God wanted his son to be hurt and to die.

Hmmm... after that last one - I said you need to ask Father Scott that.

So she did - and he answered their questions very well, over a fun dinner at a local Mexican restaurant. Followed by tickets to see the singing Christmas tree - which was fun, entertaining, and something I think the kids enjoyed.

Let the fun-filled-family-festivities continue!!!

Holiday Baking

2011-12-12T10:04:00.002-05:00

I had lots of helpers this year for our annual holiday baking day. Six little hands (that I promise were properly scrubbed for any of you who receive boxes of our baked love) were eager to measure, mix, roll, and taste.

Jack especially loves to 'help with you.' I swear he's like Pavlov's dog. As soon as he hears the first clink of measuring spoons or sees the mixer moved to the 'working space' of the counter, he immediately drops whatever he's doing and starts pushing/pulling a kitchen chair to the side of the counter.

I love the simplicity of things that make two-year olds giggle. Just seeing the paddle go 'round and round' causes big belly laughs in little Jack.

And we try to be fair with who gets to add what ingredient - taking turns and allowing everyone ample opportunity to measure flour or pour vanilla.

This year, after the boys left to attend a birthday party, Anna was my sous chef. I let her crack eggs (and am happy to report no broken shell shards in the bunch), dip, measure, and level flour, and have control of the mixer. And for the first year, she was actually a help. That probably sounds bad, but its not meant to be. What I mean is that while she did need supervision to make sure she didn't dump in extra amounts of flour, she was able to do things on her own - without my intervention. We worked really well together, and I fully enjoyed our time alone - listening to Christmas carols, letting her be the first to sample our goods to make sure they were yummy.

It was a really fun afternoon. And after going through 2 1/2 pounds of butter, 5 pounds of flour, and I don't know how many chopped pecans, we've got most of our holiday baking finished and in containers awaiting final 'pretty' packaging. Other than rolling, cutting, and decorating sugar cookies and gingerbread men, we're in good shape.

And I love smelling the familiar scents of family cookie recipes - smells that make the holiday season complete.

The After

2011-12-12T09:51:00.000-05:00

Just a quick post to toot my own proverbial horn... this is me. Minus 50 pounds.

And that would be a size 8 dress, just in case you're wondering. Which is a huge deal to me - considerling last Christmas I was trying to stuff myself into size 16 or XL dresses.

This is probably one of the best Christmas presents I could have given myself - the gift of health, the gift of feeling good about myself - and now, the gift of a new wardrobe! (just kidding Deonne... sort of)

Light Up The Town

2011-12-09T10:23:00.001-05:00

Last night's holiday activities were brought to you by First Baptist Church. I'd heard really good things about their annual Christmas pageant - and always wanted to go. Last year I tried to get tickets - but by the time I called - they were out. So this year, I called as soon as they were available to pick up our set of five.

After a quick dinner from the kids favorite place 'Old McDonald' as James calls it - we headed over to the church - not knowing quite what to expect.

It's a really big, really pretty typical Southern Baptist church. Enormous. And beautiful. We got there a bit early to ensure good seats (general admission to different sections - but no assigned seats.) It was really neat to see the church fill up with eager patrons - especially when a group of soldiers from nearby Ft. Jackson arrived in uniform. The entire church rose to applaud and cheer and welcome them in. Anna asked why such a fuss - and seemed to understand when I explained that these soldiers are away from their families - and working to protect us. She smiled.

Like I said, the church sanctuary is really big. As in Really Big. Jack was pretty overwhelmed. He didn't move much during the performance - just sort of sank into mine or Deonne's lap - taking it all in.

Anna loved it. She's come a long way from the child who screamed bloody murder when I took her to her first Disney on Ice show (and forced her to sit in the rink side seats I'd purchased for a pretty penny versus allow her to move up to the upper balcony.) I know - I'm a mean mommy - probably giving her all sorts of childhood scars that she can work out in therapy later in life.

The show started with a variety of traditional Christmas songs - and members of the church congregation participated as reindeer or carolers or our favorite - the preschool kids dressed up like life-size light bulbs, strung together with a little boy at the end who was the plug. I wish I'd gotten a good picture of that - it was hysterical.

Then the scene changed, and the story of Christ's birth came to life.

It was beautiful.

Awe inspiring.

The costumes were phenomenal.

At one point, I had Anna on my lap. I whispered in her ear 'this is what it's all about. The birth of that tiny baby boy.'

She quietly nodded her head. It was a precious moment we shared.

A little while later I had James on my lap - and whispered the same thing to him. To which he responded 'is that a baby - or a baby doll?'

Sigh.

He'll get it. One day.

Thank you First Baptist Columbia - for a lovely production. It was so good to pause and remember the true meaning of this Christmas season. (And the fancy lights, sparkly costumes, and amazing singing and music certainly helped keep the kids interested.) :)

Gingerbread Fun 2011

2011-12-08T08:04:00.001-05:00

We decorated our annual Party gingerbread house last night. (Which is no small feat with three fiercely independent and opinionated kids who all want things 'just so.') But before the sticky fun could begin - we had to gear up in our new Holiday Baking Aprons. Thank you Rymill family - I got these with your super generous Christmas gift card last year - and tucked them away until now. The children ADORE them - and want to bake more - just so they can keep on the super cute aprons! (By the way, I got one too - but since Daddy wasn't home yet - there's no pictures of us in our matching set - but stay tuned as the holiday baking frenzy continues...)

Once suited up - it was time to start sticking on candy. Thankfully Deonne assembled the house earlier yesterday morning - so it was ready and set and structurally sound (thank you structural engineer) so we didn't have to wait to glue on the sugar love.

It's always funny to me to see the kids personalities come out in different crafting events. Anna carefully makes patterns, making sure colors and shapes repeat in set lines....while the boys just stick on whatever they can get their hands on.

Jack especially loved the candy balls that came with the kit.

And I'm happy to report that everyone worked really well together - sharing and allowing each other the opportunity be creative - while stealing a few samples of candy along the way...

But it's hard when the fun ends - and you don't think you should be finished - and you don't understand why there isn't more candy to decorate with...

Anna and James were very proud of their accomplishment - and happily posed for a picture.

Jack was insulted for many reasons and refused to smile. (Not only were we out of candy, but I wouldn't let him sweep the floor - because he kept swinging the handle of the broom into the flame of the gas stove - and I didn't want to burn the house down... bad mommy am I....)

I think they did a great job.

After bath, the kids each decorated their Christmas trees. This year, the boys are sharing a tree - in addition to sharing a room. So instead of two short tabletop trees, they have one larger one (a skinny one I found stashed in the back of the attic.)

And while decorating Christmas trees is fun - apparently re-runs of America's Funniest Home Videos is more fun - so we had to literallly drag James away to work on his tree.

ut once he got started - he had fun. And Jack - who intermittently helped - and opted to run back and forth between the boys' and Anna's room - terrorizing her while she was trying to complete her homework.
Little brother.

And there you have the boys' 2011 Christmas Tree.

We'll get pictures of Anna's up tonight....

A Holly Jolly Christmas

2011-12-07T14:02:00.001-05:00

James' preschool had its annual Family Sing A Long last night. What fun. Each class (starting with the two-year olds) came up to the stage in the church sanctuary and sang a traditional Christmas carol. They were adorable. I love stuff like this. I could eat it up with a spoon.

James' class sang 'Holly Jolly Christmas,' which if you received a card from us you'll find particularly amusing. I'd planned the theme this year ages ago - and prior to finding out what James was singing - heck, I didn't even know they did the sing-a-long at that point.

Anyway, here are some pictures from James' four-year old class. He's second from the left, sporting his brand new red bow tie. And looking especially dapper, if I do say so myself!

Clearly I need a better lens, or better setting than what I used. Low light was not my friend last night.

But you get the point.

Following the performance was a short social with cookies and lemonade.

The best part if you ask Jack - he was holding out for cookies the entire time - and between each class asked 'now its time for cookies?'

We heart Ms. Stephanie. I think James has a special place in her heart. She is so kind and softspoken and sweet to our boy.

So is Ms. Roberta. We heart her too.

Notice Jack in the background sitting on Deonne's lap? I think that's the third cookie he'd swiped and was stuffing in his mouth. True cookie monster that one!

All in all, a lovely evening. The kids were adorable, the sanctuary beautiful, the songs precious.

Breakfast with Santa + Junie B.

2011-12-07T13:53:00.001-05:00

In an effort to keep the melancholy feelings that seem to accompany most holidays at bay, I've tried to schedule fun things for the kids. One of the first events was a breakfast with Santa + the 'Junie B Jones in Jingle Bells, Batman Smells' that is playing at the local children's theatre. It was really fun - and really well executed.

First stop was a short wait in line to see Santa.

Anna was beside herself - and couldn't wait to discuss her wish list with the Big Man.

I think James was pondering his bad behavior at this moment in time...

While Anna was wiping away tears from a scolding from Daddy for pushing her little brothers out of the way in her attempt to get there first.

Sigh. Real life.

But everyone finally made it to his lap - and had a chance to share their wishes.

Goody bags for one and all....

...followed by breakfast from Chick-fil-A and Krispy Kreme.

What could be better than that, right?

Well....how about a visit from Frosty the Snowman? (Probably my kids' favorite holiday character, even gasp above Santa.)

Or how about face painting from local favorite comedienne Sarah Dippity?

James makes an awfully cute Rudolph, don't you agree?

And Jack was brave enough to allow a Frosty to be painted on his cheek.

While Anna opted for a tree.

And then? Well how about a parade to the theatre located upstairs?

Frosty 'led them up the escalator right to the theatre doors'

Think 'Frosty the Snowman' tune...

The kids loved it.

And following suit was a production of Junie B. They rocked it. The kids loved it. (So did I.) What a fun way to start the weekend!

Yellow Belt

2011-12-07T13:42:00.001-05:00

One of the things I really like about James' new preschool are the amazing programs they offer. They bring in specialty classes like soccer and karate to the school - which is a huge help to moms like me who are constantly running here or there to get kids to school or church, classes or various activities.

When we signed James up - we didn't really know what to expect. We weren't sure how he'd do - if he'd like it - or frankly what they would do - but figured it couldn't hurt....anything to help him control his body - to stay focused and attentive and not flailing all around - and perhaps address some of his excess amounts of energy would be great.

I think he likes it - he doesn't talk much about it - just that he had class that day - and if he was good - that he received a stamp on his hand.

So last Friday was his official belt test. I didn't even know what a belt test was - but they invited the class and parents to come to the karate place (studio? gym? place where they kick a lot?) and 'test' to receive a belt.

James was thrilled. So we happily obliged.

For once we were early (rather than the 10 minutes late we always seem to be) so we got a seat right in the front row.

And because I had both Jack and Anna with me (Deonne had to meet when he got off work) I had Anna snap pictures while I videoed...

James was so proud. And he did really well - when he wasn't flopping around acting like a nutcase...

And proudly received his certificate and yellow junior belt.

Which his instructor tied on...

...that he promptly untied from fiddling with the ends...

...so Daddy tied a makeshift knot in time to pose for a picture with one of his best buddies.

Sweet Baby James.

