Love Languages

Everyone has one right? It is the way we show appreciation, affection, and caring for loved ones, friends, and family. They, unfortunately, are not the same and they do not always translate so well.

My dad is not a talker. When I was little I had a permanent spot on his lap and nightly tickle fights and later chess games or games of catch. He would do push ups every night and I would, when I was little sit on his back then run around the house to "catch his breath" for him. Since I grew up, that does not happen, and he still does not talk. But I know he loves me and loves my kids.

My dad is an amazing woodworker. He would not tell you so. But he is. He does it for fun and relaxation... regardless his pieces are amazing. Even more amazing because he made them.

Peas and Princess are proud owners of bunk beds that he hand made for them. Stinky also has a trundle bed that Papa handmade just for him. the kids also have dressers and a little table and chairs.

The items are not cheapy stuff. They are solid oak, and HEAVY. They are also made with love. My dad gives of himself this way to show his affection for me and my children. There is no way I can thank him enough. I wish I could. I wish I could somehow find the words to tell him how much I (we) appreciate it, and how much I love him.

My kids adore their Papa. He is superman to them the same way he was superman to me. I am so glad that they have this relationship with their Papa, and I hope that they will treasure the memories that they make with him as much as the furniture he makes them.

Anyway here are some pictures of the beds!

Rest In Peace

You may have noticed that I have been oddly silent lately. There are a few reasons:

1) My screen broke
2) The day after my new screen got put in, my keyboard broke (with help from a 1 year old)
3) There was a tragedy on the Chicago Fire Department- and I need to say something, but do not know what to say- or how to address it.

The loss of a firefighter doing their job is a tragedy. It hits close to home. Way to close to home for me.

I sheltered the kids from seeing the events transpire but I admit I watched coverage on the web in my room. As the firefighters frantically searched for their brothers all I could do was curl in a pseudo tornado drill position covering my head and crying. The big heaving cry that makes your chest hurt.

How to address it? What to say? What can be said? Nothing. Nothing can bring those souls back. Nothing can fix it. We are left helpless.

Their deaths are incredible tragedies- a loss for the community as well as the department.

Of course I am thankful for the men and women who put their lives on the line daily. I am immensely thankful for their courage, for their sacrifice.

Tomorrow they will be laid to rest. Tomorrow they will be honored for their heroism. God Bless them.

Wonderful day

Yesterday was an amazing day. Correction, the morning was fantastic- so was the early afternoon- then- the whining started.

It snowed on Christmas Eve, the super giant Hollywood Snow. It was amazing and beautiful. We had pancakes and coffee before going downstairs together to watch Christmas movies.

I selected "A Christmas Story" you, know- you HAVE to know. The "You'll shoot your eye out" movie a classic on par with "Citizen Kane" as far as I am concerned.

There were so many memories that came flooding back from watching that movies as a childhood and my parents sharing their memories from the era.

I laughed so hard I could not breathe. As a mom- I saw humor in parts that I had never seen or I saw a whole new perspective. My kids could not believe that kids got soap in their mouths or that phones were attached to the wall. Nor could they believe that the washing machine was in the kitchen and dry clothes were not pulled toasty warm from dryer or pulled from a clothes line.

They were stunned that the firefighters did not have a truck to ride in- rather- that they hung on. Princess was terrified by the flag pole scene- she needed to be reassured that a someone would pour warm water over the person's tongue and not just pull it off.

One of the first time I saw the movie- I actually asked my parents what that "mother of all bad words" was. Obviously she did not tell me- but she got good laugh out of it.

Being able to share this with my kids was amazing.

Even MORE WTH?

In talking to B's aunt I learned that St. Nick did filled their SHOES! NOT THE STOCKINGS! I have been misled! I have been dealing with angst unnecessarily for years!

This made my day. I felt sweet sweet vindication. Of course- I had to crow loudly my correctness and the fact that some people were just loopy.

Next year. SHOES darn it SHOES.

Stockings!!! WTH??

Out of respect for B's families traditions, St. Nicholas comes and fills the kids stockings.

WTH? SANTA does stockings St. Nick does SHOES!

All the traditions say so- I even looked it up to be sure! WHY WHY WHY???

Also- have they not read "'Twas The Night Before Christmas"? As I recall "the stockings were hung by the children with care...."

Shoes= St. Nick
Stockings= Santa GEEZ!

So despite my irrational frustration and confusion with this- I do it. Out of love for B. Out of respect for his traditions I do it... and grumble all the time.

But Santa will fill the stockings again.

Feelings of Peace

The past few weeks when I have been to my place of worship I have felt this amazing sense of peace. I have learned something each time and walked away happy that I spent time there.

Last week I had to miss it and I found myself longing for the quiet time with G-d. I found myself wanting to loose myself in the beauty of the traditions and the rituals. To a lot of people they may be meaningless and empty but it is comforting to me. It is a way of feeling a connection. It calms my heart and quiets my head.

The services are steeped in tradition and reverence- it is not what it is all about but the beauty of it is unmistakable.

I do not think that you need these things to talk to G-d, I enjoy what the represent, the familiarity of them, the comfort of them. It is like my mom's mashed potatoes, warm and cozy.

Looking forward to next week.

Thrive on Chaos

Even when I have a 'break' things are always chaotic here- if it is quiet people are sick.

Today I dropped the three older kids off at B's parents house. Leaving me with Pixie which in theory, at least, would allow me to catch up and maybe rest a little. It did not work that way.

Pixie is far to busy to want to rest. She is in that fantastic fun stage of being into everything all the time and wanting to be involved in everything up close and personal.

Add to that- White Fang who is the same age as Pixie and exceptionally frustrating.

To point this evening I warmed up dinner for Pixie put our plates on the table and when to chase her down. From the kitchen there was a crash.. White Fang had knocked the dish off the counter and the dish shattered. Porcelain everywhere. Mixed with potatoes and chicken.

Pixie of course wanted to investigate and came toddling in to the kitchen to see what had happened. I swooped her up so she wouldn't get hurt and put her in the living room, then chased the dogs out of the kitchen as they were trying to eat the broken glass and the food, meanwhile Pixie came back.... repeat a few times making minor progress on the clean up. Finally I got the big stuff cleaned up and dragged the vacuum up to get the shards..... finally the chaos was calmed down... for now...

Not ready for this discussion

Princess came home from a friends house the other day and informed me that all girls had eggs in them which would become babies. I said yep thats right- and I reminded her of how her siblings grew in my tummy and came out. She me took it a step further and remembered that there was a girl part and a boy part that came together to make a baby.

At this point I was feeling so good about my handling of the situation. I should have taken more care not breaking my arm to pat myself on the back. Because no sooner had I taken a breath of relief did she follow up with a really great question. "what is the boy part called?" and "how does the boy part get inside the mama?" hmm well. hmm. I darn naear choked as that was not what I expected to disc

When I was pregnant with Stinky she was very afraid of him being born covered in - exucuse me- poop. She was relieved to learn that there was a special place in mama's that kept them from getting all messy in that sense. Somehow I did not think that this question would be handled with that kind of ease. So I told her I had to think about the right way to explain it and we would talk about it later- so far she has not asked again..

