Stop being a Scrooge

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Christmas is less than two weeks away. 

I'm excited.  I love Christmas. I can't wait to see my kids faces when they come downstairs Christmas morning.  I can't wait to have our first holiday in our new home.

There's something magical about Christmas.  Christmas Eve, even more so.  The anticipation.  The decorations.  The chatting, the family, the friends.  The Christmas tree.

It makes me sad when people are negative about Christmas.

"Ugh, Christmas is going to be here so soon."

"I can't wait till Christmas is over."

"Don't even talk to me about Christmas."

Why?  Why are you so against this wonderful time of year? Did something terrible happen to you on Christmas once?  Are you holding resentment, anger, hurt because of the holiday?

Then I hear the people who are annoyed because they "have to spend time with my family."

This is my first Christmas without my mom. 

My mom loved Christmas.  She loved buying gifts, she loved decoration, she loved wearing festive, sparkly shirts.  She spent way too much money.  She did way too much.  She loved it.  There were 17 containers of indoor decorations in her basement.  Probably about 10 in the garage for outdoor decorations.  It was her favorite time of year.

My heart breaks that she will not be spending Christmas with me this year.  That I haven't gotten to hear her excitement over the gift she got me, that she wants to tell me, but that she will wait.  How much fun she had shopping for PJ and Maggie.  And her asking for help when finding something online.

I had 32 wonderful Christmases with my mom.  She taught me the spirit of the season, the spirit of giving.  She taught me how to make Christmas amazing for my own kids.

So enjoy your time with your family.  Appreciate them in all their craziness.  And family isn't always blood.  Whoever your family is, be grateful you can spend Christmas with them.

Merry Christmas in heaven Mom.

The Right Time.

People are always talking about the "right time" to do things. 

The right time to tell a secret.

The right time to say I love you.

The right time to get married.

The right time to have kids.

I have a dear, dear friend, who's struggling with the "right time" to have kids idea.  She's an amazing person, a fantastic friend, and I have no doubt she will be a phenomenal mother.

I gave her a piece of advice today.   Our friendship is not a mushy mushy one.  We are close; part of our draw to each other was our sarcasm, our mutual annoyance for things, and our fierce loyalty to our friends.  But I told her this:

 You're never going to be ready. There's never going to be a perfect time, a perfect moment. Babies change everything, but they make you look at life differently. They make you love your husband differently. And they make you feel differently. It's the most amazing thing in the world, and there's no good reason to delay that.

To which she replied something along the lines of "bitch, why you gotta make me cry?  That was beautiful."  (paraphrased, because what she actually said is for my eyes only. ;))

I feel like I've aged 20 years in the past 5.  I've loved so much; I've also lost. 

I'd be nothing today without my kids.  My kids were the ones who got me through the hard times.  The ones who could make me smile when I felt like I couldn't go on.  The ones who made me get out of bed in the morning, and the ones, if even only for a minute, could make me forget the sadness.  Forget the pain.  Forget the loss.

My mom waited for the right time to do a lot.  She would tell me that she and my stepdad were finally going to go to Italy one day, when the time was right.  That she'd get a Movado watch, when it was the right time. 

She ran out of time.  She didn't know this would happen, of course.  But she did.  She was the strongest woman I have ever known and she battled her illness with everything she had.  But the one thing she couldn't battle was the loss of time.

We need to stop waiting for the right time.  If you love someone, tell them.  If you have a secret you need help with, tell someone.  If you want to be a mother, be one.  Don't wait.

The right time is the time when it happens.

Rudolph

I have no idea where she gets it...

This morning.

Me:  Come on guys, let's go upstairs.

Maggie, hands shaking back and forth, then on hips:  Wait, wait, wait.  Sighs exhasperatedly.

The attitude this little one has.

No idea where she gets it.

Oh. 

PJ is having trouble understanding the concept of an advent calendar.

PJ:  Mom, I open another chocolate?

Me:  No baby, we do ONE a day.

PJ: Oh.

Five seconds later.

PJ:  Mommy, I open another chocolate NOW??

Me:  No baby tomorrow.

PJ:  Oh.

Move on to the chimney we have where you take out a stick a day, and Santa slowing gets closer and closer to the fireplace.

PJ:  Mommy, I make Santa come into the fireplace?

Me:  No sweetie, just one a day, tomorrow.

PJ:  Mommy, I take another number NOW?

Me:  Sigh.

It's gonna be a long month.

Crying is not a sign of weakness...

A year ago today, I posted this.

She's been gone 9 months now. Nine months and 6 days. I think back to that day.

We left the house because I wanted to see my kids. Because they had to be picked up from the sitter. Because I didn't want to watch my mother, the once beautiful, vibrant, never still woman who raised me, take her last breath.

The call came while we were inside getting the kids.

I knew it was coming. I cried.

We drove the 10 minutes home.

I opened the door to the car and got out. I crumbled.

Thank goodness John was there to catch me.

I sobbed, outside the car, in the arms of my husband, while my children watched me from inside.

Maggie probably didn't get it.

But PJ did. He knew I was sad.

When we finally went in the house, he said "Mommy, are you sad because Grandma is sick?"

"Yes, baby. Grandma was very sick and now she's in heaven."

"You miss her mommy?"

