I Swear That I'm Not Trying To Start Mess

Really, I'm not.  But when I spot incorrect, inaccurate, or misleading information, I'm going to call it out.  Especially when it involves my children's healthcare.

I'm taking responsibility for the fact that two months had passed before I actually looked at this information.  But I'm still going to look into the issue and try to have it resolved.  It involves inaccurate information on my child's health record at the eye doctor.

You see, (no pun intended), I took Emi to the eye doctor back in September because I had noticed a photo of her that showed the dreaded "white-eye reflex".  As a scientist, I was cool and level-headed, knowing that more likely than not, it was nothing....however, as a mother, I flipped out.  All that Mommy-Me could think was that some evil cancer was going to rob my sweet baby of her eyesight, and potentially her life.  Either as a scientist or a mother, I couldn't let that happen.  I called the pediatrician (totally poking fun at myself and telling them that I AM that mother, you can shake your head at me when you hang up the phone, thanks for entertaining me and my neurosis) and she gave us a referral to a pediatric ophthalmologist.

I took Emi to the eye doctor.  You know, filled out about 20 pages of paperwork, submitted my driver's license and insurance card, signed this, that and the other, and waited.  Luckily, we didn't have to wait too long to see the doctor.  He was super nice, as was the nurse who dilated Emi's eyes.  I was told that her eyes were super healthy, and that she could see very well for a three-month old...no abnormalities.  Mommy-Me was relieved as Scientist-Me scolded her and said, "See, I TOLD you!"  I took the papers, with a one-year follow up exam scheduled, and home we came.

Fast-forward to a few days ago.  I actually read the front page of the paperwork.  I mean, really read it.  They, without any question being asked of me, listed Emi as "Black or African-American".

That's inaccurate.

That's misleading.

That's just plain wrong.

And, no one asked me.

I completely understand that there can be different health concerns for different ethnicities....I get it (there are also socio-economic, educational background, familial health history factors to consider).  But, to list either of my children as "Black/African-American" and nothing else is wrong.  To me, it's a slap in the face to my husband, their father, who is not Black.  It's a slap in the face to them.  It says, "You must deny half of yourself and all of one parent, because the 'One Drop' rule is in effect because I said so."  Someone just decided that they would just identify our daughter as this, and I'm thinking that the decision was based on the fact that it was just her and me at the check-in desk.

So, I called to have this corrected on her charts.  Honestly, it could very well affect her healthcare choices in the future.  It's wrong to say that she's a Black child.  It's wrong to say that she's a White child.  It's ok, however, to say that she's Bi-Racial, if you MUST label her.  And if you do, then you need to make sure what her 'ethnic composure' really is, because 'bi-racial' could be anything.  It just means that both parents aren't of the same ethnic descent.

But, I didn't stop there.  I asked the nurse, "If she had come with my husband, her father, would she have been listed as White?"

No answer.

"I just think that if this information is going to be listed on a medical chart, then someone should ask, not just assume.  It could alter discussions and choices that need to be made."

"Ummm....we'll get that changed on her records."

"OK.  She's Black-White bi-racial.  Thank you."

"I'll see to it that it's changed.  Thank you, ma'am."

I was never asked (though the doctor and I did talk about it during the appointment).  And, let's just be honest....if you look at our children, you can tell that they are not "all Black".  You can't help but notice it.

The hubster and I talked about it before I called.  I wanted him to know that I wasn't trying to start any trouble, or some potential media poop-storm....just in case it got ugly and I had to call the local news...but I just want what's right for our girls.  They are the changing face of not only America, but of the world.  They are beautiful combinations of Danish, English, African, Native American, Irish.  They are like awesome chocolate-vanilla ice cream swirl cones with rainbow sprinkles (and who doesn't love rainbow sprinkles??).  And they should be proud of their mixed heritage.  They should never be forced to identify one way or the other, because it's just plain wrong.

So, I'll call back next week to check and see that her record has been corrected.  Not only for her sake, but for the sake of all of the children born to an ethnically diverse couple.  They should make their own choices on ethnic self-identification, not have strangers make those choices for them.

Daddy and our "Mixed & Happys"

Just call me "Judgy McJudgerson"

Ok, I did it.  I judged another parent today.  And yes, I do feel bad about it, but before you judge me know this:  1)  I think that 99% of the time, 99% of parents are just doing their best to bring up good people (there is that small number of people who just should NOT be responsible for another living human being); 2) While I did judge this parent, I also felt bad for her at the same time; 3) While I did judge this parent, I also felt bad for the kid at the same time.

Here's the set-up:

Tots, Toots and I were in CFA for a girls' lunch.  (I know, I know....it's fast food and all that jazz, but work with me, here).  We sat across from a mom (at least I assume that she is the mother) her 4 year old son, and her toddler daughter.  Tots was happily munching on her chicken nuggets, apple juice, and my chicken tortilla soup.  I was having an original and a sweet tea.  The four year old boy (I know that he was four, because he told several people his age) ate three original sandwiches, a large order of waffle fries, a box of chicken strips, a large (adult) soda, which was refilled a couple of times, a milk shake, and some cookies.  In one setting.  And when he slid out of his seat, he could not walk around the table without wheezing.  And his mom just smiled and laughed and called him "Her little Gordito".

How incredibly sad.  And, I judged them.

But here's my side of it.  How in the world could you let your child eat THAT MUCH in one setting????  How could you not feel that something was wrong with this situation?  He could very well have an emotional or medical issue which causes him to eat this massive volume of food in one setting (Prader-Willi syndrome first came to mind, but there were other physical characteristics typical of PWS that were not obviously present here). Maybe his mother doesn't know any other way to interact with her child, other than food.  I mean, Tots LOVES her CFA, no lie....but if we don't eat it, she may get upset and all, but she's more than happy to do something else fun.