What am I supposed to say??

We Wouldn't Have Missed It

It is no secret that Stinky loves trains. Love is and understatment. He adores them. He thinks they are the coolest thing ever. Toy train, freight trains, metra, or CTA it makes no difference. It is a train and that makes it awesome. No one else in our house likes trains- we all tolerate them because they give Stinky so much joy. The same way we go along with Princess and her American Girls etc..

Cantigny, a museum, estate, park thing the next town over was having a exhibit of Lego Trains. Super cool for Stinky two of his most favoritist things ever. When I read about this I got so excited to tell him about it- I just could not wait to see the look on his face and hear the excitment in his voice.

So when I told him he was practically levitating with glee. Trains! Legos! OH MY! a four year old boy's DREAM!

Of course we went. All of us. Princess was not that excited to go because "there was nothing there for her" and she was "bored, and not having any fun." She was reminded that Stinky went a long with her to The American Girl Place even though there was nothing there for him.

We started in the center room and I was imopressed with the detail that was included in the displays. The people who made them had some sense of humor!

The next room we went in had a really big layout that included a model of things that were pop culture references and secret- or hidden humor clearly aimed at the adults.

In the final room we went to I was impressed immensly. There was a model of the Sears Tower (Sorry, I cannot bring myself to call it the Willis Tower) it even had lights inside and a superman on the top. The details were amazing, from a town set up with a fire department responding to an acident to a haunted house, and a large display of Toy Story items, there was also part of the display dedicated to Star Wars. (Why does Lego have so many Star Wars things???). Stinky especially liked the Toy Story 3 pieces because he just completed building a Toy Story 3 Lego train.

Being a mama, my thoughts went to how much of a pain it would be to clean all of that up, and how I was so glad that I would not have to have any part of that.

Of course there was a Thomas train- what train thing attracting children would not have Thomas themed things? It would be a travesty!

We were only there for an hour or so- I started to hurt a lot and could no longer hold the kids so they could see. Stinky was sold though- I'll have to keep an eye out for when it comes back.

Where on Earth

Where on Earth am I supposed to find 30EE bras? Really? Victoria does not know that part of the alphabet. Darn- really- I wish I could have gone there and just got some pretty things.

This is all kind of irritating. I can't buy clothes at Target because they do not carry my size. Bra size?? forget it. Which means that a lot of my clothes are a lot more expensive than I would like them to be.

Anyway.

When I was in high school and I started developing (late bloomer here) I was not a girl who wanted bigger girls. I wanted them to go away. I wanted to cut them off. But finding a bra that fit was a lot easier when I was in the beginning part of the alphabet.

When I got pregnant I was a size 30b ish- When I delivered Princess I was 34H.. H! It was not fun to grow that way. Things went back down after a while but not all the way. After each subsequent pregnancy things never went back. All I really want is perkier girls- not the "do your ears hang low" ones that I am sporting now. Finding a bra that will help in that way will not be as easy as hitting Victoria's Secret apparently.

The last time I got fitted for a bra we had a different president and it was a few children ago. And given the bra I am currently wearing is literally falling apart, I decided to go on a little adventure--- ALONE! So I got a few items- Not granny panties but pretty things. I can't wait to wear them.

Having pretty panties always makes me feel better and pretty. Small pleasures are awesome.

Betrayal.

Ever since she has been home from the NICU I have not been apart from her for long. Never overnight until I had my medical issues this summer even then I usually pushed hard to only be away overnight.

When I had my big surgery a week ago I knew that it would be hard on her to be away from me for so long. Seeing as sitting a 13 month old down and explaining to her that Mama needs to get something fixed and I'd be back as soon as I could- is not really reasonable I was pretty nervous about leaving her.

She was sad that I was gone. She was wimpering like a sad puppy from what my friend told me. I was not worried about the care she would receive but I was concerned about how she would react- added to this she had a cold.

Typically, the hospital stay for the procedure I had is 5 days. Despite my complications I complained and pushed to come home sooner. I made it home in 2 days.

When I got home, Pixie was not thrilled to see me. She was angry! She looked at me like I had betrayed her on some base level. She was pissed! How dare I? How could I do that to her? It was heartless of me. I also think that she was not sure if I was a baby mirage or not. Once she figured out I really was there, then she was more pleased to see me. Like turning on a dime she went from angry at me to not letting me out of her sight. If I went out of the room she was terrified I would leave again. If I went pee- she woud go too. I could do whatever I wanted- as long as she was with me. Heaven forbid you put her in the carseat-- that was NOT ok.

Even now a week after getting home she is still not thrilled if I am out of her line of sight. Maybe by the time she is in high school she'll have gotten over it.

Pixie's treats

Otherwise known as: thank goodness for nontoxic crayons.

Pixie thinks these things are the best treat this side of cookies. I am baffled as to why- wax just seems unappetizing.

But as there are three other kids here- we keep Crayola in business- crayons colored pencils- markers abound. What confuses me is I can have the kids pick up their crayons and other coloring implements (then I follow and pick up the missed ones), then Pixie toddles around in without fail she finds some little scrap of a crayon and proceeds to pop it into her mouth like a lifesaver.

Sometimes I catch it and fish the crayon out- other times I only find out a day or so later when well *ahem* things come out colorfully.

No matter how many times I say "no no Pixie not food" she just looks at me with her huge eyes and goofy grin and laughs then toddles away.

Stinky's trophy

In going through Rubbermaid bins I found an old baseball trophy of B's. Stinky saw it and was so excited. He asked a thousand questions about it. Seeing as I was not there, I have no idea as to the circumstances of the win- but to know that Daddy was so awesome he got a trophy pretty much settled B in rock star status.

I gave the trophy to Stinky and he has taken it with him everywhere. To the pool, to the park, to soccer. Everywhere and everywhere he goes he tells people that it was his daddy's trophy.

Now it is on his nightstand. He likes it to be close to him where he can hold it if he wants. At least once a day I am reminded that the trophy was Daddy's and it is really old so he needs to take care of it.

This will be one of the things he treasures I bet. I am glad that he can treasure it.

Its been a while huh?

Darn surgery getting in my way.

Tuesday was the big day. I had my kidney and ureter fixed. I was terrified of having a stroke or a pulmonary embolism. Which did not turn out to be entirely unfounded.

The surgery went well- I guess. I found out I have a big tongue and a small mouth (thanks anesthesia lady). Who knew I had a big tongue and a small mouth and throat?
My ureter had a few issues with it- it had a large "S" kink and scarring and a vein was in the wrong place. All of that was fixed. Yay!

In recovery things got hairy. Bearing in mind my memory is kind of foggy I remember signing for B- the told me of course he could not be there. My heart rate was way to fast and apparently I had a problem breathing what seemed like 30 doctors descended into the room- and the were afraid that I had a pulmonary embolism. I could not have the one test that would tell them for sure- but they decided that given my clotting issues, as well as my symptoms I most likely had one and the proceeded to give me blood thinners to dissolve the clot.

