Snow Angel

We waited until the cousins came over to venture out into the snow, but that didn't stop us from playing with the snow in our pajamas...

Emma didn't really get that you're supposed to sit up when sledding...

Oh No You Di'int- Oh Yes... I Did

Confession: I broke the cardinal rule of facebook yesterday. I can't believe I'm writing about it because I haven't told anyone about it. I don't even want to say it out loud. Not to my girlfriends. Not to my husband. I didn't confess to anyone how I wallowed in my shame with a Big Mac, fries, and a coke last night.

Sooooo.....

I friend requested someone...and they rejected me. Fine. Here's where it gets bad. I thought about it too much. I analyzed and over-analyzed...and then I sent a message. AHHHHhhh! Who does that!? I KNOW. When it comes to tasks, I'm a procrastinator. When it comes to relationships, I'm impulsive. If I get an idea in my head I can't function until I deal with it. This was so dumb, I know. Hence, I will not speak of it...I will only write of it.


It was an ex-boyfriend's wife (from a loooong time ago) and we had both commented on something, and I thought what she said was funny and well, we used to talk here and there in a past life. Now she's a mom and I'm a mom and I thought...why not?


She evidently didn't feel the same way.


So I asked her why. I KNOW. I was soooo that girl. Who does that??? Who ever does that? I mean, it was a long message too- and I don't even remember what it said. Chances are it didn't even make a whole lot of sense because I was just rambling instead of composing my thoughts. Buuut...I have no desire to go back and read it because that would mean that I actually wrote it. And pressed send. Uuug.

To add to the humiliation, she wrote back this morning saying she was surprised to hear from me, and basically she didn't really give it much thought when she rejected me. She doesn't harbor any ill will towards me, but she just uses fb as a way to keep in touch with family, friends, and people that she was close to in the past. And she thanked me for my openness. It was all very kind...and left me feeling like even more of a moron.


So why did I do it? Why did I ask? I don't know- I've been asking myself that question. I guess there's two schools of thought on facebook. Some people, like this particular girl, see it as a way of keeping in touch with those people that are or were important parts of your life. That's fine. I guess I see it as a way to connect with people that are important parts of my life but also those that could still be an important part of my life. It's funny, some of the people that I keep in touch with the most aren't necessarily those that I was close to in the past but have since found common ground with. I'm really thankful for those relationships that have developed. And, every once in a while it's just neat to see what that random person that I backpacked with in Europe for a couple of days is doing.

As I write I'm actually starting to realize that as ridiculous as it may be, I'm glad that I wrote her. I'm a girl, and I know how my mind works. I know in the future when I would see her name appear on the same comment as me or if I ever saw her post on the wall of a mutual friend I would probably think bad thoughts towards her...because I thought she was thinking badly of me. Dumb. I know, but come on, it's how girls work. Now it doesn't have to be like that. Now it doesn't have to ever cross my mind again. Now I don't have to be a catty girl. It's kinda freeing...you know, once I get passed the feeling like a fool part. I've made a fool of myself plenty of times before and I'm sure I will again. I'd much rather feel like a fool than be a snakey girl though.

Lip gloss and Highlighters

I love watching Emma figure out the world around her. This morning, I watched as she sat on the floor for a good 15-20 minutes with a pen, highlighter, lip gloss, and cell phone (yes, all very dangerous in the hands of a 22-month old) trying to figure each one out and if they somehow worked together. She'd play with each individual object, and then put the pen on top of the highlighter, or close the phone on the pen, or try any various combination, stopping only to turn and say, "Wook, wook Mommy," when she came up with what she deemed an interesting combo. I couldn't help but stop and watch her for awhile as she worked so hard to make sense of her little world. There's so much that she has to learn, but she's come so far in her 22 months of life.

I wonder if God ever looks at us like that. If he sits back and watches us try all these different ways to make sense of our world, and patiently thinks, "You just don't get it. You know so little...but you've come a long way... someday you'll see things as they really are." There are days when I think I have everything figured out and other times I realize just how clueless I am. How far I have to go. But, there's always progress. I'm always being shaped by the world around me, and I can always look back and see the hand of a loving God guiding me and working around me, even if I fail to notice.

I'm confident in my daughter's abilities to figure things out, and I'll guide her along the way. I'll enjoy watching her work hard in her toddler way, delight in her progress, and be patient when she throws a hissy fit when she can't get the cap to the lip gloss back on herself. She's come a long way...