Official Holiday Kick-Off

2011-12-07T13:33:00.001-05:00

We attended Vista Lights this year. A great family kick-off for the holiday season - when the artsy part of Columbia closes the streets, gallerys open their doors, restaurants offer samples, and there's music for one and all. This year Lunch Money (our favorite indy-kid rock band) entertained the masses. They rock. Their songs are fun for the kids - and maybe moreso for the grown ups.

One of the exciting parts of the evening is the countdown to the lighting of the big 'Vista' Christmas tree. The mayor was there, along with his kids, who are some of Anna and James' buddies from pre-school. They saw us in the crowd, and invited them to join in the countdown.

It was pretty funny - James just smiled at the crowd, had a great time, and had no idea that he was counting down to the tree lighting (it lit behind him.) He just beamed with pride - as if everyone was clapping to praise them for counting backwards.

One of the local restaurants had cookie decorating ...

The more sprinkles the better, right???

Such goofy kids - and such a fun start to the holiday season.

An Afternoon Off

2011-12-07T13:26:00.001-05:00

About a week before the grants were due, Deonne suggested I take an afternoon off. I needed that. So we packed up the kids and headed to EdVenture - the local childrens museum where the Columbia chapter of the American Institute of Architects was conducting their gingerbread building contest.

Curious James asked the architects a gazillion questions. Most happily obliged. Some didn't know how to handle a four year old who has a follow on question for every answer he received.

It was fun to see him trying to figure out what the architects were building - and why.

Anna zeroed in on her favorite one - and refused to budge - wanting to watch the finishing touches on the structure go into place.

Jack just wanted to eat the 'nem-and-nems' - and had his feelings hurt that he couldn't help himself to the bowls of candy - asking 'why no snack daddy?'

After that we headed to the Riverwalk on the West Columbia side of the river.

It was a lovely late afternoon.

And gave me a chance to play around with the settings on my camera in natural light...

...that I clearly didn't have right.

But it was a nice afternoon - good to get out of my office - to stretch my legs, breathe fresh air, and see my children for more than a few fleeting moments.

A Little Bit About James

2011-12-07T13:19:00.001-05:00

I love preschool crafts. The day before Thanksgiving James came home in full Native American dress...

"How."

Chief Thunder Cloud

(which if you know anything about James is t-total appropriate...he sounds like a thunder cloud every time he comes pounding down the hard-wood stairs)

Late one night, I happened to glance over my shoulder on the way up to bed - and discovered the above scene. Stepstool from the downstairs bathroom. Jellybean dispenser precariously close to the edge of the counter.....

And the next morning, caught two little boys up to no good - in their pajamas (one in vampire cape) - helping themselves to a pre-breakfast treat.

James is teaching Jack some wonderful things...

Where I've Been

2011-12-01T10:53:00.001-05:00

The official call for proposals was released on Sepember 28, 2011. We were given 60 days to prepare each proposal. That seems like a lot of time, right? Perhaps. But when you're writing numerous grants and need a large amount of data, ranging from census driven statistics to financial information, specific properties in need of assessment to specific redevelopment options - it ends up being a lot of research.

Add to it the pesky task of regular project work and you end up with a really big task. But ever one to be up for the challenge - I dove in.

And because I'm OCD - I kept track of the hours I worked. All told, from October 10 - November 28, I put in just over 121 hours of overtime, not including the holidays I worked through. How did I do this? Weekends, nights, very little sleep - and a husband who took on the task of childcare management. (Oh, and no personal or social life for nearly two months. If I haven't written or called or talked to you lately - please forgive me - I've been up to my eyeballs in grant applications.)

I enjoy writing. Actually, I love it. Often times I wonder if I should have pursued that career in journalism that I contemplated back in college. So having the opportunity to write for days and weeks on end was actually something enjoyable. (It took me away from statistical risk assessments, data review, and paperwork - yuck.)

And at the end of the day, we ended up with sixteen grant applications that I dare say are pretty darn strong. Of course, I'm emotionally committed to each and every story I write. (Job hazard.) And I feel for the communities that are not awarded - not just because I'm insulted that my stellar writing skills weren't awarded - but because these communities have real need. (And the company has needs as well - as in - if we don't get 'em funded - we don't get any work.) But I'm proud of this work. I'm proud of the stories and tales I wrote. And I believe in them.

It wasn't all easy - there were definate frustrations along the way. At least we can laugh at ourselves (after the fact) as we struggled through the last few days, hours, and yes, even minutes of finalizing the last applications.

So say a prayer for us. Annoint yourself with holy water or oil or burn some incense - that this year's applications have better results than last year. Or you just might see that F-Bomb tally increase significantly.

Thanksgiving Eve 2011

2011-11-23T19:53:00.001-05:00

So I'm sitting here in my office at nearly 8:00 at night. It's quiet. The only sounds I hear are the hum of the never ending air-conditioner, the occasional fluorescent light bulb buzz, and Christmas carols playing from Pandora. It's dark outside - and from my view on the 10th floor - I see a sea of lights.

My family is out there - my home is one of those lights burning brightly tonight. My husband is having 'movie' night with the kids - the Muppets Christmas Carol - and enjoying the pizza I prepared for them before dashing out.

And I'm here. Writing.

It's not supposed to be this way. I'm supposed to be at home, scurrying around to set the table, pulling out the fine crystal and china we haven't touched in months, baking pies, rubbing turkeys, and preparing for general merry making.

But I'm here. Writing.

My oven is cold. My kitchen lights are off. There aren't any 'thanksgiving' smells - cinnamon and nutmeg or sage and onions - wafting from the stove top.

My kids are confused. They don't understand why Mommy is pulled away - has been pulled away for days and weeks on end. James especially doesn't understand why his family isn't coming to his house tomorrow. He's excited to go to Grandma and Grandpa's house tomorrow - don't get me wrong - but is particularly bothered by the fact that he isn't entertaining them in his own home.

Child after my own heart...

Anna is sick. Some horrible, evil, weird stomach virus that has plagued her since last Friday. Random intermittent vomiting, general lethargic behavior, gray and pale face. Not the bouncing picture of health who was eagerly anticipating the biggest eating day of the year.

And I'm here. Writing. Not taking care of my child. Feeling guilty that I was so angry yesterday that she had to come home from school - and I had to miss nearly a day of writing.

Aside from that - I'm sad. Incredibly and unfathomably sad. I'm sure its exacerbated by this impending deadline, the lack of sleep and regular meals, and general stress over every single word I write.

But the truth is, that sadness is always there. Always. It just tends to come out more when I'm tired, or stressed, or worried about one (or all) of my children.

I miss my mom.

I miss my dad.

It's not supposed to be this way. I'm supposed to be complaining about which family we have to visit and when. I'm supposed to be rolling pie dough with my mom, making pumpkin and pecan pies, and fussing over place settings. I'm supposed to be discussing which vintage from which winery will make the best pairing for turkey and all the trimmings with my dad.

But I'm here. Writing. Trying to keep focused - to not let the tears blur the screen too much.

But it's hard. Because I want to be in the kitchen. With my mom. With my dad. With my kids. As a family.

And right now, at this very moment in time, I feel so alone.

Birthday Un-fun

2011-11-13T09:24:00.001-05:00

So Deonne's birthday was yesterday. Thanks to the EPA, I've been tied to this computer - writing and editing, researching and writing nonstop. So that meant that Deonne had the fun of taking care of the kids all day yesterday. While admittedly daunting to me - Deonne thrives when he has the Party kids to himself. I think because he can really let go - have fun with them - be a kid - and completely ignore The List Of Grownup Things that needs to be accomplished on weekends. Which isn't a bad thing - not at all. I wish I could let go of the laundry, shopping, cleaning, picking-up and just have fun. Unfortunately my OCD doesn't allow that. Of course the house is typically a wreck when I come home after he's been the parent on duty - toys and games, food and crumbs, dishes in the sink, and dirty kids - but in the big picture, who cares, right?

Back to the point - yesterday was complicated. Jack's been sick. AGAIN. Ear infection diagnosed last weekend. Stomach virus that started Wednesday night. Fun times. A check to the MD on Friday showed that his ear isn't clearing up - so we've changed the meds - if he doesn't respond he's earned three shots of Rocefin and a trip back to the ENT for repeat tubes.

I'm not 100% well either, having picked up the kids' nasty cold that seems to be settling in my chest. Add to the mix a strange/mean/competitive 'thing' going on between Anna and James and you end up with one sick and stressed out Mommy, one sick two-year old, and two bickering children. Oh, and did I mention that the cat (the INDOOR cat) managed to escape outside - and when she returned home brought fleas into the house? That attack Jack - making him look like he has chicken pox?

So. Back to the birthday story ... I felt horrible that I didn't have time to do anything special for Deonne for his birthday. The kids and I had managed to pick up a few little gifts that they were ready to give him, but that was about it. Donuts are a big deal around here - so I woke up early Saturday morning and picked up Krispy Kreme for breakfast - including a special football 'do-no' as Jack calls it - for Deonne. A few candles, 'Happy Birthday,' and gifts, and that was about it for birthday fun.

Jack gave Deonne a great gift later - barfing all over him when they were trying to watch the Carolina/Florida football game. Awesome.

And Anna and James gave Deonne a lovely gift of fighting and arguing and exhibiting general mean spirited behavior all day - prompting several isolation periods to their respective rooms, at least one spanking per child, and lots of yelling. (I know, I heard them from my sequestered 'office' in the dining room.)

Thankfully one of Anna's friends called and invited her over for dinner and to spend the night. Despite it being Deonne's birthday, we gladly ~~got rid of her for the night~~ accepted the invitation. Whatever tummy issue Jack had seemed to be better - so we tempted fate and went to 5 Guys for dinner with the boys after dropping Anna (per Deonne's request.) Jack ate all of 1/4 of his hotdog bun - but at least he kept it down. So far.

The highlight of the entire day was probably the trip to Rite Aid that followed - for new toothbrushes for the kids. (I'm so OCD about that - whenever one kid gets sick - everyone gets new toothbrushes.) The boys (all 3 of them) had a great time playing with those horrible mechanical stuffed animals - you know - the Christmas junk like snowmen and reindeer that move and sing and light up when you push the buttons.

I think Deonne deserves a birthday do-over. Which he'll get... after November 28 when this EPA deadline is finally met.

Squirrels - not your average vermin...

2011-11-05T11:57:00.000-04:00

Anna made her stage debut this past weekend in the local Children's Theatre production of Annie, Jr.

She was cast as a NYC Central Park Squirrel.

Are these not the cutest bunch of squirrels you've ever seen??

Anna was blessed with a wide fan crowd who came to cheer her on including....

Madeleine, Ella Grace, and future husband Duncan (pals from her pre-school)

The Bell Family - dear friends from church,

including little Dylan - who danced and clapped his way through the entire production.

The Beautiful Blalock Girls

Her super-awesome teacher Ms. Duke.

Ms. Craft - her special friend whose relationship is so close and so wonderful

that I can't begin to explain how important it is to my girl's life.

Her awesome art teacher, Ms. Hansberry.

It was a great show. Not only was the cast, talent, singing and dancing amazing (seriously - beyond amazing), but it meant so much to see my daughter showered with love and support from friends new and old, teachers, adopted moms, and her own extended family (Deonne's mom, dad, aunt and uncle attended as well).