Giving someone blood thinners after surgery is not usually a good idea- I mean you bleed more. Which then made me need to get more blood. The doctors were concerned because I was bleeding too much and my blood count was dropping, I was disoriented and not waking up well, and my heart was still beating too fast- to the ICU I went.

The poor ICU nurse. I was not kind to him- I really wanted ice and he would not give it to me. To him: I am sorry.

When I was stable- the next day I got to go down to the regular floor. All was well until the doctor had to pull the drain out. Worst pain ever. No way to describe it. Just worst feeling ever.

A few days later I was allowed to come home- earlier than anticipated- thank goodness.

I am so so so thankful that I had such great care. I will write about the exceptional care I had and the amazing friends who took care of my kids later but I just wanted to put it out there- that now I hope my kidney is fixed. I am ok. I am thankful.

things than make me go hmmmm

B was not my first husband. That goes to someone else. A marriage that was no really a marriage but a really really bad decision.

There are moments that I wonder if maybe I am being very dramatic about the whole experience. Maybe it was not all that bad, maybe the 'abuse' was not really that bad.

Then like today I read something about and Order of Protection expiring and an ex-husband starting to control and abuse the woman and just acting like a jerk. My heart started to pound, my ears to ring, my neck to sweat. The fear the absolute terror is still there. Instantly, I can remember the sound of his voice and the last time he called- I can feel my knees going weak, my stomach turning, and my brain unable to think. Even now I have nightmares. So maybe it was as bad as I am remembering. Maybe I am not being all dramatic.

I feel safer now than I have in a very long time which is good- but somethings just don't leave you. Why can't I shake it?

Peas has met her match.....

My parents got a new puppy- a chocolate lab. He is three months old now and he his a puppy puppy who loves loves to play. My parents adore him but do not play as much as he would like.

He has met his match in Peas. She has the energy of an Energizer Bunny on espresso mixed with speed and so does he. She pranced and ran for hours and he followed her. He jumped and pranced and kissed her with the gusto of a puppy... tail wagging a hundred times a minute. She squealed and giggled her contagious giggle shrieking with laughter which fed Gus's excited play.

Peas finally may have met her match in playfulness in him. She ran up to him giggled and turned around and flitted away enticing him to follow her. Gus tired before she did flopping on the floor under the table admitting exhaustion before Peas had had her fill they are a match made in play heaven.

pixie v. pie

 

 

 

Anne and Janet

When I was little I would pray every night for a cat or a dog- but mostly a cat. My parents would not let me have one because of my allergies and asthma so I prayed. Hard. Every night.

I would have settled for anything but fish. A hamster, a guinea pig; something to snuggle. I would kneel and implore G-d to let me have a kitty a puppy with incredible passion.

After caring for another person's pet hermit crab my mother decided that that was something we could handle. It was kept in a box, did not shed, and did not need to be walked. So I received two hermit crabs whom I baptized- literally- Anne and Janet. The lived in a Rubbermaid storage container with a latching lid in my room.

The poor crabs. As the name "hermit crab" implies they are not the most snuggle-able of creatures. They must have been traumatized when I tried to snuggle them and dress them in Barbie clothes. Even more traumatized when I built a labyrinth of blocks for them to find their way out of (they sadly failed and retreated to their shells).

One day I had my turn being traumatized by them when one of the crabs molted. It crawled out of its shell and then crawled out of its skin, before returning to its shell. It left its skin in its Rubbermaid box and when I saw it I was crushed- assuming that the crab had died.

The crabs and I did pretty well for a while until I took them on a field trip. Being the lover of education I was, I was certain they would find a trip to the back yard an enriching experience. All was well until I lost one. Crabs are not the speediest of creatures so for one to abscond was odd. I was racked with guilt. What kind of a crab care taker was I? Poor Janet (or Anne) what would she do without her companion? Surely she would die of a broken heart. I contemplated making lost crab signs and posting them around the neighborhood- thankfully someone convinced me not to do this.

Somehow I came to have another crab. Whom I named Anne or Janet- so I once again had Anne and Janet. I went through several Anne and Janet's over the years. So I had crabs as a kid- and I loved them.

upcoming surgery

November 30 I am scheduled for surgery. Which will hopefully fix my kidney issues. I would have been more ok with it a few months ago- back when I did not have to think about it. Now that I have had time to think about it, I have had time to get nervous.

How is it going to be? Is it going to hurt a lot? Will I get a clot? What if I have a PE or a stroke... what if....what if....what if.....

How will recovery be? How will I manage the kids? How long will it be painful for?

I hate to say it but what if something really bad happens?

So I am nervous.

Good Help

Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a good babysitter? I do not use sitters that often but once and a while I need one. Finding one though makes finding a needle in a haystack look like a morning activity.

When I was a teenager it seemed so basic. Watch the kids.... Now as a mother it seems so freaking hard. I am consumed with the idea that I will choose wrong. I have no idea what to ask sitters.

Despite this I found 2 sitters who I love. They got my kids to eat peas- and ask for more. They cleaned up. They took them to the park! They are amazing. Because of this- I will do whatever I need to to keep these girls happy. I had no idea the power that good sitters held over parents!

These sitters are worth their weight in gold. If I could I would marry them.

Saturday

Was B's birthday. Obviously- he was not here to celebrate but we still celebrated.

The kids and I went to a local paint your own pottery place and spent a small fortune on pottery. It is fun and all but really really expensive!! So we do not go as much as the kids would like- we save it for special occasions.

Then we went to 2Toots. A train restaurant- and Stinky's favorite restaurant. A model train delivers the food- which is by no stretch gourmet- it is diner fare- not healthy and in my opinion hardly edible (the kids have no complaints though)- but we don't go their for the cuisine.

Then home and bed-- not exciting.

I have written this post

about a dozen and a times in my head.

In the mommy blogosphere the tragic death of Kate Granju's son has been big news. He died from a savage beating and drugs. Some of the less kind people have said that his addiction and ultimately his death are a result of her parenting choices.

I am writing this from a complicated place. From an addict and from a mother. My addiction was not to pills or powder but to food... and lack of food.. and starving... and control. Which can be pretty hard because you physically need food- so you need to develop some kind of symbiosis with it...but anyway...

My parents sent me away. They sent me to a place in Utah because they thought it was my last chance. Reality? I had been having issues for as long as I could remember. Literally. At this point though I was 17 and precariously perched.

Regardless- they did what they thought they needed to do. Because of their choice I am alive. I have no doubt had something not changed I would be dead. It at this point was life or death.

Point is- my issues are not a result of lack of love or caring from my parents. It was a perfect alignment of my personality, environment, etc.... it just happened...

My parents did what they could. They did they best they knew. I give them credit for that.

I cannot imagine from a mother's perspective what it is like to watch your child destroy themselves. To have all of these hopes and dreams for your child and watch them implode. To see the potential. To see everything amazing and wonderful about your child and watch them destroy it. It must be the worst possible feeling ever.

What 'saved' me was not a miraculous apparition of Jesus M.D., or a revelation in therapy, it was a series of events that I had to live through to come out the other side of. It included an abusive marriage and subsequent divorce, an unplanned pregnancy (with a man other than the abusive husband), almost losing it all, then a new marriage......etc..... losing it all.... etc....

