January 30, 2013--Ode to Brecken

In my first post, I mentioned that a friend of mine's newborn boy was born with permanent brain damage and that she and her fiance had made the difficult decision to take him home and care for him until God called him home.  He passed away yesterday morning.  I would like to share with you what my friend had to say:


"An Angel in the book of life wrote down my baby's birth. And whispered as she closed the book "too beautiful for earth."

He's gone............

Our sweet Brecken passed away early this morning at home in his mamma's arms. There are no words to describe the pain of losing your child.......none. I can assure everyone that there is no greater pain than this. He was 3 weeks old today. Our home is now empty and silent and our hearts will never be whole again. There is no replacing what is lost. We never got to hear our sweet boy cry or laugh. We never got to see him smile or ever had him look us fully in the eyes. We will spend the rest of our lives always wondering what that would have been like to know those things about him. What his voice would sound like, would he have dimples from smiling etc. He was too young, too innocent. This by far is the most difficult thing to have to endure in our entire lives.

A lot of you have sent messages asking if there was anything you could do for us...and there is something I'd like for you to do: Appreciate every single second you have with your children. Please stop and take a second before complaining about them not sleeping through the night because it interrupts your full nights sleep. Don't get frustrated or angry because your child won't stop crying. Please don't complain about your pregnancy aches and pains. Be grateful for having them. It means your child is growing healthy and strong....just like our Brecken was. When your child wants to tell you a story or a fun fact he/she learned, put down what you are doing and listen with interest. Laugh it off when they dirty up your floor with muddy footprints, or when they give the dog a new haircut. Such things are trivial. We would give everything we have and more to be able to experience all of those things with Brecken. 

Don't take life for granted. This birth injury happens to 1 out of every 1,000 births and it's unpredictable. I had a happy, healthy, normal pregnancy with no complications. Brecken was a normal, active little guy. It's amazing how just a few minutes in the birth canal could change everything around. Change our whole lives around.

Funeral arrangements are being made. We'll post the information once everything has been set.

Thank you all for your thoughts, prayers, love and compassion during these last 3 weeks. It's meant so much to us.

~Sarah & Torry

Brecken Names, 1/8/13--1/29/13

My heart grieves greatly for this incredibly wonderful woman who could not wait to be a mother.  Sarah and I attended North Central College together.  Our freshman year we lived on opposite ends of the 2nd floor in Rall Hall.  Never have I met such a happy, positive person.  There was never a day that Sarah wasn't all smiles, ready to join someone for a meal down in the dining hall or to invite someone into her room to crash for a few minutes of conversation.  She and I didn't have many classes together, if any to think about it, but she is one of the few girls that I actually remember from my floor.  It's not often that you have a person leave a lasting impression on your life, especially when you meet at 18 years of age, spend a year on the same floor of a dormitory and then both leave said school, go in individual directions and don't see each other in person for the next 6 years.  But Sarah is an amazing person, a talented person and a loving person.  That she has had to suffer such a tragedy breaks my heart.  For those of you who have read my previous posts, you know that said tragedy made me seriously question some of the truths I've believed in for a long while, and that's not easy to do.

The point I wanted to make about this, however, regards the above paragraph that is in bold.  Having followed Brecken's journey and made numerous visits to Sarah's facebook page, I have read a number of the overwhelming number of posts made to Sarah and Torry, sending them support, prayers, loving thoughts and offers of help.  In response to which, Sarah has requested that those of us who have children do a better job of appreciating them, loving them and not taking them for granted, because she is not getting the chance to wake up for a 2am feeding, to clean up the projectile spit-up, to deal with the runny noses and wet diapers and crying fits at the most inopportune times.

As a mother of two, only nineteen months apart, I am very familiar with the frustrations of motherhood.  Both kids screaming at the same time, both kids dirty at the same time, dealing with one kid's crisis just to turn around and deal with the other's.  Yesterday was such a day--I didn't sleep well the night before, I was exhausted and neither girl could be consoled yesterday.  It was exhausting and by the end of the night I was so cranky.  And then I read Sarah's post.  My eyes filled with tears and I immediately hugged my girls and said a quick prayer of thanks that they are healthy and they are here.

