pancakes and crocodile tears

4:45am

Mmmmmmmmmoooooooommmmm. Mmmmmmmmooooooommmmmmmiiiiiiaaaaa. Momma. MOMMIA!

 shhhhhhhh. Shhhhhhh. Sh sh sh sh shhhhhhhh. Seark shhhhhh. Quiet. Your gonna wake the baby. What's wrong?

MOMMIA MY LEG HURTS. IT HAS THE BUZZIES. I NEED TO TAKE A BAFFFFFF!!!!

oh Searkie just shake it. Its pins and needles. It will go away.

NO. NO. MOMMIA I HAVE THE BUZZIES. I NEED A BAFFFF. PLEASE MOMMIA!

And Ry is up. Looks like our day is starting at 5 am. Take the boys down stairs.  Fill the tub. Put them both in. Might as well. Not even five minutes in the tub and the buzzies are gone. Seark is ready to get out. Which means he will throw a fit any second if you don't get him out immediately.

I get them dressed and no sooner is Seark asking for pancakes. "and not the frozen ones". Sure... yeah... what the hell pancakes at 5:15. I really want to....

A. Go back to bed.
B. Go back to bed.
C. Go back to bed.
D. At least have a cup coffee before the shenanigans begin (I realize I'm too late for that already)

Mommia I am hungry. I want pancakes. All the pancakes. Looks like today is not the day that that A. B. C. or D. is gonna happen so pancakes it is. They are just about done when Seark comes into the kitchen.

Oh. My. God. Maaaaaaaaaa. Did you make them with out me?! I wanted to make all of them and eat all of them all by MYSELF!

Lord Jesus help me... Its gonna be one of those days. One of those long days where the whining is endless. And nothing will make him happy. I'm over tired and poor Ry is too.

Searkie don't cry you can put some butter on them. Normally him and Aidan fight over this job... today he does not want any butter. For the most part tantrum #1 seems to have subsided. I sit Ry in the high chair and cut up a pancake for him.

Maaaaaaaaa. Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy????? WHYYYYYYYYY????? WHY ARE YOU GIVING RY MY PANCAKES. I WANT ALL THE PANCAKES.

There are 12 pancakes. If anything Seark will eat 1/2 of 1....possibly a whole one. However we are again mid tantrum because I didn't give him all 12. And now he won't even eat ANY! Seark goes inside to cry and I feed Ry.

While making the pancakes I added chocolate chips to the last few because that is the only way Aidan will eat them. But I forgot that Aidan doesn't like syrup when I poured it on his too and so now Aidan won't eat them either. One dozen pancakes made from scratch at 5am all going in the garbage. Whatever its fine. Wash the all the dishes that no one ate off of. Put away all the ingredients. Clean the kitchen counter and the table.

Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaa I WANT PANCAKES. ALL THE PANCAKES. I WANT TO MAKE THEM. AND EAT THEM. ALL OF THEM.

But I just got done cleaning. And good God I am not in the mood for this nonsense. Its only 7am. We are on tantrum #3. No one has eaten breakfast except for the baby.... pancakes it is. Again. Take 2.

Seark is going to "help". If you have a 3 year old you know help doesn't really mean help at all... it means make a project out of the task at hand. By the time the pancakes are done the kitchen is a disaster. Aidan is about to be late for school and already had cereal. Seark sits down with a plate that has a mile high pile of pancakes. He pours syrup all over them and the table. Takes one bite and says mmmmmmmmm these are yummy. My tummy is soooooo full. And that's that. A dozen more pancakes.... minus one bite.... made for nothing.

Aidan is off to school. Seark is on tantrum #4. The reason is unclear. Ryman is walking around crying just because he is tired. I'd like to cry to but past a certain age apparently it is unacceptable to cry just because  you haven't gotten the amount of sleep you would like too. I sit down at the table drink my coffee. Eat cold pancakes and listen to the sound of crocodile tears. I wont lie as I went to get the half n half out of the fridge I contemplated grabbing the wine. I mean who blame me?  I certainly would not judge.

Project Kindness...

Life is short. Often too short. It can be complicated and difficult. Overwhelming at times with things that might not even matter when it comes down to it. Every day there is a lot to do. A lot to take in. I don't watch the news anymore because the sadness that streams from my TV is just too much. I am very much a positive and optimistic person but often find myself wondering where is the good? The kindness? The humanity? It is easy for it to get lost in this age of information over load... but it is still there... I promise you. There are still people reaching out... trying to help... easing the burden that others carry.

I am not one those that believe everything happens for a reason. Not really at all. Good things happen to undeserving people and bad things happen to the most decent kind hearted souls... no rhyme or reason. An asshole will hit the lottery while someone possessing the qualities of Mother Theresa will go hungry in order to give to another. It just is the way it is. I do however believe that all the people we meet are put on our path for a purpose. Most we won't recognize immediately... if ever but I am sure that no encounter is by chance.

I also believe that kindness even one small act has the power to set off a chain reaction of infinite kindness. I believe that kindness in others is what inspires us to be kinder ourselves. Maybe that is why I am so inspired by Hayden's Heart. There are so many ungrateful unkind people... too many. So many that are too caught up in themselves to see what they could do for anyone else. Then there are people like Ady and Rob that have been through hell and back... they live with a an ache in their heart that most can't imagine... and yet they find it in themselves to devote their time to giving to others. If you ask them about their foundation they will tell you about Hayden of course because it all started with him and then about all of the families they have directly helped.  And I always wonder if they know really what an impact they have on others. I wonder if they are aware of just how much better the world is because of their work. How many people have consciously become more thoughtful, more generous, more kind because of their baby and what they do in his name. Visit www.haydensheart.blogspot.com to read more about Hayden and the foundation. It just might inspire you to do something good.

Through Hayden's Heart I learned of Xavier Ross and his heart story. And when you read stories about families with children the age of yours it is hard to not imagine yourself in their shoes... even though that is pretty impossible. I have no idea what it is like to have a child with CHD. I have never spent any length of time in the hospital with my kids. I can't imagine what it is like as a mom to have to divide your time between children because one is not well enough to come home. I can't even begin to comprehend the stress and worry she must feel over her sons health and the heart ache over missing time with her baby at home... or the million other stressors that accompany their current situation. I wanted to do something even if small.... just something. So I did the one thing I know how to and held a fundraiser that lasted only a few days. A raffle. $10 a spot for the chance to win a prize. I still can't believe that in less than a week just through Facebook... friends that don't even know the Ross family gave a total of $770.00 Each one that donated renewed my hope that people still are kind just for the sake of being kind. My friend Jeff who runs Secaucus Martial Arts Center gave me $50 alone and then said if I win just give extra money to the family you are collecting for I don't need the prize. Several other friends said the same. I just want everyone who gave to know that their kindness and generosity is so appreciated and it does make a difference.

At an event for Hayden's heart about two years ago I won a necklace which I shortly after lost when the chain broke and necklace came off with out my realizing. So I contacted the Lynn Seyler who had donated the necklace to see how I could get another one like it and after speaking to her we became friends. Since then Lynn gave birth to her sweet baby Cameron who was born premature. Which has lead her to start her own charity called Cameron's Care Packages which she uses to raise money in order to give care packages to families with premies in the NICU. They only need $535.00 more to fill all of the packages they want to donate on March 2nd. http://gofundme.com/ahbgwk is the link you can use if you would like to help them reach their goal.

Then there is my best friend Melissa who is crazy enough to shave her head in order to raise money for finding a cure to childhood cancers! Seriously she is shaving her head in a few days! Www.stbaldricks.org/participants/mypage/743415/2015 is the link if you want to check it out.

So what is the point to all of this? There really is so much good in the world and I am especially thankful that I seem to surrounded by it. There are so many people I personally know doing remarkable things and I just want all of them to know how much they have all inspired me. Ady and Rob with their tireless dedication to helping others. Lynn who is just getting started with all of the amazing things I know she will be doing. Melissa who is always willing to help, give, or shave her head.

And it is not just all about how much financial help you can give... I am in awe of my friend Brianna who is currently carrying twins as a surrogate. Lacy who has opened her home to yet another baby that she is fostering not to mention the three girls she has adopted and that she has her hands full with a very active toddler.