So in my expereince- no family is immune from addiction. My parents parenting style was as different as could be from Katie's.

To Katie: you love your son. You did what you could to help him. You are an amazing mother.

Delayed Giveaway..

I have been meaning to post this giveaway for MONTHS. Literally MONTHS about three months.

I am sorry- I just kept procrastinating.

So without further ado---

The Cream City Soap Giveaway.

I found this company at the Bristol Renaissance Faire and was really impressed with the high quality of the handmade soaps and products.

This company gave me a bar of clove soap that I am thrilled to giveaway. It smells fantastic the cloves have a really sweet spicy holiday fragrance.

To sweeten the deal- I am going to add an Amazon.com gift card for $20, totally not a lot but enough for a little something.

So here goes- the details:

Contest will end on November 27 at 11:59 pm central time. At which time I will use random.org to draw a comment number. Please have an email address associated with your profile so I can contact you- or leave it in the comment! The winner has 5 business days to respond or another winner will be drawn.

How to enter:

1) comment
2) post this on your Facebook page and tell me about it in another comment
3) Like 'Making It Fun' on Facebook and tell me you did
4) Tweet this giveaway and tell me you did
5) Follow me on Twitter and tell me so
6) Follow my blog and tell me!
7) Like Cream City Soap Company on Facebook- and tell me so!

stores that need drive thrus

Pre kids- I thought drive thru's were the pinacle of lazy. How hard is it to park, walk 20 feet, and enter a store for something?

Then I had kids. Now if an establishment has a drive thru I am exponentially more likely to visit it. Do you have any idea how much of a pain it is to get four kids into a car, buckled appropriately, drive somewhere without mutiny breaking out, find a parking spot, get everyone from the car to the store without being killed, then complete a purchase? A five minute errand can take 45 minutes, easy. Longer if we are talking about food.

In the town where I live we have to purchase stickers for our garbage cans. These stickers are not cheap- more than $3 per sticker, and each can needs one. These stickers can be purchased at Jewel or Dominicks or City Hall (among other places- there are like 6 places). Not a big deal except when you have four kids and you need to go get stickers for the next day's trash collection. Then it is a big deal.

ONE store needs to have a drive thru for this. CVS or something. Somewhere where I do not have to load, unload, etc just for stickers.

bribery.

I need someone to bribe me. I bribe my children. I'll admit it. If it makes getting something done easier- yes- I bribe them... "ok its time to go now, lets go get a cookie" is one of the more commonly heard refrains in my house. Is it bad parenting?? Eh maybe. Lazy parenting, yes, yes it is and I can deal with that.

But it WORKS. When I have four kids that I need to move from a to b sometimes the path of least resistance is the choice I'll make.

As I sat at home today, convincing myself that I really really needed to run a few errands, working up the energy to go. I realized that it would be really nice if someone bribed me to do something. "Come on- go to Trader Joe's, you can get a cookie..." then I thought, heck- If I want a cookie, I can get a darn cookie, THREE cookies even. Heck, I'll eat the whole bag if I want. But that would not get me the groceries.

Wouldn't it be nice to have a little encouragement? Just some impetus to get moving.... But cookies I do not think will cut it.

I have some pretty cool kids

I hear some interesting comments during the day... Today however I darn near snorted Diet Coke.


We were reading "The Hungry Hungry Caterpillar" for what seems like the millionth time and Peas looked at the apples and said "Pomagrndts". Which I believe translates roughly to 'Pomegranates'. I think that it is hysterical. Peas does not talk a lot. She does not say her name, she does not say many things now but she does say "Aurora" (our Siberian Huskies name) and, now, apparently "pomegranates".

Those are not easy words to say- like ball or block. My kids make me laugh.

Fisher Price Little People

I had them when I was little. I think my brother and sister even had them- I think they were smaller than they are now... I seem to remember them smaller... anyway.

We have them. Not a lot. But some.

In a perfect sequence of events that can only happen at my house one got flushed down the toilet- they are not flushable.

Princess had gone to the bathroom and as she was flushing in walked Pixie holding a sailor little person and tossed it into the potty at the right moment that it was flushed. It got stuck. Not stuck enough to overflow the toilet. Stuck enough to slow it down. Stuck enough that plunging was not enough. Neither was a snake-y thing. The potty is dismantled. It will be interesting.




the culprit.

blog help

I would be kidding myself if I said that I am not thrilled that people read my blog.
It is flattering- and I love it.

But I want to make my blog 'professional' looking. Maybe polished is a better word. Organized in a way that makes sense with 'feed burners' integrated, and subscriptions, twitter, rss feeds, blog rolls, etc all in a comprehensive way. I am way way over my head. I have no freaking clue what I am doing. It may as well be in Greek for as much sense as it makes to me.

I must have missed something somewhere about how to make all of it fit together.

any advice?

marinating

a while back I posted about a woman and her husband who lost their baby boy at term.

I have not written about them a lot. But I think about them all the time. Many many times a day.

Their loss has shaken me in a way that there are no words to express. There are not words sad enough or angry enough to describe my feelings for them and I am sure that my feelings are only a fraction of what they are experiencing.

They would have been, will be, are, amazing parents. They have a wonderful son in heaven, and it is beyond any reason why they did not get to raise him. They will be amazing parents if and when they have more children. They are amazing parents, they have taught me so much about loving my children. They love their son so truly and purely. Their future children will always know of their older brother and how remarkable he is.

I can't explain how angry I am for them. Why them? Why when so many babies are taken for granted did this happen to them? They are wonderful, smart, loving people who, as much as anyone can deserve to have children. I don't understand why. I can't. I am not meant to.

My heart aches for them. When I watch my children and so so often I think of them. I think of how little any of it makes sense. When my children are being stinkers, I think of them. I remember to be thankful.

There is nothing in this world that I can do or say to comfort them or to fix this big fat mess...I wish, I wish I could make it better. Make it the way it should be.

Pixie turns one.

A whole year has lapsed since Pixie joined our family.

I have some photos to share from her party.




Ok so they posted in the wrong order but she started out so clean and cute but LOVED her cake!!

Please excuse me

I need a moment of self pity.

The past couple of years have been challenging. I think all in all I have muddled through okay- coming out on the other side reasonably intact.

Now I am feeling beat down and bedraggled. With the Great Fracture: The Wrist, Clotting Fun, and the Kidney Crisis 2010 coupled with some private things I have a full buffet to choose from.

But it gets better. This 'cold' that turned into an ear infection, sinus infection, pneumonia, exacerbated asthma, and now pleurisy I am tired. I am so so tired. I can't keep up. I can't keep everything straight.

Is it appropriate to say 'screw it' now? Can I have an implosion and let someone else pick up the pieces for a bit? How can I keep asking my friends to help me? How can I? It is not fair to them for me to need so much. I feel like a parasite, sucking the energy out of everything.

It is not an option though. I will get up tomorrow brush my teeth, get dressed, and go about the day. And I will remember to be thankful. What I have on my plate is a lot, but it could be worse. Most of all: I am not in this alone. Never. I will with G-ds grace make it through this too and remember that what I have been given more gifts and blessings than I can ever begin to count.