It's sad that there is the possibility that their relationship as mother and son is purely based on food.  It's also sad that she may not know how to BE with her child, or communicate with him in ways that don't involve food.  It's terribly heart-breaking to think that this child may have a severe emotional, mental, or medical problem that causes this...and that his parents either don't have the resources, or the knowledge, or don't care to get him help.  His mom *seemed* all to happy to call him 'Gordito'....this is not to say that she's not torn up inside.  Maybe she does know that something is wrong, but has resigned herself to this fate.  But what about HIS fate?  This poor boy is a walking time-bomb who could very well not see his 10th birthday, let alone his 6th.

I'm going to assume that she loves that boy with all of her heart.  I'm also going to assume that all of her decisions regarding her son are based on the love that a mother has for her child.  I'm even going to assume that he is the apple of her eye....and that maybe, just maybe, she doesn't know any other way to express her love for him, except through food....and that's sad.  Yes, I know that in the South, nothing says "I love you" like a plate of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and gravy, green beans and mac & cheese, served with a big ol' glass of sweet tea and followed by some pecan pie with ice cream.  I get it.  I'm Southern.  But still......

And what about the little girl?  Is she going to grow up, ultimately without her brother?  Is she going to think that this is normal?  What's going to happen when she has children of her own?

When I got married, I decided to put my husband's health and happiness on the top of my "Things Most Important To Me" list...above my own, even.  When I became a mother, my children's health and happiness went on that list as well.  They are my responsibility.  It is my duty to them to make sure that they are, first and foremost, healthy (not eating junk food all of the time), then that they are happy (having some M&M's, or chips on occasion).  I'm not opposed to fast food, sugary snacks, and cupcakes on occasion, but my kids aren't going to make multiple meals per day out of those foods.  Even Cookie Monster understands that cookies are a "sometimes" food.  If either of mine, or even Hubby, ate like that...I tell you that we'd be in a doctor's office so quickly, everyone's heads would be swimming!

So, in the end...I judged, and I felt bad about it, because I don't know the story of their family.  But, I hope that someone can help before it's too late.

I know too many.....

On several occasions, people have asked me why I share links to information about pregnancy and infant loss, or prayers for families who have babies that were lost too soon.  They get really concerned and ask me, "What's your story?" or they say, "I didn't know!  You've never talked about it!"

Well, I haven't talked about it, because I've never experienced it.  I cannot imagine what the loss of a child does to a family.  How a mother has her very soul ripped from her being.  How a father feels powerless to fight back the darkness.  How brothers and sisters wonder "what happened".  How grandparents, aunts, uncles, and friends try to process tragedy.  Now, I will tell you that I have held friends who have lost their babies.  I have tried to absorb the pain from them....tried to help it to pass....but I can't.  I can only be there...be there to listen to stories about their babies, dry tears as they flow, pray for healing, pray for comfort for them.

I know how much I love my babies, and I know that I have no idea what I would do without them.  When pregnant, I worried about my babies as any other mother would.  But, I planned, I prayed, I held my breath, and in the end, we brought our babies home.  They are healthy and happy, and the delight of my soul.

I simply cannot comprehend the darkness that I would see and feel if they were not here.  And that's why my heart goes out to the families who live with this reality each and every day.  Knowing that there is always an empty spot at the dinner table.  One less smile in vacation pictures.  One trick-or-treater missing.  One set of unpurchased Christmas gifts.

I don't know how these families can find the strength.  It is not the proper order of things.  Parents should not have to bury their children.  It's wrong.  Plain and simple.  It shouldn't be this way.

Every single day, my heart goes out to my friends, and to strangers, who live with this reality.  I pray for them, for their babies, for understanding....though I'm guessing that understanding will never come....it can't...not when life happens in such an out of order way.

So, here is my prayer for all of my family, friends, acquaintances, and strangers who mourn the loss of their babies every day:

Dear Heavenly Father,

We don't always know the why behind Your decisions, just that we must trust Your decisions.  It's not always easy, but You know best.  I pray that You wrap your loving and healing arms around the hearts and lives of families who mourn the loss of their precious babies.  Touch their hearts and minds so that they know You are the only One who loves these precious babies more.  Help us to understand that even though their lives may have been too short for us, they are eternally and supremely happy in Your presence.  As we miss them, remind us of how they are a part of the wind that blows, the rain that falls, and the sun that shines.  Please let the babies know that they are loved, cherished, and missed more than words can ever express.  We carry them in our hearts always and await the day when that joyous reunion happens, and the families are complete.

Mother Mary, please care for the children as only you can.  Blessed Mother, also care for those left behind to mourn them.  Your heart knows the pain of loss, and also knows the blessing of healing.  Help us to trust in the Lord as you have trusted in Him and help us to be accepting of the Healing that only He can offer.

Amen

Just because my husband works for the government.....

Ok, I have to put this out there, and I hope that I don't get hubby into any hot water, but there are some folks out there who need to know....

Just because he works for the government, does NOT mean that our health care is free.  It does not mean that we are living on easy street.

But most of all, it does NOT mean that he does not work.

In fact, he is one of the hardest working men that I have ever known.  He does stuff.  REAL stuff.  Manned Spaceflight kind of stuff.  He works to advance the knowledge base of the world.  He works to keep our friends safe as they live and work above the Earth.  He has to leave his family to make sure that others can do their jobs.  He accumulates vacation that he never gets to use.  He stresses, he worries, he gets frustrated...just like everyone else.

Taxes come out of his paycheck, just like they do yours.  When you stop and think about it, his taxes have a shorter trip out of his check and back to the government than others.

Don't forget, when someone is bashing ALL government employees, they are bashing my husband...and that pisses me off.  We are your neighbors, your friends, your drinking buddies.  We worry, just as every other normal, working person does.

He works for the government....he is NOT the government.  You see, the government is made up of elected officials.  You, in fact, ARE paying them directly when you compare their paychecks to my husband's paychecks.  When you look at the nation's budget, the meager part that his salary is carved out of doesn't even amount to one-half of one percent.