Siren Sounds

Several of the smoke alarms in my house are blinking. Some just blink green, others flash from green to red, and one or two blare loud sirens intermittently. The problem is the alarms don't wail continuously; they go off at random times when I least expect it, like in the middle of the night or during Emma's nap. Times when I can't go to the store to buy more batteries (which I actually have done...but lost). If the dang things would just blare all the time I swear I would change the batteries. Who in their right mind wouldn't deal with an incessant beep?? But, it's not like that. My smoke alarms tease the procrastinator in me and make me think that there's no reason to deal with them now because if there was really a problem, if they really wouldn't go off if there was really smoke, the beeping would never stop.

That's my life.

I have this monthly (or weekly, sometimes daily) crisis that isn't really a crisis, but this feeling like there's something I need to be doing that I'm not. It's the feeling of knowing that I was created with purpose and for purpose but I'm not fulfilling it, but I have no idea what it is. I know that I'm not alone in this. I know it plagues lots of people, mostly my age, who just don't know what they're supposed to be doing. Is there a supposed-to-do? Are we all asking the wrong questions? I mean, I followed the middle-class American pattern that I was supposed to follow. I got a college education, started my career, realized it may not be what I wanted to do with the rest of my life, pursued a Master's degree in it anyway, got married, started a family, left my job to raise my family, and am now hanging out in the what-the-heck-now. The really strange thing is, my what-the-heck-now is not a bad place to be. I actually love it.



I mean, I truly love it.



I love being a full-time mommy. If you would have asked me ten years ago what I wanted my life to look like in ten years it would look quite similar to where I'm at now. I wanted to journey through life with a partner whom I loved and pass that love onto little ones that are expressions of that love, while making a difference in the world around us, finding our place in the Big Picture. It's the last part that I struggle with. How are we making a difference? Really, what does that even mean?



Maybe I just need to get all these little things in my life in line, so I'll be ready for the big things. Maybe I just need to jump into the little things. Again, maybe I'm just asking all the wrong questions. I just need to know that what I'm doing in life has purpose. I know there are mundane parts of life and there are big scenes in life. I just want to see the purpose of every step. Maybe that's why I feel so out of whack when I don't blog. It's like there's all these life events, not even necessarily important in and of themselves, but when they all come together they show a progression. There's direction. There's thought and reflection. Giving the chaos of everyday a framework. I love the whole idea of making beauty from chaos, giving things that have no order, order and purpose. Maybe I just need to focus on a few things at a time. Maybe I just need to start with changing my batteries.

Southern Hospitality-schmality

One thing I knew about moving to FL from OH was the fact that I had excellent prenatal care in the Midwest and had heard less than rave reviews about Southern care. I loved my crazy, cowboy, singing doctor in OH that gave me at least five ultrasounds and told me to go eat milkshakes and candy bars. We referred to the hospital where I gave birth as the country club as well. It's aesthetically-pleasing, clean, cherry wood piano-player-in-the-lobby facilities only had private rooms, and the day after leaving the hospital (which also offered mommy massages for the new mom) your very own nurse comes to your house to check on mom and baby. She was also a lactation consultant who came back twice to help me when I was having trouble with breastfeeding. I had a really great experience and was warned that it probably would not be the case here in FL. It seemed like we were always hearing about someone getting life-threatening infections in the hospital where I would likely have my next child. This was less than thrilling to me.

Yesterday, I finally had my first visit with my new OB (my first with Em was at six weeks, I'm now at ten weeks). I went in with a good attitude, excited to finally get this process started, and tried not to think back on how good I had it in OH. From the moment I walked in, things went downhill. I first had to meet with some new patient accounts person who told me that I would have to pay $719 by my fifth month of pregnancy, with adjustments made if I have to have more than one ultrasound. Ew. Our insurance at my husband's last company covered all but $250, which we were billed for after Emma was born. Makes sense to pay after the service is actually rendered.

Strike one.

I went up to the waiting room, where I waited...and waited...and then waited some more. After almost an hour of waiting, a nurse came out and apologized for the wait, there was an emergency. From what I could tell, someone had gotten sick in the back. Fine. I can handle that. But then I watched as every single person in the room was called before me. There were people there that had come in a good hour after me and went in before me.

So. Dang. Annoying.

Now, this was pretty much my first time out since I've been sick, and I had a sick little Emma at home that I wanted to get back to. As I watched the time tick by, the more annoyed I was. To top things off, I had an early lunch and wasn't feeling great. I reached my breaking point when the receptionist told me after my hour and a half wait, I would still have about thirty more minutes.