Fifth Amendment Six Year Old Style

How ironic being that today is election day.... last night she was asking about what I initially thought were the basic tenets of Fifth Amendment rights against self incrimination. This line of questioning was immediately following me catching and confronting her regarding doing something that was not encouraged in our home.

"What if you are a grown up in court and they ask you if you did it, but you are really afraid?" was one of the questions. Somehow explaining the legal right to not incriminate oneself and the overall lesson of personal responsibility seemed to conflict.

I asked her what she thought a person should do. She acknowledged that telling the truth was the right choice but she also expressed compassion and understanding that admitting fault can be scary and and hard choice to make.

Princess made me proud then. I understand how scary it can be to confess something that you feel will let others down. She pointed out that the person who is strong enough to accept responsibility for their actions is truly a brave and strong individual.

She is a smart cookie.

The Gifts of Motherhood

Sleepless Nights, frustration, stretch marks, weight gain, boobs that can be the subject of "do your ___ hang low", fun times.....

But the best, by far the best is pee. When I cough, when I laugh, when I run, when do anything I pee. Now I have asthma and pneumonia...you do the math, I have changed my underwear more times than I had to changed my two year old.

Glorious. Truly Glorious.

Depends are not only for seniors. They are also for mothers. humph.

Sweet Boy

My Stinky.

My sweet sweet Stinky.

He is a fantastic little boy he is authentic and sweet. Caring and vibrant. He also can whine and push buttons like a master.

He and Peas are either peas in a pod or at each others' throats. He will push her she will fight back and the clash of the titans ensues. It occurs daily.

He is so sensitive to the needs of others and others feelings.

Stinky however has this amazing capacity to love and show compassion and empathy in his four year old little self. He accidentally broke his sisters toy and felt so bad about it. He cried and cried even though he knew I was not angry, he was so so sad. He did not want his sister to be sad either.

On top of that when he does make a sad choice and I tell him so he feels shame. "I a bad boy mama" is frequently something that he says. By no stretch of anything is he a bad boy. He is a fantastic boy. Did he make a bad choice? Yes. Does everyone? Yes. Does that mean he is bad? Absolutely not. This breaks my heart. No one tells him he is a bad boy. A) that is just mean. B) it is untrue.

He loves his trains and cars with every little cell in his body. I have never met a boy so captivated by them. I have no idea what it is about trains and cars that he finds so entrancing but there is something.

When he build a train track it is so complex full of twists and turns. There are bridges and tunnels and 'L' tracks and sidings. He is going to be some kind of planner or engineer. The way his brain works fascinates me. As I, as an adult would not be able to come up with half of the things he can.

The excitement he feels is palpable and contagious for his trains. While I do not understand his love of trains I understand what it feels like to love something and have its presence make you so excited. This, makes me excited for him. This joy is a part of life that every kid should feel and this joy makes me so happy for him.

His empathy and sensitivity are astounding. He may only be four but things touch him in a way that is so much more mature than a typical four year old. Sadly, he does not always know how to express the feelings he has so they get expressed as frustration but when he can calm down and explain what he is experiencing. I am thrilled and blessed to know the kind of boy that I am raising

1 year ago we wecomed Pixie into our family

She has helped me grow as a mother, made Peas a big sister and made Stinky a big brother, again, and Princess a big sister (again), she has brought countless smiles and endless laughter to our home.

She has grown from a 4 lb peanut to a big girl (no recent weight, sorry). She can walk, she smiles, she laughs, she points, and apparently can climb the stairs faster than I can, she throws her head back in delight. She is a sweet baby with a genial disposition but a mischievous streak- for example she loves to feed the dogs her food. Which means the her her best friends forever and they dutifully sit beside her highchair awaiting her cast offs.

So Pixie, you are a gift. Thank you for letting me be your mama.

Taken shortly after birth



Taken at two weeks



Taken a few weeks ago.


Photos Courtesy of Jenni of Lion's Roar Media

Family

A few days ago I made a roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and broccoli for dinner. I made my chicken, then put the chicken to rest while I used the drippings to make the gravy. "Equal parts fat and flour" was the mantra that ran through my head as I mixed.

My mom taught me that when I was little, when she would make gravy from meat drippings standing in the kitchen wearing her "bless this mess apron" and I would ask questions incessantly. I did absorb some of it.

A few weeks before, I went to the farmers market and I smelled the aroma of concord grapes and I remembered my mom making jelly every autumn in the kitchen from the grapes in the yard.

Then came the "chi-clone" of 2010. What was purported to be the biggest storm to hit the mid-west in 70 years. I thought of my dad- I remember being a kid and him being a super hero. He could fix anything. There were years in there that were awful (awful is an understatement) but now I am back to admiring him, he knows more about so many things that I have no clue about.

Thanks to my grandmother I can play cribbage, I can make fudge.... I am so thankful that I have had people pass these skills on to me and made wonderful priceless memories in the process.

Hopefully my mother will teach my kids how to crochet and my dad will teach them how to fish. I hope they will have the same kind of wonderful memories that I do

right now...

in this moment I am struggling.

Things that I have been trying to ignore trying to not think about trying to forget trying to manage get the better of me.

there is no name for this feeling, everything annoys me. everything makes me want to yell. I want to go away, just to go somewhere to not be touched not hear anything.

I feel like I can't i feel buried. I feel tired.

help please. please please help.

No, No, Peas...

Anytime that is said it can mean big trouble. Today, this morning, before I had even let the dogs out, it meant little trouble, a lot of little trouble. Peas had decided to figure out how the keys on my laptop work, by taking more than 80 of them off.

She also managed to take off the little white things that attach the key to the keyboard as well as take those apart. Good times. She sure is inquisitive.

It is a miracle I was able to find all of the keys and white pieces given the number of small people and animals in residence at my home. But, my I did, with help. Even better I got all of the keys back on. Still better (and more shocking) is that they WORK!

Peas though really did not know she was doing anything wrong- she is a curious little girl and she is two- and just expressing her totally natural curiosity- I probably would be less calm about it had I not been able to get the keyboard functioning again though.

Sigh... what's in store for tomorrow???

Something off my chest

I love my kids. Really I do. They are pretty awesome.

But...... (brace yourselves)

The sun does not shine out of their butts, nor do they crap rainbows with sparkles. They are kids. Human children. I love them dearly but sometimes they annoy the crap out of me. Sometimes, I would like quiet for more than 30 seconds, I would like to get dressed without the concern for hiding kid's messes on my clothes (I make enough mess on my own, thanks).

I am so freaking tired of people who talk about how their kids are perfect and get along all the time. They never fight (I joke about needing a ref's whistle), temper tantrums are not as frequent (tantrums are constant),the kids go to bed nicely (not even going to touch that one), they sit quietly in church (I am rolling my eyes), and they take medicine (I do acetaminophen suppositories for Stinky, Pixie, and Peas- it saves time and money on medicine spit on the floor).

Fabulous. Your kids are perfect. Mine aren't. They are people- blessings and flaws. Good days and bad. I love them that way. If they were too perfect I would be worried about "Stepford Wives, version 2.0". They are great- just as they are.