It's not just him....it's also our friends and loved ones who earn their salary by working for the government.  When you talk trash about them, it hurts.

So all that I'm saying is, when you decide to talk mess about government employees, make sure that you have the right group of people in mind.  You should make sure that your trash talking is directed at POLITICIANS.  Not these hard working women and men at NASA.  Not your friendly mail carriers.  Not the men and women who pick up the trash, work on the roads, keep our national parks and museums open, process passports, and the like.

In closing, if you talk trash about my husband and his co-workers, be prepared to see me go 50 shades of cray-cray from my soapbox.

Thank you, and good night.

Is a rainbow worth it?

Ok, so you read the title and you think, "What kind of question is that?  What is this crazy broad talking about?"  Well, give me a minute, and I'll tell you.

Let me back up by first saying that while I may not be the most religious person, I am deeply spiritual and full of the faith of God.  With that being said, I have told my sweet Tots, maybe once or twice, that only God loves her more than Daddy and Mommy do.  At 2.5 years old (and that .5 years is very important to a person her age) I have believed that if she were actually paying attention to me when I said this, that she didn't really get it.  And that's cool....she's got the rest of her life to get it, right?  Right.

Well, yesterday morning, Tots was doing her typical last minute dwadle in getting out of the door to go to school.  This particular morning was different.  I had to drop Tots off at her Amie's house so that I could get Toots to a doctor's appointment by 9A.  I had packed a breakfast bento box for Tots, got her lunch together, had an extra-extra set of clothes packed in her backpack and had given her the "please behave like a civilized person" talk.  The, "please-for-the-love-of-all-that-is-holy-behave-for-like-a-perfect-angel-for-Amie-so-that-she-will-look-after-you-again-when-Mommy-is-in-a-bind-because-I-trust-her-so-completely-with-you-and-she-is-my-right-hand-woman" talk.  You know the one.  I'm sure that some of you, out there in cyberland, have given that speech to your kids.

So, anyway, it's getting late.  Later than I want it to be, and we need to get going.  For anyone who knows me, you know that I absolutely HATE being late for anything.  Shoot, I even have my babies early!  That's how much I hate being late.

But, it's getting late.  And Tots is doing her thing..  And I'm wanting her to hurry up, because we have to go from Clear Lake to down past the Astrodome by 9A.  That's quite a drive in morning traffic, and it could take upwards of an hour to get there....and we're late.

I finally wrangle Toots into her carseat, and get both girls into the car.  I pull out of the garage and we're off to Amie's house.  As I round the corner from our house, I look up and see an absolutely beautiful rainbow, arced against a sky so perfectly gray, it looked like smooth slate.  The colors were so very vivid, like nothing I had ever seen before.  And I wanted Tots to see it.  Yes, we were running late, but for some reason, I was compelled to pull the car over, take her out of her car seat, hoist her up into the air, and point out this perfect rainbow.  Upon closer inspection, we saw that it was not only a beautiful rainbow, it was a beautiful, PERFECT DOUBLE rainbow!!!  O.  M. G!!!  It was amazing.  It was an unbroken arc across this sky.  It was like all of the color had been removed from the sky so that these rainbows could dance.

I know, I know.....refraction and reflection of light throug a prisim, rhodopsin synthesis and deactivation, visual transduction pathways, blah, blah, blah.....But....

This looked like it had been painted on the sky, at exactly that particular moment in time, to see what decision I would make.  It was a test.  Would I take the time to see the beauty AND show my daughter?  Or, would I rush through it and hope that I would see something like that again?

I took the time.  It wasn't much time, but I took it.  We got out and looked at those rainbows.

As I was putting Tots back in her seat, I said to her, "You see Honey-Bunny?  Those rainbows are God saying, 'I love you.'"

And, with the sincerity that only a two-and-a-half year old can have, she put her hands on my cheeks and said to me, "Mommy, only God loves you more than I do."

To.  My.  Knees.

So, I think that I passed that test.

You see, by the time that we got to Amie's house (less than 5 minutes away) and I told her about it...it was gone.  I mean, it was still hanging in the sky when we pulled into her driveway and walked up to the door. Not two minutes later, it was gone.

We may, or may not see such a beautiful set of rainbows ever again....but Tots and I got to share a rare, special moment, all because I took a breath and chose to show her this.  As if God, Himself, orchestrated these rainbows....to remind me to stop worrying about the clock all of the time?  To remember my blessings?  To know that Tots is a deeply loving, caring, beautiful, and observant person who really "gets it" and that if I just stop for one minute, I could learn so much from her.....?

I don't know, but I do know the value of a rainbow.

So, ask me if a rainbow is worth it...

I'll tell you, "Oh yes.  It's worth more than you know."

His vs. Hers: To-Do List Challenge

His:

Hers:

Simple enough, right?  Let's hope so!

When Mommy is Tired....

Oh man....it happened last night.  And, I feel like a mommy-failure.  I was tired, and didn't even hear my own baby crying, like six inches away from my head.  She was all-out crying, and I was laying there, asleep.  When hubby came out of the bathroom and called my name, I jolted awake and feared that something was wrong.  And it was.....I let my tired be more important than my baby's cries.

Horrible.  Rotten.  Mommy. Moment.

And then this morning, I cried in the shower.  Not just *sniff, sniff* cry.  But that "I-am-so-tired-I-don't-know-what-to-do-but-cry" ugly cry.  I hoped that no one heard me and I tried to stop sniffing when I turned the water off, but it was hard.  Because I fell asleep, again, while hubby was getting dressed.

Then, I read two articles about babies dying after accidentally being left in parked cars...a reoccurring nightmare that I've been having about Toots for over a week now.  In one of the stories that I read, a baby was suffering so much, that she pulled all of her hair out before she....well, you know.