Kindness does not always come in grand gestures either... it really is the little things... that we pass on... that we carry with us. The smile that brightens our day. The gentle hand that holds the door. The compliment that someone needed to hear. Kindness is not meant to squandered. Don't save it for another day. Give away as much as you can and you will see the world around you change right before your eyes. So I leave you with one last request check out Project Kindness Counts on Facebook and share your kindness maybe something you have done for some one else or a kindness shown to you... you never know who will read it and be moved to pay it forward.

The 72 sisters I have never met

I have 72 sisters that I have never met... kind of.... I'll explain.

We always hear about the mommy wars. There are hundreds maybe thousands of articles and blogs... oh the blogs go on literally forever about the formula feeder vs. the breast feeder. The pro vaxxers and the anti vaxxers. The great debate over whether circumcision is a parents right or a human rights issue. To co- sleep or cry it out. If natural birth gives you bragging rights over those that just couldn't go that route for what ever reason. We all stand somewhere and given an uncensored platform such as Facebook it is not unlikely for an innocent request for advice from some unsuspecting mom new to game to be the fuel that reignites the fire that will turn the "gentle" parent into a venom spewing monster.

Us moms we know it all... until we don't. And at some point we will all find our selves in unfamiliar territory even if it is our third baby. In March of 2013 I found myself there. Unfamiliar territory. I had a miscarriage a few months before. And although I held that too tiny baby in the palm of my hand I could not escape the feeling of being pregnant. I thought my mind and hormones were messing with me. I kept saying to my husband this is a night mare I know I can not be pregnant but why do I still feel like I AM! I called the doctor (several times) and he assured it was just left over hormones and everything would return to normal in no time. But it didn't. Convinced that my pregnancy symptoms were not just wishful thinking I took another test... and with in seconds... +! Oh. My. God. A positive pregnancy test. Could it be?

I called the doctor again... I am sure driving him as nuts as I felt. My excitement came to screeching halt when I heard him say... I assure it is left over hormones. Come in for a blood test and we will see what is going on." And so I went in. And then I waited. They love to make you wait. The phone finally rang and all they could tell me was that I needed another blood test. So I went in. And then I waited. A few hours later the doctor himself called and said "meet me at the hospital as soon as possible. You need an ultrasound and possibly a D&C... like today." Not at all what I was expecting or hoping to hear. I left Seark with my father in law and rushed to the hospital.

The technician did my ultra sound in complete silence. And then I waited. The doctor came in and turned the screen towards me and there he was. The silence made me apprehensive. I didn't know what to think... was there something wrong? Would this pregnancy end just like the last one? I listened to the dr and nurse discuss the uncertainty and question the viability... and all I could do was... tune them out and pray. Dear God... let this be ok. Just this one time let this be ok. I cant take any more heart ache so please just let this baby stay.

I went home. Unsure if I had happy or sad new to share. And I would have to wait over a week find out. I went in 10 days later for another ultrasound and more blood work. And then again. Finally I heard what I was I was dying to be told... "I don't know how it is possible but it seems you are about 13 weeks along with a healthy baby... boy.

I was over joyed and absolutely terrified. Pregnancy after loss feels different. Scary. I wanted to talk to women that could relate. Someone that had been here before. Someone who was gonna say "its gonna be okay." Because it had been for them. So I went on the "Baby Bump" app on my phone... cause well they have a group for just about every situation. If you want to witness the mommy wars at their finest join one of them. Complete anonymity + a surge in hormones + hot topics= a bunch of mean girls with  absolutely no restraint. Name calling... snap judgments... insults galore.

With no expecting friends at the time... and all the pregnancy forum apps proving to be a waste of time and patience I started the Facebook group called October Mommies. A group only for women expecting a baby in October of 2013. With in days there were over 200 members! Of course in a group that large... composed of highly emotional women from all walks of life there is bound to be conflicting personalities and differences of opinions. So the rules were made clear... if you couldn't play nice you couldn't stay. For awhile it seemed like it would never work. Maybe women in general are just not nice to one another.

Over time conflicts grew and group dwindled... but what remained... I wouldn't even know what else to call these girls except for the 72 sisters I have never met.

We range in age from barely 20 to nearing 40. For many they are experiencing the joys of mother hood for the first time and other like me are on their 3rd baby... or 4th, 5th, 6th, even 7th! There are moms on opposite sides of the country and even the world. Of the 50 states we have moms in 24 of them. A handful in California, New Jersey and anywhere in between. Some reside in Canada. One in England. 2 in Australia and 1 in New Zealand! And the best thing about that is with the different time zones... there is always someone available to talk to... when I am up at 2 am feeding Ry and wondering what that strange rash is he suddenly has 9 times out of 10 I can post in the group and get an almost immediate response from someone that is just preparing dinner in another part of the world.

The group is about even with the ratio of stay at home moms and working moms. And their  professions vary. There is Jessica who operates and directs her own daycare & pre school that she started up shortly after her first baby Luke was born. Alyssa who is a social worker interviewing and assessing families that are applying to adopt or foster a child. Laci who is a foster mom. She has opened her home to 116 children in need. Adopting 3 girls. And finally giving birth to her first born son Levi... who is one of our October babies. I have to say there is no competition between the working moms and the stay at home moms. In this group we get it that we are all in it together... doing our best. Whatever that means for our family.

There are a handful of military wives and those that have served themselves. They have been a privilege to get to know. It is easy to forget how much some sacrifice on a daily basis for the simple freedoms we enjoy everyday. I am amazed by these women that hold it down at home while the one they love is out there... in harms way... It is impossible to not admire their strength, their love and loyalty. They share with us their everyday struggles and let us be a part of their joy when their family is back together again.

We have shared everything and I mean everything.... we have shared pictures of our growing bellies and the babies that were inside them. Commiserated about the abundance of stretch marks and lack sex. Shared the very personal and private details of our lives that lead us to where we are in this very moment.

Since the group formed in the early stages of pregnancy we have literally been there for each other through it all. We were all there to pray when our first October baby decided October was too far away. Sky'ler Marie made her unexpected way into the world in the early hours of the morning on June 19th. I still remember her mom posting in the group that she had been born. I had never known a baby born so early or so tiny or so beautiful.

Just a few weeks later another impatient October baby was here. A world away in New Zealand  Marley was born on July 30th. And again as a group we prayed. And by the grace of God our prayers were heard and our very early October babies defied the odds.

As the summer came to an end we all were getting anxious to have the rest of our babies here. By the end of September it seemed like every other day there was a new baby, a new life to be celebrated on my Facebook news feed. Some days brought more than one joyful announcement. Our group wall was flooded with pictures of exhausted moms, proud dads, and breathtakingly beautiful babies... so many beautiful babies. It was overwhelming. So much joy... shared. So many blessings... shared. So many new beginnings. So many happy tears.

So we went from sharing sonogram pictures to new born photos. The early bonds that were formed became stronger by the day. We checked in daily to exchange the details of our lives that were turned upside down. Funny stories about the antics of jealous siblings and venting about obnoxious in laws. Some one was always there to answer a question whether it be about breastfeeding or is this normal? We have been there to hold each other up when it felt like everything else was falling apart. With encouraging words during hard time. And laughter and love in the good times. If you ask any of the girls what this group has meant to them they will tell you... Support. Sisterhood. Friendship. It is so much more than a Facebook group... our lives have become so intertwined all because of these tiny miracles that have brought us together.

I have 72 sisters... most I have never met. They are diverse. From different cultures and backgrounds. Bring different things to the table and I wouldn't know what to do with out them.

you and your make up selfies

Some people like to post make up selfies like others brag about their kids! Don't like it... keep scrolling. (or something to that effect)

You ever scroll past a Facebook post that you know was directed at you? Well clearly it happened to me and I have to say I was pissed for like a second.... okay maybe 30... seconds. And then I was like well its true. I post "make up selfies" more than I guess at least one person in particular likes to see. And certainly more than I brag about my kids. Don't get the wrong idea I love my kids and they are fucking brilliant little geniuses that are gonna rule the world one day (this prediction is totally based on how well he is doing in second grade of course) ... or maybe they won't ... either way THEY ARE NOT ON FACEBOOK! And while I would love to believe that all of my Facebook friends are dying to hear about how I have produced stellar off spring that will most likely have the highest scores anyone has ever seen on the SAT's its just not the case. Nonetheless every time a school semester ends and report cards get sent home my news feed gets flooded with the same status update from every honor role child's parents.... "we are so proud of little Billy. All straight A's" and then all of the other parents with similar posts comment "way to go little so and so" on each other's statuses. Truthfully no one gives a shit. No one gives a shit about your kids A just like no one gives a shit about my kids F.