"Yes baby."

"Don't be sad Mommy."

And my then nearly three year old son wipe my tears away and hugged me.

For a long time, I tried to hide my tears from them. But after that? I didn't. Because crying isn't a sign of weakness. It's a sign of trying too hard to be too strong for too long.

  I was strong enough.

It's that time of year...(a giveaway)

When it hits you.

Panic sets in.

What will I do THIS year?

Is it worth it?

How many do I need?

That's right.  I'm talking about...

HOLIDAY CARDS.

Last year, I got our Holiday Photo Cards from Tiny Prints. 

Seriously, isn't it adorable??? I got these cards for FREE because Tiny Prints sponsored my post.  And they are sponsoring this post as well.  But even if they hadn't, I would have still gotten these cards.  They are adorable, well made, and I have never gotten so many compliments on them!

Tiny Prints has a bunch of special offers right now --   you should absolutely go check them out!!
Christmas Cards

Also, one lucky reader will receive $50 off any order.  All you have to do to be entered in the giveaway is comment on this post.  For additional entries into the giveaway, comment on other posts (from any time!) and you will get one extra entry per comment, up to a total of 5 entries.

Last day to enter the giveaway is Monday, November 12.

HAPPY CARD SHOPPING!!

The Two Moons

The other night, PJ let the dog out.  Into the backyard, out the back door.

"Mommy!! I see the moon!! Do you want to come see it?"

"Sure buddy, we can see it from the front door."

We step outside.

"See?  There's the moon!"

"Oooh cool.  Come here Mommy!"

Grabs my hand, runs out the back door.

"There's one here too!"

:)

Do you?

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Do you know that I can't help but think of you every time I walk to work in the morning, knowing you used to walk the same walk?

Do you feel my heart break when I hear a song that reminds me of you?

Do you know that a little piece of me aches and cries when someone says Maggie looks like you?

Do you see me struggle without you?

Do you hear me talking to you? Asking for help? Just saying hello?

Do you know that I don't like to go to the cemetery because I hate seeing your name in stone?

Do you know that I hate that I feel like no one understands?

Do you see me hurting, aching, and keeping it inside?

Do you want to reach out and hug me and tell me it will all be okay?

Do you know that with each day that passes, I miss you more?

Do you feel my anger?  Do you resent me when it's directed at you?

Do you know that I will never, ever get over you?

Where's my cape?

There comes a time in every little boy's life where he loves superheroes.

In PJ's life, that time is now.

Spiderman.  Batman. TMNT. 

I bought him a set of Batman pajamas. They have a cape.

He spent all night last night "flying."

"LOOK MOMMY!! I'm flying!"

"WATCH DADDY!! Watch me fly!!"

Run into the room, slide across the floor.

Repeat.

Took Batman's cape off for bed.

Woke up this morning.

"Where's my cape?"

Hello...is there anybody out there?

I've been a very bad bloggy friend.  I can't believe so many of you have stuck around.  I thank you.

Many things have happened in my lack of blogging days. 

I turned 33.

My baby girl turned 2.  Yes, my beautiful Maggie turned 2 years old.

And my stepdad bought a condo and we are moving November 23.  The day after thanksgiving.  I cannot wait to move. 

Although it's been rough.  Going through my mom's stuff.  Giving it away, because the woman was a size 2 on her fattest day, and I haven't been a size 2 since 1995.

But my loves.  Are amazing.

PJ has full on conversations.  He remembers stuff.  He's totally into the new TMNT (if you don't know what that is, you are not a child of the 90s).  He loves superheroes, especially spiderman.  And he's a huge Bears fan.

Maggie?  Says more things than I can say.

"I'll be right back you guys."

"Mommy, I dropped my blanekt."

"I want to watch Dora!"

"I go with you to get food Mommy?"

She amazes me every day.

So I'm going to try to be a better bloggy friend.  I missed you all.

You're welcome.

More proof that Morgan Freeman should narrate everything.  Include NFL football games.

It's okay, Moms.

In the past three months, a cousin, my sister in law, and a friend have had babies.

Their second, third and first babies, respectively.

All of them started out with the intention to breastfeed.

All of them have since stopped.

This has caused feelings of failure.  Of not being good enough.  Of self doubt.  Of sadness.  Of feeling they are not a good mom.

Let me say this.

Being a mother is an amazing thing.  Holding that little baby in your arms, knowing that you would do absolutely anything to ensure their happiness, health and safety.  Never imagining you could love someone this much, and then waking up tomorrow and realizing you love them even more. 

Being a mother is rewarding.  Seeing your child smile at you for the first time.  Watching them grow, learn, achieve.  Getting hugs, kisses, unconditional love.

Being a mother is hard.

There are things that you just do.  You don't even think about it.  They become second nature.  And although we all know this, we judge each other. 

It's okay if you can't breastfeed.  It's okay if you formula feed.

It's okay if you don't do the laundry, or the dishes, or you spend all day in your jammies and your hair in a messy bun.

It's okay if you cry.  It's okay if when you cry, you have no idea why.

It's okay if you take a shower, and you hear the baby crying, and you don't rush to finish because you need that 10 minutes of hot water pulsating on your back.

It's okay if you put on the TV so you can have 10 minutes to complete something you need to take care of.