So Sarah, this is for you: 

 Aubrey Lynn Robertson, 8/20/10

Daphnie Brianne Robertson, 3/21/13

Sisters, 3/22/13

Sarah & Torry, I am so deeply sorry that you will never have the chance to see these moments with your boy.  I know that words aren't enough--I'm sure your thoughts cannot stop revolving around all of the Christmases, birthdays, milestones that Brecken never got the chance to see, and perhaps my reminding you of them isn't what you need, and if so, again, I am so sorry.  But Sarah, I want to thank you for reminding me that I have been blessed with something that not every mother gets.  I want to thank you for reminding me that my girls mean everything to me, even when they're fussing.  I want to thank you for reminding me to not take a second for granted, because we don't know how many seconds we have.  Thank you for showing me, and the world, how to cherish every moment and to live a lifetime in three weeks.  Brecken was showered with a lifetime of love in his short three weeks.  No one can doubt that you gave him everything you had and even if he couldn't process anything else, there is no doubt in my mind he knew he was loved.  I don't care what the medicine says, he knew that he was blessed with the two best parents he could have ever asked for.  You are an inspiration to me, and I'm sure to many, many others.  If I can be even a fraction as good a mom to my girls as you were to Brecken, I will count myself lucky and blessed.  

I also wanted to show you that I am doing my best to do what you asked.  The pictures are meant to show that I am trying like hell to appreciate and cherish every moment.  I am trying to record what I have been given.  Thank you for giving me the need to do so, because in showing you, I've also shown myself.

Heaven gained a treasure yesterday morning.  Know that Brecken is being taken care of, that he is being loved and cherished, that he is in no pain.  He is being rocked in the arms of Christ, he is surrounded by angels, by beauty and love and while three weeks was a very short time, he is not truly gone.  He is waiting for you.

My love, thoughts and prayers to you both and your families.

January 28, 2013--Free-Thoughts and Tar & Feathering

I am, and always have been, a light sleeper.  I'm also a tosser and turner.  These two things are the bane of my husband's sleeping existence.  He likes to cuddle and fall asleep with limbs entwined and heads nestled on shoulders.  I have found this absolutely impossible to do.  I change positions at least five times a night before I actually fall asleep.  He falls asleep immediately and commences snoring.  Unless I am just exhausted to the point of death, it usually takes me anywhere from twenty minutes to half an hour to fall asleep, and I have to wear earplugs to drown out the grizzly bear-like sounds emanating from Chaz's throat.  And sometimes, this isn't enough.  There have been WAY too many times in our three years of marriage that one of us has ended up on the couch so that I can sleep.  Apparently, I should be able to teach myself to sleep better, but so far that has been a failed experiment.

Chaz gets up most mornings between five and five thirty to get ready for work and most mornings, I wake up  too.  I lay in bed and listen for the noises that indicate he's in the shower, in the kitchen gathering up his lunch,  getting the trash ready to take out, the jingle of keys, the clunk of the shutting door, the rev of the engine and the dimming hum that indicates he's on his way.  There is just no getting back to sleep for me until he's gone.

Hard as I try to just lay there and drift until I fall back asleep, I usually can't stop my mind from turning on and going into immediate overdrive.

This can lead to some interesting free-thought processes going through my head in the early pre-dawn mornings.  This morning started with the thought that I needed to be sure to call my OB this morning to double-check that the side effects I'm having are normal for the type of BC I'm on, which led to the number of friends right now who are pregnant/have just had babies.  This led to thinking about babies, about wanting more babies and how Daphnie's almost the age Aubrey was when I got pregnant for the second time, while on BC, I might add.  Don't worry, I'm not planning on getting pregnant again any time soon.  We'll give it another year or two.  But thinking about babies led to how Chaz really wants a boy.  Don't get me wrong, he couldn't be a prouder papa of his two beautiful girls, but he really wants a boy to carry on his name.  I think there is something hardwired in men's brains that equate creating a boy with verification of their manhood.  Look, I have a son, therefore I am a man!  It's all quite caveman-like.  

I'm just kidding!  Don't get your panties in a wad...

I always said that I wanted two boys, and a girl, in that order.  Now I'll be lucky if I get two girls, and then a boy.  The point I'm getting to, however, is that I'm incredibly comfortable with my girls.  I did originally want a boy first.  You know, that whole big brother watching over little sister and saving Daddy the trouble of beating up the boys thing--cuz girls don't get nearly as pissed at their brothers for messing with their love lives as they do their dads, at least in my experience.  But I got a girl...and then another girl.  And I love them so much.  I go a little crazy over getting to pick out the cutest clothes I can find for them and I get to be a total kid again when I go Christmas shopping for them--going gooey over Disney Princesses and horses and Barbies and all that fun stuff--drives Chaz absolutely nuts.

Headed to the checkout line after three hours...."Oh baby, look at this!!!!"  Cheesy, ridiculous ear-splitting grin on my face....