Then, I held my Emi so tight and started crying again.  I'm so afraid of my exhaustion right now, I can't even begin to explain it.  I'm terrified to get in the car and go somewhere because I fear that I'll either leave her at home alone, or in the car.  As with KP, I put the diaper bag on the floor underneath the car seat...as a precaution....because I don't want to have to live that nightmare.  See diaper bag, see baby.  Pick up diaper bag, pick up baby.  But, I'm worried that I am just that tired, which leads to distraction, which could lead to life-changing disaster.  I'm running on stolen 30-minute naps in the middle of the night while I hold my refluxy baby in a semi-upright position on the sofa, and coffee in the morning.  "Keep moving" I tell myself, "Keep moving, and you'll be ok."

But still, I am tired.

Then, I tell myself to get a grip.  Real mommies, real women, don't act like this.  Get control of yourself, stay vigilant, and keep moving.  I'll eventually get that Sunday afternoon nap that I've been desiring, and I'll be back to my normal self.  Back to the normal fears and concerns of mommy-hood, not the near debilitating phobias that plague my rest-starved brain.

And, I cuddle my little baby, as my big girl watches Veggie Tales.  We'll go do something today.  And I will have my panic moments, but I'll keep moving, with my girls, and always check, double-check, triple-check, to make sure that they are both with me.

Curse Of the Second (and, as I am told subsequent) Born

Well, Hubster is upstairs with Tots (KP's newest nickname), and Toots (Emi's newest nickname) is downstairs here with me, in her swing.  I hear her gurgling and cooing as I type (she's supposed to be asleep), and I'll collect her if she starts to getting upset, but I wanted to at least start this post.  Actually, it's more of a letter to my second born....because I know how it is.  I know what it's like.....and I know that her frustration is real, because I have it, too.

Dearest Little Baby Emily,

Mommy gets it.  She understands.  You have the blessing and, at the same time curse, of being the second born child.  I know what it's like, because I, too, am the second born child.  And, if you look even deeper, I'm the youngest of a group of six, spanning two generations.  By the time they got to me, they were just plain tired.  Though I have never felt unloved, I have felt unnoticed (unless I did something stupid, then all eyes were on me).  So, here are some things that I totally understand....

1)  Sometimes, there are times where you have to cry for an extra two minutes because the older child needs something, like a rock, from outside RIGHT NOW, and Daddy-and/or-Mommy-have-to-attend-to-that-need-because-holy-lord-of-lords-her-tantrum-will-bring-the-house-down-and-the-neighbors-will-call-CPS-but-you're-so-laid-back-and-all-that-you're-cool-no-big-deal-really.  And for you, it's no big deal really, because as far as you know, there's always been kid #1 in your life.  You don't know anything different from that.  Which is probably a good thing.  Just know that Mommy doesn't think that your needs are any less important.  I promise, I don't.  But, I also know that it can seem like that.

2)  You will love and adore your older sibling like nobody's tomorrow, and sometimes, you'll feel like they are ready to totally and completely dismiss your existence.  For the most part, at times, they probably are.  Don't forget, they had the 'pleasure' of being the absolute center of everyone's world for a time.  They didn't have to acknowledge any other child's presence, let alone right to breathe.  But She will love you, still....even if they won't say so in front of their friends.  It can be hard, but you'll survive.  And you'll still look up to her, and she'll still look at you, and you'll be the best of friends.

3)  All that you want to do is play a game with someone.  You have the pleasure of having an instant playmate.  You will never know anything different.  But you can know that sometimes, it feels like no one wants to spend any one-on-one time with you.  That is simply not true.  Others get busy and have to tend to other stuff....or everyone always has to be included in what you want to do......or you have to compromise on what you want to do because others (mainly the older one) doesn't want to/doesn't like whatever activity you want.  As a fellow second-born, I will always do my best to advocate for you when it's your turn to pick the activity.  I get it......it sucks royally, but you know.....in a messed up way, it really does prepare you for adult life.....

4)   Always being compared to your older sibling sucks.  Big time.  "Oh, well, older child liked this, and you should, too."  "Older child NEVER did this, why are you doing it??"  "Older child ALWAYS did this, why won't you??"  "Older child excelled at this subject/activity, why can't you?"  I know that what you really want is to be seen as an individual.  I see that.

5)  Hearing the words, "If you had been born first, there would NOT have been a second."  Here is my thought on that one:  "Gee, thanks for letting me know that my very existence has made you want to actively rip out your reproductive organs with a plastic fork.  Thanks for making me feel like I was the worst thing that had ever happened to you in your life.  So much so, that you were willing to sterilize yourself with nail clippers so that you wouldn't have anymore children.  Sorry that my undiagnosed medical problems made you hate children.  Sorry that I made your life suck.  Sorry."  There are things that you will NEVER hear from me.  Know why?  Because I heard them.  Yes, they were said in a joking manner, but those kinds of words hurt.  A lot.  I am happy that you are my second born.  I am also happy that I can recognize when you aren't feeling well and, instead of chalking it up to having an overly fussy/needy baby, I can call the doctor and discuss what I feel is the problem.  Let me tell you, the Kroger-brand Mylanta seems to have made your life a little easier.

Your cuddles and snuggles are just as precious to me as KP's.  They are also different because, well, YOU are different.  You are your own special, wonderful creation, and I celebrate that each and every day.  I can already tell that our relationship is different (as it should be).  We don't have to talk much, because we understand each other on a different level.  That's the kind of relationship your great-grandmother and I had.  We didn't have to talk much, and she already knew....she was a second-born, too.

So, you see...you're in good company.   You are my little baby.  My little baby who smiles and coos.  Who loves everyone.  Who wants to be acknowledged.  Who may choose to fly under the radar, or sing from the highest mountains.  Who has her own likes and dislikes.  Her own talents.  Who just wants to be herself.  Know that mommy is here for the ride...here to help you navigate that crazy world of second-born status, to give you love, hugs, cuddles, and kisses for just being you.

And remember....Mommy gets it.

I have a two-year old....

What else can I say?  I have a two-year old child who has boundless energy!  Too bad my energy isn't quite as endless as hers!!

