Progress Report

Alright, so I realized the other day that most of you aren't able to track baby's progress by checkin' out my growing belly. You are just too far away. Sorry I haven't posted more pictures. I will do my best to keep you updated.

I am feeling great and the headaches have decreased to almost none! Hooray! I am always wishing I had the opportunity for a daily nap, and I currently have the appetite of a 16-year-old boy. Our family continues to grow excited at the anticipation of meeting this little one in my belly, who, by the way gets very active both when I eat, and of course, when I am sleeping (or trying anyway).

This is what I like to refer to as "the beautiful phase". Everyone tells you how beautiful you are, and well, you believe every word and take it all in. People have yet to say things like, "Are you sure you're not having twins?", "Wow! You sure have gotten BIG!", and "Gee, your face is so...puffy!" These are not figments of my imagination...only sweet memories of being prego with my darling Phoebe. Despite my super healthy diet and exercise regime back then, I managed to gain a whopping 57 lbs! The midwife was as shocked as I was, but could not complain about my diet and therefore summed it up to be that I just had "a lot of water".

So far I am way under the amount of pounds gained last time around and I am convinced that I have Miss Phoebe to thank for that. I think I am still burning more calories than I can possibly pack in during the day! Whatever happens, I am just hoping not to have to give away every single pair of shoes I own and start over with a half-size bigger foot this time around! Seriously though, I love being pregnant. It is a privilege to be the vessel for this new little life to develop. There is no greater honor or joy in this life for me. What a sheer blessing it is to be a mother.

Mama

Tonight, as I was finishing dinner by myself (a rare thing around here), I was suddenly reminded of the significance of the role I have as Mommy. This is how it went. Phoebe was so excited to see her daddy when he arrived home from work that she insisted on going with him to play basketball. I reluctantly said "yes", as it was dinner time, and I knew it might disrupt her bedtime routine. But...she misses her daddy so when he's at work, so I sent her off with a snack.

While they were gone, I took a relaxing, hot bath, caught up with some friends on facebook, then had a nice, quiet dinner. Alone. I was just clearing my plate when someone burst through the front door, sobbing uncontrollably, running in my direction. "Honey, what's wrong?", I ask. "What happened? Are you okay?" She just continued to sob and sniffle, and gasp for breaths in between (you know how kids do). She simply pointed her finger at me and all she could utter was , "You!"

"Me?"

"I...sniffle, sob, sob....I...sniffle, sniffle, need.....You."

"Okay", I said and she laid down on my lap and I stroked her hair.

"I....sniffle, sob, sniffle, sob....need....to blow my.....sniffle....nose."

We went into the bathroom to get a tissue. I tried to probe her with more questions, thinking something must have happened. And well, according to Daddy, she did get a little reprimand for almost running over a smaller child with a toy on wheels....but that didn't seem to phase her when I brought it up. She didn't seem upset, or embarrassed, or sad. She could only reiterate, "I...sniff, sniff, need You. I'm crying for You."

I tried to offer dinner options, insisting she needed dinner before bed. I even offered a popsicle. She didn't flinch. Just snuggled back onto my lap and looked at me with those big brown eyes, her favorite sucky- fingers in her mouth, closed her eyes, and let out a big sigh. She was right where she needed to be.

Sometimes in this life, and in this world, you just need your mama. When you are just feeling "done" for the day, totally exhausted and overwhelmed, there is no one like Mama. No substitute will do.

I remember back when was in college, I had days that totally overwhelmed me. When the weight of life, and all that was happening around me seemed like just too much to bear, I would grab the phone in the middle of the night, and dial home. A sleepy voice would answer without fail. Without hesitation, she was always there. Mom.

I was in that place a few days ago. I woke up in the middle of the night in horrible pain. Another migraine. My third this month! I came downstairs to ice my neck....and the first thing I thought about was picking up that phone...and calling my Mama. (Actually, it was my second thought. First, I was wishing that pregnant ladies were allowed to take a Valium.) I looked at the clock and knew she would be awake. Maybe I hesitated because she would be getting ready for work.