Anyway, I got to thinking about how I'd handle a boy if and when we have one.  And the answer is, I really don't know.  The most ridiculous thought regarding this that I had this morning (and trust me, my early morning thoughts tend to be a little ridiculous and odd, I'm guessing because I'm not fully awake and in control of my brain) was about changing this boy that may at some point come into my life.  I change my daughters and the hardware down there is perfectly familiar.  I know how to properly take care of them, because I know how to take care of myself.  But a boy...well, he has different hardware.  

Alright, alright, I know deep down in that logic part of me that changing a girl's diaper is no different than changing a boy's.  I get that.  But I got to thinking about Chaz having to change the girls--did he find it awkward at first?  Does he still?  Or am I just weird and ridiculous, which is entirely possible, I admit.  Who knows?  I sure can't explain my thought processes sometimes.

The good thing, I guess is that I love my girls to death.  They bring so much to my life.  Such as entertainment....

Like last night: Chaz had pulled out chicken for dinner, but it didn't quite thaw in time, and I had a craving for pancakes anyway.  So we had pancakes.  The way we eat pancakes is interesting, too.  We put peanut butter on the pancakes, then put maple syrup on top.  Don't hate (like I did).  Shut up and try it (like I did).  Then come talk to me.  It's delish.  As appetizing as it indeed is, it is a recipe for disaster when paired with a two-year-old.  

I had given Aubrey a pancake with peanut butter sans the maple syrup.  She ate all of that and was still hungry.  I still had part of a pancake stack left on my plate, peanut butter, syrup and all, and I was done, so I cut up what was left on my plate and handed it to Aubrey.  She, in all of  her two year old genius, abandoned the fork and proceeded to pull the pieces of the pancake stack apart with her fingers.  This led to her fingers getting covered in sticky maple syrup.  

Now, one thing I can say for my daughter is she does not like to be dirty.  Whenever she spills something on herself, her immediate response is to try and tear her clothing off and say "I wanna wash up!"  Which is repeated incessantly until the bath water is running.  So last night, realizing her hands were sticky and not liking the sensation, Aubrey decided to try and wipe her hands off.  On the floor.  Which is covered in dog hair.  Are you getting the picture?  She now comes up with sticky hands covered in dog hair and now she's starting to panic.  She looks up at me, wide-eyed, and begs me to take a bath.  I look at Chaz and ask him if it makes me a bad mom that I find it hilarious that my daughter is covered in dog hair because she didn't use her fork, like I told her too.  His response: "No, I'm glad you're entertained instead of mad.  But if you let her sit there like that, you will be."  So I get up and head into the bathroom to draw her a bath.

Now, like most people, I'm sure, we have a fuzzy bath mat in front of our tub.  Last night, there happened to be a few dried leaves (from the dog I'm sure) caught in the fibers of the bath mat.  So Aubrey, who has followed me into the bathroom, thinking that she might get better results with the bath mat than the carpet, leans down and wipes her filthy hands on the bath mat.  Now she's got a huge dried leaf stuck to her hand and when she can't get it off she is in full panic, tantrum mode.  

I about died.  I wish I'd taken a picture.  Instead, I took this one: 

Laying in our bed, after her bath, watching Aladdin before bed.

Daphnie, on the other hand, avoided any crises yesterday.  She spent most of the evening hanging out in the exersaucer we brought in from the garage, being her happy bubbly self.  

She's a fan.

Today the plan is to get the house ready for another physical therapy session and try to put a loose weekly schedule together--when to do what around the house, when to try and make it to the gym, etc.  Gotta start working on this discipline thing, and something's gotta hold me accountable for a little while.  

So here's to my husband, who puts up with my terrible sleeping habits.  Here's to my daughters, who are just awesome.  'Nuff said.  And here's to my "schedule"--getting my days and my life in order.  Here's to you, for either caring enough or being bored enough to read this.  You have my thanks. 

Until next time...

January 25, 2013--The Flu

Having the flu, or possibly having the flu, or just simply feeling like absolute $#!& for two days is not conducive to being a productive stay-at-home wife and mother.  Just sayin'.  In case you weren't aware.

I woke up yesterday morning feeling fine--went through the usual morning routine with the girls, then produced a bounce-friendly fort out of Chaz's and my queen sized bed so the kids could play while I cleaned up our bedroom, which was way, way long overdue.  After reorganizing drawers, rehanging clothes and getting all the clean laundry put away, I was exhausted.  I counted down the minutes until I could put the girls down for a nap.  Thank God they seemed to pick up on the fact that I wasn't feeling too hot because they were both very well-behaved for the rest of the morning and went down for naps without a peep.