It's okay if you desperately ache for a night out with your girlfriends, only to find an hour into it you desperately miss your baby.

It's okay if an hour into it, you don't.

It's okay if you crave adult conversation. 

It's okay if you have a drink, even if you're breastfeeding, because lord knows one drink isn't going to make your baby drunk.

It's okay if you go to the grocery store with spit up on your shirt.

It's okay if you miss the days where going out did not require finding a babysitter, making bottles, preparing clothes, and it's okay if it pisses you off that your husband still doesn't have to do these things.

There is nothing wrong with you.  You are not a failure.  You gave birth.  You incubated and housed a living person in your body for nine months. You have up your body to this person.  You brought this person into the world and sometimes our bodies don't work the way we want them to.

And that's okay.  Because at the end of the day, you are a mother.  Because you can't or choose not to breastfeed, use disposable diapers over cloth, don't have them enrolled in newborn mommy & me classes,  doesn't mean you love your kids less.  It doesn't mean you are a lesser mother than those who do these things. 

What it means is that you love your baby.  It means you are doing whatever it takes to be the best mother you can be, in the way that works for you and your baby.

And that's okay.

New Beginnings...

My SIL gave birth to my beautiful baby niece on Friday.  Meet Ava!

Both mama and baby are doing well.

There's a lot of drama going on in our family.  Well, my married into family.  John & I are the stable, calm ones -- if you can believe it.  However, because of this, we are also the ones being put in the middle.

It breaks my heart.  There's so much tension, judgment, and anger between my MIL and my SIL and her husband.  I just want to scream at them to stop this, that life is too short, that you never know what may happen.  I want us all to get along, to enjoy each other's company.  

To feel like a family.

I want my kids to grow up knowing what's it like to be close with family.  They have little family on my side, and lots of family on their dad's side.  But this vendetta, this need to constantly bicker, must end.

The children end up suffering.  The amazing, beautiful, precious beings we love so much.

Let it go.

USA! USA! USA! (this should be all that's allowed to come out of Ryan Lochte's Mouth

The Fierce Five?  Amazing.

Gabby Douglas?  Fantastic.

McKayla Maroney?  Unbelievable.

Jordyn Wieber?  Classy and outstanding.

Missy Franklin, Alison Schmitt, Michael Phelps, Tyler Clary?  KICK ASS.

Ryan Lochte?  Douche bag.

Don't get me wrong.  The boy can swim.  And he's pretty to look at.  But for the love of the fucking Olympics, SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH.

He can't spell either. 

Tweet:

Missing my 10 year reunion for high school this weekend. Time flys :( but I guess it's okay this time ;) #Jeah

He wears these shoes:

Yes, you are seeing it correctly.  They say Lochte on his left foot and Ryan on the right.  And they have his trademark "Jeah" (that's "yeah" with a slighly tinged J sound)

I must say, I think Ryan should be on the left foot because technically isn't that your name backwards otherwise?

I'm sure you've all seen the American flag grill.

That being said.  He needs to just swim and look pretty.  In the meantime, Olympic swimmer fans, please direct your attention to

Nathan Adrian.

USA! USA! USA!

Cribless

My SIL is giving birth to my fourth and last niece or nephew sometime in the next week to 10 days.  We offered her the crib and dresser/changing table that PJ and Maggie used.

Which meant we needed to get Maggie into a big girl bed.

So we bought her bed. 

And I bought her Tinkerbell bedding. 

John disassembled the crib. 

I cleaned out the dresser.

And now, our house is cribless.

I'm not sad.  I'm happy.  My babies are growing up so fast but this age, the toddler stage, is awesome.  Especially with PJ - we can have conversations, he notice things, is aware of what's going on, remembers things, can express his feelings and thoughts.

My baby girl is now a big girl.  In a big girl bed. 

Time flies.

The Dance

I'm glad I didn't know...the way it all would end.  The way it all would go.

Our lives are better left to chance.  I could have missed the pain.  But I'd have had to miss the dance.

This song played at my mom's funeral.

Five months today Mama.

I fucking miss you.

See it in Stone

Miranda Lambert's "Over You" came out on radio play in mid-February, right before my mom passed.

My mom was cremated.  We didn't bury her ashes till June.

There's a line in the song

It really sinks in, you know, when I see it in stone.

I think of this line often.

I'm not a cemetery person.  I choose to remember those I've lost in happy ways -- not buried in dirt. My grandmother, who helped raise me, who I adored with my whole heart, passed away in 1997.  Not once have I visited her grave.

However, my husband is.

And my father-in-law, who passed 13 months before my mom, is buried at the same cemetery as my mom.

Four spots away.

So when he wants to go to the cemetery, I feel it would be hurtful and disrespectful to not go "visit" my mom.

I break down every time.

This time, as I got on my hands and knees and tried to make sense of the name carved in the marble, I saw something that looked like a piece of paper, a thick piece of paper.

I picked it up.

It was a card.  A card, with her name in a heart.  From my stepdad.  For their anniversary, no doubt.  Eighteen years on June 25.

It broke my heart.

John helped me up, and back to the car.  Upon approaching, as he does often when he sees my tears, PJ said,

"Mommy's sad Daddy?  She misses grandma."