Please now go tell them to play in some mud.

two is trouble

This is Peas.
She is a sweet child (most of the time). She is kind (most of the time). She is passionate (all of the time). She has an awesome sense of humor.

But she is also driving me to drink.

Yesterday, I needed to pick Princess up at a friends house- I left later than I had planned (silly me). Peas wanted to ride a scooter there, generally, when I have no time issues- sure no problem. However, I had 10 minutes to get somewhere- if she had scooted it would have taken 45 minutes. Typically, sure, no problem, rushing is over-rated, but then I needed to make time. So in the stroller she went- she was pissed off, and let everyone know, loudly, with shrieking, and screaming in a tone and at a volume ,I previously thought was only achieved by banshees.

I attempted to explain that I would bring the scooter with and she could scoot to her hearts desire on the way home but now we just did not have time. She was unimpressed. She wanted her scooter NOW!

So I walked the few blocks with Pixie on my back, Stinky riding his bike, and Peas wailing in the stroller.

I received several looks from passers by.

To them:

Yes, I know she is crying. I have tried to calm her down. I have done the 'distract and re-direct' trick- but she has a focus like a laser beam.

Yes, her crying irritates me too.

Yes, she is my child, no I am not kidnapping her.

No, I did not beat her, I buckled her in the stroller- cruel I know.

She is two years old. This is her way of dealing when she is upset- don't you ever wish you could let it go like that??

Sincerely,

Me.

Once at our destination, I immediately unbuckled her from the stroller and set the scooter down next to her. Apparently, I had offended Peas sensibility so deeply that even the scooter (which she wanted) would not help her calm down. She stood there and screamed with every cell in her body. The INJUSTICE of it all was overwhelming to her.

So back in the stroller she went after standing there for several minutes trying to calm her down. More screaming ensued. We walked home. She eventually calmed down. Eventually.

Being two is really hard for the kid- they just can't understand somethings. But it is also hard on everyone else, siblings, parents etc.

annoying!!

I was all set on something to write about today but it has vanished into thin air- much like my motivation.

Maybe it is this stinking infection that has sucked every ounce of motivation and drive from me soul. Stupid infections. Silly casts.

Ohh did I not mention much here? I hurt my wrist/arm. It is all kinds of awesome. I have a pink cast that goes to just below my elbow. I neglect to realize how much I need two hands for or how dirty this parenting job really is. Not to mention how often I wash my hands or, in general get them wet. As getting my cast wet is not allowed a lot of things have required creativity... bathing children, doing dishes, laundry,etc have all needed to be reworked. So, a word of advice do not go hurting your armwhen you are a mother of young kids... makes things complicated.

I thought I'd have a few more years

Yesterday morning I noticed that Peas had a blue streak in her hair.

Peas is the wild child of the group. Stinky is my sensitive soul, Princess is the leader.. Pixie is just happy. So given the respective temperaments I would not be shocked to see Peas walk in with blue hair- however- at age 2 she is ahead of what I was anticipating.

I have no idea how she managed to get blue in her hair. I have looked for a rogue marker or other blue coloring device without success. Best of all, I cannot wash her hair with the cast so I need to get someone to take pity on my and do it....

How did I NOT mention this???

Pixie can WALK! Before she is one! More than just a step or two now. She can get her little self all over with out much of an issue now. She is so incredibly proud of her new skill. Frankly, I am pretty proud of her too.

It is time for an October Giveaway!

I have shared my friend Jenni's crazy good photography skills often.

And I shared some of my more tame 'Boudoir' photos that she did. I believe I even talked about the awesomeness that was the shoot. I felt confident, hot, sexy and feminine. Jenni made me laugh hysterically and get some incredible shots.

To refresh your memory of the classy hotness that Jenni made me:






Where is the Giveaway?? Here.

I am thrilled to be able to offer you a giveaway of a Boudoir Photo Shoot with Jenni herself. The winner will receive: a free boudoir shoot. Includes everything listed in the package: 1-hour session, private online gallery, and imitation leather album with her favorite images. The winner is free to upgrade their package at their cost.

There are some more details here: Those who enter receive 20% off the boudoir package if they book/pay for our November marathon by October 25. Boudoir session attendees must be 18 years or older, and female. The attendees also must live in the Chicago area or travel here at her own expense.

Hair and Make- up are available at a reasonable cost (totally worth it)

So here goes- the details:

Contest will end on October 25 at 11:59 pm central time. At which time I will use random.org to draw a comment number. Please have an email address associated with your profile so I can contact you- or leave it in the comment! The winner has 5 business days to respond or another winner will be drawn.

How to enter:

1) comment
2) post this on your Facebook page and tell me about it in another comment
3) Like 'Making It Fun' on Facebook and tell me you did
4) Tweet this giveaway and tell me you did
5) Follow me on Twitter and tell me so
6) Follow my blog and tell me!


Ladies: Christmas is coming! Think of the incredible gift your guy could get!
Besides that- do it for you. You will feel amazing!

Cheesus

I am a Glee fan.

The cover songs are fun and the over all show is not labor intensive to watch.

The week prior Glee featured Britney Spears. Which was very, hmm, interesting.

But this week, to me, Glee redeemed itself admirably. The plot line was tragic: Kurt nearly lost his father after the loss of his mother. Heartbreaking.
Also involved was Finn, who believed he saw Jesus appear to him on a grilled cheese.

However, Kurt is surrounded by his friends and their love and faith. It is the later that caused friction.

As the episode centered around faith and finding, exploring, turning to, or losing faith.

Kurt, an atheist, was upset by his friends offering their prayers. To paraphrase, G-d made him gay and then all of his {G-d's} followers were persecuting him.

Puck made a fantastic point that he believed that part of faith was living to live: enjoying the life we have. As he said Jesus is his "number one heeb". The big point made here is not shoving faith down other people's throat's. Also he alludes to disliking the 'holier than thou' attitude. Which, quite honestly, is one of my huge pet peeves.

So what? What is religion? Faith?

Is is like "Footprints?" being carried or helped when times are rough?
Is it a culture, part of your identity, your history?
A delusion?

A mixture?

It gets a bit foggy here for me. When the girls were in Kurt's father's room praying one mentioned that they were all from different religions, different denominations so one may get it right... what if there is not "right" what if "right" is loving and caring for each other while having faith without judgment?

Mercedes brings Kurt to her church and sings a Gospel rendition of "Bridge Over Troubled Water" after talking about how everyone as their own beliefs and that is okay.. but that you 'have' to believe in something bigger something that was sacred. Kurt realized that his "bigger" was his relationship with his father. Kurt held that sacred. The sanctity of that relationship was something he valued beyond anything.

The realization came to me that G-d has many ways of working in my life and the things that are sacred to me, are touched by Him. They manifestations of his work in my life.

I loved this episode. It embodied my faith journey that I am still on. The show managed to be neither preachy nor judgmental which considering the subject is huge.

Well done

Pictures

From Jenni at Lion's Roar Media

blah blah blah.... the goodies:

(like anyone wants to read what I have to say when photos are waiting!)








These are just the previews!! how am I going to figure out which to order??!

what does she have against clothes??