I didn't make that call. I wish I had. It would not have taken away the pain. But I know I would have felt better. Just hearing her voice, feeling her support as she offered her words of comfort, her prayers over me. There is nothing on this planet like the love of a mother.

Sometimes that overwhelming need and desire for me as a mom can be difficult to carry. But not tonight. Tonight there was nowhere I would rather be than in that moment with my daughter. The calm that came over her, the hush, the peace. To be the only one she had eyes for, the balm she needed to soothe it all away.

Mama.

There is no one like Mama.

Talkie-Talkie Girl

Do you ever get a random song stuck in your head? I mean, one you haven't heard in years? Something totally out-there and wacky? Today I was thinking about Phoebe. Actually I was listening to Phoebe....going on and on and on. And out of nowhere, a song from the eighties popped into my head. Anyone remember that song "You Talk Too Much" by Run DMC? (I had to google that by the way. Don't confuse me with any die-hard Run DMC fans.)

Is this sad or what? Now, this is totally involuntary. It is not like this was a favorite song choice of mine. In fact, I might say it was one of my least. What can I say? The mind is a funny thing. I was not having rude thoughts about my sweet daughter, but hey, if the shoe fits. She's a chatty girl. And I am no stranger to that trait, but well, as a mom, sometimes it feels as though my brain might explode. Sometimes I think it already has and is it slowly leaking out of my ears.

The girl talks A-LOT. She has a lot of words. There is much to say about the world around her and her interpretation of what she sees and what she feels and well, you get the picture. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. She is a lot like her mother. Although I must say that I have fewer and fewer words these days. There is little room left in my brain for my own thoughts, my own ponderings, my own interpretations of the world around me.

That's okay. I adore this age. I adore this child. She is incredibly bright and witty. She is an interesting blend. Having surveyed many moms during my own mommy experience, I must say I am thrilled with the amazing personality God has created in Phoebe. Many kids as daring and persistent, and adventurous as she, are not the touchy-feely type. She is. She is our little lover. She has a huge reserve of hugs, kisses, cuddles, and endearing words to offer. What a joy!

Once in a while I may feel like I need a mute button for the kiddo, but I am thrilled she wants to talk to us. I pray she will always talk with us, challenge us, engage us in interesting and thought-provoking conversation. The other day her daddy said, "Phoebe, it's okay to be quiet." She responded, "But I don't want to be quiet. I'm a talkie-talkie girl!" Yep, she is alright. And we love it.

But there remains the problem of this song...this ridiculously annoying song. I've heard the best way to get a song out of your head is to sing another one. Quick. Somebody sing something. Anything!

Shhh...

Are you good at keeping secrets? I am. I can keep a straight face, come up with good excuses on the spot, and I am great with surprise parties...I never "spill the beans". I actually have a little secret right now. But I don't really want to keep it! It's the kind of secret some might keep for...say, twelve weeks or so. But I don't want to.

Some might wait. But I don't want to. I've told some of my family, but you all are just like family to me....SO have you guessed my little secret?

*Feel free to make comments here...but please, don't post it on Facebook! I'm not tellin' the world. You're among the privileged-for now!

Last Days of Threedom

We've arrived once again, to this place. A place of undeniable recognition that we parents must face...our kid is growing up. It just so happens this year, I get to celebrate two wonderful days at the same time. Mother's Day lands on May 9th this year, and marks the fourth anniversary of my becoming a mother.

Well, actually that happened about ten months earlier, because in reality, we moms all know that it happens the minute we find out there is a baby inside the womb. Suddenly we are aware of everything we eat and drink, we daydream about whether it's a boy or a girl, what they might look like, and we pray fervently that they will have five fingers and five toes on each hand and foot. We worry that we won't love them enough, that we will make horrible mistakes. Are we exercising too much? Not enough? How does this momma thing work anyway? All we know is that we have a little person growing inside our bellies. And we love em. Oh man, do we love em!