And after I got into the car "Mommy, no sad.  Grandma's in heaven.  I love you."  Followed by a smile.

And Maggie, "NO CRY MOMMY!"

And how I want to tell them I don't only cry for my loss, but for their loss of a grandmother who would have made them feel loved and amazing every day of their lives.  A grandmother who would have done anything for them -- and did in the short time she had to enjoy them -- and who would have stopped at nothing to make them the happiest kids on earth.

One day I'll tell them.  One day.  And my heart will break all over again.

The Titles Moms Have

"MOM".

It's a very little word that has so many descriptions.

Diaper changer.
Boo-boo kisser.
PB&J Maker.
Bath giver.
Biggest fan.
Favorite person.
Toy fixer.
Potty trainer.
ABC teacher.
Story reader.
Bedtime captain.
Make it all better mommy.

A great website, "Mommy at Heart" is taking some of these jobs moms do and making t-shirts.  And not only that, they are donating $5 from every t-shirt sold to a great cause.

Each month, they find a new nonprofit organization that focuses on issues affecting women and children worldwide and partner with them to raise funding and social awareness for their cause.

I am personally a fan of this one: http://www.mommyatheart.com/product/scary-monster-hunter

Which one would you like?  And now, till August 3, my readers get a special discount of 15% off if they buy a t-shirt from this great website.

Use this code:  LISASRDRS4WORLDCHANG


(I don't normally plug things like this on my blog, but the shirts are super cute and it's great to see charities be helped).

hello, old friends, if you're still here.

It's been awhile.

I haven't felt like writing much.  I've been dealing with my mom's death and dealing with issues in my marriage.

I'm hoping to make a comeback.

PJ and Maggie are wonderful and amazing.

Maggie says more words everyday. Her big thing now is "my turn" and "I help."

PJ loves to yell "NEVER!" when we ask him to do something (see Lightning McQueen, Cars 2, when (SPOILER ALERT) Mater is trying to get away from him because he has the bomb on him).

They are both very much aware of my sadness.

If I cry for any reason, PJ will come up to me, take my head in his hands and say,

"You sad mommy?"

I usually nod.

"You miss Grandma?" 

I nod again.

"No sad Mommy.  I miss Grandma too. She's in heaven."

The ache and hole in my heart gets bigger everyday that passes without my mom.  I didn't know we'd say goodbye so soon.  I think back to my bridal shower, my wedding, the birth of my son.  I would have laughed or hit you if you told me my mom wouldn't make it to his 3rd birthday.  To my 5th wedding annviersary.  To her 56th birthday.  To her 18th wedding anniversary.

The hole will never be filled. 

But I have two wonderful, amazing, sweet, unbelieveable children.  That remind me that my life is more than worth living.  That remind me that no matter what, there is always something for me to come home to, something for me to get up for, something for me to smile or laugh about.  They show me that you can find happiness in sadness, you can find love in anger.

I love you, PJ and Maggie.

And you Mommy.  I love you and I will never, ever, stop.

Come by.

I'm tinkering with tumblr.  I know you want to visit me.

http://imwhatwilliswastalkinbout.tumblr.com/

Hugs,

LOG

A PSA

This morning, PJ asked for toast.  Our toaster is in the basement because is our small ridiculous kitchen there's no place for it.  I went downstairs to make it, both kids trailing behind me.

I get upstairs. PJ is upstairs, and slam.

I turn around.  He closed the door on Maggie.

I go to open the door.

He locked the door.

From the side that Maggie is on.

And she can't open locks yet.

Cue the freaking.

I start yelling.

PJ starts crying.  Scared as shit.  Yelling "MAGGIE MAGGIE!"  (I feel bad I scared him but i was scared too!)

I find a screwdriver.

I take the doorknob off.

I can't get to the lock.

The tools are all in the basement. 

I frantically search for a small flat screwdriver.

I find one.

I unlock the door.

Maggie is smiling.

So, my friends, your PSA is this:

Do not let your 3 year old come up stairs in front of your 20 month old if there is a lock on said door.  Oh, and taking off the doorknob won't unlock the door.

PYHO: Sugar Coating

I'm not much of a sugar coater.  I used to be -- there was a point in my life where I kept things to myself, never let people see me mad, or sad, or upset.  I was a doormat, and got walked on.  It lead to me being in a horrible relationship that was verbally and slightly physically abusive.  It took me nearly six years to see that I was worth more, and to get the courage to go.

Ever since then, I tell it like it is.  I am not intentionally mean -- if what I am going to say might hurt or isn't easy for the person to hear, I try to be gentle, but I don't mince words.  If you're being an asshole, I'm going to tell you.  If you're being overdramatic, I'm going to tell you.  If you need to suck it up and put on your big girl panties, I'm going to tell you.

My best friend in the world has always been this way, though she lacked the sensitivity when we were younger.  Now she's gained some of my sensitivity, and I've taken on some of her bluntness.  We've evened each other out, it seems, after been friends for nearly 17 years now -- although we never did even out our bodies by giving her some of my butt and me some of her boobs, but alas.

Most of the time, the people in my life appreciate my bluntness.  Sometimes, they come to me because they know I will be honest, I will level with them, and that's what they need.  I've been thanked many a time for being honest.  I am always there.  I am nothing if not a loyal, devoted friend.  A few people in my life, no matter how gently I put things, take them wrong -- if it's not what they want to hear, they get upset.