I often wonder how I'll ever make up the void in her life from the absence of my own family - if she'll see or feel the space left by my mom and dad not being there for the big moments in her life.

It warms my heart to see such outpouring for her, and makes me feel a little bit better about the crappy hand my kids were dealt.

Halloween 2011 - The Year Of The Mystery Gang

2011-11-05T11:38:00.000-04:00

Darn those meddling kids...

Fred, Velma, Scooby, Daphne, and Scrappy Doo (who had the phrase 'Puppy Power' down pat)

No one wanted to be Shaggy, thus he was sleeping in the Mystery Machine - one too many

Scooby Snacks.

Cowboy James and Pinocchio Jack at St. Johns Trunk or Treat

Batgirl Anna at RNE Treat or Trunk

Jack and Jasper/Ella Grace and Anna - bff's at Spooktacular 2011

Spooktacular 2011

Boo at the Zoo

A Momumental Day

2011-11-04T08:36:00.000-04:00

Grant writing will have to take a back burner for a moment while I update with this post. This morning I realized I reached a significant goal - achieved an accomplishment that I've been working on, striving for, struggling with for quite some time.

And it only took me a decade + 11 months - 2 days to do it.

Let me back up a bit - I've always struggled with my perception of myself, a lot of that having to do with my weight. I always felt like the proverbial 'fat kid' all through school (especially high school) when the cool kids all seemed to be rail thin. I was never ever rail thin. I think I went from the little girls section of clothes to a women's section size 10 - completely skipping the coveted size 6, 4, and even (gasp) 2 junior sizes that many teenage girls are. As a result, I was painfully self-conscious - never tried out for the things I wanted to in high school or made much effort to socialize. (It's kind of funny though, I look back at what few pictures I allowed of myself during those horrible awkward years and realize I didn't look nearly as bad as I thought I did...)

Anyway - through college and my early adult-life I came to accept who I was - but was never really quite satisfied with my physical appearance. I tried various diets here and there, but never really committed, and was thus never really satisfied. Then, when I lived in Scotland for a year and had no transportation other than my feet, a lot of the weight I carried around (not huge extra amounts but still what was extra) fell off. I felt good, I looked good, I was a solid size 10, I was happy.

The day I walked down the aisle on January 6, 2001 was one of the happiest days of my life - for many reasons. Not only was I marrying my best friend, but I felt really good about myself, and darn if I didn't look good in that amazing dress!

That was 10 years, 11 months, - 2 days ago.

I maintained that healthy weight until the winter of 2003 when we started our journey to parenthood. A year of infertility, crazy hormone pills, emotions that I soothed with the epitome of comfort food, and I packed on a lot of weight.

Following the birth of Anna in September 2004, I pledged to be the healthy, moderately thin person I was prior to our year of infertility treatments. I pledged to be the cool, hip mom who maintained a sense of style and did not, under any circumstances, wear 'mom' jeans.

And then... then the cycle of clearly unfortunate events happened, where it just seemed that the tragedies would never end. As soon as I'd start feeling better about myself and my family and think about making my own self healthy again, another disaster would happen. (And if you recall, I'm not talking about little events, I'm talking about things like the diagnosis of cancer and death 9 months later of my father, my grandmother's death, two miscarriages, my mom's stroke, and a financial battle due to rising child care costs, Deonne's job situation, and that horrible year of two mortgage payments before our first home sold.)

Anyway.... the point is - through all of that, I sort of let myself go. I focused on my kids, my spouse, my job, and surviving at best for myself. I soothed my soul with creamy chicken casseroles, homemade cakes and cookies and brownies, and my ultimate comfort food - fried potatoes of any sort. And while I didn't like the image I saw in the mirror - or the sizes of clothes I was forced to buy - I didn't really care. I even rationalized to myself that at my age, with three kids, 'mom' jeans were okay.

I even let my personal health go. I struggled so much after Jack was born with trying to take care of three kids while working full time and trying to support my spouse in his ongoing career drama that I skipped appointments, didn't go to the doctor when I should for various illnesses (resulting in a bad bout of pneumonia last winter), and didn't attend yearly check ups.

After that pneumonia scare of last winter, my colleague told me enough was enough, I wasn't being healthy, and I needed to do a better job of taking care of myself. I knew that - but didn't want to listen to it. Despite that, I reluctantly made my 'one year after having a baby' check up (that happened to be TWO years after having Jack.)

Now, I heart my doctor. She rocks. She wasn't able to be my OB for Jack or deliver him (since she stopped doing obstetrics) but she checked in on me through my pregnancy, and even called me at the hospital shortly after he was delivered to see how I was doing. We went through so much together as Deonne and I grew our family - she's forever a part of my journey to motherhood.

Truth be told I was embarrassed to see her. My weight was out of control, I had no excuse for not coming to see her a year previous to that visit, and I felt terrible about myself. But on I went, and as expected, we had a (ahem) 'discussion' about my health. And she laid it on the line for me. She said that my weight was clearly unhealthy. That I was running the risk of having numerous complications later in life for my lack of exercise and bad eating habits. And then she really let me have it - she looked me right in the eye and said 'you have enough family history of serious health issues to not be doing this. Do you want to do to your kids what your parents did to you? Do you want Anna to be a young mom without you?' Gulp. Further 'you don't need to exacerbate the risks you carry - while losing weight can't prevent cancer or stroke - it certainly can lessen your risks.'

Oh, I tried to weasel my way out of it - to justify it all - every excuse like 'well, I'm getting older and my metabolism is changing' to which she rolled her eyes and said 'nope - no excuses.' I admitted the size I was felt foriegn to me - but that I'd honestly struggled to deal with it. Off and on over the years I'd try various diets, try to lose weight, joined Weight Watchers about 492 times with no success. Admitted that I'd lose a few pounds, but then the weight loss would slow or stop - despite best efforts - and I'd get discouraged and quit.

So we came up with a plan. Something managable. I'd commit to joining Weight Watchers again. I'd commit to exercising regularly. I'd email her weekly food and exercise logs. And in exchange, she'd prescribe me Adipex. (Which is a weight loss drug for those who struggle with weight loss.... I think it's a legal form of speed.) But it is only allowed for three months. After that - you're on your own. Which is why she wanted me to email her food/exercise logs to ensure I was changing my eating habits so that I could continue to lose and maintain when I reached my goal.

That was in early March of this year. And I diligently started tracking everything I put in my mouth and every moment of dreaded exercise (that I will hate until the end of time.) I entered everything online - and weekly stepped on the scale. I sent her weekly logs of all of this - food intake, exercise, weight loss. She nitpicked - told me that the steamed shrimp and vegetables at my favorite Asian restaurant just around the corner from my office was a good choice, but to be careful, because sometimes they add extra oil during the steaming process - and to next time ask for no oil. Or that the ground turkey I used to make a turkey meatloaf was good, but next time to make sure it is all turkey breast, no dark meat, because that has more fat in it. (Really? Clearly she didn't understand that me not eating tempura shrimp or fatty pork and beef meatloaf was a huge step...)

Anyway....

It started to work.

I'm not exactly sure what the Adipex does - because I was still hungry (it wasn't an appetite suppresant for me), I wasn't jumpy (which is a supposed side effect), and I didn't have trouble sleeping (another supposed side effect.) Maybe it was mental for me - thinking that the tiny blue pill I took each morning was the miracle drug. Perhaps it was - because it gave me confidence to keep going as I lost every single week that I took it.

But the Adipex ended in June. And I've steadily lost since then. Sometimes a half a pound a week, sometimes two pounds (which is fiunny in Weight Watchers Online because you get an error message that says something about you're losing too fast. WHATEVER)

My clothes started fitting looser, and looser, until the size I had been forced to wear would simply not stay on. I had Deonne dig the big trunk of clothes out of the attic that I'd stuffed in there - basically my pre-child wardrobe - to see what would fit. Amazingly, the majority of it did, does, and in some cases, is now too big. (Although, some styles from a decade ago are not in style to say the least...)

Oh it hasn't been easy - I still triple-heart fried potatoes, and a big plate of creamy chicken casserole sounds divine. Learning to think about what I eat, when I eat, WHY I eat has been key. I still eat those things, but in moderation. And the honest truth, what I refused to listen to when healthy/thin friends would tell me, is that eating that stuff doesn't matter so much. And it makes me feel yucky after I eat it. So it IS true after all. NOTHING tastes as good as being thin and healthy feels.

I still find comfort in time in the kitchen making cakes and cookies and brownies and pasta dishes for my sweets and pasta-loving spouse and children - I just don't feel the need to eat them all as soon as they come out of the oven. I still enjoy ALL of the things I did prior to this (what has indeed been epic) journey, but not to the same scale that I did before.

And it all comes down to this morning. I stepped on the scale, and realized, I'd done it. I'd lost 50 pounds. Let me write that again for emphasis. 50 POUNDS. I dropped from a girl pushing a size 18 to a size 8. In jeans. SIZE 8 JEANS. NON MOM-JEANS, I might add. I didn't wear a size 8 in high school.

I'm back to the size and person I was the day I walked down the aisle.

And I gotta tell you, I feels good. REALLY good.

Jack

2011-11-03T11:13:00.002-04:00

I had a few precious moments alone with my boys last Sunday. Jack woke up from his post-church nap and came downstairs with his airplane blanket in hand, requesting a drink and a snack.

At first he was sleepy, and made his 'I'm Cute, Pick Me Up' face....

But this little boy can't contain his smiles - and within a few snaps of my camera - this face appeared...

Oh my sweet boy, I adore you.

Simply adore you.

True Friendship

2011-11-03T10:01:00.001-04:00

A friend of mine sent me this poem via email.

I had to share here.

Enjoy a very funny (and very true) look at True Friendship. (And as the email says - a non-cute, non-smiley face, non-girly poem - just the plain truth.)

When you are sad ~ I will help you get drunk and plot revenge against the sorry bastard who made you sad.
When you are blue ~ I will try to dislodge whatever is choking you.
When you smile ~ I will know you are thinking of something that I would probably want to be involved in.
When you are scared ~ I will rag on you about it every chance I get until you're NOT.
When you are worried~ I will tell you horrible stories about how much worse it could be until you quit whining.
When you are confused ~ I will try to use only little words.
When you are sick ~ Stay the hell away from me until you are well again. I don't want whatever you have.
When you fall ~ I will laugh at your clumsy ass, but I'll help you up.
This is my oath ..... I pledge it to the end. 'Why?' you may ask ~ because you are my friend.
Friendship is like peeing your pants, everyone can see it, but only you can feel the true warmth.

Fair Fun

2011-10-29T15:41:00.000-04:00

Fun at the South Carolina State Fair - for the Party of Five that means...

Riding around on portable rides that ~~I fear will fall into a million pieces at any given moment~~ are

safe and fun for the kids to enjoy.

Enjoying a year's worth of fried food in one sitting.

Yes, the Diet Pepsi is necessary to balance out the enormous amount of calories consumed... no matter how ridiculous it looks standing next to its friends Funnel Cake and Fitz Fries.

And finally, having so much fun, that you fall asleep before the car gets out of the parking lot.

With your hand in your popcorn box.

Thanks for a great time State Fair! Catch you in 2012!

Mommy, How Do .....