Peas is two. She is firmly in the "no clothes are the best clothes" stage of life.

Most of the time you can find her little naked bum running around perfectly content in her nakedness.

I realize this is my fault. When she was done with diapers I intentionally left off her bottoms so she could see and be aware of her body (as well as let me get her situated on the potty that much faster). It worked she is aware of her body and she is aware that she prefers to sport the nudist look.

It totally fits with her personality though. She is a free spirit. A modern day hippie. So her decided disdain for clothes is fitting.

Around the house I don't mind my little nudist. However, in public other people have an issue with it more than I do. We have had to in act a rule that requires at least underpants when company is over or when we are in front of the house. With out fail she objects.

The best way to get her to wear clothes is to allow her to choose her own outfit- which may be a ballet costume or a princess dress, heck- even her parka has been worn in July.

She is an independent one.

Will it hurt them to LISTEN??

It is like talking to a 2 year old!

I fell (big surprise!) and I injured my wrist..... Yay!

So I called my doctor the next day to make an appointment to get it looked at- I thought it was just sprained.

The convo went like this:

Receptionist: "thank you for calling xyz..how may I help you"
Me: "Hello, I am Jane Doe, I need to make an appt with Dr. Smith because I hurt my wrist"
Receptionist: "Ok what is your name?"
Me: "Jane Doe"
Receptionist: "last name?"
Me: "Doe"
Receptionist: "which doctor do you see"
Me: "Dr. Smith"
Receptionist: "well Dr. Wells is booked today, would you see someone else?"
Me: "That is great for Dr. Wells but I see Dr. Smith."
Receptionist: " Ok, well Dr. Smith is booked for today"
Me: "great well I need to get my wrist looked at"
Receptionist: "Ok well Dr. Nels has an opening at 10."
Me: "Great. I'll see you then"

It was so annoying! It was all for an x-ray and for them to tell me I broke my wrist. Well thanks.

The entire thing could have been cut in half if she had LISTENED. It is like talking to my two year old!

Post pole time

I have been slacking on this lately- I missed a lot of classes so there was not much to report but now that I am getting back into it slowly- I am learning so many new tricks I can't keep them straight. Karyn will say, "show me your standing fairy" and my eyes will cross as I try and figure out exactly what she is talking about. Bearing in mind that The Fairy is a level 1 trick.....

There is also the kick drop smack your butt on the ground trick that I should work on more... It may not be as pretty as it could be but it is fun to do- and I spend a lot of time laughing when doing these tricks. I laugh until the next day when my butt protests getting up and moving-- and looking at the stairs makes makes my thighs quiver (not complaining- I LOVE it!)

Maybe Faith?

Its no secret that I have had a few run-ins with G-d about faith.

But through them I have become more faithful- if not more religious.

I have never read the Bible. Clarification: I have read bits here and there. I have read what was required in school and I have read what was required for worship but on my own-- the Bible and I are not well acquainted.

Yet- I have great faith in G-d. I feel like I am getting there- little by little knowing Him more.

My faith has not come from reading Psalms or Exodus. My faith has come more quietly. My faith has come from the conversations from the questions that I have and I bring and give to Him. While sometimes the answers are hard to see and hard to understand... I usually get there.

I wish I knew more about the stories- but that is something I can learn about- the treasure I think is my personal faith that no story can touch.

Long week

There are a few weeks that pretty much without fail will suck. I know this going into them. I can circle them a year a head on the calender and just know that from day x to day y I will be a basket case of nerves ready to spring or crumple.

The anniversaries of loss. The anniversary of leaving or return. The feelings the anxiety the total feeling that gnaws at my soul leaving this jittery feeling or the bottomless empty pit.

I know these weeks in advance. I typically just accept that things are going to be hard those days and muddle through. Much like the name muddling through is not pretty- it is getting by. It is doing what is needed to do to keep things moving. To keep going forward. At times it feels like I am stuck in a thick mess of something that slows down the time around me that makes every movement seem thick.

Conversely, at times I feel like I vibrate around a ball of frenetic anxiety. Unable to slow down. My heart will not slow down and I cannot quiet my head. When my thoughts move at a pace that is indescribable and my hands shake trying to pour milk.

Soon the week ends and I can return to my 'normal'. My life goes on much as it was. The feelings are still there- buried below the surface. But there.

That is what life is an exercise in learning to carry on, to get through it, to continue, despite it all.

Winner!

I used random.org to select a winner! She has been notified and has 5 days to respond!
keep reading I have a bonus giveaway next week!

Perfect Imperfection

Single Dad Laughing recently posted a post about perceived perfection and the problems with it.
He encouraged us to be real- that being perfect is a) not possible b) over-rated c) the quest of it is ruling so many lives.

As a woman, as a mother, more over as a person; I will here, freely admit I am not perfect. Though I try to be. So so so hard. I try and be perfect so that others will not see the flawed person that I am and judge me for it- as I judge myself.

The pressure for perfection never lets up. I try and try and try... and at some point the pressure to be perfect is to much and I give up. Giving up takes many different forms. Some times it is snapping at people, self sabotage, crying, total withdrawal--- any of these can signal that I have succumbed to the pressure of seeming perfect.

So what gives... why do I freak out so much about being or seeming perfect?? Fear. I am a coward about what would happen if I for a moment let myself seem one iota less than perfect. So many of those around me seem perfect all the time. I spent and still do spend a large portion of my life seeing others as 'perfect'; my mother who keeps everything organized and neat, my brilliant sister, my friends who have it all together. I don't have it all together. My 'all' is still scattered in the wind.

So I am not perfect. I sorely want to be. I try and I fail and then the cycle starts again. 'My best' will never be good enough. Myself will never be enough. I will never be pretty enough, thin enough, a good enough mother, a good enough friend, a good enough anything.. you know what?? What I am beginning to understand is that I am not the only one to feel this way. I am not the only one.

So what. Be real. Seems so simple. But what if in being 'perfect' you forgot how to be real. I am having to re-learn how to be real. Because being perfect took so much of myself and my life and I am out to reclaim it.

So here I will put a confession that may make you think less of me- it certainly makes me think less of myself:

A woman who in the past has been truly hateful to me and to several people I know is struggling with several things that are admittedly difficult to face and deal with. I have no sympathy for her. A large part of me thinks "there, serves you right for being such a wench". It is not how I want to feel. I want to be able to extend compassion to her in her time of need. I wish I could feel the genuine sympathy and compassion that I know I should. Right now though, I am not there yet. One day. Maybe one day, I'll be there.

So go be real- or learn what and who you are and be them imperfections and all. I won't judge you for it.

***typically I am anti cross posting but this one I thought could be an exception to the rule***

When you let a baby feed herself

These are the results


But, she had a great time. I am still not entirely sure how much food made it IN her not ON her but at least she was happy.

I have always had babies who prefer to feed themselves. Pixie is no different. She prefers to feed herself- she will bob and weave to avoid a spoon if ANYONE else is holding it. When left to her own devices she will eat anything on her tray. So she usually feeds herself and then takes a bath.