Here's the thing.  I'm not going to tell you what you want to hear, unless it's the truth.  I'm not going to lie to you to spare your feelings over things of importance.  I'm gonna let you know if you're being stupid - because you're smart and better than that.  I'm going to let you know if you are making as ass of yourself -- because you are strong and independent.  And no matter what happens, I'm going to be here for you if you fall, if you rise, or if you need to bullshit.

That is my pledge to you, my friends.  I will always be honest, I will always be straight with you, and I will always be loyal.

If you can't handle it, our friendship might not last.  PYHO

Things on TV and Movies that Never Actually Happen That Way

1.  Sex.

The sex on tv and movies is always hot, intense, and ridiculously unrealistic.  There's always sexual tension.  Someone grabs someone and passionately kisses them.  Perhaps they do it right there where they are; if not they kiss and grope each other all the way to a door, which one of them will desperately try to hope while maintaining the kiss/grope fest.  Once inside, their clothes will start to come off - until the brief pause where they stop and look each other with those romantic eyes.  Then the woman with wrap her legs around the man as he carries her to the bed, where the foreplay he will partake in will be unimaginable.

As desperate as I want to have sex like this, in reality, there's a couple minutes of foreplay, some making out, taking off your own clothes, and praying that the kids don't wake up.

2.  The Romantic Proposal/Date/Anniversary.

First, hundreds and hundreds of candles, set up to burn perfectly and without any harm of starting anything on fire.  Perhaps rose petals leading the person to the other.   Maybe there's some sentimental photo book or video that the ridiculously romantic man has made for his beloved.  Then there's an amazing speech and a sweet kiss.

How does the first candle not burn out by the time the last candle is lit??

3.  Birth

Very pregnant woman -- most likely past her due date.  Suddenly, her water breaks.  There's a race to the car.  Of course, there's traffic.  The car will then be abandoned in the loading area of the ER, where of course, it will still be there once all is well and the baby has been born.  The woman will undoubtedly grab her husband or break his hand.

I think something like 10% of women's water breaks before labor starts.  Mine did with PJ, but that's rare.  And we parked in the ER and walked into the ER like normal people.  There's also this awesome thing called an epidural.

4.  Work

Did you ever notice people are rarely at work unless the show is based on the workplace? I mean, I love Friends and I mean LOVE, but they were at the coffee house all hours of the day.   Every now and then we'd see a scene with one of them at work, but for the love of god, can we have an episode where someone says "THANK GOD IT'S A THREE DAY WEEKEND?"  I mean, we already know you make millions of dollars, can't you pretend your character works a normal job?

5. Kids/Babies

Birth of child is usually a season ending episode.  Then we may see a couple more episodes with the baby.  Then POOF!  Where is the child?  Who is watching the child?  Are they good on their own?  Do they just sleep and eat and are content not pulling things off shelves that can hurt them?  And if a child is a regular on the show, the mom never seems to have any issues going anywhere without the kids.  There's always a sitter or someone. 

I'm sure there are more.  And I tell you, of all of them?  I really want #1.

The People Who Make Me Want to Stick Forks in My Eye.

Some of these people are sometimes friends of mine.  Sometimes they are people who I communicate with simply out of nosiness.  Either way, ready the forks.

1.  The "I make profound quotes my FB status that are detailed enough that you have some idea what's going on, but vague enough that you don't really know" attention seeking whores on FB.

Here's a tip. If you want me (and the rest of FB) to know, spell it out.  For example

"I'm so happy that I figured out how awesome flogging is" (thank you, 50 SOG).

2.  The "I'm so annoyed that I have to pack for my fourth tropical vacation this year and my husband doesn't do anything to help me" hoity-toity co-worker/frenemy.

It's going to be more difficult for you to pack after I throat punch you.

3.  The "I have so much money and can spend $300 on a pair of shoes once a week because I shop at Costco and bring my lunch to work every day, not because I'm rich."

Hey asshole.

It's because you are rich and the fact that you won't admit it makes you look like an even bigger asshole than you already are.

4.  The "Ugh, I can't believe she's letting her kid scream like that.  When I have kids, they will never do that" annoying bitch.

When you have kids, I'm gonna see your $300 puked on shoes and your Costco cart filled with diapers, and then I'm gonna point at you and laugh as your child wraps up your legs with the glorified dog leash you have attached to his waist.

5.  People who love running.  There's nothing wrong with them.  I have plenty of friends who run.  But unless someone is chasing me, I'm not running.  And even then, if they don't have a weapon, I might just walk briskly.

6.  People that can't drink tap water.  Now, if you live somewhere where your tap water is nasty, fine. But I live in CHICAGO.  We have some of the finest tap water in the world.  Stop being an asshole.

7.  The adults at the zoo that block the kids from seeing the animal.  Guess what?  If the 3 foot tall toddler stands in front of you, you can still see. 

8.  Whoever's idea it was to make red left turn arrows.

Sadness.

I haven't been around.

I'm at a loss.

I can't get things back to normal.

I'm still a damn good mom.

But I'm sad.

Mother's Day.  A mother's day where I didn't buy a card for my mother.  Where, upon going to the cemetery so John could visit my FIL, I discovered her grave marker was down.