Yup that's right an F! and in this house F stands for Fantastic so our kids basically did the same. Yours just got a different letter on that paper they sent home... and ya know what last marking period my kid did actually get straight A's and I still didn't brag about it... know why? Cause NOBODY CARES! I mean except of course you and you should care. But I don't... I'm sorry.

So her post may have been in response to something I posted along the lines of what I already stated here.... but much milder... and wasn't directed at any one particular person. Our district wasn't even the only one to get report cards that week.... whatever the case my face is out of her news feed now and her bragging is not in mine anymore.

But it did make me pause and think how many friends well "Facebook friends"  do I have that are rolling their eyes every time one of my make up selfies comes up in their news feed?! And then I realized I don't care. It could be worse I could be filling up your feed with my kids test scores.

So anyway all of this petty nonsense got me to thinking about how social media makes it so much easier to be an asshole. I mean would this person that I rarely speak to in person have ever actually said something to my face about how my pictures annoy her? Or is it just that much easier to say what's on your mind no matter how rude when you are behind the screen of your computer or iPhone or whatever it is you use? Combined we have 600 friends that could read what she wrote.... if we were in a room of 600 people would she have gone out of her way to announce to all of them exactly what she thought of me? I doubt it... but you never know.

I read something in another article that asked the question "is social media making us rude or just giving us a platform to show our true colors?" Another article claimed that social media "facilitates meanness " because there is no immediate if any real consequence for the mean things you say on line. If you have been on Facebook you have certainly seen some of what I am talking about.... so what does this mean? Its a little scary to think about all of the future generations that don't know a life with out Facebook... a time when words really meant something and you were taught to think before you speak.

BTW the picture here is a make up selfie... more specifically my " is she talking about me" make up selfie face.

Go home mother nature... your drunk!

Jersey. The state that endures a little bit of every season. Fall is my personal favorite. Cool crisp air. Warm sun. Pumpkin Spice lattés and the changing color of leaves painting every street. Summer... not so bad. It can be hot humid and downright disgusting but there is the timeless Jersey shore. Beautiful beaches and boardwalk fun. Spring brings warm days and cool nights. Long walks and hours at the park. But then there is Winter. And Winter in Jersey just plain sucks. December 21 st-March 21st are my three most dreaded months.

I swear I have seasonal depression. And it starts the week before Christmas. I dread the new year. The cold. The darkness. The perpetual grey skies. Snow. The frigid air. Winter coats. I hate it all. Absolutely all of it. Not to mention it is the season of the stomach virus and every other nasty bug that one of the kids will be sure to bring home and share with everyone they come in contact with.

Hating the cold and being a germaphobe... I tend to hibernate... for the entire winter. Like a mama bear with her cubs. Well kinda... bears bulk up and then sleep the winter away and quite honestly I don't blame them. I'd love it if someone could just wake me up when it is over. I hibernate in the sense that I do not leave the house and spend much of the winter getting fat and being lethargic. Sounds like fun? Its really not.

It is in these cold winter months that I have discovered cabin fever is a real thing. I am in the house so much I feel physically ill looking at these same walls day after day. I pride myself on being a hands on mom. Until mid February when we have done every craft, baked and eaten every cookie, put together 9,000 puzzles, covered the refrigerator in sloppy art work, at which point I give up and let the boys stare at the TV for hours on end or even worse play video games until they can't see straight. I know shame on me... but at this point my main concern is keeping my sanity intact.

I decided that I would start exercising for an hour everyday to make up for the somewhat sedentary life I am beginning to get accustomed to... I mean for god sake I don't even go out for groceries anymore. (because shop rite delivers not because I am starving the kids) I figure that while Aidan is at school and the baby is napping the least I can do is a quick work out video and a little time on the elliptical that I stare at everyday thinking I should really use that thing. Seark my easiest child is the only that needs to be entertained during this time and usually "the triple nugget" episode of Sheriff Cali will do it. Seark for the most part is a boy of very few words. He could spend all day in the same room with you and do nothing but cuddle. Of course As soon as I get on the elliptical he goes from Silent Seark to chatty Kathy.

Mom what is that thing your on called.
(It has been in the same spot for months and he has never once asked)
An elliptical machine
Why is it called that?
I don't really know it just is.
What does it say on the screen?
The numbers are your heart rate and how many calories you have burned.
What are calories?
Ummmmm the things that make you fat... you work out to burn them so you don't stay fat.
(good enough right? He's 3 he doesn't need the scientific explanation of a calorie)
Mom your not fat you can keep your calories.
Well mommy is fatter than she would like so....
But mom its only cause you have a baby in your belly.
No Seark there is no baby in my belly.
Yes there is... my baby brother.
No your baby brother is up stairs sleeping in the crib. He is already here... for like a year!
Oh then you better stay on that thing.

Awesome. I am exhausted. Depressed. Suffering from cabin fever and being insulted by my 3 year old. Seriously... Go home mother nature... your drunk! And I need to get out of this house before I lose my mind!

HAYDEN... THE HUMAN HEART... AND SEVENLY

Having a baby is THE most exciting wonderfully terrifying emotional roller coaster a woman will ever be on. 9 months of all the joy and fear you never knew you could feel centered around all the hopes and dreams you have developing into that little bundle that will be your everything. Ask any mom about the defining moments of her pregnancy... of her life and she will most likely tell you about the first time she heard the sweet muffled rhythmic beat of her babies heart.

The beat of a heart... the beginning of life itself. At a mere 18 days after conception... before anything else... a very basic heart begins to beat. Looking like nothing more than a flicker on a screen. Life has begun. It is the confirmation we desperately seek after seeing those positive lines on a pregnancy test that indeed our dreams are about to come true. It is where the journey begins. The bond between a mother and her child. The love. The inexplicable connectedness. Forever intertwined... and it all started with the beat of a heart.

September 16, 2011 my friend Ady first heard her baby Hayden's heart beat. The human heart  is nothing short of amazing. I mean really amazing. Did you know that in an average life span the heart will beat 2.5 billion times... 2.5 BILLION. The heart is the single hardest working muscle in the body... supplying blood to almost all of the body's 75 trillion cells. That sound... you know the thump thump sound you hear when you listen to the heart that is actually the four chambers of the heart at work. So what if you only have 2 chambers working the way they should?

Half way through the pregnancy with Hayden at a visit where you normally find out the big news... if its a boy or a girl... Ady learned that Hayden had something called Hypoplastic left heart syndrome. Essentially a small underdeveloped left side of the heart.

 Ady and her husband Rob turned their lives upside down researching, learning, and seeking out the best possible care for their baby with half a heart. Ready to fight right along side their warrior and give him the absolute best of everything. Modern medicine and the discoveries made trough technological advances are no doubt a mind blowing god send but when it comes to the matters of the heart... well we have all heard about the power of prayer. And so the Facebook "Prayer page for baby Hayden" was created. And if prayer alone could work a miracle Hayden would have most certainly gotten his. Thousands of people started following his journey... and praying for sweet Hayden.

On 3/12/12 Hayden Jeter Dorsett made his way into the world. Fiery red hair. The definition of baby blue eyes. 8 pounds 1 ounce of pure heavenly sweetness. Only 4 days later he headed in for his first open heart surgery. Thousands of people praying. Waiting for updates. Reading about his life... his journey... his heart. As time passed thousands of people continued to pray, watch Hayden grow, and who could help but fall in love. See that is Hayden the affect. You could not help but fall in love. His smile contagious. His eyes magnetic. His story... took hold of your heart. His purpose... bigger than anyone could imagine.

Hayden Jeter Dorsett 3/12/12 - 8/16/12 the Facebook update that would make 20,000 + hearts ache. The heart that touched so many stopped beating. But that is not where the story of Hayden's Heart ends.... not even close. With shattered hearts Ady and Rob started the foundation that is their sons legacy. Hayden's Heart Inc.

Each year over 1 million babies world wide are born with some form of CHD (congenital heart disease) Of those 1 million... 100,000 will not live to see their first birthday. More than 50% percent of these babies will require at least 1 invasive heart surgery in their life time. The cost of which is astronomical. In patient surgery to repair CHD exceeds 2 billion dollars a year.

The mission of Hayden's Heart Inc. is simple... spread CHD awareness... help ease the financial burden for other heart families... keep the memory of Hayden alive. In 2 short years the foundation has raised over $100,000 and financially helped over 20 families. They also send care packages to the cardiac unit at CHOP the place where Hayden's life began. Grieving hearts is another branch of the Hayden's Heart Inc. that sends care packages to other heart families who have also lost their heart warriors.