2011-10-28T11:54:00.002-04:00

you put cars together?
you make squishy seats?
big kids walk to their classes and not drive?
big kids always look at their phones?
you make concrete?
take concrete away?
does a jackhammer work?
have to hold on to a jackhammer instead of just turning it on and waking away?
you make bread?
you make water?

A few snippets of questions James asked. Yesterday. During the 15 minute drive from the University to Anna's elementary school.

No wonder I'm exhausted at the end of the day.

Scarecrows!

2011-10-25T15:18:00.000-04:00

Last Saturday, Deonne took the kids to see the Scarecrow exhibit at the Historic Robert Mills House. Apparently they had a ball - as evidenced from the grins and giggles D captured with his camera phone.

This was Jack's favorite one "Lego Man"

Sitting on the joggling board...I wonder where Jack got his two pinecones...

St. Francis - my favorite Saint from the old school catchism days.

James' favorite - Harry Potter - if you look closely you can see the golden snitch hovering overhead.

Love this historic home.

Art At The Fair

2011-10-25T08:56:00.002-04:00

Remember this picture from earlier this year? Apparently Anna's art teacher really likes it. A lot. Because she sent it to the fair for consideration in their state-wide student art exhibit. I'm not sure how many pieces Ms. Hansberry submitted, but I do know that only three were selected - Anna's being one of them.

And apparently the people at the South Carolina State Fair (judges, I should say) liked it a lot too.

When Anna finally told us that her piece was at the fair (in her nonchalant - oh by the way, I was on the News Show this morning because of my fish that's at the fair), we were of course proud, and happy for her, but sorta thought no big deal, right? Wrong. I didn't realize that art is submitted by teachers from across the entire state. (Duh - it IS the STATE fair...) And out of those that were sent in - only a smattering from each grade level (Anna's being kindergarten from last year) were chosen to be displayed.

Cool, right?

Anna was thrilled. Can't tell at all from the photos below, can you???

And what made it all the sweeter - Ms. Hansberry sent Anna a note in the mail (REAL MAIL) - a beautiful card telling Anna how proud she was of her, of what a big deal it was to have her piece on display, and how lucky and happy she is to be her art teacher.

I know how she feels.

I'm lucky and happy to be her mama.

Blessed, is a better word. As we discussed last night at Bible study - it all comes back to sovereignty.

Pumpkin Patch 2011

2011-10-25T08:21:00.003-04:00

Trenholm Road United Methodist.

Pumpkin Patch.

Late afternoon visit.

Enough said.

Forest Lake Elementary STEM-G PTO Night

2011-10-25T08:16:00.002-04:00

One of the things I love about Anna's elementary school (among many) is the PTO family nights that happen four times a year. Simply put, dinner in the cafeteria, activities for kids of all ages, educational opportunities (sometimes they skype with astronauts in Houston), and a program (kids singing.)

I was anchored to the PTO booth trying to churn up membership - so couldn't take the kids around. This is when Jack was sick with that weird virus - so Deonne was home tending to him. Thankfully Aunt Mary and Uncle Harry saved the day - and took Anna and James around to enjoy all of the fun things.

I put this last photo in so I can remind myself that this is what life was like at this stage - trying to do too much - but for a good cause. :)

Halloween Crafting

2011-10-25T06:15:00.001-04:00

A few weeks ago, we had a little crafting activity via http://familyfun.go.com/crafts/jar-o-lanterns-1024695/. Some old spaghetti sauce jars, pickle jars, and jelly jars, painters tape, and a lot of orange paint later - and we had these little guys.

James clearly didn't want to wait for directions....

They do look pretty neat - of course I don't have a picture of the final product with the tape peeled off, sitting on the kitchen table, and the lights out with candles aglow inside - so you'll have to use your imagination.

The kids had fun, I had fun, and dinnertime with kids and candles is always something to be treasured.

Fall Fun (from a distance)

2011-10-23T07:55:00.001-04:00

Thanks to the brilliant planning skills of the EPA, the brownfield grants I write on an annual cycle are due on November 28. That would be the Monday after Thanksgiving.

Awesome.

I'm back to leaving the house before 7am, working through lunch, cancelling lunches and meetings and daytime appointments (no comments on the state of my hair and/or monobrow), rushing out to pick up whatever child needs to be at whatever activity in the afternoon, trying to cook somewhat healthy meals, spend a few minutes with my family before herding them up to bath and bed, and then returning to my trusty laptop to write and write and write and write. Saturdays have become days of leaving the house early - working at the office all day - and trying to leave in the afternoons to spend just a little bit of time with the kids. And Deonne, of course.

So the already full schedule of dance class, French class, Annie Jr. rehearsals (did I mention that Anna's in her first theatrical performance this year - cast in the superstar role of NYC Central Park Squirrel [read: extra] in the local Childrens Theatre production), church music and rhythm class, Wednesday night church programming, soccer practice + games, women's Bible study, PTO board meetings, karate, and soccer class is even more crazy. (If that's at all possible.) Add in the menagerie of fall activities going on across Columbia that I really want to enjoy with the kids and it becomes an out-and-out battle to keep everything straight.

Game on.

So limited time to keep the blog updated - limited time to put much thought or detail into writing ('cause my super-stellar writing skills are too busy telling tales of woe and desperation...)

And I hate that. Truth be told, it's a weird place to be - I love the writing, I love the work. I just hate that it falls during one of my favorite seasons. That it takes time away from doing the things I love with my family, like carving pumpkins and tissue lollipop ghosts, baking pumpkin treats, and taking advantage of things like Boo at the Zoo, the State Museum Halloween party, the scarecrows at the Robert Mills House, and a gazillion others I'm sure I'm forgetting.

So for now, I'll just update with pictures - and say thank you to my spouse for taking on kid duty for the next month, for enjoying the fun things fall offers with our children, and for documenting most of it with your camera phone.

See ya on the flip side for more details....

Overheard

2011-10-18T08:01:00.000-04:00

Saturday morning.

I'm rushing around trying to get out of the house to the office - making sure Deonne has The List of the day's activities fully understood.

James is in the bathroom - taking care of business - singing songs (which is what he does when he's doing Number Two.)

'Mommy?'

'Yes love?'

'Wanna see something?'

'Ummmm.... no, not really.'

'But it's really cool.'

'Uh, no, but thanks. But your Daddy would love to see, I'm sure.'

I'll leave the rest to your imagination....

Prayers

2011-10-11T08:42:00.004-04:00

I don't often ask for prayers...for myself or for others. I tend to keep my needs to myself - close to my heart - asking for wisdom and guidance in a private way - in the quiet of my home (which really does happen... sometimes...) or when I have a moment of solitude.

Similarly, I don't often ask for prayers for others - I'm not sure why - maybe because I'd rather keep someone in my private thoughts ... maybe because it seems sometimes that it's become all too cliche to say 'I'll pray for you' kind of like 'come see me sometime...' something that is said in passing and while sincere at that moment in time, quickly forgotten in the hustle and bustle of daily lives.

And I don't like to gossip about the misfortunes of others - I don't like to be a link in the chain of 'did you hear about so-and-so' or 'it's just so awful that such-and-such happened...' Rather I sit by, quiet, kinda like a mute - and don't participate in the discussion.

But if ever there was a time to request prayers on behalf of others - if ever there was a time to ask that people stop in their tracks, for just a moment, to pray for healing, comfort, and peace - now is it.

I won't elaborate on details - just tell you that a tragic accident happened last Friday. A beloved member of our church lost her life, after 80-some years of devotion and service. Her daughter, who is another member of our church (who happens to teach my women's Bible study class - who has been actively helping me learn God's word) was critically injured. And her son and daughters (of which I really only know one - who is also helping to teach the Bible study class) are faced with the horrible HORRIBLE job of sitting by her side. Helpless. Scared. Confused.

I've been that daughter. I spent many an hour sitting by my mother's side when she was comatose- holding her limp and swollen hand - watching a machine pump air into and out of her body - wondering if she would live - if she could ever recover from the stroke and brain surgery she suffered. I spent one very quiet morning with my father (what turned out to be his last) - holding his limp hand - listening to the beeps and hums of the machines keeping him alive - knowing in my heart that he would soon be gone.

I never asked for prayers during those wretched times. I don't even remember if I prayed myself - as it was all so surreal and foggy and I could barely form sentences, let alone think of a coherent prayer.

But I felt them.

And the family intimately affected by this tragedy haven't asked for prayers.

But they need them.

So if you are inclined, please take a moment to think about a family that is hurting, scared, confused. Hold them up. Ask for comfort. Ask for peace. Ask for some sort of calm to help ease the confusion of this terrifying time.

I know they'll feel them.

Organized Chaos

2011-10-10T11:18:00.001-04:00

Life in the Party household can be quite chaotic. I feel like I have to be one step ahead of everyone in order to make sure all tasks, assignments, and commitments - parties, recitals, and soccer games happen on schedule. I felt like I was floundering a lot last year - and had several calendars going to try to keep everything straight... a small dry-erase calendar in the kitchen, my electronic calendar on ipod and computer, the momAgenda - nothing seemed to work.

I think I'm a visual person. If I don't see everything clearly laid out in front of me - I have a hard time remembering what I'm supposed to be doing or where I'm supposed to be going with what kid.

With Jack moving up to the official Boys Room, we suddenly had an entire room to fill. A whole space with no designated purpose. I toyed with the idea of creating a lovely guest room like we had when we originally moved in - but that didn't seem practical seeing as the only people who use that room are our buddies from NC - and that's only once or twice a year. I considered making a playroom - since it's just down the hall from the kitchen - but the kids are getting old enough to send down to the basement playroom - giving them yet another place to clutter with toys and junk didn't seem like the best choice.

So I claimed it as mine. MINE. James lovingly calls it my 'workshop.' Now a lot of people give me a hard time - saying the whole house is mine - but that's not really the truth. The reality is every room has been either taken over by children or serves a designated purpose. I really didn't have one central place to organize our family - a Command Central, if you will - a term I picked up when I took that Busy Moms Guide To Survival Class a few summers ago.

Slowly but surely I've been organizing - relentlessly purging - thinking hard about where things should go - and what you see before you is the fruit of that effort.

Meet the Mama-cave....

Sleeper sofa brought up from the basement and re-covered via the new two-piece slip covers. Can I tell you how much I love these? Not only do they fit tightly with elastic bands - but the second piece to contain the seat cushions separate from the remainder of the couch means no sagging fabric collecting in a wad on the floor. Amen.

The Calendar. I took the idea from my friend Ashley who has a ginormous wall-sized magnetic dry-erase calendar in her kitchen. I covet that. But they are very expensive (from my research via Mr. Google) so I decided to be creative with a big corkboard and some pretty ribbon.

The dresser is what the kids each had in the nursery before graduating to 'big kid' furniture. It now houses all of my craft supplies (punches, stamps, adhesives, papers, scissors, pens, etc...) The top three drawers are labeled for each child as a place to store important papers until I can file them in their 'to be saved' files in their rooms.

I simply move the dates around each month - just little circles I created in Photoshop and cut out from cardstock with a 2" circle punch. The important things/events/places to be are written on other 2" circles I also cut out of cardstock. I realized though - as I was putting this post together - that I could get creative and make pretty ones that match in Photoshop. Things like church, dance, soccer that remain the same each month... I'll have to get on that...

