Too close for comfort...

Last night at 11:30pm, the phone rang. Generally, by nature, a phone call at that time is not good news and this one was no different. It was my mom. She had taken my dad to the ER because he had lost sight in one of his eyes. She said he felt fine and wasn't in any pain and that the doctors said it was a stroke of the eye. She said they were going to run some more tests before they sent him home. I heard him joking in the background "Tell her to get me an eye-patch for Christmas." I told mom to tell him that he isn't funny.

Long story short, he's doing good (we think, he has more tests on Thursday), but he will most likely never regain his vision in that eye. He said it's like looking through frosted glass with a few clear spots that never seem to be in the same place.

In the past few weeks, I have had a few friends that have lost their fathers, and this brought it very close to home for me. I can't begin to comprehend what they are going through, but last night as I laid in bed after hanging up with my mom, I was terrified that I might find out.

The doctor told my dad that if the piece of plaque from his vein had gone to his brain instead of his eye, he could have had a real stroke. There is still a possibility that he might need surgery, but I pray that he doesn't.

I don't think my dad will ever realize how much I love him and how grateful I am to have him and my mom for parents. I gave him a pretty hard time (attitude-wise) when I was a teenager, but he never held it against me and always loved me, even at my most unlovable moments. I tell him I love him, but the words just don't seem to convey it properly.

I can thank him for my fondness of movies and my eclectic taste in music. I can thank him for my love of all things food, he always made me try something new. I pretty sure my creative side (graphic design) came from him, too. Lord knows it wasn't my mom, if it doesn't involve Mahjong or solitaire, she couldn't care less about it.

I am so thankful that he is ok, I hate that his vision is impaired, but it could have been so much worse. I pray that everything goes well on Thursday. I pray that this was a fluke. I pray that I don't have to deal with losing a parent... ever... Can't they just live forever? I can't imagine life without my parents. I know that day will come, but I hope it's long after I am old and gray.

I love you daddy...

It's Coffee Season!

That's right! It's that time of year when the weather is crisper (or at least a little less humid here in FL) and the days are shorter (it always seems more appropriate to drink coffee in the dark). By now, you should all know that coffee makes me happy, so this is my favorite time of year.

This is also the time of year when all of the "seasonal" creamers come out, which I love, but I do feel as though they are only teasing me because those flavors are only around for a short time. So it goes like this... I try a new creamer, I fall head over heels in love with it, and in two months its gone, never to return again (at least not til next season, if it went over well enough). Then January comes and there I will sit, broken hearted over my most recent love lost. What ever will I do? Will life go on? WHAT IS LEFT TO LIVE FOR (ok, besides my beautiful child and wonderful husband)??? Yes, I get this emotionally attached to ridiculous things such as creamer. (You think I'm bad? Ask my husband about the broken electric razor and that 1980's era digital clock radio that we just could not get rid of no matter what).

So annnnywhhheeerre (as Moose would say)... back to my dreamy, delectable, creamy, coffee enhancements. My favorite thus far this season? Oh, how do I limit it to just one? Can you choose a favorite child? Wouldn't that hurt the feelings of the other children? I mean, there are so many tasty one's out there right now. You all know my fondness for anything pumpkiny, so Coffeemate's Pumpkin Spice is up there. However, I came across a new one this year that I hadn't seen before, Brown Sugar Maple Latte. Whoa... A-MAZ-ING! The maple-ness comes through, but isn't over powering, it sweet, but not overly so. Ahhhh... it's just so good. I also have to say that I have always been a bigger fan of Coffee-mate's creamers (as opposed to International Delight's brand. Don't get me wrong, they have some flavors that are alright, but they all seem to have the same unpleasant aftertaste to me) and they didn't disappoint with this one. It's definitely on my list to remember for next year.

I am still looking forward to trying the Gingerbread Latte, the Sugar Cookie and the Pepermint Mocha ones. I am, however, not at all a fan of Eggnog, so that one will not be on my list, but, hey, that's just my humble opinion (as influential as I am) take it or leave it. My husband like the Eggnog one, but he's not right in the head, either.

To the moon and back,

Out of touch...

So here I sit, on my couch in my new living room, typing this blog from my phone because I am I still out of touch with the "real Internet" until Monday. My belly is full with a delicious meal that I was able to cook. First time that I have really been able to cook in about 3 weeks. "Why?" you ask? "Oh, also, where on earth have you been? Well, let me tell you...

We have been moving... After 10 years of living in the same place, we moved. The house we moved into is great but has needed a lot of cosmetic work prior to moving in. It's taken a while, and there is still so much to do, but we are at least sleeping here. We still have a few more trips to make to the old house (ok, if you count Jon's garage, it's probably about 100 trips) and then we just have to get all settled here.

I hope to be here more frequently, but most like I won't until we get our UVers set up.

To the moon & back,
Jen

C25K... I'm off the couch

This is not what I look like when I run, I'm way more graceful!

So, in my journey to fitness and skinnydom I have set a goal to run a 5K.

Yep... me... a 5K... what am I thinking? I'm excited about the idea of running a 5K, it was a goal of mine prior to having Moose, that I never saw come to fruition so now is the time. I feel like it would be an amazing sense of accomplishment to run/jog the whole thing and finish. Ok, so it's not as great as a marathon or anything, but I'm taking baby steps as I'm generally not a fan of setting goals because it makes your failures that much more prominent, but this is one I am really hoping to stick with till the end.

My vehicle for achieving my goal is the C25K app. So far I love it, my body, not so much (in fact, I think it's screaming for me to stop). The premise is a no brainer, run and walk until you build up the strength to eventually run the whole thing. Duh, sounds simple enough. What I really like about it, is that while you are doing the plan you keep the app running (will also sync with your iTunes playlist) and it tells you what to do and when to do it. I like that, guide me oh electronic fitness coach, guide me. It takes all of the guess work out of it. I don't have to constantly check my time on a stop watch, or keep track of how many sets I have done. It also has a place where I can journal about the day's run and it keeps track on what day I am on.

I, of course, happen to be an overachiever, I am already on day 3 and I just started on Saturday morning. I know what you are thinking, "But Jen, you are only supposed to do it 3 days a week." Well, yeeeees, and if I had read all of the instructions thoroughly, I would have known that, but I don't like to read instructions so my body is paying the price! My bad... Anyway, the makers of C25K claim to take you from the couch to completing a 5K in 9 short weeks and if I can make it, anyone can.