The heart is truly amazing. Amazing how one heart could touch so many. Amazing how with broken hearts his mom and dad could help so many others. Hayden's Heart was on a mission... in 5 months and 4 days on this earth his little heart generated more love that most can imagine. His life, his heart, has inspired so much needed goodness in this world and will continue to do so. The foundation that is his legacy has already done so much... and it all started with the beat of a heart. Hayden's heart...

This week is CHD Awareness week and Hayden's Heart Inc. has been chosen to partner with the company Sevenly. For every purchase made through their site this week $7 will be donated to Hayden's Heart Inc. Please head over to www.Sevenly.org . Shop for a cause. Spread some CHD awareness. Be a part Hayden's Heart <3

You can read more about Hayden at haydensheart.BlogSpot.com
or visit haydensheart.org

you can also find out about all upcoming events and fundraisers on Facebook through the Hayden's Heart Page.

and don't forget to check out www.sevenly.org and support the Hayden's Heart campaign taking place this week!

these tired days

In the quiet darkness I hear you stir over the sound of white noise coming from the monitor. With eyes half opened I watch you roll around. So small in your big crib. God I am tired. Eyelids so heavy I cant seem to hold them open. No light creeps in the window only the soft glow of this little screen. It must not be morning. Not that it makes a difference to you. My eyes close as you settle back in. I wrap myself a little tighter in the blankets and pray you sleep just a little while longer.

I wake again to the sound of your voice. Your wide eyes staring right into the lens of the camera. I know that look. Its the face you greet the day with... but God am I tired?! I listen to you babble as I lay warm under the soft down comforter. I struggle to stay awake. The tiniest bit of sun peeks through the gap in the shades and I know it is time to get up. I begrudgingly leave the warmth of my bed. Wipe the sleep out of my eyes and stumble over to you. Tiny arm stretched out. Waiting for me to free you from the confines of your crib. I am cold and oh so tired. Your eyes full of light as you smile at the sight of my face. I lift you and snuggle you tight to my chest. I breathe in that pure sweet scent that only babies naturally possess. You lay your head on my shoulder. I feel your heart beat against mine. You are so warm and fit so perfectly in my arms. The love is palpable. And although I want nothing more than to savor this fleeting moment you have another agenda. You wriggle and squirm. I bend to put you down. And you hit the ground running. What I wouldn't give to have your energy.

I wake your brothers who greet the day much like me... with reluctance. I feel their plight. I head downstairs with you to start breakfast. I will let the smell of bacon and pancakes coax them out of their slumber. I cook as you empty the kitchen drawers. Pots and pans become drums and symbols. I watch as you explore and make as much noise as humanly possibly. I yawn and wait for the coffee to be ready. I hear little foot steps make their way down the stairs. You rush to see your brothers as if it has been an eternity. I set the table and put breakfast out. We all sit to eat. You are only in your highchair for minutes before you toss your food on the floor and again stretch your arms out for me. Oh for god sake Ry cant you sit for more than 5 minutes and just eat! But I already know the answer to that question. I inhale my meal before you are hysterical. Take  you out of the chair and set you down. As I begin to clear the table you wrap yourself around my leg. I think to myself really?! Really Ry?! Just give  me a friggin minute! Just a minute to myself. A minute to clean off the table without you whining or hanging on me! Is that too much to ask?! I look down at your sad face, pouty lip and all and feel guilty for that thought. I pick you up and do the rest of the cleaning with you happily on my hip.

As the day goes on the table fills with endless art supplies. The dog tears tiny pieces of paper in an effort to get anyone's attention and a little play time. Darth Vader and Spider Man sprint though the living room. Bouncing off couch cushions and you laugh with delight as you watch them play. I clean one mess up only to find another. And another and yet another. It never ends.... the picking up. The straitening out. The putting away. The cleaning up. You keep a watchful eye on my every move. Never letting me out of your sight. I sit down to help Shark with Legos and you crawl on my lap. Knock over the castle we just put together and try to eat the pieces you can grab as I rush to pick them up.

Your rubbing your eyes and twirling the single curl on the back of your head which lets me know you are finally tired too. I leave your brothers to play with Dad so I can take you upstairs and rock you in our favorite chair. I sing silly songs. You look at me like you are so in love. Like there some secret you want to tell only me... but there are no words. We rock. I sing. You hum. I am so tired. The steady gentle motion of this chair feels like a drug. You drift off and so do I. I muster up the energy to get up and place you so softly in your crib. You are unaffected by the transfer. I stand there staring at the perfection of you. So beautiful. Peaceful. Angelic. I day dream of napping as soundly as you but there are things to do.

Laundry has to be done. Dishes are waiting to be washed. Dinner needs to be made. A table has to be set. I kiss your forehead and leave you in this dreamy state. I squeeze 4 hours of chores into 2 in the hopes I will get just a few minutes... to sit... and do nothing.  I stretch and yawn and collapse on the couch. I close my eyes. But only for a moment. I hear you calling me. Mummmmm.... mummmmmaa....mmmmmuuuummmm. I am so tired I just need a few minutes more.  Tired as I am your calling my name and I can not ignore the sound of your wee voice. I peel myself off the couch and climb the steps to you. The doors opens. You stand and lean over the crib to see who coming for you. Again just like this morning you flash that smile that melts my heart. Your arms reach for mine. I hold you tight and soak up every bit of you I can.

The table is set and dinner is ready. Tiny fingers paint with red sauce. Spaghetti hangs from your head like the wig on a clown and I can't help but giggle with you. As usual you go from the high chair to the bath tub. You splash and dump buckets of water. Bubbles and toys spill over the side of the tub leaving the floor wet and slippery just like you. I marvel at your petite yet perfect body. Still in amazement that something so beautiful was made in me. The water is starting to cool. Your reach for me. I wrap you up like a burrito in your bath towel and carry you inside. Dry you off and massage your soft skin with lavender oil. Get you dressed in your precious feet pajamas. You take off on the wood floor like an ice skater. Slipping and gliding over to where your brothers are. Falling on top of them. You laugh. Roll. Giggle. Squeal to keep their attention. Not for long. You stumble back over to me. Rubbing your eyes. Resting your sleepy head on my shoulder. I look down at you with my tired eyes then carry you to bed.

You settle in for the night and I go to finish cleaning. I am so tired. Your brothers are not. I sit and draw with them. Listen to silly stories and get them ready for bed. Fight with them to brush their teeth and god forbid floss. I read them one more book. Struggling to keep my eyes open until the end. They get in bed and give me kisses. Finally the house is quiet. No little hands to hold or faces to wipe. No toys to pick up or juice getting spilled. It is peaceful and still. And thank god because I am just so....

Tired from not having a night of uninterrupted sleep for the last 15 months. Tired from the hectic-ness of a house filled with the laughter and antics of three little boys and 2 dogs. My arms are tired from holding you night and day. And carrying what feels like at times the weight of the world. But quite honestly I only want to not be so tired for you because I am afraid that in this tired state I am daydreaming about sleep instead of living in the moment with you, and Aiden, and Shark. I am exhausted even more from the worry that these days are passing me by way too fast. I know that these tired arms will miss the weight of you as they do that of your brothers. These tired eyes will have plenty of time to rest when you are grown... and then wide awake I will long for these days with an ache in my heart to just go back... to this... to you reaching for me... wrapping yourself around my legs... back to these tired days when I was still the center of your universe.

advice for the first time mom

The other night I was out to dinner with friends and one asked me... "having three children, what advice would you give to a first time mom?" I answered without hesitation, I would tell her to relax, take care of yourself, get your baby on a good sleep schedule\ routine.

I didn't think  that much more about the question that night and still stick by those answers but I wonder what I would have said when my first was only a few months old, or even one year. I have written before about the hellish first year with Aiden. I was sleep deprived which was expected. But even more so because I never put him in his crib. I couldn't. He would cry and hearing him cry felt like failing... so I never let him cry. Trying to never let your baby cry is exhausting! No its beyond exhausting. It is impossible and insane to even attempt. Because babies cry. No matter how attentive, or where they sleep, or if you never put them down they will still cry. I was sure Aiden would never walk because his feet had never hit the floor. But for the first time mom in me crying was not part of the perfect baby perfect mom scenario so I tried really hard to never let it happen. Which lead to co sleeping. Co sleeping is the best and worst thing I ever did with my son. Best because I kinda loved it. I loved having him right there. The closeness. Watching him sleep. Listening to him breathe. Stealing little kisses and stroking his baby fine hair. I loved waking up next to this little love. Watching his eyes light up when they met mine.