But, I'll take it....even if there are moments that make me insane........like these "precious moments" from Friday:

But I LIKE putting markers in my mouth!

Hurricane Katie-Pie, Category 3

All that I heard was, "Yipee!!  Yipee!!"  Then, I came around the corner and she told me, "I was just filing papers"

Lip gloss goes all over, right?

Because, yes...I had to grab my camera.

Luckily, I was able to somewhat contain the play sand.....

My netbook didn't survive.

Can Mommy have her camera back, please?

Just in case you didn't catch the magnitude of the "snow"

   So today, I was hoping that by taking her to the park that she'd be tired this afternoon.  Boy, was I wrong.....

But then, she'll do some amazingly cute stuff.....

"Ems shouldn't be alone during tummy time"

 Dear Lord, just get me through the rest of August.  I didn't sleep Friday night (working) didn't nap on Saturday or Sunday, and I haven't had any real down-time...and gracious-goodness, my brain is fried so I'm going to stop this post right now!

And the baby just pooped my pants....again.

July 31, 1989

Dear Granddaddy,

It's been 24 years.  24 years since I've heard you laugh.  Since I've felt your arms around me.  And I want you to know how much I miss you.

I was twelve when you left.  I know that it wasn't your choosing, it was God's...and over the years, I've (mostly) made peace with that.  But I miss you each and every single day.

I wanted to thank you.  For being my grandfather.  For teaching me things that no one else could have taught me.  For raising me when you could have easily said no.  You taught me how to tie my shoe, how to braid my hair, and how to spit watermelon seeds.  Because of you, I knew how to work on my first car, change the alternator belt and thermostat.  How to fix a flat...when to patch, when to plug, and when to throw it out.

You taught me how to shake hands like I mean it.  How to look people in the eye.  Reinforced the "Yes, ma'am's and no sirs".  You taught me how to count change.

You told me what my worth is.  How high my self esteem was.  You taught me how a man loves his wife and children.  How he cares for his family.  How he does what needs to be done, and how his family can always count on him.

You let me ride in the back of the pick-up with my brother and cousins.  You took me to "rastlin'" matches on Saturday nights at the Mayborn Center.

You held my hand when I was sick.  Never left me, and always made sure that I knew that I was loved.

Not every kid is as lucky as me....to have had someone like you.  To pick up the pieces when my little girl heart was broken, abandoned, and alone.  And for that, I am always and forever, truly grateful.  Because of you, I can make it through anything.  Because you told me that I'm tough.  And I am.  I wouldn't have made it this far without your love and your lessons.

So thank you.  I miss you more than words could ever express.

I also want you to know that I'm proud to be your granddaughter.  I always have been, and always will be.  Cars are different now....I won't necessarily have to teach my girls the same things that you taught me....but because of you, I also picked a good man to be their father.  He loves them the same way that you loved me....

I hope that you and Mama are having a great time.  She really missed you.  I'm happy that you two are together again.  But I still miss you.

So, here is a celebration of your life!  Here's to you!

Milton Stephen  1929-1989

July 25, 2007

The day didn't start out like the others.  There was definitely the air of death in our home....again....This was the day that the bottom dropped out of my world.  I wasn't sure if I would recover from this one.  It was too hard.

You see, the date that serves as the title of this post was the day that my grandmother died.

We knew that it was going to be soon.  She had fought the good fight against non-small cell lung cancer.  All of the chemo, the meds, losing her hair.....she tolerated the treatments better than people much younger than her.  Even her team of doctors had said so.  But a few months before, the chemo had stopped working.  We could have tried something else, but she didn't want to.  She said that she had done all that she could do in this life, and that she was tired and ready to go.  She didn't want to spend all of the money that she and her husband had spent their lives working for and saving, on futile treatments.  We begged her to....so that she could stay with us longer, but she said no.  Her babies were up to size, and it was time to rest.  This was her decision, and she wouldn't be swayed.

The hospice nurse had been out the day before.  Mama had become unresponsive, and was in a deep sleep.  The nurse checked her over, and told us that it would be soon.  Circulation in her lower body had all but stopped, her body was slowing down, and she had the "rails".  "She may, or may not, make it through the night," she said.  I listened, but I didn't.  I didn't want to.  I wanted to share so many more experiences with her.  I wanted her to see me get married and have children of my own...I wanted to call her when I had questions about what babies do....I wanted her to tell me that husbands will make you crazy, but you have made this commitment, and it's not always easy and fun, but it's deep and meaningful.  I wanted her to hold me just one more time, and tell me that everything was going to be ok.  But it wasn't meant to be.

Death was waiting at the foot of her bed.

The home care nurse that we had hired called us to tell us that she was stuck in traffic, but would be there soon.  We had decided that we needed just an hour to get out of the house and breath.  This, though expected, was happening too quickly.  We told her that it was fine, we all understood traffic, and we'd be at the house when she got there.  The hospice nurse had been out already that day and had gone on to visit with her next patient.

We were in her room, sitting around and kind of talking, kind of not, and it started....

It was just like the nurse told us it would be....the gasping for breath like a fish out of water.  Her eyes opened, she was gasping, and we were scared.  As scared little girls, we did the only thing that we knew to do....we called her sister....she rushed to the house and ran to be by her sister's side.  She held her face, and was able to tell her, one last time, that she loved her.

And in an instant, Mama looked past us, and smiled the most peaceful smile that I had ever seen....she saw her husband, I'm sure of it.  The man that she had loved, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, until death did them part.  She saw him come for her, and went to be with him.

It was the first time in all of my life that I couldn't go where my mama was.  I was alone.  My breath gone...no air in the room.....no air in the world...and all that I could do was pray.

It was over.  Rewards to a servant whose job was well done.  Healed from the cancer, free from the pain, no more sorrow, no more tears....

She didn't want to die alone, and she didn't.  We were all there with her, on this side....my grandfather, was on the other...she was never alone.  Not for one second.