Now that I have completed the first three runs in record time, I am walking around like either a 98 year old woman riddled with arthritis (only I think I grumble and complain more) or an 11 month baby old learning to walk (and still, I think I stumble more). Even though I am in pain, it's a good pain. It's a pain that I can live with because I know that I am doing something great. I am being an active mommy for Moose! I also have to give credit to my hubby. He has pushed Moose in the stroller and ran with me two of the three times and I love the idea of doing it as a family.

I do think that I have found the perfect pair of running shoes. Let me know what you think...

 

Haha!!! I love them!! Can't you just see me running down the street in these?

To the moon & back,

What's... What's my... What's my motivation?

Ugh.... So, I did the unthinkable tonight, I looked back at pictures of myself prior to Moose.

Before - 199 lbs (ack!!!)

A little history about me, I have been on the heavier side most of my life. I've been just a little overweight, really over weight and straight up what I would call fat (it's not insulting, when I'm referring to myself, ha!) and then, for a brief shinning moment (about 2 years total) I was at my goal weight. It took two years of hard work and dedication, but I lost almost 80 lbs and was not only the thinnest I have ever been, but also the healthiest and most in shape. I could jog right at two miles straight without stopping. Yes, me, who would get winded walking to the mail box, could run and I loved it. I lost the weight and kept it off for a little over 2 years (until I got pregnant). I wore a bikini for the first time since I was like 5 and I went from a size 18 to a very comfortabe size five (I don't remember EVER being a size 5, I was a size 9 in 8th grade). Ahhh.... size 5... you seem like such a distant memory now.

After (pre-baby) - 125lbs

Now, I'm not so much a 5 as I am a size 11. I know that's not fat, please understand that I am NOT saying I am fat. I am saying that looking back at photo's of when I was thrilled with my overall image makes me sad and makes me really want to get back there. I am saying that I am not content with where I am now.

Here's the problem... MOTIVATION! Yep, I have a motivation problem and a temptation problem (mainly stupid pumpkin stuff, stupid fall and your stupidly delicious coffee drinks and pumpkiny goodness).  Ugh! That being said, I am really gonna try to get rid of the extra pounds now. I mean really, I can't keep blaming it on Moose now that he's like 2 years old. At some point I have to take responsibility. Since I am the one who is shoveling bite after bite of pumpkin cheesecake in my mouth (ahhh, pumpkin cheesecake, why must you be the devil?) Tonight my salad for dinner and my snack of carrots, radishes and snow peas was negated because of said pumpkin cheesecake.

Current (post-baby) - 150 something...

How did I do it before? Well, as cliche as it sounds, diet and exercise. Although I will say my definition of "diet" was a complete lifestyle change. I literally watched what I ate and portions were EVERYTHING. Anyone who saw my pantry at that time, thought I was a freak. As soon as I got home from the grocery store and farmers market, I spend a few hours portioning and prepackaging everything, frozen meats, veggies, snacks, wheat pasta, etc... Everything got sorted into snack baggies and was portioned in 1 to 2 serving sizes. That took all of the guess work out for me and made it so easy to just grab and go. I was very dedicated (I can't remember a time when I was more dedicated to something). The best part was that Jon and I did it together so I didn't have to worry about cooking differently for him. He lost almost 80lbs at the time, too. (He did it in 6 months as compared to my 2 years... stupid boys and their fast metabolisms).

Jon has agreed to try it again, plus we want to be good examples for Moose (although, he eats way better than we do, I am super strict about what goes into his mouth). I would like to run again, but the thing I hate about running is the whole getting used to running again. Jon is amazing. He can go 6 months or more without running and get out and run a 5k with no problem (stupid boys and that whole "hunting" gene). He is the best running coach ever, though. He can always make me go just a little further each time.

Ok, I think I have really talked myself into it. Let see how this goes. I'll keep you posted, but, no worries, it's not going to completely take over my blog.

Love, hugs & caffeine,

Three Generations & a Baby (or toddler as the case may be)...

aka - The trip from hell...

So, choosing to go on a 9 day trip with my mom, son, aunt and grandma seemed like a good idea at the time, however, after 2 ER trips, a total of 32 hours in a car (not counting random trips about town), sleepless nights due to snoring as well as late night bathroom trips which involved lights and running water (in a very small hotel room) and never being able to choose a place to eat, I may have rethought the trip.

I found out that I had to go on a business trip to Louisville, KY, which is only about 2.5 hours away from one of my best friends' mom's house. I thought, "Great! We will leave a few days early and head up to see Sarah." (I haven't seen her since June). I asked my mom to go with me so she could help with Moose while I was working and she agreed. Then she asked if it was ok if Granny came. I said sure, the more the merrier. My mom mentioned it to my aunt (her sister) and she seemed to really want to go, so my mom asked her as well. So now we have 4 adults and a 2 year old in a Honda Pilot.

Sunday morning arrives (the day after Moose's birthday party... what was I thinking?) and we head out... Leaving at 8:00am... oh wait, we have to go by my Granny's house to pick up some medicine to drop off at with my aunt which is sort on the way, but not really. Ok, 9:00am and we are on our way!

Moose did amazing on the trip. I was so proud! We ended up stopping outside of Chatanooga, TN, for the night but we still needed to eat. Out we go again looking for food. "How about Mexican?" My mom asks. "No, I don't like that kind of food... What is that again?" Granny replies. Mama says "It's tacos, mama. You like tacos." Granny "That's not a meal, I want a meal." Ok... what's next? "Oh how about Ryan's Steakhouse?" mom asks. Granny, "No, you know how buffet's do me." Hmm... ok, finally we decide on some other restaurant.

Ah... sleepy time... ZZZzzzzz, ZZzzzz, "What is that?" I thought. Snoring? Seriously? This is a very small hotel room. My mom is tossing and turning. She gets up and rummages though her purse and come back to bed. "I have ear plugs in my purse, but I can only find one." I'll take it, I thought. It has to be of some help. So I take said earplug and put it in my ear. I then shove my other ear in the pillow. It sorta works. That is, until I roll over. I then take the earplug out of one ear and switch it. It was a long night.

The trip to IN was amazing. It was so good to just hang out with Sarah again (I hate that she live in IN, yes I said hate, I'm ok with that) and her parents made it feel like home away from home. This was also the uneventful part of our trip, very relaxing, very nice.