But nothing can prepare you, no matter how much advice people give you, for what comes after that squishy little bundle arrives and you look straight into their precious little eyes. Nothing can prepare you for what happens after you take that baby home. No, I'm not talking about the poop. Or the diapers. Or the sleepless nights, or even the breastfeeding. I'm talking about the heartache, mixed with pride, mixed with elated joy, all combined with a pinch of madness to make up this drunken stupor of emotions that is parenthood!

And then you find yourself arriving to the place we are right now. A birthday arrives. And then another. And another. First, your baby is days old, then months, then suddenly you are speaking in years. It took forever to get used to saying that I had a three-year-old. Now I find both my mouth and my mind trying to grasp this new concept of four. Four. FOUR!!! She's turning four?

We look back at the excitement we felt when Phoebe took her first steps, said her first words, put a sentence together, told us she loved us. And now? Now she is learning basic addition and subtraction, reading over a hundred words and some sentences, insisting she "help" wipe her own bottom (oh Lord, I knew this day would come), and painting her own toe nails! Now she is explaining the definitions of her two current favorite words-exquisite and metamorphosis. Every day I am wondering what on earth nine is going to look like....or eleven! Oh boy.

My baby is turning four!

But not today. Today, she is three. If only for a few more hours...I'm holding on tight to threedom!

The Eye

I went for a run this evening, for the first time in two weeks, due to a yucky virus I was fighting (for what seemed like eons). It was so nice to get back out there and push myself a little bit. I tell ya, two weeks can really throw you off once you enter your "thirty-somethings". I felt great for the first few seconds into my stride, but that burning sensation in my quads came a whole lot faster than usual. I wasn't sure how long I'd last, and then..."Dunt! Dunt, dunt, dunt! Dunt, Dunnah!" Thanks to Xee's array of musical download choices on my iPod, I now had...The Eye of The Tiger!

...For a short while anyway. When I knew I could push no further, I slowed my stride to a walk, and headed toward home. But just as I'm pacing myself back into a walking stride, I hear a fussing child, "Maawwmmmy!"

I pull the earbuds out.

"I need to go potty!"

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I did!"

"Oh."

Apparently the child had been trying to get my attention.

"Well, honey, can you wait just a few more minutes?"

"You should run Mommy."

Okay, no time to turn back toward the beach, and still plenty of space between us and home. My legs really wanted to be done running, but off I sprinted down the path, across the street, up the inclined parking lot...toward the fitness center locker-rooms. Unbuckle the child, race down the stairs, and into the restroom.

I must have looked pretty spent, because as we came out of the restroom and headed up the stairs, one of the golf-course employees chased after me with a cold bottle of water... and he said something like, "You look like you're dying."

(I don't know if I'd go that far, but my legs were a little wobbly.)

I glanced down at my sweat-soaked shirt and sighed to myself. Hmmph...What does he know about being a Tiger? I'm a MOM!

Our Little Cubbie

Well, hello there!

Has it really been this long? I must apologize to my faithful readers (um, especially to you sis) for not being around much lately. I write plenty of posts in my head...the problem is getting the oomph (and the time) to write it down. At the end of the day, I just want to plop down on the couch with a book, or watch a little TV with my husband, then crawl into bed. I've got a feeling you can all relate to that.

So, Phoebe has been attending Awanas, a scouting group for the kids at our church. When she turned three, we were so excited for her to finally get to join as a "Cubbie". And of course, this milestone got me all teary just thinking about her leaving the nursery for the "big kid" club. Yet another moment of graduation from baby to full-fledged kiddo. Oh boy, was she ready. As you all know enough about this kid by now, you can imagine that she is not the type to sit quietly in adult services for well over an hour. She's a DOER, not a sitter.