I had to keep it together.  There were phone calls to be made.  Family, the hospice nurse, the funeral home.....I made two of those calls, to family and to the nurse.  The nurse took care of everything else.  I had gone numb by then....my tongue didn't work anymore, my brain was non-functional.  Things kind of start blanking out for me after the hospice nurse came back and I watched her check for signs of life.

She didn't find any.

The representatives from funeral home came to take her body away.  I listened as the gurney loaded with her remains was wheeled down the hallway.  She left the home that she and my grandfather had built together for the last time.  My brother got in from Houston, and we all went to see her.  They had her wrapped in blankets, with only her face exposed.  I touched her....and she was cold.  I wept a little....but I had to keep it together for the sake of the rest of my family.  This was the choice that I made, because this is what she expected of me.

Then, it was on to the business of funeral planning.  I can hardly remember any of the next few days.  I spent quite a bit of time listening to music and walking around in a grief-filled haze.  All that I know is that when it was all done, she was laid to rest next to her husband, whom she had been missing since 1989.  It was a funeral fitting a woman like my grandmother.  To the point, no carrying on, no laying out in the aisle of the church.  No one threw themselves into the casket....Our tears silently spilled down our cheeks, tissues and handkerchiefs were passed around.  Family and friends spoke comforting words to us as we sat in the pew...patted our shoulders, hugged us tight...said how lovely everything was....how she's was looking down on us, pleased with how everything looked, how she would always be with us.....

We walked past her casket and gazed upon her one last time, then headed to the family car.  On the way to the cemetery, we passed by where the Service Station used to be.  It would be her last time to ride past it.  I looked out of the window of the limo and thought about all of the days and evenings that I had spent there with her and Granddaddy.  And how I would never get to feel that carefree again....about how my children, if I ever had them, would never know what it was like to play in the grease rack, or wash up for lunch in a bucket with powdered laundry soap.

She and Granddaddy are in The Garden of Prayer.

A wise friend once told me, "We are souls bound by temporary bodies.  We aren't meant to live in them forever."  No matter how much I wanted her to live forever with me here, I know that she's in a much better place now.  She does live forever, she will, that's the Promise that I know to be true.  My faith tells me so, even though my heart breaks.  Strangely enough, one of the most beautiful, peaceful things that I have ever witnessed, was this.  My grandmother's passing.  To watch someone go from being wracked by illness, to complete peace....that's how I know that there is a healing God.

Still, there's a void in my life that will never be filled.  I tell my girls stories about their great-grandparents.  Each of them, Katherine and Emily, have these little quirks that remind me of her.  Katie-Pie can hardly pay attention to a camera long enough to have her picture taken....Ems shakes her foot when she's really mad....and that's how I know that she lives....she's in my girls.  She's in my cooking and baking, in the attitude that I can give my husband in a split second.  She's in how I'll survey our neighborhood from the window with my hand on my hip.  She's in how fiercely I love my children and in hoe dedicated I am to my husband and my family.  I hope that she's proud.

I need for her to know that I miss her terribly.  I need for her to know that my life has never been the same since she left.  I need her to know that I love her more than I want her, and how I get it now.  That's a valuable lesson that she taught me.....to put your love for someone above your wants....it isn't easy, but it makes sense.

So, in the end, I'll make it through today.  I'll have some ice cream, watch some TV, breath, and take in some Son....because that's what I need today.  that, and my family.

Here's to you, Mama.  A woman among women.  Strong, graceful, beautiful, and forever alive.

The Swing

Oh, wow!  We're making good use of the swing again.  It's a "My Little Lamb" baby swing....great for getting a sleepy baby to actually go to sleep during the day.  We're careful to not overuse it, but we do use it.....Especially with our first....she LOVED being in her swing.

So now, I look at the swing....it had collected just a little dust since Katie-Pie's last time in it...but not so much that we couldn't easily clean it up with a Lysol wipe or two.  When Matt brought it down, shortly before Ems was born, I cried.  Not that I wasn't thrilled to be using it again, but because I remembered the last time I had put Sunshine in it for a nap.

She had finally dozed off in my arms, and I wanted to get some dinner started.  I eased off of the sofa and made my way over to the swing with my sleeping darling in my arms.  I could feel how much she had grown since her first time in the swing, and it made  my heart heavy.  My little baby wasn't so little anymore.  She barely fit in it in the beginning.....and now, as I gently placed her in the swing and buckled the seat belt, I could see her little legs practically dangling over the edge, and her arms waving over the sides.  She was still little, but not as tiny as she had been that first time.

I turned the swing on, and started the music....tears began to stream down my face as I knew that it was the last time she would be in it....I left her in the swing for a long time that day.  It was part of her infancy that I didn't want to give up.  She looked so fragile, and it was as if the swing and I were a team that could protect her from growing up.  I played the music over and over...watched the mobile dance above her in celebration of her life...it's own need to entertain the sleeping darling evident to anyone who watched.

I sat and stared at her, swaying gently, sleeping peacefully....and I just knew....this would be the last time that I would watch her slumber in the swing.....and it broke my heart.  She was growing up.  I love to watch her grow...she's doing exactly what she's supposed to be doing.....but it doesn't mean that it's easy for the parents...it's actually pretty rough for the parents.....but I still love it.

When naptime was over, I stopped the swing and turned off the music for the last time....I didn't know if we'd ever use the swing again, but I wanted the swing to know that I appreciated everything that it had done for my family...calmed a restless baby so that mommy could go to the bathroom, read the paper, clip a coupon or two....but not too much...she still preferred to be rocked in my arms, held next to my heart, sharing her warmth with me.

I patted the swing, thanked it, and moved it out of the way....it was time to make room for the next phase of Sugar Doodle's naptime life......which happened to be my arms, or Matt's arms, or the arms of any of the multitude of people who love her.  And that's the beauty of the changing of the seasons....while I was saddened by the passing of the swing, I was happy that I didn't have to share her naps with the swing any longer.

Cupcake's first time in the swing.