The bookcase was also part of the original nursery set - now it houses my jars of stuff (paper clips, push pins, rubber bands, etc..), non-specialty scissors and markers, the recipe books I use most often when menu planning, and the middle shelf is designated for my Bible study and reference materials. (That is the topic of another post.)

I totally stole this idea from Kathy when I saw it on her blog. No matter how organized I was with the re-purposed dresser, it kept feeling cluttered - either I had stacks of paper for each child (from the absurd amount of paper that comes home each day in their respective backpacks) - or I stashed them away in those top drawers - and would forget about what I'd stuffed in there. This hanging file system works wonders. I'm able to do what Kathy suggested and dump papers here each night - then when I have time - go through them later and decide what needs to be kept, what needs to be recorded, and what can be tossed.

This area is still a work in progress. Right now the folding table works - sort of. My intent was to use it as a sewing/craft space, which seemed like a great idea - until I tried to sew on it. The movement of the needle made the entire table wobble. Not so great. Deonne is looking into building a small table of the same dimensions - so it will fit when the sleeper-sofa is pulled into a bed. I'd like him to craft it so it looks sort of like a built-in - we'll see how that goes.

But I'm loving my space...

I'm loving being organized...

I'm loving being able to see what we have coming in the weeks ahead...

And I'm loving having a quiet space to read, study the Bible, and help Anna do her homework. And Anna loves having a place she can work independently on her homework without her brothers all up in her business - but is close enough that she's within earshot of me in the kitchen. I'm thankful she can be to herself and not distracted by the TV or toys or games her brothers are playing.

So this is how we organize our daily lives...

Best Fall Soup Ever

2011-10-10T10:49:00.001-04:00

Anna helped me make this soup yesterday afternoon. It was SOOOO good. Seriously good. Seriously fall. Savory soup with just the right amount of sweetness... and very yummy. And very healthy - the only fat in the entire recipe is the 2Tbs. of butter you cook the onions in - and the 1/2 cup of milk. (A side note - I didn't figure out the Weight Watchers points - but I imagine they would be very low - since it's basically vegetables and low-sodium chicken broth.)

So I had to share the recipe for all my cooking friends:

Butternut Squash and Pear Bisque

1 onion chopped
2 Tbs. butter
1 butternut squash, peeled and cubed
1 anjou pear, peeled and cubed (these are not in season 'round these parts - so I substituted 2 bosc pears)
1 carrot or parsnip, peeled and cut into chunks (I used a carrot - I'm still scarred from my experience eating parsnips as a small child)
1 Tbs. honey
1 quart low-sodium chicken broth
salt and pepper to taste
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
1 bay leaf
1/2 cup whole milk or cream (we used whole milk)

Garnish: 4 ounces sharp white cheddar grated
Sourdough croutons*

In large pot, saute onions in butter on med-low heat until soft (do not allow to brown). Add cubed squash, pear, and carrot, and saute a few minutes more. Add chicken broth, honey, thyme, salt, and pepper - increase heat to high and bring to a boil. Once it reaches a boil, reduce heat to low and simmer 15 minutes until squash is very tender.

Working in several batches, puree soup in blender, or (what we did) blend in the pot with an immersion blender.

(I added an extra step here - and strained the soup through a fine mesh strainer.... the immersion blender did a great job - but I wanted no texture - just pure creamy goodness.)

Return soup to pot and heat through - keeping on low. Stir in milk. Check seasoning and add salt and/or pepper as needed.

Garnish with grated cheese and sourdough croutons.

*2 slices day-old sourdough bread cut into 1" cubes
olive oil to coat
kosher salt

Toss bread cubes in enough olive oil to coat - sprinkle with salt. Bake at 350 degrees for about 10 minutes until lightly browned (make sure to watch the oven - so you don't burn them.)

Enjoy!!!

Are You Ready For Some Football???

2011-10-10T08:07:00.002-04:00

James had his first true taste of Carolina football. He FINALLY got to attend a game at the infamous Williams-Brice with his dad and uncle. And boy was this kid excited.

Ever one to be afraid of loud noises - he apparently thought the roar of the crowd was a bit much prior to '2001' and Cocky's entrance.

I think he managed to get over it though.

But I dare say - his favorite part of the event was sampling and tasting all of the foods the stadium had to offer. I received an email from Deonne with this picture attached - with the phrase "James is trying to eat his way through the game..." Why doesn't that surprise me?!?

A rite of passage... a game of Carolina football shared with the 'men' in his life. What a great way to spend a Saturday!

Thank you Uncle Darron for sharing your tickets - this is one memory James won't ever forget.

A Child's Thought To Stop Hunger

2011-10-09T14:01:00.000-04:00

Anna's class was recently given the opportunity to express their ideas on how to stop hunger. They were tasked with writing a sentence on how they could stop childhood hunger and then draw a picture of it.

The work was part of the Mast General Store's Food for Kids program. One class from each of several elementary schools across the city were selected to have their work displayed. Anna's was one of them.

We found out about it late yesterday via an email from Anna's teacher - the awesome Teacher of the Year, Ms. Duke. So we headed out after church and lunch to take a peek and see what the kids had created.

Anna was thrilled to discover her class display - with her picture located just beneath the title (first one on the left with the red border.)

It was really sweet to see all of the things each child had thought of as a way to end childhood hunger. The best part of the whole assignment? That these kids were given the opportunity to think about something beyond the three R's of reading, writing, arithmetic - to think about humanity and the greater good.

This is reason 4,982 why I love the school Anna is blessed to attend - and can't wait for our boys to attend and experience.

Fall Fairy Birthday Party

2011-10-06T21:36:00.003-04:00

Anna celebrated her 7th birthday with a Fall Fairy Party. It took a while for her to settle on a party theme - her choices ranging from fairy to Junie B, from art to dance. And because she was so all over the place - and I've been so scattered in the ever present UNKNOWN in our life - I didn't get around to planning anything until very late in the game. Truth be told - I just wasn't into party planning mode this birthday. I suppose a lot of that had to do with not knowing if we'd be here or there - and living with one foot in the door and one foot out is schizophrenic to say the least.

However, Anna was turning 7, and we needed to celebrate.

One theme that remained constant throughout her various 'Mommy I want a (insert theme) party' was the tag-on statement of 'a slumber party.' She's been dying to have friends over to spend the night - to have a true slumber party of her own. So we caved. We allowed it. We did set some ground rules - no more than six guests (no more of this inviting everyone she knows bit) - and when mommy and daddy said lights out - it meant go to sleep.

I'm sure I sound like a mean ogre parent - and I do want our kids to be kids and have fun giggling the night away. But I also know the ramifications of said giggling - and how vile my child can be on lack of sleep - so we laid down the proverbial law.

It was really hard for her to invite people - because she really wanted to invite everyone. I made her sit and think really hard about the people she really cares about and who she really wanted to help celebrate her birthday. And it didn't help that I waited so long to really start planning and figuring out a date - so she wasn't able to invite dear friends that live out of town - something I already felt awful about - that she compounded with her constant barrage of 'Mommy - this just isn't a party without Anna Reece.' Thanks kid...

Anyway - she finally narrowed down the list to two friends from her class at school, her bff friend from pre-school and her little sister, and two friends from church. And then the fairy frenzy began...

To set the scene - I quickly wrote up an invitation - asking fairies to come and frolic in the autumn air - while completing a very important task. I had little fairies stuck in various hiding places around the house - in and out of our regular fall decorations. I didn't know if any of the girls would even see the fairies or get that they were in hiding - but they did!

On the front door - I typed up this sign and stuck it in the fall gourd and leaf wreath. (Can I just say how much I heart Photoshop?)

As the fairies arrived, they were given supplies to make wands (sticks Anna collected from the backyard that I spray-painted glittery gold, ribbons, sparkly things, and berries) and were given the opportunity to have their faces painted.

Following that - they dined on a selection of fall fairy treats including Harvest Salad (apples, dried cranberries, goat cheese, candied pecans, and greens), Petite Pumpkin Pasta (my favorite fall pasta recipe ever), Gnome-made Pizzas (English muffin pizzas in your choice of cheese or mini-pepperoni), sliced Honeycrisp Apples, and Nymph Knots (refrigerated bread sticks that were tied into knot shapes and topped with Parmesan cheese.) Of course, everything was doused with a healthy sprinkling of edible gold glitter (pixie dust.) Sweets included Autumn Acorns (Hershey's kisses topped with miniature vanilla wafer cookies and chocolate icing stems) and birthday cake.

I had a lot of help with the birthday cake. I intended to make an elaborate three-layer cake with Swiss buttercream icing tinted orange and yellow and piped in the popular ruffles up the side of the cake. Um - yeah. I called 'Uncle' - and Publix came to the rescue. I did manage to make the white candy melt leaves for the top of the cake - but that was about it.

Following dinner - the fairies got all decked out in true fairy mode - including autumn leaf wings and crowns made of leaves. It's amazing what you can do with some pre-made orange wings (bought in bulk for dirt cheap), a bunch of fabric leaves, some gold glitter spray paint, and a glue gun. Ditto for the crowns - they started as cheap orange flower headbands with a lot of curly ribbon - add in leaves and berries and sticks with a lot of hot glue and voila! Fall Fairy Crowns!

The girls had a special treat - a visit from their Fairy Godmother! Anna and one of her teachers from school have become the best of friends. We happened to be chatting one night about her upcoming fall fairy party - and somehow she offered/was coerced into being the Fairy Godmother. Anna had no clue she was coming - they came down the stairs to the back deck with no idea of what was to come - and all of a sudden Fairy Godmother appeared!

So awesome.

The first order of business was to provide each fairy with her true fairy name. I found this ridiculous website where you can type in your name and a fairy name pops out. So each girl had an actual fairy name. So cute - and the girls loved it.
Next - the fairies received their task. The Fairy Godmother read this story I wrote - and the girls were off on their task to find the missing fall leaves and the magical pixie dust required to help them change colors.

And then they were off - in a flurry of wings and ribbons, wands and glitter. Along their journey - they discovered various jars of colored pixie dust (sugar sprinkles), icing, off-set spatulas, and the final item - a basket full of un-decorated leaf sugar cookies.

The pictures don't do it justice - but I can't seem to figure out how to get good action shots - especially in low lighting like it was at dusk. But you get the idea - lots of fluttering and flittering, squealing and laughter filled our yard, front and back.

I have to pause the story for a moment and point out the picture of Anna and her Fairy Godmother. How many teachers do you know that would take time away from family and friends to dress up in sparkly makeup, crown, jewels, and cape to attend a 7 year old's birthday? Not many. Ms. Craft has truly been like a godmother to our family - and all of us, ALL of us, are thankful beyond words.

Now, back to fairy programming...

Once the fairies had collected their loot - they had the very serious and very important job to help their leaves turn colors. You can see from the concentration on these fairy faces that this was serious stuff.

We followed the sugar ingestion with birthday cake (because you can't have too much sugar at a slumber party, right?) and then had everyone change into pajamas and set up sleeping bags to settle in for a movie (Thumbellina) and Fairy Snacks (popcorn, pretzels, and M&Ms served in individual chinese take-out boxes).

