Yeah, Baby!

Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart, for the amazing amount of love and support
you have given our family in the last few days!  We have been so excited to share the news
of our baby and to receive so many letters and comments and well wishes was
beyond inspiring.  

We found out about this sweet blessing quite some time ago.  I had a strong feeling
that something was going on with my body and decided to take a pregnancy test early
one morning.  It was quiet in the house, I was the only one up, and I felt the same
nervous energy in my tummy that I have the two previous times before.  PREGNANT.
The words stood out at me on the bathroom counter and I felt my heart catch in my
throat.  We have wanted this, dreamed of it, it was one of our hopes for this year.  But
after Shawn's accident, we knew that another baby might not be in the cards for us.
We accepted that fact, understood that certain plans on our long term list just might
not happen.  We let go of so many expectations, resolving ourselves to just accept what
was laid out before us.  Life takes on so much more meaning when you begin to live
with appreciation for what you have rather than looking forward and focusing on what
you want.

And then that cold winter morning came.  And despite telling myself not to get my hopes
up, not to anticipate something that might never come our way, the words danced out at
me with joy and triumph: PREGNANT!  I ran into our bedroom and woke Shawn
up, whispering the good news to him as he wiped sleep from his eyes.  He wrapped his
arms around me and held me close, the two of us hiding away in the early morning light of
our room, news so incredibly big that we just wanted to hold it close for awhile.  And we
did.  We kept this little one all to ourselves for quite some time, telling only our girls,
allowing the news of this baby to take shape in the safety of our family before we
allowed anyone else in.  This news was so precious to us that we wanted to celebrate on
our own for a bit, we wanted to have time to process this amazing moment for our family.

And so the last few months have gone.  It took some time to get used to the idea: this is real,
it's happening, I'm going to be a mama again.  Isabelle is ecstatic, her nurturing
personality going into overdrive as she insists that I drink more water, get some rest, I'll
do that for you, Mommy.  Brees has no clue what is going on but I look forward to
watching her grow right along with the baby, figuring out this process as my belly grows
and moves. 

And Shawn, there just aren't enough words.  This baby has revitalized him in ways that
no medicine or surgery or form of treatment as been able to.  This baby has awakened his
soul and made him believe in the gift of possibility again.  I have seen my husband grow
in ways I never even dreamed of these last few months, the sight of my changing body
healing his broken heart.  Love is a strong and powerful natural remedy and it has been hard
at work in this house, with this family.  This little baby, he or she was destined to be here, to
be with us.  And we are so ready.

We've Been Keeping A Little Secret

And the blessings just keep on coming...

We are so excited to finally share our big news: we are expecting our third baby!  In August,
we will become a family of five!  Our year of rebuilding has started on such an amazing 
note with the news of this much hoped for baby.  We are beyond thrilled to welcome this 
new little love into the world.

Be Mine

Our Valentine's Day was simple and sweet this year.  Because it was during the same week 
as Mardi Gras, Valentine's Day really snuck up on us.  I found myself running through 
town like a mad woman on Wednesday gathering cards and teddy bears and baking 
ingredients to get prepared.  But we kept it real: store bought cards with matching pencils 
for Isabelle and Brees to hand out to their friends and classmates.  We sat around the 
kitchen table after dinner and put them together, trying our hardest to keep Brees 
from scribbling AKA coloring on every single card.  They were very pleased with their 
work.  On Thursday, I sent the girls off to school and daycare with their special treats, 
all decked out in pink, and promised them good things when we all got home that night.  
My patients all loaded me down with love: I received homegrown oranges, handmade 
cards, and glow in the dark rings for the girls.  Working on a holiday as a nurse is 
incredibly rewarding as patients shower you with love and appreciation.  Each and 
every house I went to that day reminded me of how thankful they were for my service.  It 
was incredibly enlightening.  When I got home from work, I was bombarded with hugs 
and kisses and cards dripping in glitter.  Shawn and I sent the girls outside to play so that 
we could set the kitchen table with all their special treats: cotton candy, little boxes 
of chocolate, singing cards (they are OBSESSED with singing cards) and lots of stickers.  
When they came inside, their little shrieking voices said it all: Thank you, Mommy 
and Daddy!!  I was the happiest Valentine of all when my sweet husband surprised me with 
the most amazing waffle iron, something I've wanted for a long time.  He even bought 
an array of toppings so that we could have a waffle supper extravaganza.  We made a ton 
of waffles with strawberries and bananas and ate until we were ready to pop.  Then we 
made brownies and had ice cream, too.  It was Valentine's Day, after all.  Bed time was a 
breeze that night as the girls were in a complete sugar coma.  And I fell asleep on the chest 
of the man I love, in a home filled with peace.  It was a really wonderful day.