No words for how this picture makes me feel

And every time that Ems hears Katie-Pie's voice, she smiles.  True and genuine smile.  

I had one of THOSE moments....

You know the one...the "Bad Mommy Moment".  I had one just today.  It's been a looooooong time since the last one (thank goodness), and maybe it's the sleep deprivation, maybe it's the fact that it's the second day/night of newborn cluster feeding.  I haven't slept in a while...not decently.....but still, it's no excuse.

I almost lost my cool with my big girl.  And it wasn't fair to her that I got so frustrated.  You see, just a little while ago, we were so close to being potty trained.  Then, Ems arrived (ahead of schedule), and all of KP's potty progress went down the toilet....I sat her on the potty this morning and she started wailing like someone had cut her arm off.  That siren scream where all you can see are tonsils and she gets super high pitched (and you think that your ears are going to bleed), she starts hyperventilating, and in between sobs, she's screaming, "I'M DONE!!!  I'M DONE!!", all the while peeing in the potty but she doesn't realize it.  And for a moment, all that I wanted to do was say to her, "I am so over all of this stupid potty training!  Why won't you just calm down and use the stupid potty?!?!?"

Then, I took a deep breath and reminded myself of several things.  1) She's trying to adjust to having Ems around.  2) She's only 2.  3) It's one of the few things that she feels that she has control over right now.  4) Such thoughts are completely contrary to my style of being a mommy.  I'm out to savor as many moments of my kids' childhood as possible.  Why, at that moment in time, did I feel the need to rush her through this stage?  Because I'm tired of buying Pull-Ups and would really like for her to wear all of those cute girlie panties that I've bought for her?  Because I'm so wanting her to be an advanced, over-achieving kid who is always at the top of EVERYTHING?  Because I want people to say, "I'm not surprised that she's already fully potty trained.  She is super smart!"  (As if using the potty has anything to do with smarts.....)

I don't really have a good reason....h3ll, I don't have a reason at all.....everyone is just super-duper frustrated about all of these changes that have happened to our family at once.  (Now don't get me wrong....we love the chaos of having a toddler and a newborn.  I wouldn't change a thing!  We love these girls so much, I get choked up just thinking about it.)

Then, I stopped, took a deep breath and announced to hubby:  "She's not ready and we're all too frustrated. Let's just take a break from potty training."

And all three of us breathed a sigh of relief...it will be ok....she can use it when she wants to, but we're aren't going to hog-tie her to the potty.

Now, I'm going to ask her to forgive me.  Just because I'm ready for her to use the potty 100% of the time, doesn't mean that she is.  I'm going to back up, and let her do her thing....she won't go to high school in Pull-Ups (right?? In my current overly exhausted state, I could see me now scouring the internet for juniors' size 3 training pants for my 14 year old to wear under her skinny-jeans...I mean, I did just have a nightmare about her not being able to read and write at 7 and getting kicked out of high school....yes, high school at age 7).

Here's to hoping that I don't impart my own personal neuroses on my sweet little girl!  I just keep reminding myself, "She's two.  TWO!  Not 12, not 15....she's my sweet potato Katie-Pie.  And I'm going to enjoy all of the moments with her that I can....

Guess what happened.....

Since my last post.....

I know that it's been a while since I've updated the blog, but hey!!  I had a baby!

On June 20, we welcomed our precious Emily into our family. We are all doing well, and Big Sister is in love with Little Sister!  We couldn't be happier!!  She is as beautiful as her sister, a true joy to have, and a blessing just like Katie-Pie!  We love our girls!!

If Someone Can Explain What The Problem Happens To Be....

I'd be totally grateful!!!

You may be wondering what I'm talking about....even if you're not, I'm still going to tell you anyway....

It has to do with the General Mills commercial for Cheerios that features a family made up of a white woman, black man, and their daughter.

Here's a link to the commercial:

http://youtu.be/kYofm5d5Xdw

What's the controversy?  The fact that there even IS a controversy seriously irritates me (for a whole HOST of reasons!!)

In all honesty, here were my reactions to the commercial the first time that I saw it:

• Aww, she loves her Daddy and wants to take care of his heart!
• Who's going to sweep up the Cheerios?
• Does she know how much that box of Cheerios cost!?  
• Oh, wait!  They are featuring a 'biracial' couple with a 'biracial' child that actually LOOKS like she could be 'biracial'!!

I'll explain my surprise at the last point.  Too many times, especially here in the South, on those rare instances when a black-white biracial couple is shown with their child(ren), the kids look like me.  "All black".  Like one single drop of 'black blood' wipes out any chance of the kids looking like the white parent.  And that's a sham.  It perpetrates the stereotype that any amount of 'black blood' fouls a blood line and any children produced from that relationship will, at best, be crayon brown, but usually, you'll never even look sideways because you'll guess that they are just black kids.  Especially if they are seen with their black parent, then, it's normal.....but, if they are seen with their white parent, then that parent must have adopted them because they were born to a mother who was, for whatever reason, unable to care for them.  (Whew!  sorry about that rant....it could have been worse, I'm trying to avoid my own controversy here.)

It's the haters like the people calling to boycott General Mills that are going to make my children's lives difficult.  I really wish that they would just keep their hate to themselves and realize that there is not a person around who is a 'pure' anything!  

Ok, end of rant....That's all that I am going to say about this (for now).

To any extent, this (black) woman, her (white) husband and our beautiful (biracial) children will support General Mills, and continue to buy Cheerios because, damn it, that is the right thing to do.  If anyone has a problem with my support of the portrayal of a beautiful, loving family, then have your problem, just keep it to yourself....'cause if you let me know how you feel, be prepared to find out how I feel.

This Post Will Be Short 'N Sweet

What Pinterest 'said' would happen:

http://geektyrant.com/news/2009/11/30/star-wars-cakes-that-look-like-sculptures-yoda-at-at-and-jab.html

What REALLY happened:

No need to comment....feel free to laugh your a$$ of, if you'd like....I know that Amie and I did!  