Seeing Phoebe join in with the other kids that first day of Awanas brought back so many memories of my time in a similar kids group, called Caravans. We sang songs, memorized scripture, and earned patches for our uniforms...which my mother lovingly sewed on, one stitch at a time. Being the modern, savvy mom that I am, I tried the "magical" As-Seen-On-TV fabric glue. I was actually quite impressed with my ingenuity...right up to the point where one of the Cubbie leaders handed me our daughter's patchless vest, along with a "nice try" pat on the shoulder. So now I am that mom who endures the occasional finger-poke, stitch after stitch, applying patches on this little uniform (yet another milestone in my own graduation process). But don't dare turn it over to see my handy work. I am not the seamstress my mother is. Hey, as long as the job gets done!

Here is a video of Phoebe dancing and praising the Lord. If you are wondering why she's wearing a football jersey instead of her vest, it was "sports" day. Notice the look of concentration on her face as she is quite intent on getting all the choreography just right. Sorry about the dizziness of it...I was in quite an uncomfortable, crouched position and was a bit squirmy.

Unexpected Potty Breaks

Ah, a nice relaxing day at the beach. You sit and relax, take a dip in the ocean, and have a picnic lunch. You're watching the the waves and reading a nice book. And then your three-year-old suddenly announces, "I NEED TO GO POO-POO!"

You glance back at the nearest public restroom and resolve, "No way!" You shuffle your little one out to the parking lot, and take a quick little golf cart ride around the corner to the Marriott resort. You jump off the cart. You are both running, and she says, "Mommy, I can't hold my poo-poo..."

You are mumbling something under your breath and then you suddenly find yourself shouting it out loud, while looking directly at her tight little face as she runs..."Don't you dare poop your pants. I DO NOT want to clean that up!" You keep running and flashbacks of your earlier potty-training days are now running through your head. And you're surprised because your child has been trained for well over a year and is quite proficient at all of this...and should know by now that she must let you know as soon as she gets "the feeling".

So you've scooped her up by the armpits and thrown her on your hip, determined to get to that potty NOW. You are panicking a little because you're remembering that one "incident" at Target several months ago....

(Oh, I never told you all about the incident? Some of you may remember receiving a text message with a picture I snapped with my phone...I had gone in with Phoebe to grab just one item. Just one!

Well okay, Target had just arrived to the island and I may have gotten a little distracted.

Apparently, so did she. She had been potty-trained for about a year, so there were no worries about accidents in my mind...

Well, put a girl in Target and her eyes light up, the world is at her fingertips. She gets too busy exploring the gloriously colorful, beautiful toy aisles and neglects to tell her mommy about "the feeling" until it is just TOO LATE! She is running down the aisle, holding her bottom and well, I just have to say, thank God for the family restroom!! You know, the private one designed with kids in mind, for such a time as this.

We run in and I am thinking we've made it just in time...until Phoebe grimaces and says, "Yucky, mommy!" I look down at the poop on her shoe and realize it must have come from the poop on her leg...which of course, came from the poop in her pants!

Eeew. I was in a state of shock because I thought I had dodged this scenario. I mean, her first public poop accident and it happens a year after she's been in panties. Hunh?! After sanitizing the child and the restroom floor to the best of my ability, I realize I've gotten lax about keeping extra clothes in the car. Do I take her to the car and head home? Do I just buy her an outfit and continue with my shopping? Well, we are already here and I really want to just buy that one thing already. So I put the stark-naked girl on my hip and head back into the store.

Now, the plan is to nab an outfit for her, grab the item, pay for it, and go. Easy enough. Yet, the fiery little munchkin had another agenda, as soon as the corner of her little eye caught the glitz and gleam of....the accessory department. She pushes her way out of my arms and now people are starting to notice this totally naked child, minus the shoes....because in a matter of seconds, despite my efforts to catch the little bugger...she is donning several necklaces, a hat, and a sparkly purse!