Then we get to Louisville. At this point, Moose is really starting to cough, get fussy, and not want to eat. There are so many things that it could be (travel, teething, allergies, etc...) that we don't think anything of it. That was Thursday. Friday morning my mom woke me up (I was sleeping on the couch in the separate room so as to actually sleep before I had to be at the tradeshow at 8:30am) at 2:00am. "Moose is shivering and she keeps waking up coughing and whimpering". As my brain adjusted to being awake, I said "What do I do?", of course, cause I reverted back 16 and not a responsible mom, as I have stated before, I am not good in an emergency). Mom thought we should take him to the ER. Um... Ok... where exactly is that? We are 14 hours from home and I don't know anything about Louisville. So we ask the hotel desk clerk. She gives us the address, all I can say is thank goodness for GPS'! After about 4 hours in the ER, we find out that it is Hand, Foot & Mouth disease which is a virus and only treatable with motrin and tylenol. Fantastic, can't wait to see that bill.

Back to the hotel. I ran into my boss in the lobby (it's not 7:00am) and she is getting ready for the show. She asks if I am ok and my reaction is to turn into a blubbering fool. She tells me to get some rest and come over when I can. Thank you.... I have really great boss'.

Nap, nap, nap... Wake up at noon and head over to the show. About an hour and a half later, I get a call from my mom. "Honey, we are taking granny to the ER." She had been having dizzy spells, swelling and wasn't feeling right. "Ok, let me know how it goes." So now, my mom and aunt are dealing with a sick 2 year old and a sick mom. Great trip. My aunt spends all afternoon in the ER with her and mom spends the afternoon with a sleeping Moose.

Bleh.... Crappy trip. The tradeshow was less than successful to say the least and my toes are still numb from standing on concrete for about 10 hours in very unsupportive shoes.

The trip home was way less eventful, but did I mention that my boss was ticketed on the way up to the show because it is apparently illegal in GA to not move over to the other lane if a cop has some one pulled over. Oh, yea, then their car broke down and stranded them in Louisville for an extra day.

Fun times... I get to do it all again in Feb, only this time to Vegas!

"What?" not "Why?"

Several months ago, my brother-in-law (who is a phenomenal preacher) did a sermon on asking "What?" instead of "Why?" It's a great idea, the basis of which is when something bad happens, ask yourself, "What can I take from this situation?" or "What's the best way to turn this situation around?" instead of asking, "Why me?" or "Why did this happen?"

None of us know God's plan (man wouldn't life be simpler if we did!), so none of us will ever be able to answer the "Why" question with any certainty. We can, however, answer the "What?" question because that's our experience and what we are taking from it. Plus, asking "Why" can be more of a way to wallow in your own self-pity instead of trying to take ownership and change the situation.

Now that I have said all of that, I have to say I am still horrible at this whole question thing. My mind instantly goes to "Why, why, why.... woe is me... WOE IS ME!" I know it's all about changing my mindset, but man is that hard. After all it's been the only mindset I have had for 31 years, you know, the whole old dog/new tricks thing.

My family's life has been stressful lately, to say the least. We have lots of stuff going on all at once and I tend to look at it and go "Really? Cause I need more on my shoulders right now? Why can't anything go right?" but I know I am not the only one stressing and I should be asking "What can I do to help this situation? How is Jon feeling about all this? Is there something I can do ease the worry on his end?" I know I need to have faith, but when things seem to be going bad, it's hard not to say why. As in, "Why can't I strangle the driver in the car in front of me?"

Ahhh... life, with all of it's ups and downs, is worth it, especially compared to the alternative!

Here's to asking "What" not "Why"!

Mommy-hood Changes Things...

...and that's great. In fact that is the way it should be if everyone would take it seriously. But I feel as though there are an aweful lot of mommies out there that sugar coat being a mom. In my opinion, not all things about being a mommy are peaches and cream and I feel like it's taboo to talk about that.

Having Moose was one of the most amazing experiences of my life. He is the coolest little guy I have ever met and he just gets cooler by the day, but being a mom (a good mom, a REAL mom) is hard work. It's taxing, totally self-less and at times, it's no fun (gasp... did she just say that?). Yes, I did. You always hear other moms say, "Oh, it's different when it's your own child." Yea, it is, the difference is, at the end of the day, that baby is your sole responsibility and no one elses (aside from their dads) and they have to go home with you!

No matter how much a child is planned, I really don't think that there is anything that can prepare you for what you are about to embark on. It helps to have a great support system of family and friends to lean on, cry with and ask for help, but still at the end of the day, that baby goes home with you. As much as I love Moose and as great as he is, when I left the hospital with him, I had no idea what to do with him. I was totally lost and grasping at straws. In fact, when we walked into the house with him for the first time, I looked at Jon and asked "What do we do with him now? Do we hold him? Feed him? Lay him down? Put him in his swing? Take him back to the hospital and ask for an instruction manual?" I think we eventually opted for just staring at him hoping the answer would come to us!

In my situation, I do feel like part of the joy was stolen from me by postpartum because I didn't feel that instant connection to him. In fact, there were times in the beginning where it was so overwhelming that I thought my life was just over and things would never be the same and I couldn't imagine what I had gotten myself into. I was half right, my life would never be the same, in most all ways it would be way better than ever before.

I am the baby of the family (a bit spoiled, I admit... ok a lot spoiled, but that't not the point) and I didn't grow up around babies. My sister is 8 years older than me and when she had her first child, I was a self-involved teenager wrapped up in my highschool sweetheart who was stationed in Germany in the Army, so I wasn't around much to help with her new baby. When she had her second child, I was still pretty much a newly-wed totally engulfed with being a wife, so even though I was around the second one more, it still wasn't much and that was over 10 years ago. Point is, I had no idea what to do with a baby and I know I'm not the only one. My hubby had never even held an infant until Moose was born. We were definitely the blind leading the blind!

I remember the first couple of weeks actually dreading sunset. Why, you ask? Because I hated the night. Nighttime meant we would be on our own until at least morning. No more curious friends and family members stopping by. He would be all ours for the next 14 or so hours, no help, and that scared the crap out of me. What if he starts choking while he is sleeping? What if we don't know what to do? And heaven forbid, what if he just stops breathing. Yes, the night held a whole new world of uncertainty.

The daytime brought a million more questions that I didn't have the answers for, schedules, feedings, rashes, teething, etc...

The only thing about parenting that I know without a shadow of a doubt is that no decision I make every totally feels like the right one!

So much to talk about

It's been quite a while since I blogged and I feel like there is so much to talk about that I don't know where to begin...

Love - I have never felt so loved. I have an amazing husband, wonderful family and the best friends a girl could ask for. I had the pleasure of spending some time with one of my dearest friends, Sarah. I don't get to see her much because her husband got a job and took her back to IN. How selfish of him (insert sarcasm font here). In addition to spending time with Sarah, I got to spend time with her folks and her little boy. Her parents were so great. I couldn't have asked for a better welcome. They were so gracious and made me feel like part of the family. Love you guys and thank you!