 

A Day In The Life

5:30 am Alarm goes off, I begrudgingly climb out of bed.  I wake up earlier than everyone
else in the house so that I can get a few things done in peace and quiet.  I put on a kettle of
tea, check my email, publish a blog post, check the girls’ bags to make sure they
have everything they need for the day, lay out their clothes, and eat a quick breakfast.
I unload the dishwasher that I ran the night before.  This saves me time later as the
dishwasher is empty and ready to go when dinner time arrives. I start a load of laundry.  Yes,
I do laundry before the sun comes up.  Why? Because I maintain our household laundry
by doing one load a day, preventing myself from ever getting too far behind.  By throwing it
in before I leave the house in the morning, all that’s left to do when I get home in the evening
is to fold it and put it away.  Working Mom time saver trick.

6:00 am I wake Isabelle up. She and I both get dressed and ready for the day. I offer
her breakfast, she almost always refuses. I sneak a granola bar into her backpack.

6:40 am I drive Isabelle to the end of the driveway and wait for the school bus with
her because it’s cold out. We read through her study guides, call out spelling words, talk
about whatever’s going on in her wild imagination.  The bus pulls up and she makes me kiss
her really quickly so that no one can see.  We’re in THAT phase right now.

6:55 am I pack my lunch for the day and load up my car.  I run inside and wake Brees up,
get her dressed, vitamins and shoes and a jacket.  Shawn is up now and we kiss him
goodbye and head out.

7:00 am I drop Brees off at the babysitter’s house.  Our babysitter feeds the kids
breakfast every morning and for that I am so grateful, this saves me so much time!  I kiss
my little one goodbye and she usually cries a little and protests as I walk out.  This is one of
the worst parts of my day.

7:20 am I stop by my office to drop off paperwork, finalize my schedule for the day, give
a report on my patients to my case manager, and stock up on any supplies I might need for
the day.  Our new office is small: there are only 6 nurses there total and we are a tight
knit group, a family.  Someone almost always has breakfast prepared for us before we hit
the road.  It is wonderful.

8:00 am I start seeing my patients for the day.  My job as a home health nurse involves
me seeing patients in their homes, educating them on their disease process and
its management, performing wound care, drawing lab work, monitoring their
medications, communicating with doctors, and providing support to their caregivers.
I typically see between 5-8 patients a day, depending on what the patients’ needs are.  I
love the autonomy and freedom my job allows.  I also love the relationships I build
between my patients and their families.

2:00-3:00 pm I am typically done with my workday sometime between 2 or 3.  Three days
a week, I head to the gym after work for an hour of stress relief and body slamming.  The
other two days a week, I run errands after work.  I meal plan and go to the grocery store once
a week to get everything we need for our meals.  Shawn does most of the day to day
errands like post office runs and trips to the bank.  He tries to pick up most of those
little things so that I don’t have to worry about them.  What a prize.  I keep a list in my car at
all times of phone calls I need to make, appointments to schedule, odds and ends that need
to be picked up.  I try to squeeze those in either between patients or after work.  By keeping
a running list with me, I stay on top of the madness, most of the time.

3:30 pm I scoop up Brees from the babysitter and get home just as Belle is getting off
the school bus.  Here’s where it gets crazy.