Am I mortified? Embarrassed? I don't know. I am laughing out loud and rummaging my purse for my phone, lest I miss the chance to document the whole thing. I eventually bought the item we came for. I never got around to clothing the child. We got lots of stares and giggles, and a few tisk-tisk-like shake of the head (give me a break!), but I resolved that it was not anywhere near as bad as the nightmares I've had, where I am the one naked in a store. Nope, not so bad. Just another notch on my glamorous, golden belt of motherhood.

Yes, okay. Right. Back to the present time....

You burst through the doors while simultaneously grasping to get her swimsuit off. She's looking at you like you're a crazy lady. You frantically get a seat cover positioned, throw her on the seat and...phew! You made it!

You wait. Two seconds later she says, "All done."

"What? You said you needed to go poo-poo."

"Nope. Just pee-pee."

"Are you sure?"

"Uh huh."

Big sigh from you.

She shrugs her shoulders and giggles, "Oops...Guess I just had a big toot!"

Ah, yes. A relaxing day. In a matter of seconds you went from gloriously basking in the sun, to dripping with sweat. You look out at the beautiful blue ocean and decide that it is the perfect time to take a dip.

And so you do.

Blissful Mommy Moments And One Not So Lonely Chair

For most of Phoebe's young little life, we have spent a portion of our day in our rocking chair (actually it's a glider, but we call it a rocker). When she first arrived, the glider, then strategically placed in the living room, was often my saving grace. Little ones change so quickly. The bedtime techniques that Xee and I have employed have shifted with her various stages.

When Phoebe stopped nursing and was sleeping through the night, the rocker was a place for winding down. I'd read her a couple books and sing to her while she soothed herself by sucking on her fingers...and loving on "booey". More often than not, she'd fall asleep in my arms. The days have gone by so quickly. I'm not sure when it happened, but our recent phase of winding down has shifted to Mommy and Daddy's bed. Phoebe loves to enjoy a book or two...or three, in our bed, snuggle up next to me and drift away before she's gently transferred to her own bed.

A few weeks ago I was walking past her room, and a lonely rocker caught my eye. I stood there and looked at it for a while, with a sweet longing in my heart. That night I nonchalantly asked her if she wanted to read in the rocking chair. She thought about it for about a second and said, "Nah...Can we read Curious George?"

Last night the little munchkin was having a bit of a hard time settling down for bed. She tossed and turned in our bed, kicking her legs, restless and wide awake. I didn't ask. I scooped up that great big baby girl and headed for the chair. With her head off to one side and her legs dangling way off to the other, we rocked as I hummed. Within a matter of seconds, my sweet girl was completely out!

Funny. Seconds earlier I had felt exhausted from the day. I couldn't wait to have a little personal space. Yet here I was glued to that chair. I sat there for the next half hour, just staring at her precious face. Watching her chest move up and down and running my hand over her silky hair. Pressing my face into hers, feeling her breath on skin...time stood still for just a minute.

Then a fluttering thought came and went, but a reality nonetheless. The inevitable. She's growing up. Though I can hardly imagine her ever being taller than me...one day she will be. One day she will rock a baby of her own in a chair much like this one. Of course I stuffed that thought into a deep, deep place in my mind and went downstairs to wash the dishes.

Tonight I tried to recreate the magic. Phoebe tossed and turned and declared, "I can't sleep Mommy!" Off to the rocker. After a few minutes of snuggle time, she said, "I'm sleepy now. Let's go back to your bed." Alright, I'll take what I can get. She's not going anywhere just yet. So for now, at least for now, I will rock her. I will sing. I will stare at her and smell her hair. And I will relish every moment!

Choosin' My Battles

The saying goes, "Choose your battles." Whoever first uttered these great words of wisdom must have had a lot of parenting experience. I try to follow this advice, for if I didn't, there would be hands thrown up in exasperation every half-hour of the day. BUT there are days. Oh, there are days...when the sprouting wings are in a completely out-of-control, fluttering frenzy, and my willful little three-year-old has made this impossible. You see, it is she who chooses the battles. And she CHOOSES to battle me at every turn. At the end of the day, it is me who is mentally curling up my fists, digging my heels into the ground, and shouting, "I WANT MY WAY!"