AHHHHHHHHHH.

I tried to control the tears as I called Matt to explain my woes, but there was no holding them back. This was not how my first appointment was supposed to be. FL, you suck. I think the receptionist overheard my breaking voice because five minutes later I was in the back, now having to explain to the nurse that really, I was fine, and didn't even know why I was crying. Ugg, except for the fact that the reason I was crying was that it's depressing being stuck in your house sick for a week and now my baby's sick and I miss my family and just want to go home for the holidays, dangit. I figured this wasn't the time to go into that, however.

So I waited some more.

Aaand had to pee.

That would be one of the first things I would do before an internal ultrasound, right, after pregnantly waiting for so long? Well that would just make too much sense. I asked for my pee cup and was given two alcohol sheets to wipe with. Whhaaat?? Um, strike twelve. Who makes a person wipe down there with an alcohol swab?? Not OH. Since the lab at this office was downstairs, I had to carry my cup around until after my ultrasound too. Thankfully, after asking about this, one of the nurses stole the cup while I was talking with the doctor and put it in a bag. Plus one point for her.

I finally undressed in the freezing room, and told the doctor that I hoped he had some warming gel because if not, we may have some problems getting this exam done. I was feeling pretty sassy at that point. He gave me an extra sheet cover. Finally, I got to see my little alien growing inside me and hear the little heartbeat. At ten weeks he/she has two arms and two legs, which is a good sign. I got my pics and headed downstairs to give my five vials of blood and call it a day. Three hours and ten minutes from when I arrived, I headed out into the now dark parking lot.

Ohio, there aren't a whole lot of things I miss about you, but when it comes to having a baby, you win hands down. With thirty more weeks to go, FL, you have a lot of catching up to do. Win me over, baby. Win me over.

I'm Pregnant..and am Surviving the Swine Flu

Now that I’m a survivor, I prefer to call the disease H1N1 because really, of all the nasty names you can come up with for a disease, throwing the word swine in front of it really trumps anything. I mean really, oh you have measles, mumps, gonorrhea (ok now that’s pretty nasty)?? Oh, well I have SWINE flu. You know, it originated with pigs. And to top it off, I just read that it not only has pig genes but bird genes, along with human genes making it a "quadruple reassortant." So really, I have the pig, dirty bird flu. Eeewwww.

Obviously, I did not heed the CDC’s warning to get myself vaccinated. I debated whether or not to. Given more time, I may have even been convinced, but saying you’ll be vaccinated and actually doing it is a different story when the vaccine seems nowhere to be found. Really, I don’t know a single person in my area who has actually received the shot. Chances are you’ve already had this pesky little flu or will get it sometime in the future, so to help you better prepare, let me share with you what it’s like. I’m sure you’re dying to know.

After returning from a run a few nights ago, I complained to Matt of discomfort in my chest, which we attributed to running in the cold. I mean, it had dipped into the sixties. Other than that I felt fine, went to bed and awoke the next morning to meet a friend at the gym. I felt a little weird when I woke up but figured exercise would do me good. The closer I got to the gym the worse I felt, and had to text my friend that I wouldn’t be coming and call my mother-in-law to see if she could take Emma while I slept this off. I was overcome with nausea and was sure it was just pregnancy hormones finally catching up with me. I dropped Emma off, went straight to sleep, and woke up throwing up and miserable. I couldn’t stop coughing (and puking) and suddenly my body was aching and I had awful chills (even though it was 80 degrees in my house). I threw on a sweatshirt and blankets and fell back asleep. Emma came back home to nap, as I fell back asleep and realized that this probably was a little more than just pregnancy hormones. I gave the doctor a call, and my symptoms and pregnant state gave me a free pass to an appointment (turns out they’re diagnosing most people over the phone). That evening when Emma awoke from her nap I was almost in tears at the thought of taking care of her feeling like this. Thankfully my mother-in-law is just a few minutes down the road and was able to take her (and still has her might I add). I slept most of the evening away and went to bed early. The next morning I felt quite a bit better and was off to the doctor. I was directed by my mom and pharmaceutical rep friend to demand a swab test, but thankfully they gave it to me willingly. So, my nose was violated with two long swabs, and I was told that even if the test comes back negative it doesn’t mean I don’t have the flu because it only shows up 50% of the time.

Sweet.