Life - Crazy busy to say the least. While we were on said trip (when we left IN and got to KY for my work), we had 2 ER visits. The first of which was at 2:30 am at the Children's Hospital in Louisville. Moose was feverish, wasn't sleeping, had lost his appetite, crying, fussing, and had a really bad diaper rash as well as a rash on his chin. After 4 hours in the ER, we leave with Motrin and a diagnosis of... Hand, Foot & Mouth (and butt, but no one mentions that) Disease. The best I can figure it, is that he picked it up at the Children's Museum in Indianapolis (which is AMAZING, by the way). Nice... Oh, did I mention that it is HIGHLY contagious and we are traveling with my 80 something year old granny with a diminished immune system?

What was the 2nd ER visit, you ask? Well, it was for my Granny later the same day. She was having trouble breathing, was getting dizzy spells and her ankles were swelling. They did all kinds of tests on her and while she was there, her and my aunt fell in love with the doctor (who apparently looked like Dr. Travis Stork from the show the Doctors).  Ah... if only my granny was 40 years younger...

Mommy-hood - Moose turned two, pardon me while I ball my eyes out... It was a great party, he loved the balloons and we had a kiddy pool, sprinklers and our swing-set. I think all the little ones had fun. He got so many toys and so many clothes! I think he is set for the winter. We went together with my parents and got him a Stryder Balance Bike. He loves the idea of having his own bike, just like daddy!

Caffeine - Yes, please! Lots and lots! As a matter of fact, can I just get an IV hooked up to my arm?It's fall so all of the yummy fall flavors are out there and while visiting Sarah, she treated me to a Salted Caramel Mocha from Starbucks. It's like a little bit of heaven topped with salted caramel goodness. If I was rich (and didn't have to worry about the calories) I would have a Salted Caramel Mocha every morning and a Pumpkin Spice Latte every night. Both accompanied by a slice of my mom's pumpkin bread. Mmmm... my mouth is watering as I speak. I'm not sure that there is much out there right now that tops those flavors. Oh how I love fall!

So those are my thoughts on Love, Life, Mommy-Hood and Caffeine for now. Here's wishing you many, many caffeine filled drinks!

Where I have been...

I've been MIA the last couple of weeks because I have been uber busy. Planning for Moose's 2nd B-day, 9 day business trip, working... blah blah blah...

I'm back now and plan to be around more often, whether you read it or not!!

Love, Me

I'm very put together...

Anyone who knows me personally, knows that I am very "put together". I'm very even keel and very in control of my emotions. (Insert sarcasm font) I'm so not that. I cry at stupid stuff (like episodes of Ghost Whisperer and ASPCA commercials), I'm an emotional train wreck since I had Moose.

Last night in bed at about 11:30pm (when I most definitely should have been sleeping), it hit me, Moose is turning 2. Not just hit me, knocked me down and stomped on my face.

It was totally a emotional hormone filled attack and totally irrational, but here are the thoughts that ran though my head as I cried uncontrollably and DH tried to console me (poor guy):

~ It's going by too fast..
~ He's really not a baby anymore
~ He's closer to not needing me
~ I don't want him to fall in love and get married and move away from me
~ I don't want him to outgrow my hugs
~ What if he is as horrible to me as I was to my parents when I was a teenager
~ It's not fair that when he becomes an adult, he'll probably be closer to Jon than to me
~ And many more irrational fears and thoughts that I'm sure I am completely overreacting with but insanity emotions are hard to control!

Dumb, I know, but every once and a while I freak out about it. Jon thinks I'm crazy because Moose is just now getting to be really fun! Then he proceeded to tell me how he compares Moose's two years to running and went into a very lengthy explanation. I was super impressed by his analogy but could not repeat it to save my life. He's such a good man. I love him to death and he totally got my mind off my anxiety.

Oh the humanity!

Ugh... I have debated whether or not I would write about this, and decided I would. I will take one for the team and let my embarrassment be a source of amusement for you.

I have only been working at my current job for about 2 months and they love me there (not to toot my own horn or anything, but I am pretty amazing). I do typical office type work which includes alot of writing. I have always loved writing, but never thought it would be something I could make money doing. One of my duties is helping out with her blog, doing a little research, pulling pictures, etc...

Pulling pictures is not necessarily something I am good at. I do the google searches and bing searches, but I have a real hard time nailing down the correct search terms to get it to pull up what I am looking for and then actually choosing what I think is a good picture is very difficult for me. Gasp! I actually admitted that I have flaws... mark that on the calendar cause it doesn't happen often. (Insert sarcasm font)

My boss (we will call her #1) was working on a blog and asked me to pull some pics and place them in the the blog she wrote. Once I had them situated, she wanted me to schedule the post.

I scoured the internet looking for pics. I found a really cool clock photo (the topic was routines). I thought that would be great, so I saved it and placed it in the blog. I needed one more. I kept looking when I finally came across a cute little comic about routines. I glanced over it thought it would work. I copied and pasted the comic into the blog. I didn't realize it at the time, but that was the beginning of the end...

The morning it was scheduled to post, I got to work and went about my daily routine. I saw my other boss (we will call him #3, not #2 cause that just doesn't sound right) and he seemed a bit distant, but I just thought he was busy. Ehh, not so much. When #1 came in, #3 followed and said, "Jen, we need to talk." Ugh... my heart sank to my stomach. "What did I do?" I was thinking.

Me (timidly): "Ok"

"Do you think this is appropriate for our company?" said #3. He reached out to hand me something. I looked down and saw the comic I chose for the blog. Gulp.... Crap, what was wrong with it? What did I miss? How did I not take time to catch whatever it was prior to posting it? That's totally not me (again, I'm admitting a flaw).

I took a deep breath and looked over the comic, and I saw it... WHAT THE CRAP? How could I have possibly missed that? OH MY WORD! My face flew right past red and went straight to purple. I felt like I was on fire from my head to my toes and I was suddenly tingly all over. I simultaneously wanted to cry, vomit and bury my head in the sand.

No, no it most certainly was not appropriate. I'm not sure exactly what I said at this point, but it was something like, "OH MY GOSH! No, I'm so sorry. I totally didn't see that. I'm so sorry. I have never been so embarrassed. I am SOOOOO sorry. I never would have used that had I seen that. I am sorry." My head was now buried in my hands. I couldn't even look at them.

#3 said "Well, I have to say, I am glad you are responding this way because if you had said yes, it's fine I don't see a problem with it, we would have had a problem. Luckily, #1 saw it before it posted, so there was no harm done." No harm done? I beg to differ... there was quite a bit of harm done to my ego, my pride, my self respect... How could I ever look them in the eye again?