Now thankfully, this is not the case every day, because if it were, surely my sweet little Phoebe would be orphaned by now. Most days we are just dandy, and I am smitten with her and this glorious role that I play as her BFF. I think this whole no-napping business is getting to me. This is day number five and I am pretty sure that she is done with naps, with the exception of long car rides and days of sheer physical exhaustion. Oh nap, oh nap, oh sweet toddler nap. Where art thou??

Then there is the current issue of night-waking. We have spurts of these from time to time. We are sympathetic to this. We understand that she may feel lonely or scared. It is totally age-appropriate. We choose various solutions. Lately she has ended up on the futon downstairs with her daddy. Not a terrible thing for me, I suppose. Hey, he has the gift. The sleep-anywhere-anytime, sleep-like-a-hibernating-bear (snoring included), kind of gift. And he knows that I do NOT function without some good sleep.

Sometimes she may end up in bed with us and it is cozy. We are all snuggly, buggly. More often though, we are kind of like two sardines on either side of the can, with a third one sprawled out in the middle, tossing back and forth and doing the hokey-pokey in her sleep. And if she isn't movin' and shakin', there is the incessant sucking on her fingers. And the molestation of mommy or daddy...usually mommy. She is such a lover. It's sweet, but move over kid and stop trying to love on booey! We don't have a Cal King. We don't even have a King. It just doesn't work.

Then there is the makeshift bed on the floor, which seems to work for so many families. She complies occasionally, but when I told her recently that this would be her only option, she sighed and said, "But I want booey." Ah, who can blame her? Who doesn't love to snuggle up next to (and fondle) a warm breast?

Kids are funny. They're obnoxious and bratty and grumpy. They're bossy and demanding and self-centered...And fun and wonderful and silly and delightful and awesome. I'm so glad we have one!

Meltdowns

Young children-they melt down. Even the brightest, happiest toddlers, with amazing vocabularies and exceptional manners (for their age), have their moments. Kids don't always know how to put into words just how they are feeling...so they EXPRESS themselves. They melt.

We had a couple of these today. I handled them fairly well. Sometimes I am the picture of a loving, patient mommy. And well, sometimes I look back and say to myself that I hope to do better next time. You know, one cannot always see it coming, for these toddlers can be awfully unpredictable. Happy one minute, in a crazy "I want my way!" fit the next. Much of the time for Phoebe, this means she is in desperate need of sleep. She may not recognize it, but I AM MOMMY and I know.

Being in a transition with a child's schedule is not easy. Phoebe hasn't been napping regularly for a while now. She naps two to three times a week, depending on what we have going on. And today she was ultra cranky in the car. When she throws a fit at home and I am needing to take a breather, lest I lose control, I can walk away for a moment, regroup, and handle it gracefully. That isn't possible in a car. So today I was just thinkin'...wouldn't it be cool if vehicles came with the sound-proof glass option? You know, like a limo. With one touch of a button, the glass would slowly rise up between me and the rear. Ah, silence. I can see you, but I can't hear you!

Rain Check Please

Okay, I would like to make an amendment to my earlier post on Mother's Day...thank your mother for birthday parties. The invitations, the planning, the food, the cupcakes, the games, the scrambling last minute preparations. Since this year, Mother's Day fell the day after my three-year-old birthday pool party (which wasn't a pool party after all for the first two hours, due to an "accident" in the pool...yes, that's right...someone pooped on our pool party. So glad I planned crafts as well. Phew!), I have decided that Sunday was NOT Mother's Day!

I am taking a rain check on Mother's Day! We are heading to Maui at the end of the month, where I plan to designate one day to be my official day. I don't know what I will do or how we celebrate, but it will not include cooking, cleaning, or scrambling! Hopefully, it will involve a little tranquility. A little. I do, after all, have a three-year-old!!! By the way, the party was a blast. Pictures are soon to follow.