3:40-4:30 pm This is my least favorite time of the day as everyone is a bit frazzled.  This is
the time known as “the witching hour”.  We get home and try to get settled with as little
drama as possible.  Brees is in “I want my Mommy” overdrive, wanting to be held
constantly for the first hour I am home.  Belle is a blur of “Sign this!  Fill out this paper!  I
need help with Math!”.  Step one to maintaining sanity: FEED THEM!  I fix them a quick
snack with Brees glued securely to my hip.  Step two: double team them.  Shawn sits down
to help Belle with her homework while I keep Brees busy with crayons or a puzzle.  Then
we switch. 

4:35 pm Once everyone has had a snack, homework is started, clothes are changed, babies
are rocked, and I’ve had a split second to kiss my husband, I start dinner.  Meal planning is
a life saver: I keep a calendar posted in the kitchen with each night’s dinner penciled in.
Next to the calendar is my grocery list for the week, available for anyone in the household
to add to as they see fit.  I try to cook things on the weekends that freeze well so that we have
a night or two a week where all we have to do is reheat.  We keep the girls’ play kitchen right
in the middle of our kitchen so that they can play and “help” Mommy while I cook.  Isabelle
is in charge of setting the table every night.  Once dinner is going and homework is done, we 
go outside to burn off some energy: ride bikes, swing, get dirty.  Some nights we have 
dance class, tutoring, or some other function our busy 8 year old must attend.  Shawn and 
I have a good carpool system down and keep all of those activities on the calendar as well.

5:30 pm We sit down together to eat.  Finally, we can all take a few moments to talk and
catch up on our day.  I spend most of the meal refilling drinks and serving seconds, but I
love this part of the night so much.  My family is very gracious to me and they
always compliment my cooking, probably because they are scared that one day I will just
feel defeated and serve cereal for dinner to save time.

6:00 pm Shawn oversees bath time while I clean the kitchen.  I fold the load of laundry
from this morning and put it away.

6:30 pm Family time in the living room.  We may watch something on TV, dance,
read, whatever.  They are full and bathed and in good moods at this point.  This is one of
my favorite times of the day.

7:30 pm We head upstairs for bed time ritual.  The girls are finally on the same schedule
for bedtime and it is great.  We brush our teeth, comb our hair, get some water, etc.  We
gather in Brees’ room first for story time.  I still rock her to sleep every night: it’s our
special time together.  She can now sing “Twinkle Twinkle” all by herself and it is
adorable.  Next, we head to Belle’s room to say our prayers.  The girls are right across the
hall from each other and can often be heard giggling and hollering back and forth for
quite some time after lights out.

8:00 pm Aaaaaahhh, do you hear that?  It’s finally quiet.  Shawn and I go off and take care 
of business at this time.  We agree to meet back up at 9 for US time.  I do some charting on
my work computer, write a blog post, return phone calls.  Shawn does much of the same.  I
do a clean sweep of the house, picking up the various debris left behind by the
tornado children: shoes, barrettes, Barbie doll clothes.  I take a hot shower and put on my
PJs, the moment I’ve been longing for since I first got out of bed this morning.

9:00 pm  I meet up with my man.  Sometimes we watch something on TV, sometimes
we lounge in bed and read books, sometimes we sit in the kitchen and sneak root beer
floats.  We always feel naughty eating junk food after the kids have gone to bed for
some reason.  We talk without being interrupted 25 times, his arms wrapped casually
around my waist.  It’s the little things.

10:00 pm  I force myself to go to bed by 10.  So boring, I know, but a girl needs her rest.  As
I lay in bed, Shawn already snoring before his head hits the pillow, my mind starts churning
as I think of all the things I need to do tomorrow.  Picture day at Belle’s school, bring
diapers to daycare for Brees, dance class at 5, complete continuing education courses
for work….Goodnight moon, goodnight stars.

Source

Sweet Friday

Hello, Friday!  You are my favorite day of the week, except for maybe Saturday.  I always
pop out of bed with a little more spunk on Fridays, knowing it's my last day of work for
the week.  I have more energy, a more positive spirit, knowing that whatever bullshit
comes my way, who cares?  The weekend is almost here!  Sometimes, we make big plans
and look forward to them all week.  Other times, we just coast into the weekend with
the excitement of the unknown looming over us.  Let's sleep in, eat breakfast for dinner, go on
a date!  It's how I get through my work week: the stress and exhaustion and missing my
family.  I work for the weekend.