And, we shall speak of this no more.

Thank you, and have a nice day.

Munchkin's Last Day of School

Ok, so I know that I've made a huge deal out of KP being in 'school' (it's actually the MDO program at our church, but hey....we call it school because they do school stuff there).

I was thinking back on her first day....I was an absolute and total wreck.  Hubby and I took her into the classroom, they took her from my arms, and shooed me out of the door.  Bye-bye!  Get out!  Don't linger!  See ya' at 1PM, sucka!

I was proud of the fact that I waited long enough to get outside and to the sidewalk before I started crying.  Then, Amie came out after MP was dropped off.  We stood together, hugging and crying, as Matt looked on.....our babies were with other people and we were having a hard time dealing with that.  Would they care for them as we would?  Would they ask them if they were hungry or thirsty?  Would they hold and cuddle them if they needed comfort?  Would they replace us?

I'm certain that these are all questions that moms (and dads) have, at one time or another, asked themselves when leaving their little ones in the care of someone else for the first time.  We're weren't the first, and I'm certain that we won't be the last ones to do so.  But, we left them with Ms. Sandy (who is an amazing woman) and we lived through that first day....there were tears and Taco Bell involved, and I think that we showed up back at school an hour early to pick them up, but we made it.  They lived, and so did we.

And now, it's their last day.  I look back at their pictures from the beginning of the year, and then look at them now.....my, my, my....how our babies have grown!  My Katie-Pie has enough hair for barrettes now.  She's almost a 3T, she's given up paci, she runs, jumps, sings, glues, colors, and loves school.  So much so, that she sometimes gets upset when it's time to go home.  And I'm ok with that.  I'm ok with that because I know that when she's there, they are loving on her in exactly the way that she needs.  I know that she loves them, and her teachers, who happen to be an AMAZING group of women, take excellent care of her.  They know her, and she knows them....that's important.  I'm so happy that she's learned that she can trust others; that others care about her and care for her, that there are people in this world that she can turn to.  It's a good thing....and easier to accept than I thought it would be.

And I look back at me.  The first time mommy, scared to entrust the care of her sweet baby to ANYONE else.  The standing-on-the-sidewalk-sobbing-until-she-can't-breathe-going-to-pass-out-bring-me-back-my-baby-completely-irrational-what-am-I-going-to-do-for-the-next-four-hours mommy....yeah, that was me.  And I've grown.... figuratively and literally.  Now, I'm the "TAG!!  You're it!!  See, ya after music, Baby, Mommy loves you."  After some time, and adjustment, I turned into the: I-must-get-to-the-grocery-store-make-it-to-four-other-stores-to-return-items-get-to-Sam's-start-dinner-in-the-crockpot-put-all-of-the-groceries-away-start-some-laundry-fold-some-laundry-get-the-oil-changed-and-pee-by-myself Mommy.  Not that I don't still miss my baby when she's away, but I have seen with my own eyes how much we have both blossomed since she has been in school.  She'll do summer school at our church, and in the fall, she'll return.  Also, this summer she has activities everyday:  swimming, summer school, Little Gym, Children's Museum, Houston Museum of Natural Science, Houston Zoo, and Story Time at the library.  Our summer is going to be loads of fun, as JellyBean is due to arrive in mid-July (we hope s/he waits that long).  I really can hardly wait...I mean, I can...but you get it.

So, I'm now off to pick my sweet girl up from her last day at school.  It's going to be hard for both of us when there's no school tomorrow, but we'll manage.  Swimming starts soon...then summer school....then all of the other stuff that we've planned....and we're going to have an insane amount of fun!  

OMG!!! What happened to the past few weeks?!?!

That's the question that I've been asking myself...a lot.....probably more than necessary.......

Let's see, I've had lots of appointments with my doctors, drank lots of water, had lots of BHCs, baked (quite a few) cakes, cookies and cupcakes for customers, had a little freak-out because my beloved mixer has started making funny noises, took baby girl to the ER and managed to finish a cake all in the same night, enjoyed my little girl's performance at her school's Spring Sing, and the poor baby was diagnosed with a sinus infection.  So yeah, we've been a little busy lately.  She also finally has enough hair to wear itty-bitty barrettes!  I've waited a little over two years for this!  I'm stoked, and she LOVES her hair bows!!

Here are some pictures

(have I mentioned that she's super-duper, insanely adorable?!)

We also took her to the Houston Museum of Natural Science for the first time.  She was cool with the dinosaurs (from above) but was a little wary of them when we walked into the Paleontology Hall.  We checked out the Faberge exhibit and had a great time.  I had originally planned on taking her to the zoo, as I was having to drag her to an appointment with my doctor.  Hubby decided to come with us (he had just come home from working the crazy shift), and then, it started raining, so the zoo was out and that's how the museum came in.

Then, here are some of the cakes that I've done over the past few weeks

Oohhh...and I missed some adorable Easter cuteness!!

Then, Mother's Day came and went, and I will say that I'm majorly bummed that I didn't get to take a picture with my baby girl on Sunday.  KP and hubby did give me flowers and a couple of cookbooks (which we've already used for dinners this week).  Cookbooks are always a good choice for me!

Now, I'm waiting for a Hello Kitty cake to bake, and working on my donation to a local Mom's Group.  I'll get that cake baked, the dishwasher is already running, a doctor's appointment in the morning, taking KP to get her ears pierced tomorrow and finishing up 14 dozen cupcakes and decorating the HK cake for Saturday.  My mom is here to toddler wrangle, but I've noticed that the BHCs are picking up again.  I keep telling JB that s/he's still got ATLEAST 6 more weeks to bake and that there's no need to rush....we'll see what s/he thinks as this evening progresses.  I'll say that I anticipate some anxious times tomorrow for the simple fact that tomorrow is Friday, and everything seems to happen on Friday!

And that's the latest update.  Now, off to check on my HK cake!