 I hated sharing the bed. Calling it a night when he did because he would only go to sleep if you laid down with him... and only stay asleep as long as you were in bed. I can't tell you how many nights I laid in bed unable to sleep cause I had to pee so bad but didn't want to move and disturb the baby.  I hated that I never really got a good night sleep because I was afraid he would fall off the bed (and he did.... more than once). I hated his little feet in my face and getting kicked and pushed. Most of all I hated being a prisoner to his terrible sleep schedule. But friends would tell me enjoy it! They are only little once! And they were right but it was only after having Seark who slept in a crib on a regular schedule that I realized how much more I could have enjoyed that short first year with Aiden. So although I see all the bed sharing attachment parenting moms cringing as they read this... in my top three parenting pieces of advice for the new mom I would say getting the sleep situation under control is probably number one. You have no idea the effect your sleep or lack there of will affect you until you spend a year with no sleep. It is where the term mombie came from.

The rest of my advice I realize don't sound anything like parenting advice but they will be more important than you can imagine. Again this is advice I would have not given even after my first year as a mom cause it is only in retrospect that it has occurred to me just  how much I  contributed to my own unhappiness. 

Becoming a mom is such a strange, exciting, joyous and completely overwhelming experience. From the minute Aiden came into the world I felt as though everything had shifted. It was all about him. I lived and breathed baby. I read books. Called the doctor too many times. Second guessed damn near everything. I showered less often because I didn't want to leave him out of my sight. And thanks to the bad sleeping habits I had created I didn't even get the reprieve of the coveted nap time would hear other mothers talk about. I stopped exercising other than walks I could take him on with me which were very short because he hated sitting in the stroller. I cut my hair short to make it more manageable cause I didn't have the time to blow dry and flat iron it and make up... what was that? I lived in sweats cause I was gaining weight because I wasn't taking care of myself. I rarely even put my contacts in. I was a hot mess. Exhausted. Cranky. Sloppy. All for the sake of a happy baby... who was not all that happy. I envied the moms that had their shit together... no I'm lying I couldn't stand them. I was so in love with Aidan that I completely forgot about me. And the more I let myself go the unhappier I was. Even now I look back at pictures from that time and think who is that girl... I feel bad for her. I really needed someone to step in and say... stop. Take a breather. Take care of you. So first time mom or mom to be I am telling you... take care of yourself because the only way you can ever give your kids 100% is if you give it to yourself too.

And finally RELAX! Your baby hasn't smiled and your friends baby who is a month younger has? Relax... your baby will too. In their own time. Not walking? Talking? Relax. It will happen when they are ready. Terrified of vaccinations and their side effects... relax! Talk to your doctor and get off Google. Stressed about breast or bottle feeding? Relax. Both are good and will sustain all of your baby's nutritional needs. Cloth or disposable diapers? Relax. No one gives a shit which you choose. Not even your baby. Dying for a hot shower and a few minutes alone. Relax. Call your mother or a friend they will be happy to come take over for a little bit. Then go enjoy. Because it does go really fast.

The Santa Clause

The holiday season. All joy and madness. Presents and prayers for peace. The house is warm and noisy. Sweetness hangs in the air with the scent of freshly baked cookies and scentsy. Laughter and giggles and guessing what Santa will bring keeps tiny minds busy. Anticipation and excitement. Christmas eve is here. The culmination of month long festivities that will all come together in the form of neatly wrapped packages adorned with matching ribbons and bows.

In the midst of these festivities I can not ignore that feeling. That can't quite put your finger on it but something is missing... feeling. Is it the absence of family celebrating with angels? The unsettled world in general? My longing for the presence of a God I can feel? I don't know. Enjoying delicious home cooked food and wonderful company I watched the clock tick torn between relaxing with family and a full belly or getting in the car and driving to the Christmas Eve service at the church I had attended the week before. Was that even the answer? I had not found God there while attending the previous service. I wouldn't know if I didn't go.

At the last minute. I decided that church was where I needed to be. After all we are celebrating the birth of Jesus. Aidan asked if he could come. The two of use left the happy chaos of a full house and got into my quiet car. We arrived at church... early which is somewhat a Christmas miracle. Families began to pour in and fill the pews. O' Come All Ye Faithful played on the organ until all were seated. The lights were turned down and candles were lit all around. The soft glow of just candle light as the choir joined in the hymn brought me to tears. A first for me. To be so moved. At church,

The readings of the Christmas story paired with hymns sung at a perfect pitch enraptured even my easily distracted Aiden. The pastor began his sermon "The Christmas Message" and I felt as if he was were speaking only to me. "Do you find yourself looking for signs from God? That he exists? Do you ask him for something concrete in times of trouble and uncertainty?" He went on to explain that the signs that God is present are everywhere and in everything. In the face our children, the smile from a stranger in the street, in every act of kindness. But the biggest sign of all was that he gave to us his son. He finished up with the thought that maybe God is also looking for a signs from us. That we see his miracles. Feel his love. All we need to do to show Him is be good to one another. Live with virtue. Honesty. Kindness. Not just during the holiday season but to keep that message and sentiment with you all year long.

The service ended with "Silent Night". As the words left my lips I felt that void no longer. What ever I had been missing was filled. I am not even sure what with. We snuck out a minute before the service was over cause my husband had been texting me for the last 30 minutes asking how much longer we would be. His exact words. These two are done. They need to go to bed. I can't take another meltdown.

We arrived home. Tracked Santa on NORAD. According to them he was only 45 minutes away. The kids flew up their beds. Got settled  and forced their eyes closed. I went downstairs to make breakfast and get it in the crock pot for the morning. Put the presents under the tree. Peel the oranges that Aiden insist we leave for the reindeer. Dump the (sour) milk that we left out for Santa. Pick up the cookies. Leaving just one with a bite taken out of it. Write a personalized note from Santa for the kids. And finally sit down to watch just a little bit of a Christmas movie. Exhausted as I was I just couldn't unwind.

I sat there staring at our tree. All the pretty packages. The lights. The mostly broken ornaments. And thought about the kids how excited they would be in the morning. And how tired I would be. I thought about church and how beautiful it was. I thought about Santa wondered why Aiden was pretending to believe. Was it because he wanted to still be among the believers or because he didn't want to disappoint me. The kids had already stumbled upon their present while wrestling when one got thrown into the closet door... breaking the hinge and exposing  the stash. I thought about all the upset and angry parents posting about how some shitful kid had disillusioned theirs and told them the truth about Santa. All reiterating that same sentiment... if you don't believe you don't receive! Why? Why is everyone so hell bent on squeezing every single drop out of the mystical Santa magic? Or that god awful elf on the shelf. Why did they all seem to think that learning the truth meant the end of Christmas. I haven't believed in Santa for almost as long as I can remember and I still enjoy Christmas. After all it isn't about Santa. Or even the presents. What does it say when we go to further lengths to push the realness of a fat man in a red suit than to explain the real reason for the season.

At some point I drifted off to sleep only to be woken what felt like moments later. "MOM CAN WE GO DOWN STAIRS?! MOM CAN WE OPEN OUR PRESENTS?! That was the voice of Aiden. The only one wake! Seark was so tired he had to be carried to the presents. All my hard work torn to shreds in 10 minutes! Wrapping paper covered the living room floors as smiles spread across their faces. More excited about each gift. Rylan more excited about the paper and boxes than anything else. All the presents were opened and the kids were happily playing with their new treasures. Me  and my husband sat down at the dining room table for some coffee and our traditional crock pot Christmas breakfast. We watched the kids with such joy and I thought well maybe it is a little bit about the presents. Aiden walked over and whispered in my ear "thank you for my presents mom. You got me more than I asked for." I said I am glad that you like them but they were from Santa... he said "it's okay I know that Santa is you... and I think that's even better than a fat guy in a red suit". He ran back into the living room to continue playing but not before he stopped. Turned around. And said "don't worry I won't tell Seark."

Are you there... God?

I am not a big church goer. Translation... I don't really go to church... like ever. At all. I am not even a two timer. You know the devout Christians that feel compelled to go to the Easter and Christmas Eve services. Not me. I mean I have been to  church. Growing up we went every Sunday. I made my communion and confirmation and all. Then my church going just kind of tapered off until it came to an end. I got married in a church. My children all baptized. And beyond that... masses for funerals and other weddings is really the only time I attend. And reluctantly at that.