This week:

1.  I went to my first dance class in, well, I'm embarrassed to admit how long it's been.  It was
a jazz/hip hop class and I actually kept up without completely humiliating myself. My
dance teacher later told me that she couldn't tell if I was enjoying myself or not because I
was wearing my "poker face".  Oh no, I was having fun.  I was just wearing my poker face
to disguise the fact that I was completely out of breathe and every muscle in my body
was screaming "What the heck are you doing?!!".  It was exhilarating  though, to move
my body to the beat again.  I'll be back next week, poker face and all.

2.  Shawn cooked breakfast for the whole family, all by himself.  He surprised me one
morning with eggs, bacon, and biscuits and the biggest smile on his face.  Before the
accident, this was a regular occurrence in our household as my husband is a very talented
cook and loves to be in the kitchen.  This was the first time he's braved a meal all by
himself, finding new ways to make things work when his left hand doesn't give him all that
he needs.  We gave him a million kisses and words of encouragement and ate every single
bite.  Another milestone.

3.  Our satellite TV took a nose dive this week and completely shut down on us.  A brand
new modem was installed and Shawn had everything up and running in no time.  But, he
had bad news for me: when our old unit broke, so did the DVR.  Meaning every single thing
I had stored on the DVR was deleted.  Forever.  Is it sad to admit that I wanted to cry?  I had
so many VERY important programs to watch on that damn DVR, gripping tales such
as  "Project Runway All Stars", "The Bachelor" and "Grey's Anatomy".  I had to get over
it, though, and move on like a big girl.  I consoled myself by spending the next half
hour programming our brand spanking new DVR, filling it with lots of new trashy
favs.  Technology can by a biotch sometimes.

Here are a few photos of the girls looking adorable.  Happy weekend friends!!

 

Bringing Out The Kid Again

This weekend, the sun came out, our kids slept in until 8 each morning, and I told the
laundry to kiss off.  My cousin threw the most amazing carnival themed birthday party for
her two year old son, Graison, and she doesn't even have a Pinterest account.  There was
a petting zoo with a baby goat and pony rides, an inflatable jumper that reminded me to get
my butt back into the gym ASAP, and a balloon animal making clown that made Brees
cry every time she looked in our direction.  The adults had just as much fun as the
kids, holding an extremely competitive sack race that had the whole party laughing for
hours.  It was the sweetest little backyard extravaganza I've ever been to and I admire
my cousin so much for all her creativity and hard work.  Sunday afternoon brought this
year's first Mardi Gras parade and a BBQ tailgating party with my co-workers.  We caught
lots of beads and filled our bellies up with candy, all in the company of good friends.

Shawn and I couldn't help but reflect on how our definition of a "fun" weekend has
changed since becoming parents.  The first four years of our marriage, it was just the two of
us.  We partied in the big city until the wee hours of the morning, dancing and drinking
and wild hearts floating free.  I'm so thankful that we had that time, those years of
no responsibility, no worries or expectations.  Now, we experience fun times not just
through our own interests and emotions, but through the eyes of our girls as well.
Hearing them laugh, joining them as they scream, "Come jump with me, Mama!!": it brings
out the kid in you.  I've learned to let certain inhibitions go, not caring how ridiculous I look
as I hop along in a sack race but laughing instead because it's just so damn hilarious.
This family life: it's brought out good energy in us, made us more comfortable in who we
are.  I'm thankful for weekends like these, weekends where we let our hair down and enjoy
a good hot dog in the warm January sun.  It's the little things, you know?