Now, I had a lot of help. Nici (mama to two of the fairies who attended) stayed the night. The WHOLE night. I kinda told her that a third of the guests were hers - so she had to stay to help by default. (But I think she would have stayed anyway.) Two of the other fairy mamas (Nicole and Catherine) also stayed to help make wands, serve dinner, keep the fairies on schedule, get them into (and out of) their fairy gear, and eventually settled into bed.

I had the above sign printed and stuck to the mantle underneath the fairy ornaments that would later become favors for the girls to take home. I hoped the girls would get the idea ... not so much. But after a good bit of giggling and whispering, they settled down a little after 10, and slept quietly through the night until 7:30 the following morning.

The person who had the most issue was Jack - who got his feelings hurt when he realized he couldn't sleep in the den with the girls. I think he was deeply insulted that he had to sleep in his bedroom - alone, no less - because James was at a sleepover himself. But once he settled down with a few lullabies and snuggles from mama - he was good to go.

Nici ran out the next morning to get doughnuts and chocolate milk (I again called 'uncle' and did not fix the elaborate pumpkin pancake and sausage breakfast I'd planned) - and all girls were collected around 9.

A lovely way to turn seven - and what I think was a pretty good first sleepover.

I do think it'll be at least a year before we do that again though....

Things that were missed - my mom. Anna hasn't mentioned it - but I think she is keenly aware that she didn't even receive a card from my mom and stepdad this year - that her birthday went by completely un-noticed by them. I don't have a lot to say about that - except that it sucks. And that I'm doing the best I can to shield my daughter from the horrible mentality of my stepdad.

My sister Logan - okay - so she's not really my sister - but she's the closest thing I have to one. If you're reading this L - you were missed a LOT. It didn't seem like a birthday without you and your girls. And B.

My dad. But there's a valid excuse for that - and I'm confident he was watching over us from Heaven - smiling down at the fluttering fairy wings and laughing his big Daddy laugh. The one that made his eyes twinkle.

But all in all - a very fun, very fairy party.

Highs and Lows

2011-10-06T14:32:00.000-04:00

Lows:
So Jack has some weird virus. It started last week with a barking cough - which a trip to the pediatrician resulted in a diagnosis of croup and a prescription for an oral steroid. He seemed fine other than the cough - we gave him the medicine - it definitely lessened the barking coughing - then Saturday he started with a nose-dive - including waking up from his nap in a stellar mood, not wanting to eat, a few random 'urps', and culminated in him falling down the stairs to the basement and landing on his head.

Yeah - that was a fun one to watch happen....

Late that night he threw up - a lot - which caused us to raise eyebrows - that whole concussion thing... but he seemed fine. Sunday he awoke with a fever that didn't seem to come down despite the Motrin we shoved down his throat.

Second trip to the pediatrician in three days resulted in a diagnosis of some sort of infection (possibly sinus?) and a prescription for an antibiotic.

Monday he was still feverish - despite three doses of antibiotic + Motrin. In an effort to retain some credibility at work I stopped in to my office with Jack after dropping the two older kids off at their respective schools. He just didn't seem right - kept moaning and complaining that his neck hurt (raising eyebrows about meningitis) - so I called the pediatrician office to talk to the nurse.

Along with every other mother in Columbia. I was on hold for about 15 minutes - which is a long time with a feverish two-year old in your lap.

Extreme Low:
While waiting for the nurse to answer - Jack wanted to get down and walk around my office - and kept acting so weird - and - well - he ended up barfing all over my office floor. On the carpet. With my boss just around the corner. Awesome. And at the same time, the nurse picks up - so I can't tend to the barf covered kid, nor the carpet which is rapidly absorbing the curdled milk that he just threw up. Double Awesome. (For the record, I made Deonne go back later in the day with carpet cleaner to address the remaining yuck-o that I wasn't able to properly address.)

Third trip to the pediatrician in four days resulted in a diagnosis of a virus. Blood work showed his white count was below normal - 'viral supression' - whatever that meant - but ruled out a bacterial infection like meningitis.

So we get to let it run it's course.

Four days later and I'm still home with him. I'm sure I've lost any and all respect from my colleagues - who are sympathetic and understanding to the fact that I work and have three small kids - but at some point - that goes out the window. If you can't do your job - you can't do your job - whether you have a good reason or not.

And therein is that age old struggle - and constantly feeling like you are never doing enough - either slacking at work so you can tend to your kid - or not being the mom you want to be so you can do your job.

But back to Jack - he seems to be turning the corner - no fever - but is still not eating, is extremely moody and grumpy, and sleeping a lot. So I'm not entirely sure he'll be back tomorrow.

Highs:
Despite his vile mood at times, I have to admit that I've enjoyed this time with my boy. Uninterrupted time to read stories, put together puzzles, lay with him in his bed and sing him to sleep, and receive the hugs and 'I luv you mama's' has been priceless.

Jack has been by my side - and become completely attached - to the point that I actually heard him tell Deonne 'I don't want you - I want MAMA' - which I'm sorta ashamed to say - I liked hearing come out of his little mouth.

But all good things must come to an end - and I hope and pray he'll be better soon - so we can get back to our 'normal' life.

And Now She is Seven...

2011-10-05T10:19:00.000-04:00

I know I sound like every other mother out there with every passing year when I say once again that it baffles my mind that my daughter is seven years old. It seriously feels like it was just yesterday that her tiny tightly swaddled body was placed in my arms for the very first time - like it was moments ago when I looked in her eyes for the first time and asked the question 'who are you? What great things will you do in your life?' And realized at that moment in time, just how much a mothers heart can love.

It hasn't been all lollipops and dandelion daydreams, though. I would be blatantly lying to ignore the challenges we've had in raising this beautiful, strong willed, insanely smart girl of ours. And since I hope that our kids one day read this blog - to see the ups and downs of their childhood documented in the written word - I have to tell it all - the good, the bad, and the just plain ugly.

The Good - oh my Anna. You are such an amazing child. You are whip-smart. You are able to see things and process things and understand things at a level that I can't quite grasp. Often times you seemingly stare into space, your wide eyes turning yellow-green when you really concentrate, and I know that you are thinking deep and profound thoughts. And it's not just your mom thinking you're really smart (even though that's my legal obligation - I'm sure I read that somewhere on your birth certificate.) Others see this unique trait in you as well. All the time.

And I struggle with that. I tend to down-play your abilities. I don't want you to get that proverbial 'big head,' nor do I want to be 'that mom' who thinks and acts and tells the world (in an annoying way) just how awesome their kid is.

But for the record, even though I may not say it - or may shrug off the compliments you receive when I'm around you - I think you are, indeed, amazing. You baffle me.

The other night we were watching the Carolina football game and a commercial came on advertising trucks. I can't recall the brand, or what they were saying - but the image was of the truck racing across the desert with a band of wild horses just behind it. You stopped in your tracks - feet frozen to the ground (which is what you typically do when you are deep in thought) - watched the ad - then turned to me and said 'mommy, I don't get it. What are they trying to say? That trucks are faster than horses? Duh... of course a truck is faster than a horse...' and went off on your way.

How many kids stop to think about the meaning of a TV ad? I'm sure I would have stopped and watched the same ad at the same age - but I would have been watching the horses - and daydreaming about how pretty they were...

And that's just one small example. You constantly bring things to my attention that I would have not thought about - or realized as important - and you constantly observe and process and conclude things that are beyond your years.

You are also very articulate. Your vocabulary is one of a teenager - and your reading level is off the charts. You write amazing sentences, and intricate stories, and while you struggle with spelling - and always ask 'mommy how do you spell ___?' - I'm kind of glad there is something you need help with.

You love to write letters and love notes to your family and friends - and I adore receiving your notes that say 'I love you mommy' on them more than you can ever know.

You are extremely artistic. Your drawings are down to the minute detail. Last year, in kindergarten, the class was asked to draw a fly. Every child drew a picture of a fly - taking up most of the sheet of paper they were given. Not you. You drew a tiny fly in the center of your page - a detailed and to scale drawing of a fly - true to size.

You are a sweetheart. You love tremendously and honestly and openly. And I'm realizing as time goes on just how sensitive you are. Your feelings are easily hurt, and I worry about you as you move forward with friendships in your young, yet dramatic life. I remember how awful girl friendships were in grade school - one day someone is your best friend - the next they aren't. It is a tumultuous time - and I hope I can provide you the love and support and guidance to help you navigate this stage of your life and come out on the other end relatively unscathed.

You adore family - and would like nothing better than to be with your younger brothers all day. While you really like to order James around - and we constantly need to remind you to play WITH him and not tell him how to play - the two of you have amazing imaginary games. You are the princess, he is your prince. You are the damsel in distress, he is the pirate. You are the mermaid, he is the sea creature sent to chase you. And you are so sweet to Jack. I think you think he's still a baby at times - which he protests greatly - but you are very protective of him - and rush to hold his hand or put your arm around him when you are out in public (much to his dismay.)

You have an incredible imagination - which can sometimes cause problems when the lines between reality and the imaginary become blurred.

You love to help - and strive to do your best in all you do. You don't settle for 'that's okay' - rather you'll work hard to make sure you get whatever it is you are trying to do right.

You are fiercely independent - and want to do everything yourself. I admittedly struggle with this. I want to give you your freedom and let you grow... but it's hard for this mama to watch you grow into a little girl from the baby I feel like I just held tightly in my arms. And, you want to help - you willingly accepted your list of chores on the 'chore chart' and have no issue completing the tasks listed. And if we had more time, I'm sure you would be right by my side helping to cook as much as possible.

The Bad - not really bad, but challenging. There isn't a 'bad' bone in your body - but there are indeed places where we butt heads - where we will always butt heads, I'm afraid. Your independence is a gift - and a struggle. Your ability to understand things quickly is a gift - and also a struggle. Many a day you are sent to your room for arguing with your dad and/or I, because you simply think you are right. And while you may be - we're trying to teach you respect. That you need to have obedience in your life. That your parents are in charge - no matter what. Whether or not you agree with it.

Another challenge is helping you keep your emotions in check. This started at the end of the last school year - hit a peak over the summer - and is seeming to subside now (THANK GOD). It's hard to see you become SO upset and SO emotional over EVERY thing that doesn't go according to your will. It is improving - and I hope it continues to do so as the school year progresses.

The Ugly - okay, so that's an exaggeration. You are my child - and nothing NOTHING you could ever do would be really 'ugly' in my mind. But again, there are definite challenges. Mostly stemming from the fact that you think everyone on the planet just fell off the turnip truck, and you have somehow been stuck living among a bunch of blubbering idiots. And again, we're working on that - and it is improving.

I wish I could explain to you now, and in the future when you read this someday, just how much you are loved. I know from personal experience that you will never fully comprehend a mother's love until you are one day, a mother.

My friend Kathy over at 3 Little Loves once said she wished she could bottle up her children's personalities at each age and put them on a shelf forever. I wish I could do that as well.... I think most moms do. I'd love to take you off the shelf at this age in about 15 years - when you are off at college and starting your own life - so I could remember the little seven year old girl who adores the imaginary world, can't get enough of all things fairy and Barbie, who has a tender heart and an open mind.

I love you my baby girl.