Pictures..

the digital age is great- I can take thousands of photos and only print the ones I like. For a photographer like me who takes more less than great pictures than printable ones this is an advantage. However, the disadvantage is I have to take them off of the camera- much like remembering to get film developed- I forget to take the photos of my camera for months at a time.

As an aside: how odd is it my kids will not live in a world where you take your film to be processed? They will not know what a negative is?

RSV

Are three letters that preemie parents live in fear of. From mid September until May every sniffle that enters our home I am wary of.

RSV in an older healthy child or an adult is a nasty cold. In a baby especially preemies RSV is much much more serious sometimes even fatal.

Last week Princess got a cold. I assume she picked up from ballet or from friends. Stinky got it, Peas got it, now Pixie has it.

She can't understand why she doesn't feel good. You can her her chest rattle when she breaths and the croupy cough that shakes her. Pixie gets offended whenever I wipe her nose and fusses in protest- unfortunately it is necessary to wipe, and wipe and wipe.

Right now I'd do just about anything to cheer her up to make her smile. It is so sad to see her not feeling good and wanting nothing more than to snuggle to get some small comfort from mama's snuggles.

But because of her preemie status I still am watching her carefully making sure that this cold does not turn fast into something bigger.

Twitter

guess what??

I twitter now!

Follow me--- please???

lest I feel like an idiot with no followers.... I'll follow you back too!

It stayed with me

A bit ago I took the kids to Bristol Renaissance Faire. Of course they loved it.

I let the kids get their faces/arms painted again and the lady doing the painting said that I was the kind of mother who got a lot of joy from being a mother.

At first I was like, "say wha????"

Then it sunk in and I thought about it. Sure my kids can push buttons that I did not even know where there, until I begin to feel like just one big button- but they do give me a lot of joy when I am not wanting to scream.

This comment meant a lot to me as it was entirely spontaneous and it was made after observing me interacting with my kids. So it was particularly meaningful.

So thank you lady at Renaissance Faire for making me feel good about myself and my mothering skillz.

Soccer Mom

I am officially a soccer mom.

Stinky had his first soccer practice. He loved it. They got to do a few drills and kick the ball around and get to know each other. When the kids got the ball each had to say something about themselves. Stinky said, of course that he liked trains, no shocker there. What was surprising is how many children said they liked TV.

So now I am a pole dancing soccer mom.

Well, that was effective.

I had surgery nearly three weeks ago. It was not the surgery that I wanted or that I thought would be the best option but what do I know? I am a mere mortal compared to the deity of a doctor (not all docs just this specific one).

Take the stones out: that was the operative. We did. But no one fixed the issue that was causing the stones. So they are likely to happen again, therefore I am in the same amount of pain now than I was before the surgery- excepting obstructions.

Then at a visit with the doctor he said that he thought we now need to do the surgery which I wanted to do in the first place. Kinda frustrating, huh?

In the end I feel vindicated that I was right. Frustrated that I have to go through another surgery and frankly- angry.

Movement

Peas is a spirited girl. With a big personality in a little body. She is also very creative and musical. She dances to anything and makes up little songs constantly.

So I signed her up for Creative Movement at the Park District.

20 little girls in leotards, flowy skirts, and ballet slippers were apprehensive at first. Most of them had not had a class where their mother's or care givers leave them with the teacher.

Peas slowly, with trepidation walked on to the dance floor and got into a circle. Moments later the music started and any trace of uncertainty was gone. She was fliting around immersed in the music.

For the first class I watched from outside the door- the mirrors provided a pretty clear view of the entire room and it was wonderful to see all of the little dancers dancing like there was not a care in the world.

When class was over- I practically had to peel Peas off of the dance floor. She is so at home there.

giveaway!

So I posted yesterday about how much I love my new mother's necklace. I am thrilled to be able to offer you a give away of a mother's necklace from a very talented artist on Etsy. Since everyone has different tastes, the winner can choose her necklace or work with the artist to achieve exactly what is wanted- the catch? The value is up to $35.


LeksiDesigns is the shop I am working with for this contest. Take a look at her shop! She has some incredible items.

Enter by leaving me a comment, follow me (and tell me you are/did, in another comment), post this to your facebook/twitter and tell you did in another comment, or 'Like' Making it Fun on Face book

The details:

On September 30, 2010 at 11:59 central time, I will use random.org to choose a winner from comments. Then the I will email the winner get her in touch with LeksiDesigns.

Please have an email attached to your profile or include it in a comment so I can contact you. The winner will have 5 calender days to respond before a new winner will be drawn!

Good Luck!!

Mothers Necklace

I have been wanting one of these for a really really long time. I am really picky, though and I have a lot of children so fitting all of their names on it is somewhat difficult.

To this end I found an Etsy seller who would work with me on designing one that I would like and that would accommodate the kids names.

It arrived yesterday. I LOVE it. LOVE it.


So be on the look out for a giveaway of a Mother's Necklace.....

Stay tuned!

Nails on a chalkboard

Is that not one of the most intolerable sounds in the world?

Another one? Kids grinding their teeth. It makes my skin crawl. Why, WHY? Are they stressed? Do I need to introduce daily relaxation?

Pixie does it with her newly erupted front teeth. I am afraid she is going to wear them down to little nubs. Peas does it with her molars. Princess and Stinky did it as well although for the most part that particular phase seems to have passed- thank heavens.

Talking to a baby and telling her that grinding her teeth is not a particularly attractive habit is not particularly fruitful but the sound....ackkkk sends shivers up my spine.

Nine years

A day of reflection and remembering.

Can it really be nine years ago? How could such a time have passed?

Nine years ago, is so long but it seems like a blink of an eye.

Like previous generations recall JKF or Pearl Harbor- this generation remembers where we were when we heard about the events of September 11, 2001. School, work, home- ask nearly anyone and they can tell so many details that it is shocking- smells, weather, clothes.... all of it.

September 11 strikes close to home for me. Not because I knew anyone or was personally impacted. But as the spouse of a fireman my other half could be at some point called to make that kind of sacrifice. That terrifies me. It also makes me very proud.

When I married a fireman- I knew what I was getting into in some respects. Holidays without him, handling interesting emergencies single handed, making sure we all get through it, are part of the job as the spouse of a fireman. Also in there is the knowledge that there is the chance that he may not come home the next day or be hurt. This is not a thing I thought about all the in fact I usually tried and avoid it. But today, the sacrifice is undeniable. It must be acknowledged and dealt with.

To anyone touched by this- my prayers are with you. To the families and loved ones of the 343 brave souls who acted with immeasurable courage; who sacrificed their lives for the lives of others: thank you. It is not close to enough. Nothing will be. But nonetheless, thank you.

Give Blood

I meant to post this a while ago... but well... ummm ya know.


Please give blood. Please.

I received a transfusion when I was a baby due to Rh incompatibility with my mother and it saved me. More recently, like last week, I received 2 units of blood after my hemoglobin level dropped to a pathetic 6.

If I could give blood I would. However, they want you to be 115 lbs to donate and I am not that heavy so I can't. Therefore, I am asking anyone who reads this, who is eligible, to donate blood. It is free, it is fast, and they give you cookies.

You just may save a life.