Chaz arrived home to find me buried under a mountain of blankets on the couch, freezing and fatigued.  Let me just say that there are distinct pros and cons to living in a house made out of concrete.  One of the cons is that it's nearly impossible to effectively insulate.  So when it's really really cold outside, it's pretty damn cold in the house, even with the heater on--this is normally more than endurable.  When you are having cold chills, however, due to the flu, or possibly the flu, or just simply feeling like $#!&, well....it sucks.  

The rest of the day was spent in twenty minute catnaps, followed by cantaloupe for dinner, barely staying awake through Glee from eight to nine and then out like a light by about 9:08.  Chaz was the most amazing husband--he made me dinner aka cut up the cantaloupe, he let me watch Glee (which NEVER happens) and he put the girls to bed so that I could rest.  I love that man, again, in case you weren't aware.

This morning I managed to crawl out of bed and make myself decent enough to take Daphnie to a doctor's appointment.  For those who aren't aware of all the details, the muscles on Daphnie's left side are underdeveloped and weak, especially in her hip and shoulder joints, which has led to her having a 4-5 month delay in development.  This is why at ten months old she is now just getting the hang of sitting up on her own and is nowhere near crawling, pulling herself to her feet using the help of a couch, bench, knee, etc, or standing on her own.  To rectify this, she is going through weekly physical therapy, which is going really well. We are already seeing improvement.  Anyway, one of the things/exercises the PT has given us to do with Daphnie is to stretch out the left side of her neck, by gently pulling her head and left shoulder apart.  Daphnie is in no way, shape or form a fan of this exercise.  She HATES it.  Alas, it has to be done.  Try explaining "for the greater good" to a ten month old....

Daphnie, when she's not cranky about having her neck stretched...

So, Wednesday I was doing this stretch with her and noticed that what appeared to be a major blood vessel was popping pretty close to the surface while I would do this stretch and that there was what might be described as a knot in the vessel.  I could see it pop up and I could feel it.  Not wanting to be overly concerned, I did the same stretch on the right side of her neck.  Nothing.  I then called Aubrey over and stretched her neck out on both sides.  Nothing.  Still worried that I might be crazy, I called my mother over to look at it, because between her education, my education and her work experience, we have a pretty good handle on basic anatomy and physiology.  She agreed that it was not normal and if I was worried, I should call the doctor.  So I did.

Which brings us back to this morning, where I managed to crawl out of bed and escort Daphnie to the doctor's office.  Chaz, being the amazing husband he truly is, managed to switch shifts so he could stay at home with Aubrey, because there was no way I was going to be able to wrangle both kids, at the doctor's office, while having the flu, or possibly the flu, or just simply feeling like $#!&.  

Turns out, Daphnie has a slightly overlarge vein running through that part of her neck and the knot I was seeing in the vessel is one of the venous valves.

**Quick anatomy lesson for anyone who cares (if you don't, skip past the italicized part): You have two major types of blood vessels, arteries and veins.  Arteries are what carry blood FROM the heart TO your body--the blood flows because the heart is pumping.  Veins are what carry blood FROM the body back TO the heart--there is no pumping of the heart to make the blood flow through the veins.  So veins have valves that open and close, basically acting as mini-pumps, forcing the blood back to your heart.  This pumping action of the valves is for the most part created by muscle contractions.  That's why you get such good blood flow when you're working out, but if you sit all day long, every day, you are at risk of your blood pooling in your legs.  Ok, end of lesson.**

As I said, Daphnie doesn't like having this stretch done, so when we try to do it, she gets angry and tenses up.  All the muscles in her neck go rigid, and this valve in her neck, which is now closed because she is tensing, is keeping the blood blocked in that spot.  When she relaxes, the valve opens, blood flow is restored and the huge blue knot in her neck disappears.  So, while it may look very freaky, the good news is there is nothing else (so far) medically wrong with my daughter.

This sense of relief was enough to get me home before I crashed.  The nausea hit--thank God it has stayed at nausea and not turned into the usual result of nausea--as did the exhaustion.  Chaz had made lunch and some of the seasonings turned my stomach.  I always feel horrible when Chaz cooks and I can't eat whatever he's made, because I appreciate so much when he does it for me.  But I could not eat the vegetables covered in lemon pepper seasoning.  Just wasn't happening.  

My parents, being the wonderful people they are, consented to keeping Aubrey overnight because I'm not positive that she got a flu shot this year, and the last thing any of us needs is a flu-ridden two-year-old.  Plus, my parents know that the one thing that works for me when I'm sick is rest.  Rest does not come easily when you have an overly energetic toddler who cannot comprehend what being sick means or needing rest means. So Aubrey is currently cuddled up on her special cot that stays at Grandma & Grandpa's, with her blanket and stuffed dog, no doubt.  I hope she is sleeping soundly, for my parents' sake.