Happy Birthday

"G"

2011-09-29T08:51:00.000-04:00

The reality of just how sensitive and perceptive my children are hit me across the head last night with a big THUMP. We were driving home from a full afternoon and evening at church - the kids prattling on about what they had done, who they had seen, what they had played. Eventually the talk turned towards the remaining obligations we had to accomplish when we reached home last night (i.e. homework, bath, stories).

James' homework was to collect four items that started with the letter "G" and put them in his blue bucket to share at school the next day. So we started brainstorming "G" words - like giraffe, gorilla, grass, and glue. Eventually the word 'grandparent' entered the conversation - which then prompted a discussion about different grandparents we know - their own Grandma and Grandpa Long, GiGi (our dear friend Nici's mom who is kinda like a grandma to my kids and a mama to me - who I promise I won't steal Nic), some random grandparent name that I'd never heard of (Pee Pee) that James swears is what his buddy at school calls his grandma (WHATEVER crazy kid) ... that sort of thing.

And then talk of this Friday's Grandparents Day at James' school - when all grandparents are invited to come for lunch and a program - and how James is SO excited for Grandma Shelby to be there with him.

And then someone said it - I'm not quite sure who it was - 'I wish Nonna could be there.'

It was like a stab to the heart. Because I wish she could be here too. So much so that I can't put that need/want/desire into words.

James then piped up about how she was sick - and that's why she couldn't come visit or play with us or go to things like Grandparents Day. I confirmed that - and said I really wish she could be here with us as well.

And then silence fell. They were all quiet. For some reason the radio wasn't on. It was just the kids and I - looking out the window - all of us in that moment of time when there just isn't anything else to say.

And from the quiet - I heard Anna whisper to James 'shhhhhh.... don't talk about this. You'll make Mommy start crying because she misses Nonna so much.'

I seriously felt like someone had reached a hand into my chest and pulled on my heart. And I silently choked back tears in the quiet that ensued.

She then started to say something completely silly - acting like a goofy kid - obviously trying to change the subject.

How did that happen? When did my child become so astute and sensitive to me and my feelings? I've tried so hard over the years to keep my emotions in check when I'm around her - opting to cry in the solitude of my car when no-one is around.

It made me overwhelmingly happy and proud that she was so worried about the emotional welfare of her mom.

It made me overwhelmingly sad that things are so crazy for us that she is even aware of things like sadness and hurt. And that she knows that her mom hurts deeply and profoundly.

Snap Snap

2011-09-28T11:53:00.000-04:00

It's funny to me to see how much things have changed in the mere (ahem) twenty or so years since I was a kid. (Yeah - I'm being generous there... so what...) I remember playing with random things, pretending they were something else, doing whatever I could to be BIG.

And I remember my mom and dad shaking their heads as I went about the world in my never-ending state of an overactive imagination.

I find myself doing that a lot these days. A LOT.

Take yesterday, for example. James and Anna were bickering over something in the back of the van. I looked in the rearview mirror to find out just what the culprit was this time - to discover it was an old flip phone of mine that had made its way to the toy bin. And I mean really old. Like, before the ever-popular Razor phone old.

They were arguing and festering over who had the chance to take a picture first.

Take a picture?? There was no camera in that phone - heck - I seriously doubt if it had a speaker on it, let alone a camera. It was one step up from a bag phone. Seriously. But there they were - holding it up to one another - arms outstretched - holding it to eye level - pretending to snap pictures, posing, smiling, and then the best part - saying 'nah, that's no good - we'll have to delete it and take another one.'

That's almost as funny as when James came downstairs a few months ago with a bright pink plastic Barbie stethoscope tucked over his ear (apparently snagged from veterinarian Barbie) with the ear pieces on either side of his ear and the microphone part pointed towards his mouth. Naturally I asked him what it was doing on his head - to which he replied "mommy - hush - I'm talking on the phone." Which is particularly hilarious considering neither Deonne, nor I use bluetooth technology.

Or how about when we (the boys and I) were singing along to 'Five Little Monkeys' one afternoon en route to pick up Anna, complete with hand gestures. When I made the age old gesture of a phone - you know - the 'hang loose' hand configuration with your pinky to your mouth and your thumb to your ear - James promptly corrected me by saying 'Mommy - that's not right. Phones go like THIS' - and he held his hand flat against his ear - like you would with a blackberry or iphone.

Oh times, they are a'changing, indeed, a'changing...

Just a little funny I thought about this morning.

50 Rules for Dads of Daughters, snaps to Michael Mitchell

2011-09-14T12:03:00.000-04:00

50 Rules for Dads of Daughters {by Michael Mitchell}

I came across this blog post via a facebook friend who 'liked' the post. After reading it - I shared it on my page - but had to post it here as well. To keep readily at hand - to remind me of my father who will always be my superhero - to encourage my husband to do the same for Anna. Read on - and as I posted on facebook - if this doesn't move you - I don't know what will.

About Michael
Michael Mitchell is an (almost) thirty-something dad who blogs daily tips and life lessons for dads of daughters at lifetoheryears.com. He spends his days practicing the arts of fatherhood and husbandry, while attempting to be a man of God and a professional raiser of philanthropic funds. On the rare occasion he’s not tied up with the aforementioned and other pursuits of awesomeness, he enjoys fighting street gangs for local charities and drinking from a cup that’s half full. Bookmark Life To Her Years, follow Michael on Twitter, and “like” him on Facebook for more “rules”.

1. Love her mom. Treat her mother with respect, honor, and a big heaping spoonful of public displays of affection. When she grows up, the odds are good she’ll fall in love with and marry someone who treats her much like you treated her mother. Good or bad, that’s just the way it is. I’d prefer good.

2. Always be there. Quality time doesn’t happen without quantity time. Hang out together for no other reason than just to be in each other’s presence. Be genuinely interested in the things that interest her. She needs her dad to be involved in her life at every stage. Don’t just sit idly by while she add years to her… add life to her years.

3. Save the day. She’ll grow up looking for a hero. It might as well be you. She’ll need you to come through for her over and over again throughout her life. Rise to the occasion. Red cape and blue tights optional.

4. Savor every moment you have together. Today she’s crawling around the house in diapers, tomorrow you’re handing her the keys to the car, and before you know it, you’re walking her down the aisle. Some day soon, hanging out with her old man won’t be the bees knees anymore. Life happens pretty fast. You better cherish it while you can.

5. Pray for her. Regularly. Passionately. Continually.

6. Buy her a glove and teach her to throw a baseball. Make her proud to throw like a girl… a girl with a wicked slider.

7. She will fight with her mother. Choose sides wisely.

8. Go ahead. Buy her those pearls.

9. Of course you look silly playing peek-a-boo. You should play anyway.

10. Enjoy the wonder of bath time.

11. There will come a day when she asks for a puppy. Don’t over think it. At least one time in her life, just say, “Yes.”

12. It’s never too early to start teaching her about money. She will still probably suck you dry as a teenager… and on her wedding day.

13. Make pancakes in the shape of her age for breakfast on her birthday. In a pinch, donuts with pink sprinkles and a candle will suffice.

14. Buy her a pair of Chucks as soon as she starts walking. She won’t always want to wear matching shoes with her old man.

15. Dance with her. Start when she’s a little girl or even when she’s a baby. Don’t wait ‘til her wedding day.

16. Take her fishing. She will probably squirm more than the worm on your hook. That’s OK.

17. Learn to say no. She may pitch a fit today, but someday you’ll both be glad you stuck to your guns.

18. Tell her she’s beautiful. Say it over and over again. Someday an animated movie or “beauty” magazine will try to convince her otherwise.

19. Teach her to change a flat. A tire without air need not be a major panic inducing event in her life. She’ll still call you crying the first time it happens.

20. Take her camping. Immerse her in the great outdoors. Watch her eyes fill with wonder the first time she sees the beauty of wide open spaces. Leave the iPod at home.

21. Let her hold the wheel. She will always remember when daddy let her drive.

22. She’s as smart as any boy. Make sure she knows that.

23. When she learns to give kisses, she will want to plant them all over your face. Encourage this practice.

24. Knowing how to eat sunflower seeds correctly will not help her get into a good college. Teach her anyway.

25. Letting her ride on your shoulders is pure magic. Do it now while you have a strong back and she’s still tiny.

26. It is in her nature to make music. It’s up to you to introduce her to the joy of socks on a wooden floor.

27. If there’s a splash park near your home, take her there often. She will be drawn to the water like a duck to a puddle.

28. She will eagerly await your return home from work in the evenings. Don’t be late.

29. If her mom enrolls her in swim lessons, make sure you get in the pool too. Don’t be intimidated if there are no other dads there. It’s their loss.

30. Never miss her birthday. In ten years she won’t remember the present you gave her. She will remember if you weren’t there.

31. Teach her to roller skate. Watch her confidence soar.

32. Let her roll around in the grass. It’s good for her soul. It’s not bad for yours either.

33. Take her swimsuit shopping. Don’t be afraid to veto some of her choices, but resist the urge to buy her full-body beach pajamas.

34. Somewhere between the time she turns three and her sixth birthday, the odds are good that she will ask you to marry her. Let her down gently.

35. She’ll probably want to crawl in bed with you after a nightmare. This is a good thing.

36. Few things in life are more comforting to a crying little girl than her father’s hand. Never forget this.

37. Introduce her to the swings at your local park. She’ll squeal for you to push her higher and faster. Her definition of “higher and faster” is probably not the same as yours. Keep that in mind.

38. When she’s a bit older, your definition of higher and faster will be a lot closer to hers. When that day comes, go ahead… give it all you’ve got.

39. Holding her upside down by the legs while she giggles and screams uncontrollably is great for your biceps. WARNING: She has no concept of muscle fatigue.

40. She might ask you to buy her a pony on her birthday. Unless you live on a farm, do not buy her a pony on her birthday. It’s OK to rent one though.

41. Take it easy on the presents for her birthday and Christmas. Instead, give her the gift of experiences you can share together.

42. Let her know she can always come home. No matter what.

43. Remember, just like a butterfly, she too will spread her wings and fly some day. Enjoy her caterpillar years.

44. Write her a handwritten letter every year on her birthday. Give them to her when she goes off to college, becomes a mother herself, or when you think she needs them most.

45. Learn to trust her. Gradually give her more freedom as she gets older. She will rise to the expectations you set for her.

46. When in doubt, trust your heart. She already does.

47. When your teenage daughter is upset, learning when to engage and when to back off will add years to YOUR life. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

48. Ice cream covers over a multitude of sins. Know her favorite flavor.

49. This day is coming soon. There’s nothing you can do to be ready for it. The sooner you accept this fact, the easier it will be.

50. Today she’s walking down the driveway to get on the school bus. Tomorrow she’s going off to college. Don’t blink

Where Were You?

2011-09-11T19:00:00.000-04:00

Where were you when life we knew it as Americans changed forever? Seems to be the topic of conversation across the country these days ... I for one have been thinking about the events that transpired a decade ago non-stop. I've been glued to the documentaries showing on all of the networks, from Biography to National Geographic, the main networks to TLC.

I've learned a lot these past few weeks. I wonder if, at the time it was happening, the media purposely shielded us from a lot of the horror and carnage taking place. If they purposely did not provide comment or footage or interviews with the first responders and survivors who lived to tell their tales. I'm kind of glad I didn't know the proverbial gory details until now. I could barely get my mind around the terror and confusion - let alone the horrific stories that came out of the Pentagon, the World Trade Center, and the desperate phone calls to loved ones from the flight that crashed in Pennsylvania. I think I needed the time and space to digest the basic details of the events before being able to really comprehend what occurred.