#1 spoke up and said "Thank God, you are reacting this way. I was so worried that you actually thought it was alright." No, no, no, not alright, not alright at all.

I think I just kept saying "Oh my gosh, I am so sorry" over an over again. I think I was hoping the more I said it, the more it would erase from their memories what had just happened. No such luck.

After they laughed it off a bit, and I died a little inside from embarrassment, we went on about our day. Much to my dismay, I had become the joke of the day.... and I still hear about it from time to time.

Are you wondering what the comic was? Well, I refuse to go into detail, but basically there was one tiny little block of the comic that was very, VERY inappropriate. A man and his computer (although blocked with a censor bar) is not a beautiful thing. HOW ON EARTH DID I MISS THAT THE FIRST TIME????

I hope my humiliating story has at least made you smile, maybe made you snicker and if I'm lucky, made you smile.

Oh, you just wait...

So, I took Moose to get a hair cut today (he was blessed with my thick head of hair) and we were standing the waiting area when Moose said "Hi" to a woman sitting there.

She replied "Hi, how are you?"

"Uh, Nick cut-a hair" he said while rubbing his hand through his shaggy brown hair.

"Oh, my he's so cute! I have a 4 year old at home, well almost 4. He's 3 he'll be 4 in December." (Um... December? That's like 3 months away, that's not almost 4, that's a little over 3 1/2. Moose will be 2 in 12 days and I still tell people he's 1, I don't want to age him one single day!)

I said "Thank you. He will be 2 in a few days."

"Oh," she said "He's big, like my son. So you haven't gone through the whole "terrible twos" or threes, yet, huh?"

I, (politely, mind you) replied "Well, so far he has been a really good baby. I haven't had much to deal with, it's been nice."

Almost angrily, she stated, "Yea, I thought mine was too, (snicker) that all changed. You just wait."

Ok, first off, I'm sorry you are raising a little hellion, but that doesn't mean that every child out there is doomed to be a little brat. Secondly, I didn't ask for your opinion, why would I? I don't even know you. If I wanted advice, I would go to my trusted friends and family, not a random stranger in a hair salon. Thirdly, why would you want to ruin my moment? Maybe Moose will turn out to be a holy terror (heaven forbid!), but if that's the case, why not let me live in the moment? Why do you feel it's your duty to warn me of my impending doom?

Thanks for your attempt at a PSA, but no thanks. I will ignore you "breeders of negativity"... I will relish these moments where my son is my perfect little angel!

Mommy time...

Why is it that when we become moms, the rest of our lives cease to exist? I realized (as soon as we told people we were pregnant with Moose, really) that I am no longer Jen, I'm Moose's mom.

Don't get me wrong, I LOVE being Moose's mom and there is nothing in the world would ever make me want to change that, but why are moms expected to lose their individual identity? Not that our husbands expect us to, not that our friends expect us to and not that our family's expect us to, but WE expect that of ourselves, whether consciously or sub-consciously. We put alot of pressure on ourselves to be "super-mom", whatever that means, and lose the things that made us "us" to begin with.

I love having "me" time. I crave it. I need it for sanity's sake (and my husbands sanity, for that matter), but I always put it on the back burner. Oh, there's laundry to do, oh, there's dishes to do, oh, there's work to do. Whatever, there will always be "something" to do, but why is it so hard to put all of that stuff down and just take time for ourselves. To do the things we love, to spend time with a friend (one on one), to read a book, to go for walk, to go shopping (for ourselves not our little ones)...

A good friend dragged me out of the house yesterday to have some much needed girl time at the Prime Outlets. It was a day filled with talking, window shopping, frappacino's and trying on shoes, all of which was AMAZING! Which made me wonder why I don't take time to do it more often and why must all of that be filled with feelings of guilt because I left the little one with my hubby, or my mom, or a sitter?

Time to just be me, ahhh.... Time with my new obsession, pumpkin anything (except pie) and toasted almond latte's from dunkin donuts (not that I can actually afford to purchase one!).

Maybe it's just me who feels this way, maybe I'm the crazy one, but I don't think so. Again, I just think its one of those things we don't talk about much. This week, I'm going to try to make it a point to make time for me. I'll let you know how it goes...

Here's to us, mama's and a little bit of "me" time!

Everything to everyone?

To be everything to everyone is impossible. So why do we try? Who knows... Cause it's better to be liked than not?

Why do we try so hard when in the end it doesn't matter? You can't be everything to everyone, so why not spend the time making it count to the ones who really matter?

I'm guilty of taking things and people for granted. I put on a polite smile and a kind word for people I don't even know (and quite frankly, don't matter in the grand scheme of things) but I come home grouchy and grumpy to the people who love me and want to be with me. Why do I do that? Granted, it's not an everyday occurrence (I'm not that bad to be around!), but it happens more than it should. I am very blessed to have an amazing group (friends & family) around me. I may not have the material stuff, but I'm coming to grips with that because (like my brother-in-law says) they won't be pulling a U-Haul behind my hearse.

I think at some point we all take those we love for granted, thinking (whether consciously or unconsciously) that they will always be there. And, really, shouldn't they be able to deal with us and our moods? We deal with theirs! I don't think so. Yes, we should be able to talk to them about what's going on and how we feel, but not to take it out on them. I hate how easily I get frustrated at times because of some outside influence (bills, road rage, laundry, etc...) and I hate how I let things like that (that don't matter) effect my mood and my family.

I'm a Christian and I should be giving my worries to God, but man is it hard, and I feel like less of a Christian when I can't. How do you give it to Him and why does it seem so easy for some people? Seriously, what makes me think that I can do a better job than Him? Why am I such a control freak? Why do I have more questions than answers?? :)

I know that I can't be everything to everyone. I know that I can't make everyone happy. I just hope that I am making the important ones happy. I hope that above everything I'm making God proud and my family (I include friends when I say family) proud and I hope that both know how they are my everything.

Shoes & Coffee Make Everything Better

Here's why I think they make everything better...

Shoes: Shoes never let me down. They never make me feel fat. They don't judge me. Shoes can make or break an outfit. A good pair of heels can make you feel sexy and beautiful. It may sound incredibly un-feminist, but I want to feel like a girl and a great pair of heels does that for me. If I have had the worst day, I can try on a few pair of shoes and feel better. They are magical... I mean, really look at those shoes, sleek, beautiful... Now some of you may be saying "How in the heck do you walk in those!" to that I say "Slowly, and with practice!" I mentioned before, I wore heels up until about a week before I had my son, as much as I loved being pregnant, my heels let me hold on to a little bit of normality! Now, I'm not saying you have to wear heels to the grocery store (but I have and I rocked them!), but every once in a while it's fun and uplifting!