Songs That Take You Places: One Headlight

I went through a terrible teen angst phase: brooding, scowling, black hair hanging over
my eyes so as to hide their disappoint in the world.  I smoked cigarettes and rolled my eyes
at everything, believing with every inch of my soul that there was so much more to life
than this bullshit small  town I was stuck in.  And my mother: Lord, did she get under my
skin.  Didn't she understand how clueless she sounded when she tried to give me advice
and point me in the right direction?  Why couldn't she recognize how soulfully enlightened
I was at the ripe old age of 15?  I was an old soul, after all, and could have cared less about
her views on boys, morals, and my future.  I had it all figured out, wrapped up in my
Kurt Cobain straight from the Goodwill cardigan.  Duh.

My mother worked directly across the street from my high school and was gracious enough
to give my ungrateful arse a ride to school every morning.  Our days started out with
her begging me to get out of bed so that she wouldn't be late for work, me grumbling
and refusing to eat a healthy breakfast, both of us rushing and raising our voices and
meeting up in the car with a big deep sigh.  I was mean to her at times: a sass mouthed
back talker with a bad attitude.  It wasn't my fault, as far as I was concerned, considering
she just DIDN'T GET IT.  I just wanted to be left alone, to sit in my little puddle of self
imposed sadness.  I wanted to listen to Alice In Chains in my bedroom and write long poems
in my journal.  I didn't want to tell her about my day, I didn't want to confide in her, and I
most certainly did not want to spend any more time than I absolutely had to in her
presence.  She was the enemy, the grown up, the one who gave me this nose I was so
self conscious about.  I hated her for this nose.

But all of that seemed to disappear on our rides to school in the morning.  That was OUR
time, our 15 minutes together without any interruptions.  She would smoke a few
cigarettes while I gazed out the window, both of us enjoying our last few moments of
peace before our day got started.  She was kind enough to put me in charge of the
radio, sighing to herself as I blasted Stone Temple Pilots and Pearl Jam as loud as I
could.  Some days we talked, others we rode in silence.  Just the two of us.

"One Headlight" by The Wallflowers was popular and played every single morning on our
way to school for like a month.  It reminded me of my boyfriend who had just moved an
hour away for college.  It made me miss him so much I could have cried, but I didn't because
I was so cold and guarded.  My mother loved it as well, singing along and giving me a
knowing nod when it came on.  She thought of it as "our song": Mama and her little
Cinderella.  It was one of those songs that took us somewhere, brought us
together, represented a time and an energy.  One of those songs that sticks with you.  

I eventually snapped out of my teenage emotional/hormonal hell and started treating
my mother with the love and respect she deserved, listening to "One Headlight" as I
prepared to leave home and make my own way in the world.  It took me back to her car,
the smell of her cigarettes mixed with her floral perfume, the rising sun on the horizon as
we sailed towards school.  She used to write me letters when I was in the Navy and she
always signed them, "I love you forever and always, my Cinderella", referencing the song
that had become a part of our story together.  Every time I heard it, it made me miss her
like crazy, my heart now big and open and willing to cry because I would have given
anything to be back in that car again.  Just the two of us.  

As I was driving home from work yesterday, "One Headlight" came on the radio.  This time,
I was alone, on my way to pick up my own kids from school after a hard day's work.
I immediately thought of her, and us, and I couldn't help but hear the song in a totally
different light.  Yesterday, I heard the song as she once did: a mom who loves her
daughters more than herself, a woman with hopes and dreams and a free spirit of her own,
a daughter who feels blessed to have such an amazing mother in her life.  My mother
was around my age now when she used to drive me to school and listen to that song, a
thought that amazes me at the ripe old age of 33.  And as I listened to the lyrics, I heard it
the way SHE must have.  

"Hey, come on try a little
Nothing is forever
There's got to be something better than
In the middle
But me & Cinderella
We put it all together
We can drive it home
With one headlight"

It wasn't the sad breakup song I was hearing, pining away after a boy who left me for
higher education.  It was her song to me and my teen drama, a song about waking up and
trying harder and knowing that this too shall pass.  She knew that, one day, I would cheer
up and become the woman I am today.  She put up with my ugly attitude, my
dramatic breakdowns, and my disrespectful disposition because she knew that, together,
we could drive it home.  With one headlight, we made it through that time, those
years, together.  

I love you, Mama.