Daphnie, who has had a flu shot and is tremendously easier to take care of at the tender age of ten months, got the privilege of staying home with me.  She was very accommodating by taking a three hour nap from two to five, thereby allowing me to do the same.  Since then she has remained content with the occasional bottle and clean diaper, surrounded by toys on the couch, while I have up until now remained cuddled up under a thick blanket on the awesome double-barreled queen size air mattress we own.  We are now eagerly awaiting the homecoming of husband and daddy.

Two days of being sick is not fun.  I remember being a kid and while the actual being sick part of being sick wasn't fun, the getting to lay on the couch surrounded by books and stuffed animals and favorite movies/tv shows and pretending one was on a deserted island certainly was.  The couch is no longer a deserted island. It's simply a germ-infested, lumpy piece of furniture.  My kitchen is now filled with dirty dishes, the laundry is starting to get backed up again, the floor is covered in dog hair.  So basically, everything's back to normal.

I guess this is part of the day-by-day thing.  There are some days that are gonna suck.  There will be flu-ridden days, and baby spit-up days and mommy, I peed my pants days and I'm too tired to give a $#!& days.  I'm learning to take those days with the good ones and to appreciate the good days more because as Mama said, "There'll be days like this."  I can't avoid them.  I can just make it through and tackle tomorrow as it comes.

Until next time...

January 23, 2012--Food Bank

I hate going to the food bank, for a number of reasons.

The first being, if I'm honest, that I hate having to depend on someone else to help support my family.  I don't like having to admit that I can't do it by myself.  I hate having to admit that this month we don't have enough money to buy the groceries we need, so I have to go "beg" for food.  I get that it's a pride thing.  I also know that it's not near the pride thing that it could be, because I sucked it up and went today.

Secondly, it's a pain to go with both the girls along for the ride.  Daphnie is heavy and hard to carry, which I noted in an earlier post.  Aubrey is two and has so much excess energy, it's not funny.  So trying to take her anywhere that requires her to be relatively still and quiet is a challenge that I don't like to undertake if I can avoid it.  She's also very willful (gee, can't imagine where she gets that personality trait) and trying to make her follow directions, like not running into the middle of the parking lot, while I'm struggling to tote Daphnie around is again, not something I like to undertake, not so much because it's inconvenient for me, but because it can be a danger for her and she's too small to fully understand that yet.

I tend to forget that when Aubrey was ten months old, she could fully support herself in a sitting position and was crawling.  By ten months, I didn't have to lug her around in her car seat, because when we got to the store, she was able to sit in the front of the cart, no problem.  If we went somewhere and had to sit for a few minutes, I could hold her easily and she didn't flop around, and if she wanted to sit on the floor, I could put her down without worrying that she would topple over and hurt herself.

Daphnie, however, has a 4-5 month delay in her physical development.  The muscles on the left side of her body are underdeveloped and weak, which is why she's currently going through physical therapy once a week.  So, while she is getting much better at sitting up on her own, she still tends to wobble a bit, she cannot crawl and she very easily gets herself into positions that she then can't get herself out of, and then she's fussing.  Carrying her on my hip isn't the easiest thing to do, because she flops--I still have to use a lot of effort to support her while I carry her, where at this point, Aubrey was supporting herself.

When I found out that Daphnie needed physical therapy, I had no issues with it.  I was just glad that we had caught the delay early, so that hopefully it doesn't have any lasting effects on her.  I watch the physical therapist work with her and I take the time every day to do stretches and exercises with her myself.  She is doing great with it--as great as a ten month old baby can do.  However, I did not realize the effect that her delay was going to have on me.  I took for granted that Aubrey developed normally, perhaps even faster than normal, and now that Daphnie hasn't, I have allowed it to  hinder my ability to deal with both kids at the same time.

Back to the food bank...

Thirdly, I hate going to the food bank by myself.  I don't know why it's so much more endurable when Chaz goes with me.  Some reasons might be that I then have help watching/carrying the kids, I have someone to talk to and I don't get sidelong glances from the other people that range anywhere from pity to disdain--or if I do get them, I don't see them because I'm not paying attention.  For the first half of last year, Chaz worked an afternoon shift, from 3pm to 11pm.  The food bank is open from 10am to 1pm.  So if we had to go, we went together.  Then he got promoted and his shift changed to a day shift, from 7am to 3pm.  Now, if we need to go, I'm on my own.  In the past, I've put off going because I've let the above excuses get in the way of what's best for my family.