Coffee: A good latte heals all... Hot, creamy, soothing... amazingness. A fresh, hot Pumpkin Spice Latte or a rich CocoMochaNut Latte... Mmmmm My mouth is watering at the thought. My analogy is this: a hot cup of joe at the end of the day is to me as a glass of wine is to someone else. It relaxes me, and comforts me. So warm and cozy. Loaded up with splenda and fat free flavored creamer it makes it like a decadent dessert with out a bazillion calories!

A crappy day? Meeting up with a friend for coffee talk is a great remedy. Having a playdate? Coffee is a wonderful icebreaker (especially if you have lots of flavored creamers to make a coffee bar). 

In short, it's pretty easy to make me happy... buy me a coffee or find me great deal on a pair of beautiful heels! I'm willing to take donations for the "Make Jen Happy" Fund which will enable me to purchase smile inducing, awe-inspiring shoes. My psyche will thank you.

BTW... this post is riddled with sarcasm, I hope you find a bit of humor in it... :)

Thirty-what?

I'm 31, 32 in December? When did that happen and where was I? Somehow I lost about 13 years somewhere.

I may come off all calm, cool, collected and confident, but most days I feel like I'm still 18. Straight out of high school, feeling like no one will take me serious. I think that stems from working in a job where I was always the youngest (by at least around 10 years) and I felt like they never put a whole lot of stock in what I said even though I rocked at what I did. The other thing I was good at was eventually getting them to do what I wanted them to do (usually they took credit for it) and it was successful. No matter how good things turned out, I never "proved" myself to them. It seemed as though I was always the "kid" playing dress up.

Now that I am away from that, I still find myself falling into way of thinking. Why is it that every year, the number changes, but our minds don't? It's like my mind can't grasp the idea of of being "grown up"! I mean, really, I'm a mom?? Aren't moms supposed to be super smart and know everything? Seemed like my mom always did. In fact, I still call her for everything... yes, pretty much EVERYTHING. When am I supposed to know that stuff? Did I miss a class somewhere? How am I going to pass along wisdom, when secretly I'm calling my mom on the phone asking for her answer?

So, I'm still not sure what I want to be when I grow up, nor do I know when I will actually be grown up, but I'm getting pretty good at faking it! :)

I'm wondering though, do you ever feel grown or is there always that insecure little kid lurking in your subconscious? Do super successful business men feel their age? Or are they always second guess themselves too?

I'm crazy, I know...

But I miss it... being pregnant. That DOES NOT mean that I am ready to have another one, because I'm not ready for what comes after the whole pregnancy thing. (Screaming newborn, left over baby weight, hormonal changes, endless diaper changes, endless breastfeeding, sleepless nights...)

The one thing I didn't like? Being caffeine-free... Prior to getting pregnant I tried to get rid of everything that might not be good for baby, and caffeine was one of those things. I'm sorry, a large fat-free cinnamon hazelnut decaf latte is just not the same. I was thrilled to have my caffeine back as was my blood stream (I think that my blood needs a little, or a lot, of thinning out with caffeine).

I feel like I was one of the lucky ones. When I was pregnant with Moose I didn't have any morning sickness. The worst that I could say is that in the beginning I was exhausted ALL of the time, to the point where I could not keep my eyes open after about 2:00 in the afternoon. I did have waves of nausea, but it was nothing alittle food didn't fix! I only actually threw up once, but we were on a cruise (the roughest waters we had ever seen on a cruise) so I think it was actually a combination of seasickness and being pregnant.

I didn't have any back pain or hip pain (I went to a chiropractor my whole pregnancy, thank you Dr. Jackson). I wore heels up until about a week before I gave birth. My due date came and went and I was ok with that. As far as I was concerned, he could stay. People said I was crazy, but as long as he was inside, I knew for sure he had everything he needed, no guessing!

I really liked being pregnant. I miss the feeling of the baby moving and getting the hiccups. I miss the closeness. I must also admit, the vain side of me, misses the attention, too. (insert sarcasm font) I do miss the excitement of it all though. Not just the excitement of having the baby, but of knowing that my body was growing a person with fingers, toes, lungs, a heart and everything else. It was amazing and a huge part of me can't believe that it's been 2 years since I was actually pregnant. Crazy...

There is nothing in the world like being pregnant, good or bad. I think every mother would admit that. It's kinda sad that men don't get to know that, but let's face it, they couldn't handle it. Jon, for example, has to open the package of his new gadgets before we even get out of the parking lot of the store, there is no way he could go 9 months!

I have to say, no matter how much I miss it, I'm not ready for another one, yet. In the mean time, I have my memories... at least some of them... Have I mentioned I have a horrible memory? Which means that I will probably forget that I actually typed this and be pregnant next week... (HA...HA...HA...Definitely insert sarcasm font here)!!

Questions I Hate (yes HATE)

"Aren't you ready for another one?" So, aside from "do you think he's hungry?" that is my least favorite question out there.

People have no shame. I remember holding my two week old baby and someone asked me if I was ready for another one. "Huh?" I thought "I'm not entirely sure I knew what I was getting into with this one!" I mean really, does everyone in the free world think that just because you procreated once that you are suddenly ready to be the star of your own show "Jon & Jen Plus 10?" Some people only want one child, some want 19, some tried so hard for that first one that the thought of going through that again may be devastating. My husband and I waited almost 10 years (by choice) to have Moose, best decision we ever made, but we still have not decided if we will have another one. We are still having too much fun with Moose! Plus, let me, at the very least, get him potty trained!

As I mentioned above, my next least favorite question "Do you think he's hungry?" Now I don't get this one as much anymore since Moose is almost 2, but when he was little, he had about a 2 month period where he was extra fussy (mainly gassy)  and when he would start to cry, I would inevitably get the question "Do you think he is hungry?" In some instances he could have just eaten and they'd still ask. In other instances, I'd be thinking "I don't know, he can't tell me and I can't read his mind." Asking questions like that to a new mom only frustrates us (because we don't know how to fix the broken baby), no matter how nicely you meant it.

Another horrible and I mean HORRIBLE question is "When are you due?" I don't care if you can see a hand print of the unborn fetus protruding from her belly, don't ask... She may have just swallowed a small child, you don't know. I was asked that question (not once, but twice... ugh) and it was not pleasant. The second time I was asked was finally the motivation I needed to lose weight (at the time, I was about 75lbs overweight). The sad thing is that immediately after the guy asked me that question, he realized it was not appropriate and the life drained out of his face. I simply replied "I'm not, but, uh, thanks for noticing!?!" Stupid question, guys, erase it from your small talk library!