I want to be one of those holy rollers that feels some sort of divine connection when I attend a service. That I don't makes me feel guilty. In the last few years church has only made me feel... sleepy. I know terrible. But true. So rather than go and fight the urge to snooze I stay home. Sleep in. And preach to my husband about how we need to start going to church... next week. I want the kids to have some exposure to religion even if it is minimal. I want them to grow with some sort of faith even if they find it lacking as they get older.

In this season of peace of joy I always feel quite the opposite. Anxiety and unrest. The holidays are stressful and busy. The shopping and wrapping. Cooking and cleaning. There is never enough money or time to get everything done. By the time Christmas gets here I am spent... mentally, physically, and financially.

My Facebook news feed is filled with pictures of crying babies on Santa's lap and the latest antics of that creepy little Elf that does everything but sit on a shelf. And although I'd normally scroll right past the 900th over posed holiday photo they are a much welcomed break from this world blinded by hate and overwhelmed with sadness. Which leaves me questioning almost daily... Are you there.... God?

A believer that you don't need to go to church to find God I can not discount seemingly divine interventions that are pointing me to a place of worship. So when I randomly ran into a member of my former congregation who excitedly told me about the new church she was attending I took it as a sign. And maybe... just maybe I would get an answer to my question.

All week I was excited to attend this new church. Maybe it was her enthusiasm or just my longing to feel some peace... whatever the case I was patiently waiting for Sunday. Until Sunday came and it was dark. And dreary. And cold. I lay in my soft. Warm. Comfortable bed debating whether or not God could wait another week. And yes God could wait another week for me but could I wait another week for Him?

I laid in bed for another 45 minutes. Because procrastinating is what I do best and who doesn't love rushing around like a nut? Then I got up. Got dressed. Tamed my roosteresque hair. Threw a cute outfit on Ry and ran out the door while my husband cooked breakfast with the boys. We arrived at church with out a minute to spare. I pulled up parked the car and ran around the back to get the stroller out. I hit the trunk button and as the back flew open I reach in to grab the... when I heard a snap! and the back door came crashing down as I narrowly escaped being beheaded! I stood there for a second staring at the car wondering if I could have actually been decapitated and if I should just get back in the car and go home. I mean really God what kind of shit is this?! I could have still been in bed!

Okay no stroller since the trunk is out to kill me. I grab Ry and make the long walk to the front of the church... up too many stairs, and finally arrive at the door. Of course the service has already started. Sometimes I think I must subconsciously like to make a grand entrance as I am always the LAST one in. The very last. Extremely discombobulated person in the door. An attractive middle aged woman hands me a program and points me in the direction of an empty seat. Ry is wide eyed looking on in awe. There is a choir singing and beautiful bells being rung. Color is flooding in each painted window. Its breath taking and beautiful and instantly I feel... this is where I belong. What I have been longing for. The first song wraps up. The pastor begins to speak and the look of awe slowly leaves Ry's sweet face. With in a matter of minutes he is getting fidgety. Ornery. Whiney. LOUD.

Oh Jesus... don't let mine be the only crying baby. I put Ry down and he wobbles over to the little girl sitting at the other end of the pew. He reaches over and takes her toy with an incredibly smug look on his face and as she stretches her hand out to get it back he runs away! I take the toy from my fleeing little fugitive and he lets out a cry. No a shrill. A freakin ear piercing awful noise. He abruptly stops and quiets down. The pencil and envelope holder caught his eye. He looked right at me as if to say... I dare you to stop me I will scream like a banshee again. His tiny hands grasp for the pencils just out his reach. The other takes hold of a handful of envelopes. He inspects them momentarily and then tosses them like confetti. As I bend over to pick it all up he makes a mad dash for the alter. I stuff the envelopes back in their place and rush down the aisle to grab this 32 inch terror.

A song starts to play and Ry stands... still. Then he sways and claps with a smile from ear to ear. I think okay, I got this. That hymn gave me just enough time to regroup and get him settled. I would liken this few minutes to the calm before the storm. The organ struck its last chord and no sooner was my child once again wreaking havoc. I spent the next 45 minutes shushing, chasing, picking up, apologizing, attempting to distract... to no avail. Maybe God was there and I just couldn't focus long enough to find him. I put Ry's coat on and got my stuff together. As I was about to walk out the same woman that had handed me the program came over and said "you know that door right there is the children's room, right? Don't leave." She opened the door to a sound proof room. A speaker streaming the words of the pastor and toys all around. If I were not such a germaphobe this would have been the perfect solution. I took one look at the buckets of toys and thought what a great germ infested idea this is. My fear of the flu trumped my longing for peace. We left.

I stopped at Starbucks to ensure the morning was not a total waste. I enjoyed my peppermint latte as Ry drifted off to sleep in the back seat. I sat there in the quiet of my car. Peacefully sleeping babe in tow. Christmas Canon in D came on the radio and I found myself in silent prayer. A sense of calm came over me. Which totally confirmed what I had been longing to feel... God is everywhere. Even in the parking lot of Starbucks on route 17. And although I can find Him outside of church I may just go back next week... to get some exercise... as I chase Ry while he disrupts the service.

Sweet Baby Jesus... The first Christmas casualty

Christmas has always been my favorite holiday. For a number of reasons. Ummmm I love presents... just kidding. But seriously who doesn't? And giving someone that one thing you know they will love... priceless. Especially if it is your kid. Having children seems to drastically change your gift giving practices... or at least ours. Before kids you buy for everyone. EVERYONE. You get married and then you have twice as many people to buy for so you cut back on gift exchanging with friends. Then you have a baby and you cut back on everything. The holidays become strictly for the kids. Yours and others under a certain age with in the family. Before kids my husband and I would exchange extravagant gifts. After we started buying one big household item that we both wanted like a new TV or something super cool like a stainless steel fridge with an ice maker. Three kids later we... say Merry Christmas and watch the kids tear into their gifts from "Santa". The mythological fat guy that gets all the credit for your hard work and hard earned money.

I used to love decorating for Christmas. I would transform our house into a winter wonderland. Everything from shower curtains and bathmats, comforters and curtains, to villages with hundreds of pieces, lights that would blink and sing, even fake snow. I had stocking hung in every room and Christmas music obnoxiously blaring through out the house from the day after Halloween until weeks after New Year's. I loved all the vibrant colors and... glitter! Everything had to be doused with glitter.

After I had kids Christmas decorating was much more of a task. Even finding the time to do it felt like a chore. But once it wasdone I would fall in love with all of it all over again. And then I had a miscarriage on Christmas morning two years ago... And I wanted nothing more than for Christmas to just GO AWAY. After the longest day ever I put the kids to bed. Poured myself a glass of vodka and started to dismantle the décor. I went to the closet and started to pull out all of the Styrofoam lined boxes that I would normally place each ornament so carefully in....  when I felt this overwhelming tightness in my chest. I was about to have a panic attack... I opened the front door and as the icy air rushed in the only thought that I had was to not pack this crap up. I wanted Christmas to be over. Now. I didn't want to take hours undecorating the tree. I wanted it gone. Out of my sight. So I slipped the door stopper over and pushed the tree right out of the house. It went crashing down our front steps. The sound of shattering glass filled the air. Tiny shards flew in every direction. Covering our front yard in sharp slivers of broken memories. Aidan's Christmas ornament... shattered. The years of ornaments we had exchanged for our anniversaries in smithereens.  And oddly enough it made me feel better.

I took one look around the living room and got out the biggest box I could find. House after house I threw them in the box haphazardly listening to each one break. I had never in my life understood how someone could get angry or upset enough to break their own stuff. It's illogical. But that night it made perfect sense.  All in all it took about 30 minutes to take down what took me days to put up. I shoved all of the boxes carelessly in the closet. Mopped floor, changed the curtains and bed sets. I dusted and put all of the non holiday stuff back in its place... and exhausted went to bed. The next morning I woke up and let the dog out. As I walked down the steps with Chachi I felt the glass crunch underneath my slippers and immediately regretted my impulsive Christmas slaughter.