I didn't do that today.

Our bills are paid.  The electricity and water are not going to get shut off.  We've paid our rent and our school loans.  Chaz has gas to get to work.  But this month, there's not a lot left for groceries.  So in my new-found day-by-day mentality, I packed up the girls and went to the food bank, because that was what was best for everybody involved.  We needed help and my pride and the minor backache I might suffer weren't worth not having the sustenance that the family, that my children, need.

The trip ended up being a good one.  Aubrey was extremely well behaved and charmed everyone working there today.  Daphnie was quiet and smiling, as she usually is.  We got there at a time that didn't have the place swarming with people, so we were in and out rather quickly.  And there was a very nice black gentleman who offered to carry our food out since he saw I had my hands full with the girls.  The trip went very smoothly and I now have enough supplemental food to get us through the next two weeks.

Last night I had looked around the house and figured that I would spend today working on getting the bedrooms back in order, both Chaz's and mine and the girls'.  There is clean laundry to be put away, toys to be picked up, sheets to be changed.  But as I have figured out recently, most of my plans tend to go awry, so I've quit putting too much stock in them.  I got up this morning, made sure the girls were fed and changed (Aubrey took a trip to the bathroom) and I started folding laundry.  Chaz called me and we talked about our money issues and all of a sudden, the outlook of my day changed.  Bedrooms were no longer the focus--groceries were.

And now that I've gotten home from the food bank, fed the girls lunch and put them down for a nap, I feel like I should start working on the things I'd planned to work on.  All I really want to do is lay down and take a nap myself.  There are times, like now, when I have to remind myself that it's ok to take a few minutes for me, that I don't have to go 24/7 just because I'm trying to be better.  I can still take a break and if something gets pushed til tomorrow, it gets pushed til tomorrow.  I've been productive today.  I've made good decisions for myself and my family.  I can go to bed tonight and look back on the day and know it wasn't wasted.  I may not have accomplished what I originally set out to accomplish, but the point is, I accomplished something.  I think for now, that's enough.

Until next time...

January 22, 2013--Prioritizing

Apparently, none of us slept well last night.  Daphnie was down for a nap a little after noon, Aubrey by one.  Naptime usually isn't until two.  And I have been fighting to stay awake, and to stay warm, which I'm sure isn't helping, all day.

The morning was spent getting the living room cleaned up in preparation for Daphnie's physical therapy appointment this afternoon, while wrangling two fairly fussy babies.  Their fussiness goes hand in hand, I'm sure, with their both being asleep much earlier than normal.  Daphnie wasn't happy unless she was being held, Aubrey wasn't happy unless she was watching "The Lion King 2: Simba's Pride."  So the decluttering of the living room happened in thirty second spurts before rushing back to comfort my children from the apparent horrors of being ten and twenty-nine months old.

I cuddled up on the couch under the fleece Marine blanket I made for Chaz once both girls were down and caught up on yesterday's new episode of "Revenge."  I now have about 45 minutes before the physical therapist is supposed to show up and I'm trying to decide what to do with the rest of my day.  I have a list of things running through my head and the challenge, now, is to figure out if I can fit it all in to what is left of the day.  Chaz texted me earlier and asked me if I would make chocolate chip cookies tonight for him to take to work tomorrow--it's a co-worker's last day.  I bargained, exchanging a batch of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies for a clean slate to work with i.e. his cleaning up the counters and such before I got started.  So that is on the agenda.

I've also spent some of the morning (during the few rare quiet moments that occurred) trying to come up with some ideas on how to get myself better acquainted in the kitchen.  I never learned to cook as a youngster--my dad was always a bit of a Nazi in the kitchen--and as an adult, I've lost any interest I ever had in learning.  Which poses a bit of a problem, because being the stay-at-home parent, Chaz and I both feel that it's part of my "duty" to have dinner ready.  The last thing Chaz wants to do after working all day is come home and cook.  But up until this point, I have steadfastly avoided the kitchen unless I'm whipping up some sort of confectionary concoction involving some choice ingredients like sugar and vanilla, and my KitchenAid.  I feel as if I'm failing in my role as wife and mother by not providing decent food for my family to eat.  So while I'm not deluding myself into thinking that starting today, I will have a home-cooked meal ready to go every day for the rest of my life, I am following my day-by-day plan, and today, I would really like to cook dinner--that covers doing something for Chaz and my girls.

