How NOT to spend Mother's Day

In a room, on a bed, in a hospital wheel chair holding a sobbing 2-year-old whose tears easily broke a dozen hearts Sunday.

Holding her still, so still, so not to disturb the injured left arm.

Watching her eyes roll back in her head from the pain, from the exhaustion of the day and from the crying.

Reluctantly helping nurses and doctors move her just so to figure out what was wrong and how to fix her and how to wrap her small arm in a splint and how to get her small body to lay flat on an X-ray table.

Teaching for the first time what a hospital is, what an emergency room doctor is, what the kind nurses will do and how she was just born there two years ago.

Shhing her, talking to her, hearing her say boo-boo and trying not to cry too much, trying not to appear too scared, trying not to think the worst, whatever that is in a moment of torture.

Then, seeing all her pain disappear with a simple twist of her arm by a very smart, heroic doctor who felt that elbow pop right back into place and assured us she would feel better in a couple minutes.

Watching the smile return to her face, again, and how she searches her arm up and down for the now missing boo-boo that kept her down and out for two hours. Letting her and her sister gleefully eat cheese puffs and chocolate stuffed cookies for the first time and not feeling an ounce of guilt and never feeling more happy about junk food and the pleasure it carries with it.

Telling yourself that rough housing with daddy and twin sister is OK, it is bound to happen, that boo-boos happen. This is life now. This is motherhood. This is Mother's Day -- every day. There are no holidays -- except every day, to be here witnessing human life and two childhoods unfold and holding your breath and screaming in your hands and closing your eyes to try and block some of it out.

All in a Mother's Day, I suppose.

Happy?

Undoubtedly.

Tired?

Immensely.



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Review: Were You Raised by Wolves?

Check this out. Pretty cool book if you need a graduate gift anytime soon.



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Review: That Baby CD/DVD

Please check out my review today for That Baby CD and DVD set. I must be a kid because I am so digging this set!!

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Catching a shooting star

Dear Jadyn and Liana:

I've known for a week that this letter was coming your way. But, it's taken six days to get here, to this point when I could write it with confidence, with honesty and with peace in my heart.

You see, I really thought that I had this motherhood thing all worked out long before you even arrived. I didn't think I needed to meet you to know how life would be with you here.

I was wrong. I'm making it all up as we go. I might pretend some days to know more than others. There other times, like this week, when I look like I do not know what I am doing at all. In some cases, also this week, I might seem like I do not want to be here at all.

I do, though. Very much. Maybe even too much, which is why I rarely leave your sight.

I whisper in your ears all the time that I will never leave you, always love you, here for you always. And, I mean it. I mean it more than anything.

It is with all of this in mind that I tell you today that I will be returning to work full-time later this summer, I will drop this life we've created together and bring us back to a new starting point where we don't know which way is up.

I do it not for me. I do it for you, for our family. Because I know in my heart it is the right thing to do. It is so. There is nothing to question other than leaving you in the care of others and I'm going to put my faith in this as well.

I've been reading about Personal Legends just for this purpose. I'm still learning, trying to figure out what my personal legend is and why I've been tapped for this job right now when I wasn't even looking beyond today's spilled milk.

You see, this job is not just a job. It's a chance, an opportunity to be a part of trying to make the world a better place for you. For your right now. For your tomorrow. For your friends tomorrows. For when you become a woman, a wife, a mother.

And since jobs like this do not drop in a chocolate-stained mother's lap often, I know enough about personal legends, serendipity, life's chances and luck to know that I should grab this opportunity and go with it. I'm going to ride the wave holding on tightly to you as I flow along, making it all up. If we end up at the end standing side by side with a rainbow ahead of us, then we'll know it was right. If the ride is too bumpy or too scary or too wrong, we can fix it and get things right back to where we are now, where everything is the same and changing all the while.

The funny thing is that to this very week in my life, everything was planned out perfectly. Things didn't always go as planned, but many things did. Some things, including your father and you, came a little later than I planned. But, it all came and I always felt I helped made it happen. But, this week, I actually realized that it's only been with the help of the universe that I've been able to reach these treasures.

It's a curve ball, for sure. I thought you and I would grow up together. And we will; I'll just be letting you grow up with some other people as well. I know you will thrive; I saw it in your eyes today playing with your friends Noah and Logan in a bucket of water. You need to be around other kids; to learn the silliness of childhood, learning to dunk your head in to life and blow bubbles -- things I couldn't make up if I tried.

Everything I've become since the day you were born will remain. The essence of our family, of our souls, the connection we've built will still be here each morning when you wake and each night when you lie down for sleep. We'll cram everything else -- all the art projects and field trips -- into all the other parts of the week.

Basically, I'm throwing it all out the window, hoping that someone in charge of this life will hang on to it all and keep us safe.



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Aliens have taken over

-- pshhhhhhhhhh --

Something. Is. Not. Very. Good. Here.

Little. Strange. People. Living. In. House.

Do. Not. Understand. Them.

Worried. I. Can't. Make. It. Another. Day.

Torture. Has. Begun.

Dear Universe:

I've been going through the motions of this ride called Motherhood this week and just about each step has made me question if, perhaps, my house and life has been invaded by sources from another planet.

These are not my children. They can't be mine. There's no way they came out of me.

No, sirs or madams. Please send me back my sweet toddlers, who threw tantrums and cried only half the day -- not all day.

Please, I beg you, return my little angels in one piece and statements like, "Just Shoot Me Now," shall never be uttered again. I swear on your spacey-aged music.

For if you leave these "foreign objects" here any longer I am afraid I will need my own gadget to ride me out of here, to a place where I will suddenly understand the language, where "no" means no, "yes" means yes and we can all pick one or the other instead of staying somewhere in the middle of yesnoyesnoyesno land.

And the hitting. I'm sorry, but hitting, pinching, slapping, kicking and throwing should mean time out and time out should mean stop what you just did and that means don't do it again -- NOT two seconds later.

And, please take with you all articles of clothing that look remotely cool enough for 2 toddlers to want to wear at the same time. And shove our ONE swing in that vehicle of yours, too, because if I have to drag another child out of it to put another one into it, well, let's just say that meteors will be the least of your troubles.

Finally, if you bring my girls back, I am sure that I will at least be able to keep a shiny, happy smiling face on until 8/ 8:15 a.m. which I understand this week has been a bit of a stretch.

I have tried my best to take care of your space children, though I understand you may think otherwise. At least I get them out of their beds in the morning as they cry frantically for their daddy, who is at work and will not be home for 12 hours. At least I hug them and apologize for the fifth time that hour that we do not have a car today and no we can't go for a ride. And, I swear that I will not lose my temper, again, when they are brawling on the kitchen floor and I haven't even poured the breakfast cereal in the bowl.

Please. Beam. That. Earthling. Who. Thought. I. Could. Handle. Two. 2-year-olds.

Please. Send. Help.

--pshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh --



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I've been Skirted!!

Remember that list I wrote a while back about what to buy mommy blogger's for Mother's Day ... it's been discovered! Be sure to check it out and send it along to friends this holiday.

You can see the Skirt listing here. If you haven't connected yourself with Sk'rt, you should, and do so before they change the name, which will be very soon. It's just for us.

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Cirque du Two

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