I'm haunted by the stories - the details of what firefighters and rescuers saw and experienced. The tales of those who made their way out of peril are forever burned in my mind's eye. The incomprehensible tales from loved ones describing their final goodbyes - and then watching their loved one die before their eyes on television have become a part of me.

I'm not sure why I've been so consumed by learning everything I can... perhaps because I (like most Americans, I gather) have felt so lost - so helpless by the events that I needed to learn more. To understand every story of bravery and survival, horror and loss that took place on that clear day in September.

I know if it were me - if it was my family that was intimately affected by September 11 - if it was my loved one who was lost - I would want everyone to know their story. I would want everyone to know how special and loved and wonderful that person was. I would want the world to know exactly what they went through in their final moments.

So perhaps I'm doing all I can to preserve their memories - in my own small way. To hear about the husband and father who called his wife moments before his building collapsed just to say 'I love you' one more time. To know about the son who called his mother - leaving a message on her home phone - to say 'I'm okay. I'll call you when I'm safe,' only to perish moments later. To pause and think about the young bride/newlywed - who was from San Francisco but happened to be in New York on business that day - attending a breakfast meeting at the World Trade Center - who left a desperate message for her husband in California - telling him she loved him forever, and to tell her family she loved them too - who lost her life shortly thereafter. To see the faces of the numerous 10-year old children who never knew their fathers as they were in utero at the time of the tragedy.

I always flounder on this day. I wonder how to best commemorate the lives of so many who were affected - not only the ones who died - but the ones left behind to pick up the pieces and go on.

It's become a cliche saying - but the truth is...

I remember.

And I'll never forget.

Heading Home

2011-09-09T14:57:00.003-04:00

Remember how I said that Sara is as much of a Matilda Jane junkie as I am? Well on the morning of our departure, to have a bit of fun, we had all the girls dress up in their favorite MJ pieces.

It boggles my mind that we have five girls between us - and seven kids total. If you had told me back when we were growing up and spending so many of our family holidays together that we'd end up with this many kids - I'd have thought you were insane.

But here we are - with a bright and full future sitting right before us.

Sigh.

So after saying our goodbyes - we headed South and for home. We ended up being sidetracked in Richmond - and stayed the night in a hotel - that the kids thought were fabulous. It's amazing what a night in a hotel - with a pool no less - will do for a kids spirit.

We poked around Richmond in the morning, let the kids play at this awesome park just outside of Short Pump, and finally headed home after lunch. About the time we were reaching the limits of North Carolina, the kids' legs were starting to twitch - and they needed to get out and stretch.

So - what did we do? Took them to the classiest place ever.

South of the Border.

Now, if you're reading this blog from outside the confines of the I-95 corridor - you might not get the hidden humor here. I'm still not entirely sure of it's history - but I think SOB was constructed some time in the 1950's or 60's as a travel destination if you can believe it. At one time it had several hotels, restaurants, penny arcades, miniature golf, gift shops, and the creme-de-la-creme - Pedro.

It got it's name by being located in South Carolina - just 'South of the Border' of North Carolina. And with some weird play on words - took on a Mexican motif - I presume because Mexico is south of the US border.

Whatever.

It's heavily marketed up and down I-95 with billboards starting as far south as Florida (I think) and up to the North into Virginia. Crazy signs that catch your eye - and are completely ridiculous.

Over time, it lost it's allure - and all but fell into ruins. Everyone laughs about it - calls it a completely gawdy and horrible attraction - and a place that only rednecks would stop. Recently though, the owner is trying to renovate - or revitalize the area and is diligently working to draw tourists. (For the record, I seriously doubt it will ever EVER be a destination.)

So it's weird there. It's like a ghost town. Like the land that time forgot. The buildings and machines and decor are all straight out of the 50's. And it's not recreated - it's truly the same and original stuff.

While I've stopped there on a few occasions as I've traveled I-95 for work - I've stopped for one purpose only - get gas and get the heck out. So when I casually suggested to Deonne 'hey - we should take the kids to see Pedro' he thought I was nuts.

Until I took the exit - and drove right up to the base of Pedro (the giant Mexican sombrero in the sky that you can see for miles around.)

I'll admit - it was creepy there. We were the only souls other than the two girls who worked there - who looked spaced out. (That's putting it nicely.) And yeah, it did feel a bit like we were taking our lives in our hands when we rode the rickety elevator to the top of the sombrero.

But the view up there was amazing - I'll give the SOB people credit for that. And, it was dirt cheap. It was only $1 per person to ride up (and down.) And the base of Pedro is a penny arcade with loads of antique rides - that cost - .25 cents to ride. Seriously.

The kids had a t-total ball. And while it was weird, a bit creepy, and we sort of felt like we were caught in some weird alternate universe at times, it can't be beat for a place to let your kids run around and stretch their legs. (Just make sure to keep an eye on them at all times - lest the weirdos surely hiding in the walls come out and snatch them.) Just kidding. I think.

Anyway - they had so much fun that we had to drag them out - literally kicking and screaming and crying. They wanted to ride MORE rides. They wanted to see MORE of the weird yet funny-looking statues.

But it was time. We needed to get home. And after one more stop for dinner - we finally returned, safe and sound, to our happy home around 9 o'clock that night.

And that brings this Long Family Adventure to the nation's capital to an end.

A Night In DC

2011-09-09T14:31:00.003-04:00

Let me just say this, for the record. My cousin Sara rocks. Seriously. Not only did she welcome our family of five into her home to invade her space and mess up her house and tear apart her kids' toy room, but she literally shooed us out of her house so Deonne and I could enjoy a night out in DC.

How awesome is that?!?

After getting the kids settled and started on a movie - Deonne and I jumped in the van and headed out. We had no destination in mind - just to go AWAY. I knew I wanted to go to the Lincoln Memorial - I've always wanted to see that at night. For some reason I've never made it at night during any of my previous trips. But it wasn't dark yet, and we wanted to walk around.

So we set Mr. GPS for Georgetown so we could walk and wander. We'd already eaten dinner, so we weren't really hungry - but thought something sweet or a drink might be nice.

Because I'm a lover of TLC and cupcakes - we made a stop into DC Cupcakes. We waited in line to get in - purchased our little cakes of love (+ a hat for me) then kept on wandering. We ended up at Serendipity - a place I'd heard about but thought was only in New York. We ordered one of the Frozen Hot Chocolates - this ridiculous drink they are famous for - to see what all the hype was about.

Oh. My. Gosh. I get it. I think the waitress said there were 17 different kinds of cocoa in it - or something crazy like that. And you know what - it totally tasted like hot chocolate - but frozen. I can't describe it. But it does. (And not just like a chocolate milkshake like I thought it might.)

After that - we walked a bit more - then made our way down to the Mall. It was dark now - and I figured it would be a quiet time to see Mr. Lincoln. Couldn't have been more wrong. There were hundreds of people there. Deonne said there were more there that night than earlier in the day when he'd been there with the kids. But it was still amazing to see it all lit up - and the views from there are awe inspiring.

I'll always love this place - where the Capital, the Washington Monument, and the Lincoln Memorial make a straight line. Hands down this is my favorite place in all of DC.

We drove around a bit after that - looking at the White House - getting as close to the Jefferson Memorial as possible (I still haven't see that up close yet - poor Jefferson - he gets bad PR - they stuck him so far out and away from the rest of the Mall that by the time you get all the way down to see Mr. Lincoln - you're pooped!)

Finally, we headed back to Springfield - for our last night - and to prepare to pack everything up the next morning.

DC Day 4

2011-09-09T14:19:00.001-04:00

So Jack was pretty hot when Sara and I arrived home the previous night. We dosed him up with Motrin and he was able to sleep - but he did still feel quite warm the following morning. Deonne really wanted to go into the City - and the kids were dying to see a few of their favorite monuments up close and personal - so I suggested he go ahead and take them in - I could hang back with Sara and her girls.

I'll tell you Deonne's story in a moment - but again, Sara and I spent a lovely day together. It's so cool that no matter what we do or where we go - just being together is the real treat. Jack's fever seemed to be coming down - a call to our pediatrician here in Columbia asking if we needed to bring him in resulted in the quintessential 'just watch and see how he does' nonsense - so we decided to go ahead and get out of the house. Get a bit of back-to-school shopping done.

We again dosed Jack up with a big slug of Motrin - loaded up five kids into Sara's van - and ventured out to the most awesomest of awesome outlet malls. Ever. I didn't know such a place existed. Children's Place. Gymboree. Stride Rite. Disney Store. These are just a few of the smattering of stores at this wonderful place. Now, I'm not a big 'mall' shopper. Rather, I head directly to the store I need to go to - get what I need - get out. But this mall. Oh, I could have stayed there for days. And spent loads and loads of money.

Thankfully, I had Sara with me to keep me on track - and all of the kids - so we mainly stuck to the kid stores. I picked up some more uniform clothes for Anna and some Stride Rite shoes for the boys at ridiculously low prices. Like $3 for a Gymboree skirt and $15 for shoes. And, I provided a little help/comic relief for Sara as she worked (and I do mean WORKED) to get new shoes for all of her kids.

Shoe shopping with little ones is no small feat (no pun intended). It can be dicey and difficult depending on the kid and their willingness to try multiple pairs of shoes on. I'm proud to say there were NO meltdowns (Sara's kids are so well behaved they make mine look like monkeys) and she was able to get each of her girls several pairs of shoes. Mission accomplished.

At the same time as we were spending his hard earned money (ha ha) Deonne was seeing the sights of DC. I can't go into a lot of description - because I obviously wasn't there - but the pictures say it all. I do know that Anna was infatuated with the White House - and only slightly disappointed that she didn't get to go inside because she was able to satisfy her history bug by reading everything (and as Deonne says EVERYTHING) available at the White House visitors center.

Posing as a homage to my home state.

No, we have no relation - direct or indirect - to Kansas... other than it's where Dorothy's from
(of course) and since Anna saw her shoes - she had to pose there.

The World War II Memorial.

Showing their Carolina pride!

I know that James was beside himself to see the 'big man in the big chair' (a.k.a. the Lincoln Memorial) - the one thing he really REALLY wanted to see.

Can you tell how happy James is to see this?

I know that both asked again (several times, really) why they couldn't go up into the Washington Monument. That whole waiting in line at the crack of dawn to get tickets just didn't register with him. In retrospect, I kind of wish that we had figured out how to get them up it - after the big earthquake a few weeks ago and the monument being closed indefinitely.

I know that Deonne had to drag them out of the Air and Space museum. Apparently this museum is the most 'hands on' of the ones the kids visited - and there was a lot for them to do vs. just 'looking with their eyes and not with their hands.'

But I think one of the biggest highlights was the train ride into and out of the City. They both really liked that - and felt very cosmopolitan and grown up. (I totally get that.)

They finally made their way home around five that afternoon. Jack's fever came down throughout the day and he was pretty content. Once again we turned on the sprinklers and let the kids just run and run and run - followed by a bath so they were squeaky clean and ready for their dinner and movie night, while Deonne and I went out. Alone. Can you believe it?