I also really, really want to go back to the gym tonight.  I'm sore today, but not sore enough to deter me from  getting myself stretched out and back on the horse.  I know there will be days that I wake up and have absolutely no interest in going to the gym/working out and I'm ok with that.  I've tried a number of these 21 day challenges, 30 day challenges and 90 day challenges where I'm supposed to work out 6 days in a row each week.  What I've learned from all these tries and eventual failures, is that at least in my case, I'm doomed to fail from the beginning.  I'm not in good enough shape to work out six days in a row right now, at least not at the high level that most of these challenges put forth.  Plus, I get burnt out really quickly.  I wake up on day 3 or 4, and I don't want to work out.  And if I don't get it done, then I feel like I've screwed the whole thing up and now I need to go back to the beginning and start over.  And that's just a daunting prospect.  So for now, I'm going to take the good days with the bad.  If I wake up and feel the urge to work out that day, I'm going to do whatever it takes to get in a workout.  And if I wake up and don't feel like working out, I'm not going to beat myself up over it.  I'll find other things to do--like vacuum my house or do a load of laundry, because those things never cease needing to be done.  Anyway, the point is, I want to go back to the gym tonight.

And finally, I got a belated birthday present from my wonderfully amazing grandmother today, which contained a small check.  And I'd like to go deposit it, and possibly go the store, not necessarily because I'm going to spend the money, but just because I'd like to get out of the house.

So here's the rub: Daphnie's PT won't be over til about 4, 4:15--if I go straight to the gym, I'll be there by 4:30, 4:45, work out 30-60 minutes, now we're looking at getting home between 5:30 and 6.  Shower, start dinner, hopefully we're eating by 7.  Do I go out at 7 just for the sake of going out, with no real idea of what I want to do or where I might like to go?  Do I drag the kids and Chaz out with me?  And lest we forget, I still have to bake chocolate chip cookies.

I guess there will be days, like this one, where I will have to revise my outlook of taking things a day at a time to taking them an hour at a time.  Roll with the punches and see what comes.  I guess I'm also going to have to learn to prioritize.  To quote a line from "Grey's Anatomy," (as Chaz groans in agony):

Derek Shepherd: How do you know it's the right thing?
Owen Hunt: When it's the best thing for the most people.

What's best for all of us?  Guess I'm going to have to figure that out.

Until next time...

January 21, 2013--The Beginning

**This was supposed to be posted yesterday and I didn't get it finished.**

This past week has been a hard one.  While nothing "bad" happened to me specifically, or to my husband, or either of my two daughters, it was still a hard week.  My nephew's life is about to be irreversibly changed and although the circumstances might not be ideal, it is my hope and prayer that said circumstances will get him some long-awaited help.  A friend's life is also about to be irreversibly changed as her two-week old son suffered permanent brain damage during delivery and she and her fiance have made the difficult decision to bring him home and enjoy whatever short time they may have with him until God sees fit to call him home.

I've spent a lot of time this past week doing something I don't usually do--asking God "why?"  I've been confident in my faith for a long time now and the one comfort I've always had is that God has a reason for everything, and even though I may not know that reason, it doesn't change the fact that there is one.  That comfort was missing for quite a few days this past week.  I simply could not fathom why certain people who either a) don't really want to be parents or b) don't make an effort to raise their children properly or c) can't put their children's needs and wants and insecurities, etc. above their own are allowed to have healthy children, usually more than one, who end up mentally screwed up and shooting up a school (yes, I'm aware that's a lot of "ups," my apologies) because their parents just didn't give a damn, and a couple like my friend and her fiance, whose lives revolve around this tiny human that they've been waiting on for nine months could be dealt such a absolutely crappy hand.

It took a lot of tears and a lot of inner debates before I finally took some advice (given to my husband, no less) from my  mother-in-law and just started mentally screaming at God.  I didn't get much farther than "why?" and "it's not fair!" but apparently it was enough, because I went to bed that night with my face tear-stricken and my mind clearer than it had been in days.  I had managed to get back to the place I've always been, where I can accept that life isn't fair and it's not always for me to know or understand why.  That God knows why and it is simply a test of faith to trust Him and His decisions and know that there is a reason, whatever it may be.  My nephew is getting the help he needs.  A little late?  Perhaps.  But the point is, he is getting it now--the past cannot be changed and there's no point in dwelling on it.  And my friend's son will soon be in the best place he can be, surrounded by a pair of arms that loves him even more than his parents do.  That doesn't stop the grief and my heart still goes out to the suffering these people are going through.  Grieving hurts, it's not easy.  The good news, at least in my case, is that grieving eventually fades and I can take comfort in the fact that God is in control, that He loves me, He loves those close to me and He is waiting for all of us in Heaven.