I went back to sleep and awoke from my slumber to find out that I indeed did have the dreaded swine flu. Gross. I headed to the pharmacy to fill my prescription for Tamiflu (after reading about it on the Internet and calling my OB for more confirmation that it was safe). By this time I was starting to feel pretty bad again, so I was thankful to get my meds from the nice pharmacist who also assured me that the CDC recommends that all swine-flued pregnant women take Tamiflu. Ok then. I took my pill and headed back to bed only to wake up an hour later to an awful afternoon of yacking my guts out. I went back to the pharmacy with the anti-nausea prescription that the doc had prescribed me but didn’t think I needed and proceeded to repeatedly vomit at the nice pharmacist's window. Embarrassing? I’d say so.

So, now I’m on day three and think I’m on my way back to the land of the living. I still get achy and tired and have coughing fits here and there, but the nausea/vomiting has subsided. I’ve been slowly trying to disinfect the house before Emma comes back home and sleeping a lot still. I woke up from an afternoon nap wanting food other than crackers or chicken noodle soup for the first time. A cold chocolate shake sounded so good, so I threw on a bra and headed out with my greasy hair to grab one. Unfortunately, I came home bawling because it didn’t taste good at all and fell asleep on the couch to my husband’s understandable confusion. After I woke up we headed over to his parents' house to pick up some soup, and I gazed in the window from the back porch to watch Em play. Turns out she’s doing fine without me. Tomorrow I think I’ll be ready and hopefully de-germed enough to pick up my daughter. Though now Matt is complaining of not feeling good. Ehhh, so it goes.

Keep Ten in Real Life, Shave If Off in Photos

At the gym yesterday, I read this article (not in Self, we'll come back to that though) about how when you're in your 60's it's actually healthy to carry around that extra ten pounds, making your BMI between 25-29%. I don't really remember the details, but something about how the skinny, um, mature ladies, were 23% more likely to die. I imagine there's probably a bit more to it than that though (details, shmetails). But anyways...

Cha-CHING!! Hello, guess who can't wait for her 60's now!? I think that's reason enough for 60 to be the new 20.

Because you know, I love how celebrities that are in their 40's and up are always saying, "Oooohh, I love who I am now. I'm so much more confident in my (enter old age) than in my 20's. I feel beautiful and so much better about myself now." Blah, blah, blah. Well hello, of course you're more confident now. As the ladies around you keep aging, you remarkably stay the same. There's a confidence booster for ya. A little nip and a little tuck. Silly celebrities.

Now to Self magazine.

Awhile ago, Kelly Clarkson was their cover model looking beautiful and confident and...skinny. It was quite obvious that the admittedly non-twiggy Kelly had been skinnified (it's a Hollywood insider term, thank you). Okay, this wasn't a surprise to me. Whatev. What really blew me away was the editor's response. If you want to read it, go to

http://www.self.com/magazine/blogs/lucysblog/2009/08/pictures-that-please-us.html

It's pretty long but worth reading if you don't mind your blood boiling a bit. I'll just give you the jist of it. Basically, she said that cover pictures are not meant to be accurate representations of reality but a projection of what your best self could be. She went on to say how she ran a marathon five years ago where she worked her butt off, but then would only put up pictures with her hips a little "shaved off." Awesome. Way to add to the ridiculous insecurities that women deal with on a daily basis, Self magazine. Instead of focusing on her hard work, shave off those dang hippos.

Ug, the madness.

So, the moral of the story and my new pregnancy goal:

Do not let myself get to the point where I have to Photoshop off chunks of my body.

Ohhh, to be 60.

Day at the Museum: Battle of the Besties

Last night, as I was putting Emma to bed, I told her that we were going to the Children's Museum tomorrow and would get to see all her little friends. To this she responded with her customary hand-clap and,"Yeeeaaayyy!!" I love it.

This morning I got her all decked out in her sweet butterfly-fairy costume and headed over to the museum. Not to brag buuut Emma is usually very good at playing with other kids. I mean, she's pretty even-tempered, and shares, well kind of, but generally, she does a good job. Of course, today (in honor of Halloween) when the museum is packed full of people, she chose to explore her, um, inner-devil-woman. Kids would brush against her and she would just scream at them. If they came even close to her toy, watch out. Then, on the slide, she was the terror-child cutting in front of all the other patient angels (and elmos...ahhaha) waiting their turn. So, I was that mom, intermittently disciplining and apologizing for my kid. Gotta love being on the other side of the my-child-that-you-don't-know is pushing your kid over fake, "That's okay..heh, " smile. Ehh. Oh well, such is life mothering an 18-month old.