I can't seem to keep my marriage going well.  A couple good days, then shit hits the fan.

I was made to feel guilty today because I don't make PJ and Maggie get out of the car and visit their grandfather's grave.  Because I don't think a 3 year old and a 1 year old should have to learn to visit their grandfather they will never remember by staring at a marker in the ground.

We'll bury her ashes in a couple weeks.

We've made the decision to forego a ceremony, we'll just be there as they are putting in their final resting place.

We need to move into the house.

My stepdad doesn't bring it up, but when we mention "when we move" in conversation, he doesn't object or say anything.

I need her to make sure this goes smoothly.  We need that house.  Badly.  More than anything right now.

I feel worse now.

I cannot believe she's gone.  I am scared I'll forget the sound of her voice.  I am scared I'll forget before she was sick.  I want to remember what it's like when I was waiting for the next bad thing to happen.

I miss her.

This is why we are failing.

People often wonder why America is failing as a nation.

I'll tell you why.

One of the "trending" topics on various internet news sites?

Snooki has lost her tan for her baby.

This is important to people.

I am PROUD to say I have never seen an episode of Jersey Shore.  What I know of Snooki and the rest of those morons I've learned from Conan.

These people get paid for being assholes on tv.  For being so ridiculously stupid and unbelievable.  And because people watch them, continuously, they gain fame for nothing.

I wish the story of the little girl, Isabel Celis,  from Arizona who was taken from her bed was "trending." Maybe then someone would be able to help find her.  This story shakes me to my very core.  A parents' worst nightmare.  This, in my opinion, is even worse than your child getting taken from you at a store or park.  This is from their OWN HOME. In her bedroom.  A place, where you assume your children are safe.

Since hearing this story, I've checked and rechecked the locks on the kids windows.  I've given them extra kisses good night.  I've checked on them in the middle of the night.  My heart aches for these parents.

But the majority of the people in this country, when asked who Isable Celis is, will look at you blankly.  Ask them who Snooki is, and they'll go on and on.

This is why we are failing.

PYHO: Judging Death

I've become extremely judgmental about death.

When you lose a parent too soon, it changes how you see lots of things.  I never imagined it would change how I feel about death.

My mom was 55 years old.  She should have lived another 30, at least another 20 years.  She died from a terrible, dreadful disease.  I lost my mother at 32 years old.  My children will never remember her.

So when someone loses a grandparent who was in their 80s, or even 70s, yes, I feel sympathy.  It hurts when you lose someone you love.

But I judge.  I just want to scream "Why are you so fucking sad?  At least they were old!  At least they lived to see retirement age, to see their grandchildren grow up, so possibly have great grandchildren.  They lived a long full life!"

It angers me.

I don't think people shouldn't grieve when someone elderly they love dies.  But part of me wants them to realize that they are lucky that this person lived as long as they did.  That their grandmother was at their kindergarten graduation, their 10th birthday party, their high school graduation, their wedding.

PJ and Maggie will have none of that.

When someone in their 50s loses a parent, yes it's sad and terrible.  But their parent was there when their children were born.  That parents held their kids, baby sat and spoiled them like grandparents do, watched their child turn into a wonderful mother or father and told them so.

It's not that I don't want people to be sad or to grieve their loss.  I want them to realize how lucky they are.

I lost my mom at 32.  I never was able and will never be able to call her for advice, to go out shopping with her, to tell her about the milestones her grandchildren are achieving.  I wasn't even able to do this for a small portion of their lives.

So I judge.  And that is one of the many, many things that has changed in me since I lost my mom.

I just don't give a damn.

Some of this you might agree with.  Some of this might make you pissed off.  Some of this might make you go YES!  Whatever it makes you, I don't give a damn.  If you read my blog, you obviously know how I roll.

I truly feel sorry for anyone who wants to have a child and has trouble.   Nothing makes me sadder than a couple who want to be parents and for some reason have difficulties conceiving, regardless of the problem.

That being said, why people give a fuck about Guliana and Bill or whoever getting pregnant is beyond me.  I just don't understand the obsession with celebrities and having babies and feeling bad/sad for them when they do or don't get pregnant.

Under the same lines, Dick Clark died. Yup.  An old man, an 82 year old man, who's lived a long VERY successful life passed away.

I am not saddened by his passing.  I didn't know him, and he was 82 years old.  That's a pretty good fucking life, if you ask me.  If he was 52, I could understand the sadness.

I think balance bikes are fucking stupid. I have a very good friend who got one for her kid, and she knows I think they are fucking stupid.  Give the kid a bike.

A little girl disappeared from her bed in Arizona, however, most people know nothing about this but know that Guiliana and Bill are having a kid.  I feel bad for that little girl's PARENTS.

I'm reading Fifty Shades of Grey, and it's pretty damn vivid.  However, I don't suggest reading it if you can't get laid soon thereafter. Big mistake on my part.

If you're not watching New Girl, you're missing out. DVR it, watch it on Hulu, do whatever.

My new guilty pleasure is the Client List with Jennifer Love Hugetits.  It's pretty good. 