These are just a few to start off with, I have many more, and I am sure they will be the topics of future posts. None of these questions have been asked to me recently, they just popped into my head and I needed to release some pressure up there!

What questions tick you off?

A tale of two spiders...

So, apparently, I am overwhelmingly attractive to spiders lately. Nasty, bugged eyed, nasty, eight-legged, nasty, hairy, nasty creatures.

The first instance happened when I was innocently making a deposit at my bank while talking on the phone to a dear friend. She must have thought I was being robbed because mid sentence I screamed into the phone and started whimpering. What she couldn't see was that a huge (ginormous) wolf spider had quickly scampered in and out of my rolled-down window.

When I caught my breath, I explained to her what happened, but reassured her that I was fine because it had gone back out of my truck. I continued my conversation (mostly reminiscing about the time that the spider scurried into my car window at the bank) and waited on my receipt from the teller.

Suddenly, without warning, the stupid spider ran back in and out of my truck followed by my screaming again. I quickly rolled up the window and waved to the teller (as if she understood that my wave meant I was forgoing my receipt due to a persistent arachnid that plaguing my car). I continued to whimper into the phone to Sarah, more shaken by the second attempted attack by said spider.

One little leg... two little legs... reaching around my mirror. AHHHH!!!! STUPID Spider.. He (must be a he, as persistent as he is being) crawled onto my mirror and laughed in my face "Ha ha ha... stupid human! Just wait til you park!" Shows what he knows. No way I am parking my car with a gigantic spider attached to the side of it. On down the road I went! reaching 30mph (still there), 45mpg (does he have super glue on his legs?), 50mph (starting to wobble), 55mph (VICTORY!). He flew off my mirror and landed in the middle of the road. To give you an idea of his size, I watched him hit the road in my rear-view mirror and roll down the street. Let that be a lesson to you silly spider...

Fast forward to yesterday... again at the bank (you'd think I had lots of money as much as I am at the bank). I pulled out on to the main road and stopped at the red light. I was looking out my window, minding my own business, when a moving shadow caught my attention. I slowly looked up and AHHHH another sticking wolf spider! Seriously?? Do I have a sign saying "Psst... Hey spiders.... come live here..."? I had flashbacks to the movie "Arachnophobia" Gross! The pic to the right is the actual spider as seen on my mirror THROUGH my rolled up window.

I tried the whole driving fast trick again, but to no avail. He crawled behind my mirror where, I'm assuming, he now resides. I imagine him back there, plotting and scheming a way to give me a heart attack by doing a sneak attack when I least expect it. Fantastic...

Maybe he got word of his brother.... Crap...

Moral to the story... be good to spiders, you never know when they will have the upper hand.

(There, I told them to be nice to you... can you leave now?)

So much time... So little to do...

So much time... So little to do... I feel like that sums it up pretty much all the time for me. Not that I am complaining, because I don't complain... (insert sarcasm font)

How can a day go by so quickly that you look up and suddenly the sun is setting? There are days that I feel like as soon as I wake up, it's time to go to bed again.

My day (much like most of you, I'm sure) is filled with waking, showering, dressing, hair & makeup, eating, waking the toddler, feeding the toddler, clothing the toddler, loading up the car with diaper bag toys & said toddler, taking toddler to moms, heading to work, work, head back to moms, load up the car again, head home, taking something out for dinner, work from home, play with toddler, cook dinner, do dishes, laundry, bathe toddler, dress toddler for bed, put him to bed, do anything else that needs to be done, dress for bed, lay down, think of starting it all over tomorrow..... WHEW!

Ok, I know that I'm not the only one who's day is filled like this (and most of you, I am sure, have more hectic days) but it seems like there is no time (or money for that matter!) for all the important stuff... fun stuff... moonlit walks on the beach, vacationing in Paris, relaxing on with the family on a Disney Cruise....

Did you catch the movie title in this post?? Remember what movie it's from?

A good friend of mine recently said "There is always time until one day there just isn't". Isn't that the truth? A scary, scary truth at that. I don't want to wake up one day and wonder why I spent my days filled with errands and chores instead of living, loving and laughing! So here I am watching my son dance around my moms living room, I think I'll join him!

What fictional character would you want to be?

Shameless confession....

I want to be Melinda Gordon.

So... I'm a dork, I know this, but Ghost Whisperer is my guilty pleasure and I love Melinda Gordon. I am addicted to watching reruns on Ion Television and WE TV. Except for the whole talking to dead people thing, she is everything I aspire to be. Ahh.... Maybe some things are better left unsaid! I know what you are thinking... LAME! I agree, but Jennifer Love Hewitt is beautiful and in this show she has the most amazing wardrobe, hair and make up.

I want to live in the adorable little town of Grandview, where everything is within walking distance. I want to own my own little store (maybe not antiques, maybe a cupcake shop or coffee shop) where it's never really busy and I can close up whenever I want, but it is profitable none the less. I want my wonderful best friends to live in the same town as me and we get together all the time.

I want a gorgeous 2 story house on a quaint little street where all of my neighbors know and love me. I to be able to see the seasons change, but where it never snows and is always beautiful out.

Most importantly, I want her wardrobe, shoes, make-up, hair and waistline. I can be a tad vain... :) (insert sarcasm font)

In conclusion, the fictional character I would choose to be is Melinda Gordon. I'd love to hear who you all would choose... Talk to me!

Postpartum Depression... Shhh... It's a secret...

Bear with me, this one may be a little lengthy...

Anyone who knows me, knows that I suffered from Postpartum Depression. And no, it's not just because I was an uncontrollable mess 24/7, it's because I talked about it. Ok, well maybe not to everyone in the beginning, but eventually I did and if you hang out with me too long, I'll probably tell you about it too.

Why? Because too many women don't. They feel like it's something they should be ashamed of (like they can really control it), like they did something wrong, like they are a failure, or all of the above. Or maybe that's just how it was for me. Maybe it's different for everyone.

All I know is that it was miserable, I was miserable, until I got help. At first I didn't know what was wrong with me. It really started before I even left the hospital. I was 3 days overdue and they said they had to induce. I didn't want to induce, I didn't want drugs, I wanted it as natural as possible. I felt like I got robbed of the full experience. (Now, I'm not coming down on anyone who is pro-drug, pro-c-section, etc... this is just how I felt about my situation.) I really felt like he wasn't ready (and he wasn't I gave birth 47 hours and 45 minutes after they began the induction) and I didn't want to rush it.