She also had her first fight with her bestie. I mean, really, it wasn't her fault. She was just eating pizza with another boy at lunch. So, when D got up from his lunch to walk over to see her, little A got the glare that only jealous 2-year olds can give (who knew??). He proceeded to throw a tempter-tantrum or two, while Em played coy. Can't blame her though. I mean, a girl's gotta play hard to get once in a while. She was just reminding him what a catch she is.

Some pics?

Sure.

Pumpkin Patches and Palm Trees

Last week I got really excited when I heard a commercial for a fall festival complete with a pumpkin patch, corn-maze, and pony rides. Woo hoo-an opportunity to pretend that we actually have more than one season here in FL! We rounded up some friends and made the hour and a half trek to the farm by the beach.

The temperature was supposed to be in the mid to upper eighties, but I refused to wear anything but jeans. It just didn't seem right to be in a tank top and shorts. Good thing for me, I sweated so much that I didn't have to use the restroom all day because I think it would have been reminiscent of the Friends episode with Ross and the leather pants.

We pulled up and the first thing we saw was this:

Whoa- this ain't yo mama's punkin fest. This was complete with dirt bike jumpers and pumpkin tank launchers. Hey, I was just happy to see the tank flying an American flag instead of a the "Dixie Pride." In other words,

It. Was. Awesome.

I mean, I had to suspend my disbelief walking through the waist-high, green corn-maze, but other than that, it was fantastic. I mean, if you're into hillbilly bands, frog-jumping, and fire-juggling men on six-foot unicycles (which I am) than this is the place to be.

Actually, it can be quite scary being in a corn maze in FL. So scary, in fact, that it made moms go wild.

But thankfully our fearless leaders lead us out of the wilderness in time to catch

this rough and tumble group perform.

Emma danced her pretty little heart out and took time to share a laugh with her bff.

We saw some real dead-beats

and got spit at (we could have, at least).

After a long day, we rested in a pumpkin patch, which wasn't really a pumpkin patch but a tent with pumpkins placed under it.

Emma asked the nearest woman, "What the heck...doesn't a pumpkin patch imply that the pumpkins will be growing from the ground, waiting for me to pluck them from the vine?"

The woman kept her mouth shut and only blushed,

which sent Emma running back home to where the palm trees and pumpkins know their places.

The Main Events

Here's the thing. I haven't blogged in a couple weeks. It's not because we haven't had anything going on. Nope. Quite the opposite. We've been going and going and going and...well, you catch my drift. I've missed out on maaaany bloggy opportunities. Here's the problem- I'm so effing tired all the time! If I'm in the house, I feel like I'm going to drop dead unless I "just put my head down." So I've been "just putting my head down" a lot lately. Uggg. I feel so worthless. There's a million things that I have to do, I think, but I haven't really identified what they are. Um, is that a problem? Am I just going psycho? Could be. And my husband says I'm grouchy, which I can admit to here and there but really, I think he's extra touchy these days. Oh, and I want peanut M&M's like it's my job. I mean, I'm ravenous for them. In fact, as soon as Em wakes up, we're heading over to Publix to get some. I keep getting these weird craving for veggies too. I had an absurd amount of asparagus for lunch today. Yup, just asparagus. Who does that?? Oh, and to top it all off, I realized that I'm currently doing nothing to change the world. Awesome.

So, while I dwell on all my woes, here's some pictures of our last few weeks...

I spent a weekend with my three best friends of all time. We've been friends since 4th grade, (Colleen and I since we were 5) and I know it's the type of friendship that'll last till death do us part. Haha. But really. Even though we're so far apart, I know I could count on these girls to be there in an instant if I really needed them.

Two weeks later we headed out to the freezing state of Michigan for Matt's brother's wedding. We arrived at 11:00 PM and then drove two hours from Flint to Grand Rapids. Good thing I've molded Emma into such a good little traveler.

We put together many-a-programs and caught up on our reading.

And took time to check out the fall foliage on four-wheelers.

Emma practiced being a cute, well-dressed Finnish citizen with her studly daddy.


And took time to hang out with her funcle.



She was surprised to see Mickey and Minnie in Michigan!



And dreamed of being a beautiful bride...

while dancing the night away with her Prince Charming.

When the clock struck midnight she looked like this:

Ah hahaha...she's going to love this someday. :)