Happy Mother's Day!!

Remember those old Calgon commercials? You know the ones...the lady gets in the tub and suddenly, Calgon "takes her away". I was taking a very well deserved, hot bath last night and randomly (or not so randomly) thought of them. Seriously, unless this magic potion can actually teleport me out of the madness, I will have to find solace in the plain-old hot bath, the good book (if I can even keep my eyes open), and the cozy bed.

With Mother's Day right around the corner, I laid in the hot bath, lights out, and I thought of my own mom. Every night my mom took a bath, and it was her time. All day long she would cook for us all, clean for us all, cart us around to school and elsewhere. This was her time. And yet, on many occassions, one of us would have something important, something that just couldn't wait...something that warranted a knock on the bathroom door to ask or tell her that thing. She rarely complained...just said with a sigh, "Come in." Even her alone time was not fully her own.

When we become mommies, we realize the sacrifice our own mommies made throughout the years and we appreciate them on a completely different level. And we love them that much more. Every day should be Mother's Day. One day is hardly the recognition mommies deserve, but we'll take it!

So call your mom, not just on Mother's Day, but any day, and say "Thank you."

Thank you for licking your finger and wiping the goo off my face. Thank you for carrying me in your body, for feeding me from your breast. Thank you for reading to me, for singing to me, for kissing my boo-boos all better, for teaching me right from wrong. Thank you for not totally losing it when I....Thank you for hurting when I hurt, for cheering me on, for celebrating my victories and helping me up in defeat. Thank you for cuddling me, for hugs and kisses, for life wishes. Thank you for cherishing me, guiding me, for loving me. Thank you mom.

To my own mom, Margaret, thank you for your unconditional love and support. To my dear sister, Heather, thank you for being Mom's helper and for being there if Mom wasn't able. And to my girlfriend mommies, thank you for laughing with me about it all, and for supporting me in the thick of it. Happy Mother's Day!!

We Are What We Sing?

The other night, a friend of ours told me that after taking Phoebe and I to the airport last month, he listened to Phoebe's songs all the way home and got them stuck in his head all week. My response?

"Welcome to my life!"

So what did I wake up to this morning in this broken record of a brain of mine? The chorus of the song goes like this:

Aint it great to be crazy? Boom-boom. Ain't it great to be crazy? Giddy and foolish, the whole day through. Boom-boom. Ain't it great to be...CRAZY!

Now, what do you know....my new theme song!

Yep. I'm a little nutty. Why try to hide it?

Embracing the Chaos

A girlfriend recently asked my how I am liking motherhood. Well, I absolutely love it. If you read my blog you know how smitten I am with my daughter. She ROCKS my world...in many ways. The thing is, I would be lying if I said that mommyhood always brings out the best in me. There are many moments that I don't recognize myself. At times I am really tired of hearing the sound of my own voice...can anybody relate? And if I am being brutally honest, there are moments I don't really like me either.

When I got pregnant I had no idea just how much this gig was going to stretch me. So Laurel, to answer your question I will quote your eloquent words - "...motherhood is more like a symphony of chaos and low notes punctuated with highlights of brightness." It is not an occupation or a vocation. It is a calling. And one that humbles and challenges and uplifts and amuses me to the very core. There are feelings of conviction and frequent prayers. But I laugh more than ever and I am looking at life with fresh perspective...through the eyes of my child. It is an amazing journey.

At the end of the day, when there's a kiddy show theme song stuck in my head, and I smell kind of weird, toys have exploded throughout the house, and there is blue play dough under my nails, I wouldn't swap lives with anyone for the world. Sure, my laundry room resonates a locker room stench while that ring in the toilet continues to taunt me, and we are all having chicken dinosaur nuggets for dinner...but I just can't imagine being anywhere but here. Because my life is so darn wonderful. I am truly blessed and thankfully, there is an abundance of grace!