Why is it people that claim they "hate" drama and try to avoid it, 9 times out of 10 are the people causing the fucking drama in the first place?  And then they get pissed off and whine when you call them on it?  For fuck's sake.  I love starting drama.  I fucking admit it.  Especially when it's pointless, not really going to cause anyone harm drama.  It's the nitpicky, annoying drama that needs to go the fuck away.

Having 4 martinis and 2 Hurricanes in one evening is probably not the best decision I've made recently.  But I lived to tell the tale.

Help to create a world without ALS

If you are a regular reader of my blog, you know I lost my mom to ALS, or Lou Gehrig's disease, just a couple months ago.

ALS has been around for 70 years.  We are no closer to curing it now than we were then.

ALS is a debilitating, devastating, horrible diease.  In less than three years, my mom was stripped of her ability to walk, talk, eat, smile, move a finger, scratch an itch.  She was completely paralyzed save for blinking her eyelids.

I watched it destroy her body.  I watched it destroy her spirit and her mind.

I watched it take her from me.

We participate in the Walk to Defeat ALS, and have for the past 3 years. This will be our fourth walk, and our first walk in her memory.

I hate that my mom suffered through this horrible disease.  I hate that other people are still suffering, and still more will.  I hate that because not "enough" people have ALS, the government provides no funding for research towards a cure.  It's up to donations.

I know many of you donate to other causes.  But if you can, please consider donating to me in my quest to help find a cure for this disease.  We shouldn't have to live with this in the world.

To learn more about ALS, please visit the ALS Association.

To donate to me -- and no donation is too small, please click here. You can also donate to PJ or Maggie.

Thank you.

PYHO: Just shut the F#@$! up. (Warning - foul language)

I am so tired of the moms who seemingly only complain about being a mom and their kids.

We all have our bad days.  We all complain sometimes.  We all wish we just had one fricking day, hell, one fricking minute to get out of mom mode.

But the moms who all they ever do is complain?

Shut the fuck up.

I have a friend who complains about how hard it is to be sick and take care of her kids.  This same friend complains every time her son doesn't pee or poop in the potty, every time he wakes up in the middle of the night, every time her kids do anything.  Sometimes it's vague.  Sometimes she rants about how her husband doesn't do anything, and why can't SHE just relax.

Another friend posts on FB 85% of the time complaining about her kids.  How she has a whiny two year old.  Why oh why do the kids sleep in when she has to work but when she's home they wake up early? 

I'm tired of it.  You are a mother.  You have been given pretty much the greatest  and most difficult job in the world.  It's relentless.  It's 24/7.  It's not always appreciated, it's unforgiving.  It's not always glamorous.    It's frustrating at times, disheartening at times, and sometimes it's just fucking hard. 

But it's also the most amazing thing in the world.  It's sloppy kisses and little hugs.  It's "Love you Mommys" and "One more song please"?  It's giggles and tears.  It's kissing the boo-boos to make them better.  It's tucking them in at night.  It's watching them learn, grow, and become who they are to be before your very eyes.  It's never having clean pants, never having a clean house, and never being able to just get up and go.

All the not so awesome things about being a mom don't even come close to measuring to the amazing wondergful things about being a mom.  There are women in this world, who all they want in life is to become a mother.  They would be sick every day for a year if it meant they got to have a child who called them Mommy.  They would wake up every two hours for 5 years if it meant they got to get baby cuddles every single day. These women?  Think you are an asshole when all you do is complain about how hard being a mom is.  Not that they don't think it's hard. But not much in life that's rewarding is easy.

So the next time you want to complain about being a mom, stop and think.  How many hugs and kisses did you get today? How many "I love you Mommy!" and how many giggles did you hear?  And appreciate the fact that some of the amazing women in this world will never get to experience that and YOU DO.  So shut the fuck up about your bitching, and be grateful you've been given the best job in the fucking world.

Everybody poops...

As we continue to try to poop on the toilet, we find ourselves starting to poop in our undies and finishing on the toilet.

This morning, after such event occurs (and every time such event occurs), we must checkout what we've deposited in the toilet.

This morning was a long, skinny turd.

"SNAKE POOP MOM!!! I MAKE SNAKE POOP!!!  SNAKE POOP!!!! SSSSSSSS!!!!"

And then proceeded to tell his sitter.

And this is why potty training won't kill me.  Yet.

Over You

One day, I'll be able to listen to this song without crying. One Day.

I love you and miss you Mommy.

Life's Lessons: I have a 3 year old edition

1.  PJ turned 3 last Thursday.

2.  We went miniature golfing.  He got a bike among other things.

3.  He's such a little boy.

4.  He tells me things are delicious, he tells me birds fly with wings, he tells me "I'll get the door Mommy!" when I am leaving.

5.  He can tell me if he's scared or something hurts.

6.  He tells me he loves me.

7.  He usually takes good care of his little sister.

8.  He loves to play golf, basketball, soccer, pretty much any sport, much to his Daddy's (and Mommy's) delight.

9.  He pretends to talk on the phone to Daddy, his auntie, his gramma, whoever.

10.  He asks to go down the "fun street" on the way to the sitter.

11.  He pees in the potty like a champ.

12.  We're still working on the poop.

13.  He loves pizza, cheeseburgers and macaroni and cheese.  Not bad choices, methinks.

14.  There is a never a day where he doesn't make me laugh at least 10 times.

15.  He's the best little guy!

Come on Virigina, don't let me wait.