I took something else from this past week's occurrences and it was a bit of an eye-opening revelation, especially since it was one I felt should have been obvious.  I don't know how much time on this earth I have.  I don't know how much time my husband or my girls have on this earth.  I or they could easily be gone in the blink of an eye.  Dying has never scared me, and it still doesn't, but the thought of leaving my girls behind makes me sick to my stomach.  The thought of my husband dying and leaving our girls and me alone makes me sick to my stomach.  The thought of my girls getting hurt, abducted or killed drives me almost to the point of insanity.  It's simply a gut reaction.  Rational thought always prevails and I remember that if one of those things should happen, those of us who remain  here will make it through, but the initial thought is a very disturbing one.

This revelation led me to the realization that I'm not a perfect mom.  Now, I get that I'm never going to be a perfect mom.  But I can be a better one.  I can make better decisions regarding me, regarding my girls and regarding our lives together.  I can, and should be, always putting their needs above my own.  I should make better decisions about their diet and in Aubrey's case, activity level.  In the same breath, I should make better decisions about my own diet and activity level.  I have gotten to the point where carrying Daphnie in her car seat is damn near impossible.  She's too heavy and I've lost nearly all my arm strength.  That's not being a good mom.  Letting myself go physically until I am so unhealthy that I can barely get through the daily routines of childcare is not ok.  It's not putting my children's needs above my own.  My girls need, and deserve, a mom who can wrestle with them in the living room and chase them around the park, a mom who doesn't put off going to the store because trying to get them both in and out of the car is exhausting, a mom who is an example of healthy living and makes right decisions, not easy decisions.

I struggled this past week with being extremely judgmental.  That is something I try very hard NOT to be--it is something I criticize other Christians for being.  I knew I was being judgmental, I knew it was wrong, but for a while there I just couldn't get past it.  But tying in with all this revelation stuff, I again realized that if I was going to be judgmental, I should be judging myself.  I've never been purposely neglectful of my children, I've never purposely ignored them (unless they were throwing a temper tantrum that every other mom will say is best to ignore), I've never purposely hurt them.  But I have been lazy up to this point.  I'm guilty of putting a movie on for Aubrey to keep her occupied instead of sitting down on the floor and playing with her.  I'm guilty of making Daphnie a bottle because at that exact moment I didn't feel like taking the time to feed her a jar of food.  I haven't been the best mom I could be and my girls deserve better.  So instead of wasting time judging other people, I realized that I needed to make some changes on my end.  I needed to make them now, before they ended up having a permanent negative effect on my girls' lives.

The one thing I can say in my "defense" is that my girls are happy.  They have no doubt they are loved.  Their faces light up when they see me, or my husband, and our faces light up equally as much when we see them. Telling Aubrey I love her and hearing her say she loves me back is an awesome moment I get to experience every day.  Seeing Daphnie grin and kick her legs wildly every time I make eye contact with her tells me she's doing fine.  But I want better than fine for my family, and for myself.

So yesterday (when this was supposed to be posted), I spent the day with my girls.  Yes, a movie was on in the background, but we weren't really watching it.  Aubrey helped me fold laundry and load/unload the dishwasher.  Aubrey and Daphnie played while I tidied up the living room.  We focused on continuing with Aubrey's potty-training and had a major breakthrough yesterday!  And when Chaz got home from work, I went to the gym for the first time in months.

The overall goal is to take one day at a time--to make each day as good as each day can be.  I'm done with looking down the road and picturing where I'd like to be, because so far that hasn't worked.  I always figure I have plenty of time to get there, and what's today?  It can wait until tomorrow.  What I want to do is get up every day and do with it the most that I can, for myself and for my family.  Some days that will be more than it is other days.  But if I can go to bed at night and look back on the day and pinpoint some exact thing I did that ensured I haven't wasted the day away, then I will be satisfied.  I want each day to so something for my girls, something for my husband and something for me.  Some days I will satisfy all three goals simply by working out, because getting myself healthy will greatly benefit us all.  Other days I may take the girls to the park, but take an hour or two to watch a movie or play a video game while they're napping.  I'm just going to see how it goes.

I'm hoping that blogging will help.  I've always wanted to have a blog that lots and lots of people read, where I was saying something intellectual and important and relevant.  But this blog is for me, and if no one reads it, I can at least say that I got what I needed out of it by writing in it.  If you are reading this now, and have made it through this ridiculously long post, my thanks.  Please do not feel obligated to follow the blog or read every post.  But if you do, again, my thanks.  Just know that this is my first step towards a more fulfilling life for my family and for myself and I am going to try my damndest to be better.

Until next time....