I regretted it that much more the next year when I took out box after box of broken glass. We barely had anything to hang on the tree. We didn't even have a tree. The one I kicked down the flight of front steps last year and tossed in the trash... was a fake tree... that cost hundreds of dollars. (sigh)
But there is always an upside. I have already given birth to Rylan who is only two months old at this point. I am exhausted and still a little bitter about Christmas and with not many salvageable decorations left there really wasn't much to do. Which was a bit of a relief. I sifted through and hot glued back together what I could. I even put some of the broken ornaments back on the new fake tree. Not quite the winter wonderland it had been in years prior but definitely a step up from the previous year.

So the holidays came and went and before I knew it they were back. This year I decorated while the kids were asleep. I watched Elf and drank hot chocolate and apparently got so caught up in what I was doing I forgot I have a very curious, very active toddler. I was quickly reminded first thing in the morning when his tiny hands began to grab for any shiny, glass, or glittery object within reach. Grab and run. That seemed to be the name of the game we were playing. And then it happened. Rylan grabbed the baby Jesus. Stole him right out the manger (where he isn't supposed to be placed until Christmas) .  Grab and run was getting old... the game changer? Grab and toss! And there he went.... sweet baby Jesus. Flying high. Crashing hard. In less than hour we had our first Christmas casualty. Since then the ornaments have moved further up the tree and most of the villages have been packed back up... it's a shameful half assed job... Oh well there is always next year.

friendless and fine

There are a few things that I know with a fair amount of certainty... I am good at. Big things. I am good at being a mom. My kids watch TV, eat inorganic foods, occasionally drink soda, and have a favorite curse word or two... yet I don't question my parenting. I am a good mom.

Little things... I can draw really well. If you ask my son I am the best at making bubble letters and cartoon super heroes. I am good at face paint. If you want to be red skull next Halloween I am you girl. Not to mention I don't suck at writing. Although I know how to I refuse to use proper grammar especially for my blog posts because I just feel like text book punctuation does not suit me. But grammar aside I can tell a good story and funny... I have got funny nailed. When I am in the mood I can be a riot.

So there they are... my strong points. So what am I not good at? Money. That's a big one. I live in a state of perpetual broke-ness. Not because my husband doesn't make good money. He actually does really well. I just have a habit of spending it. I am a shameless label whore that can not comprehend the meaning of a budget. Well that is not true... I know what a budget is just not how it should apply to me. The number attached to our bank account rarely influences my decision to purchase something and that seems to be a problem.

My other down fall (and the one that is bothering me most lately)... friendships. I have a really hard time maintaining them. Which some what defies logic. I have all the qualities of a good friend. I am honest. Which when I am friends with someone it is the one thing that they adore, even admire about me... until I am honest with them. I am not that girl that can pretend that something is okay with me when it is not. And as it turns out honesty is not the best quality. In fact most people like being liked lied to... especially when the question is something like "Are you mad at me?" or "did I do something wrong?" First of all I firmly believe that if you are even asking those questions than you already know that the answer is yes... to both. But no one wants to hear that. Those kinds of questions are asked with the hope that you will suck it up and lie for the sake of skipping a really uncomfortable conversation. Two unfortunate things for my friends I will be honest with you... no matter what... and two I don't mind awkward conversations. I actually prefer them over fake friendships.

I am loyal. Loyal to a fault. I will stand by even if you are wrong or what you are doing doesn't make any sense to me. If you believe in it and need someone there for you... well than you can count on me. I will even make excuses for you so that I can remain loyal... until you do something so entirely shitful that I can't overlook it, ignore it, or explain it away. And in that case I am the very opposite of loyal.

I am kind and generous. I will go the extra mile for a stranger so you can just imagine what I would do for a friend... the problem with that? Not even that I expect the same in return but I do expect people at the very least to be decent and thoughtful which is apparently an impossibly high standard. I am constantly disappointed by the actions of others.

But I think my inability to maintain meaningful friendships stems from two things my very low tolerance for bullshit and my zero tolerance for lies... even little white ones. And so I have a very small ever dwindling circle of friends which recently got much smaller. Admittedly there are times that  it makes me sad. I don't fit in and for the most part I don't want to but I do wish in part that I could let things go for my own sake. Maybe life would be easier if I didn't get so invested. But for me there is no in between... I am either 100% in or completely out. In the end I would rather be real all alone than choking on the fakeness in a group of girls that just don't get me.

The magic continues... sorta

So day one of vacation was a wash... more like a bitter cold shower. Nonetheless it is over and today is the first official day of vacation. There is no more traveling... well almost none. The kids are exhausted from the trip the day before and slept in which was a nice treat. We sat down to a nice breakfast and when I ask the kids what they want to do first I get an answer I didn't quite expect. "We want to go to the Lego store!"

What the what?! The Lego store? We have one of those in New Jersey! However if that is what they want to do then that is what we will do. To get to the Lego store we have to take a ferry to Downtown Disney. The weather is beautiful. A sunny 70 degrees. The boat ride is short and pleasant. We arrive in Downtown Disney and stop at the "Sweet Shop". The kids enjoy some chocolate Mickey ears as we walk a good mile or so to the Lego store when the bright sky turns grey. And before we can find shelter it starts to rain. No I take that back... it starts to pour! I run with two kids in the double stroller as Aidan trails behind with his dad. We make it to the Lego store... wet... with children looking like pigs that just enjoyed a mud bath. Yes wet children covered in melted chocolate squealing with excitement resemble pigs that just enjoyed a good roll in the mud. They may be shamefully messy but they are happy... so who cares? A handful of people that gave me sideways glances that's who.

The boys get their Lego's and finally we are going to The Magic Kingdom. But not before we take yet another magical bus. And then a magical monorail. All of that was exhausting... so exhausting Seark has fallen asleep. It is at this time I will note that we specifically took this trip to Disney World because Seark has been begging to come here. Every. Single. Time. A commercial for Disney World has come on TV (which is a lot when all you watch is the Disney Channel) Seark would get wide eyed and say "You gonna take me there right mama? Please take Searkie to the Mickey castle!" I mean really who could resist that?

So finally here we are at Mickey's castle and my Searkie is conked out. Can not be woken. I tried. So I figure we will walk around for a little while and surely Seark will wake up. Maybe this will even work out well. Aidan will have time to go on the rides that he wants to and do something's that Seark is not big enough for yet while Seark takes this little cat nap. That little cat nap lasted about 5 hours. We spent the entire day at The Magic Kingdom while Seark slept soundly in the stroller.  As we left the park for our dinner reservations I had to wake Seark so that we could fold the stroller before we got on the bus.

"Come on Searkie you have to get up. Mommy will hold you."

Seark stretches and yawns and barely opens his eyes. I lift him out of the stroller and he finally wakes up.

"Are you hungry buddy we are going to get dinner now."

"And then we are going to Disney World?!"

"Yes baby and then we are going to Disney World."

I didn't have the heart to tell him that we had been there all day while he slept. Thankfully we had tickets to the Mickey's Christmas Party that night and we were actually going back to the park after dinner.

Dinner... dinner at Disney is kind of like eating Burger King every night but in a fancy place with a very slow waiter. The food is crappy but your seated at a lovely table with a waiter that's name tag might as well read "my name is: I HATE MY JOB"  that moves as if there are no screaming children with you. We all take turns staying in the lobby with Rylan who turns into a tiny beast when he sees a high chair. After 2 stressful hours with my 13 month old exorcist dinner is done and we leave for Mickey's Christmas Party. We get to the park just as the light show on the castle is beginning. Seark is lost in this spectacle of lights... but not for long. Aidan has seen this all before and apparently a time too many and is already complaining that he doesn't want to watch the light show or the fireworks or the Christmas Parade. He just wants to go on the rides. I hold Seark who is unaffected by his brothers foul mood on my hip while my arms begin to burn and my back aches. Seark is a lot heavier than I thought and holding for 20 minutes is starting to feel impossible. I hand him off to his dad as I glance over at misery sitting on the curb. Rylan is also getting restless at this point so I decide to take him out of the stroller. As I do this the stroller flips over as the back is being weighted down by all the crap we have with us... baby bag, legos, extra clothes and jackets.... the list goes on!

After the Christmas festivities are over we take Aidan over to the rides he has been sulking about for the last half hour. As we walk we come upon Minnie Mouse. Seark entire face lit up! There it was... his magic moment.. the reason you endure this kind of torture... the priceless look on the face of your three year old that absolutely makes your heart melt. We get on the surprisingly not so long to get Seark's picture taken with Minnie Mouse. In about 20 minutes time we are at the front of the line. Seark is next to meet the mouse and he is just bursting with excitement. He takes one step toward her when a Disney employee cuts him off.