Don't get me wrong, I loved my son, but I didn't feel an instant bond (gasp!) with him. I had a flood of emotions and guilt and loneliness and doubt and every other bad emotion you can imagine and then I felt guilty for for feeling bad. It was such a vicious cycle.

Each day after I had Moose, my appetite was less and less and I wasn't getting any sleep. Not just from the newborn (he was actually doing great), but from the nurses in and out, checking on me, checking on Moose, sending in student nurses, banging the cabinets in the room next to us. That in itself was enough to drive me crazy. The night before I was discharged, friends brought us dinner at that point, I just sorta pushed it around and forced a few fries down. The next morning the midwife came in looked at me and asked "How are you doing?" I said "Fine, Moose has been doing great." She said "No, how are YOU doing?" I lost it. First off, I felt like that was the first time since he was born that someone asked how I was really doing. Tears started streaming down my face. Blubbering (I am a crier after all), I said something like "I'm just so tired, there is someone in here every 20 minutes. I haven't slept since Thurs night (it was now Tuesday) and I am just a mess." She hugged me and reassured me and I think I felt better for a bit.

The next two kind of run together. I remember spending alot of time on the recliner, not leaving the house much, crying uncontrollably a and really just going through the motions. I did it cause I had to, I knew that much, but I didn't want to be around anyone but Jon. When he went back to work, I balled my eyes out, and called him several times begging him to come home, to take vacation time and stay home a little longer.

As I stated in one of my other blogs, I lost 30lbs in less than two weeks. I didn't eat and I breastfed (in hindsight, probably not a good combination). Speaking of breastfeeding... It was so hard... I feel like no one really tells you that and the first doctor we took Moose to freaked us out saying she didn't think he was eating enough and we needed to supplement with xx amount of formula. I went home and cried (notice a theme here?). Blubbering questions to Jon (that he didn't have an answer for, of course) like "Why do we have to supplement?" "What happens if he forgets how to nurse?" "Why can't I provide enough for my son?" As I said, it was horrible...

Then on the other side of that, a week later, breast feeding became overwhelming so I switched to pumping (I have no idea why that seemed easier, looking back) every 3 to 4 hours. On a Saturday night, it got so bad that Jon took me to the emergency room. Not because I wanted to hurt myself or my son (that seemed to be the "it" question at the ER), but because I literally could not stop crying and I felt so terrible. She did a psych evaluation (which, in my opinion, make you feel like a criminal) and decided to release me to the care of my husband as long as I went to my doctor first thing Monday morning. Sunday was the longest day ever.

Monday came and I went to the doctor (it worked out well, cause it was the same day as Moose's circ) and he asked what was bothering me. My response? Uncontrollable crying, again... He got the gist of it and set me up with a prescription. Yes, I was medicated for about 6 months. Boy did it help. I am so thankful that I didn't let it drag on. I truly don't know how some women hold it in, I couldn't have stayed that way for long.

My happy, healthy, handsome man

I did continue to breastfeed Moose until he was 13 months old and I am happy to report that he successfully latched back on and I actually nursed him. When the 6 months was up, I went off the meds. I feel like that was the best decision for me, but I have to admit, I still have bad days every once in a while. I feel like that's normal though. Life is a journey of ups and downs and I prefer it that way, who just wants to ride in a straight line? :)

I hope that my sharing this helps bring to light that PPD is nothing to be ashamed of, that it's not anyone's fault.

Goodbye stitches, hello screams...

Today was the day, the day the stitches come out.

I have been dreading this day because I knew that getting the stitches was not fun at all so I sorta had a feeling that this would not be a pleasurable experience either. I was also really worried for Moose. I didn't know if it would hurt him, if he would freak out or what.

So I got off work at 1:30 and went to my moms to pick him up. I walked in about 10 minutes til 2:00 and my mom was in the room where Moose naps. I said "Great, did he just wake up?" She looked at me (seemly exhausted herself) and said "No, I was just about to put him down, we just got home." "Hmm....," I said, "that won't work, his appointment is a t 3:15pm and I have to stop by the real estate office on my way there. So basically, we need to leave now."

Ugh... no nap... Now, don't get me wrong, Moose is an amazing kid, but no nap and having someone tug at thread connected to a "booboo" on his lip did not seem like a good combination. But, ohhh, I had no other option, so we loaded up and headed out.

You know what they call a doctor who had a C average, right? Doctor!

We get to the doctors office at 3:05, the appointment is for 3:15, perfect! Just in time.

Yea, just in time to wait. Stupid doctors office. So generally when I make an appointment for him, I ask for any doctor except for Dr. Soandso. I forgot to do that ans she was the only one in today. Booo... After an hour of waiting in the waiting room (with loud, unsupervised 5 & 7 year olds, mind you), we were finally called back. More waiting... Seriously? There was one person before me, what is taking so long?

Did I mention my son is exhausted? The doctor eventually decided to grace us with her presence for a grand total of 1.5 minutes. Here is how it went:

She said "He has stitches?"
I said "Yes".
She said "When did he get them?"
I said "Friday at 10:30pm"
She said "Let me see them." (looks at his face, he starts crying, she looks frustrated)
She said "Ok the nurse will be in in a minute to take them out."

What?? Really? All of that for her to send the nurse in to do it? Thank you very much Dr. Stupidhead.

The nurse comes in and he has me lay Moose down and hold his arms. My heart breaks because he looks at me with those big, beautiful, brown eyes and has a look of sheer terror. Stop! Don't do it! Can't the stitches stay in forever? We could come up with a creative way to explain it to people... (again, sarcasm)

But, no, they must come out.

Now, I have been fortunate enough not to have stitches at an age that I can remember, but I will say it looked painful. My poor baby. At least it only took about 2 minutes and we were done. Thankfully!

Almost instantly, the tears stopped, Moose "high-fived" the nurse and said "Tank ooo" (Thank You). I have such a polite little boy... :)

Stitch free! A little medicine for good measure!

All in fun...

I just want to take a minute (for those who don't personally know me) to explain a little bit about me, and this blog.

I am super, SUPER sarcastic! Everything I write on this blog, for the most part, is all in fun. A good friend once mentioned that she wished she had a sarcasm font as to inflect tone.

I have a fantastic family, amazing friends and I am in a really great place right now. The purpose of this blog is for me to rant and ramble and just let loose the ridiculous thoughts that float through my mind. I don't actually want my son to marry an orphan (well ok, maybe a part of me does). Insert sarcasm font here.

My brain needs an outlet and instead of boring my husband to tears or having him think that I am utterly crazy, I choose to write it down, and maybe entertain a few people. I can hope, at least.

I am one big smile in a sea of happy faces.... hopefully I can put one on your face a time or two!