"Sorry guys it is time for Minnie to go back her cookies. She will be back for more pictures shortly."
Are you fucking kidding me... I did not say it out loud although I certainly contemplated dropping the f bomb in a line full of toddlers... but I did ask...

How long does it take for Minnie to bake her cookies?
Not too long. But remember she needs enough for everyone in the park tonight and there are thousands of people here.
Ball park it.
Not long at all.

Awesome. So we wait some more while Minnie goes to "bake her cookies". Seark is looking confused but not terribly disappointed. After about 10 minutes Minnie returns and we are first in line to see her. It was one of my favorite vacation moments. Seeing Seark approach Minnie was like spying on a teenager on a very awkward first date. He hesitantly went to hug her or feel her up I am not sure... then he decided to just go for it and kissed her. He stood there holding Minnie Mouse as if they were the only two in the park... and it was just about the cutest thing I had ever witnessed. Of course I got plenty of pictures to black mail him with when he is older and not so into Minnie Mouse anymore.

All in all it was a great day and there are still 4 more to come.

MAGICAL EXPRESS

Finally the day had arrived, The one we had been talking about and anticipating since the day we booked this trip 6 months ago. Of course after not catching a single cold in almost 2 years I would wake up with a sore throat and stuffy nose. Sick or not today is the day we start our vacation. A week long visit in the sunshine state... more specifically the most magical place... the happiest place on earth... Walt Disney World.

Of course we live in New Jersey so this first day of vacation will not really be vacation like at all. More like hell. Today will be the day of travel. The day I take three small children on a plane... accompanied by plenty of zanax. I am already resigned to the fact that this day will be a waste. I am ready for it. Ready for a torturous hour or two at the air port while the word Ebola repeats over and over in my head like a broken record and I wrestle kids to keep them from sticking their fingers in their mouths and licking the chairs in the waiting area. I know that sounds ridiculous but its true... between the ages if 1 and 3 they tend to do weird, irrational, disgusting things that make you wonder where they came from.

As a bonus the plane is delayed and the terminal where we are "in holding" feels like it is a thousand degrees. I came to the airport looking casual comfortable. After three hours with my kids and my inherited anxiety combined with the extreme temperatures I board the plane stripped down to the bare minimum. Make up melting and running down my face. On the upside the zanax have kicked in and I don't really care. The kids may have even eaten a cookie or two off the floor while I was not looking and that is okay too. We are finally boarding and that is all that matters. There is an end in sight.

I booked a later flight and purposely did not let Rylan nap in the hopes he would be exhausted and just sleep the entire three hour flight in the dark quiet plane. The plane takes off and Ry drifts off to sleep just I had planned. I settle in and close my eyes as I too am exhausted. My eyes get heavy and I am just about to doze off as Rylan startles. And that's that. The next 2 hours and 45 minutes will be spent with an over tired. Seriously crabby. Disgruntled lap passenger.

Alas we land. Later than we were supposed to but the worst is over. Or is it? The time is 9 pm. All of the restaurants at the hotel close at 11pm. No one has eaten dinner. But we have plenty of time right? Two hours. We have 2 hours to get to the hotel that is about 25 minutes from where we are. We retrieve our luggage quickly and race to the "Magical Express". If you are not familiar the Magical Express is the bus provided by Disney that take you to and from the hotel and airport. We race... only to wait. And wait some more. 20 minutes. We wait for the Magical Express for 20 minutes. Finally it is here and we board. And we wait. Wait for all of the luggage to be carefully placed on the bus. While we wait we get an over rehearsed tutorial about how to safely get out of the bus should it crash from our senior driver Merl. The time is now 9:30 pm. Merl concludes by saying sit back and relax... enjoy the 75 minute ride.

What?! What the fuck is Merl talking about?! 75 minutes??? He must joking! He must! There is no way that this ride can be that long... how could it be that long?! He's totally joking... unless of course he is not.

How could a 25 minute ride possibly take 75 minutes? It can when we are the last stop on this 3 hour tour

"Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale,
A tale of a fateful trip
That started from this tropic port
Aboard this tiny ship.

The mate was a mighty sailing man,
The skipper brave and sure.
Five passengers set sail that day
For a three hour tour, a three hour tour. "

Yes that song played in my head several times as we stopped at every resort on the way to ours. Arriving at our resort at exactly 11:15 pm. 15 minutes after the last restaurant closed. 15 minutes!!! 15 minutes too late with three tired. hungry. irritated children. Not to worry the clerk checking us in assures us that the local dominos is as magical as the shitty extended bus ride we were just subject to. In any case it is the only thing available so I order as we make our way to our room.

A two bedroom villa in Saratoga Springs... sounds wonderful. And it is. Except that the walk from the check in to said villa is about a mile long. And once in the room I see the pack n play that will be Rylan's bed for the next week looks as if the previous tiny tot that had a restful night's sleep in it... also took a hearty shit... all over it! Brown stains and smears everywhere!

Thankfully although no acceptable food available at this hour... housekeeping is and the pack n play can be replaced... with a less dirty only slightly ripped one. So far not the magic I was expecting but tomorrow is another day and it will be full of magic... if it kills me!

Happy Freakin' Halloween!... a little late

Halloween... why do I hate it sooo much? I have since I am a kid. I don't like anything remotely scary, creepy, or gory so clearly that doesn't help. And I am slightly bothered by the fact that my neighbors that seem perfectly normal all of a sudden drag out crates and containers of fake severed heads, bloody hands, and poorly rhyming card board head stones. Like really you deemed those things worthy of your time to carefully pack and store for a whole year! And then there are the ones that I feel cross the decorating line and veer0 over to secret fetish ... you know the ones I am talking about. The house that has the real coffin in front and the the absurdly real looking bloody mannequin dressed like a dead hooker inside. The one that makes you go hmmmmm Halloween scary or scary that you think it is okay to own that? Either way I don't think I want to live in such close proximity to you anymore!

Then there are all of the poorly run town festivities. Spooky woods. Haunted high school. Trunk or treat. The frigging ragamuffin parade followed by pick your own pumpkin... otherwise known as watch greedy parents trample small children for free pumpkins. I. Can't. Deal. And yet I am forced to attend at least one of these shit shows where I will inevitably run into some "townie" that I'd rather not while one of my kids has a melt down because the lines are too long or its too cold. Dark. Scary. Whatever the case I will be in the middle of pealing a child off the floor as I run into someone I graduated middle school with and honestly bobbing for apples in a germ infested bucket seems like a better option than the monotonous conversation I am about to partake in about the weather. Their kids. And what so and so is up to.

Then there is the torture of going to "Halloween Adventure" or something of the likes to pick out an over priced costume that no one will want to wear when the day finally arrives. Why would they not want to wear their $60 costume? Why? Because they have been wearing it since the day we bought it and losing a piece of it everyday until it is down to just a black leotard and you might as well through skates over their shoulder and say they are part of the men's figure skating performance team. I know your thinking why not just wait to buy the costume then? Because the closer it gets to Halloween the more chaotic those stores get. Looking like they were ransacked by ghouls or cross dressers. Rainbow wigs and Freddy hands strewn about the store and not one decent costume left in any reasonable size. Been there. Done that. I'll make them wear the black leotard of Halloween shame I purchased for too much money before I go to that store anywhere close to October 31st.

Then comes the actual day. Halloween. Now they need some elaborate face paint because they don't really have a costume anymore unless they are cat burglars or male figure skaters... face paint that they will smudge and cry about 5 minutes after you are done perfecting. The tears streaming down their chubby little cheeks furthering the damage to the already fucked up make up... I find myself dragging out three miserable little people begging to go beg strangers for candy. Every year I try to bribe them with movies and popcorn and baking cookies or better yet a trip to Toys R Us... none of which are sufficient offers. We must go trick or treating.... MUST! Because... EVERYONE ELSE IS GOING. So starting on the 29th of every October for the last 5 years I begin to pray to the rain gods to just wash out the whole thing and pray the people of my town are smart enough to not reschedule the festivities! Which has actually happened. But no such luck... may prayers were heard but the rain was sent too late. Around 7 pm to be exact... when we were already headed home with a bag full of candy that I will make them part with for fear that my neighbor with the very realistic dead hooker in the coffin maybe handing out questionable goods. Alas we are home. Safe and sound with another 364 days until I have to endure this misery again.

Happy Freakin' Halloween!