I have a good friend who just got engaged.  I also have a group of girlfriends who all of us got married within a year or so of each other (yes, we met on a wedding website, but we are now super close).   The topic of sex on your wedding night came up.

We didn't have sex on our wedding night -- mainly because I forgot to print our boarding passes for our honeymoon.

And we didn't have a printer.

And I didn't realize you can print them at the airport.

So at 2 a.m. the night of our wedding, we drove to Kinkos so I could print them.

With my veil, sparkly headband, tshirt and fleece pants on.

Good times.

We did, however, have sex that morning, as yes we spent the night before our wedding together (GASP!), we had premarital sex (GASP!), and we are heathens.

I have a couple friends who waited till their wedding night to get it on.  (Cue "Let's Get it On").

Mostly their reasons are religious based, and that's fine.  If you've been here before, you know I'm not a religous person.  It also seems most of their husbands felt the same way.

But it also reminds me that when I first heard the line "Come on Virgina, don't let me wait" I had no idea with Mr. Billy Joel was talking about.  I also didn't catch the irony of "Virginia."

Though I was raised Catholic, I am far from it.  I am not atheist, but I am not religious in any way.  I don't see sex as a religious act.  I don't see it as something to "save" for your husband.  I don't see anything wrong with people who do see it this way, it's just not my style.

I guess I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints. :)

Sometimes, you just have to eat your grapes.

PJ and Maggie are 18.5 months apart.  Sometimes this causes a bit of chaos, a bit of rivalry, a bit of both wanting Mommy all to themselves.  Sometimes there's hitting, kicking, hair pulling.

But most of the time?  There's love, caring, affection, and laughter.

Yesterday, before leaving for the sitter, I put some grapes in a baggie.  PJ always picks the mixed grapes when we go to store -- green for him, purple for Maggie.  So I put a mixture of both. 

I was putting them in my purse when he saw them.

"I take the grapes, Mommy."

"Okay, bud. Remember to share with Maggie."

"Maggie, do you want a grape?"

"Uh-huh!"

He hands her a (purple) grape and I get them out and settled in the car. As we're driving, I hear

"More grapes Maggie?"

I look in the mirror and see Maggie shake her head feverishly.  And then I see PJ reach in the bag, take out a purple grape, and stretch his arm across as far as he can to get to Maggie.  She notices, and reaches her arm across.

"REACH Maggie!"

Finally, their hands meet.

"YAY!! Maggie you got the grape!"

Maggie dissolves in giggles and eats her grape.  PJ takes a green one.

This occurred the entire time to the sitter.  Which is only 10 minutes, but it was by far the best 10 minutes of my day.

In 20 years or so, I hope they still reach to each other.  I hope they are close, that they lean on each other, that they laugh together, that they love each other.

Sibling love is something I never had.  I am so glad that they do.

Things I said I'd never do...

Now that I've been a mom for three years, I laugh at the thing I said I'd never do.  Or would do and never did.

1.  I will NEVER allow my child to sleep in my bed.

Dude.  If said child is only going to stay asleep if they are next to you in your bed, and everyone will get to continue sleeping, guess what?  Kid is sleeping in my bed.

2.  I will not make separate meals for my kids.

Um.  I want my child to eat.  It takes 2 minutes to make grilled cheese.

3.  I will always make sure my child's hair is brushed before we leave the house.

Sometimes this happens.  Sometimes is doesn't.  Sometimes my own hair doesn't get brushed.

4.  I will not use candy as a bribe.

What?  If I give you this reese's, sucker, m&m, you'll stop crying?  Here you go!

5.  I will strictly enforce timeouts. 

You sat there for ten seconds.  yeah, that's good enough.

6.  I will not buy my kid something in the store just to shut them up.

So I can spend $1 and have a quiet, peaceful shopping trip, or save the $1 and have you screaming and struggling for freedom while everyone else gives me dirty looks?  That, my friends, is a dollar WELL SPENT.

7.  I will never have to leave a restaurant because a child is misbehaving.

Let's just say there's certain restaurants we won't be going to anytime soon since they seem to be prone to the freakout.

I am sure there are more, but today, this is what I got. 

What are some of yours?

Hardest thing....

I've figured it out.

The hardest thing to do as a parent.

It's not the lack of sleep. It's not teething. It's not breastfeeding.

Oh no, my friends.

It's fricking POTTY TRAINING.

If I could pay someone to potty train PJ, I would.

He's doing pretty good.  I got some nifty app that plays "I'm a big kid now!" and gives him a sticker when he pees.  Friday, Saturday and Sunday, I took him to pee every half hour.

He had no pee accidents.  He also never told us he had to pee.

Poop?  Forget it.  He poops and then says I pooped!

I tried to put him on the toliet, but no go.

We've ruined three pairs of underwear -- underwear is not that important that I'm going to spend an hour trying to clean pooped stained underwear that is all over - but that's good, I guess.

He was dry last night.  He hasn't peed in the car when we've left (very briefly this weekend).

People keep telling me it will just click.

I sure hope so.

I also taught him how to pee outside.  In the grass.  So now when we are outside, he says "I pee in grass Mommy."

Klassy right here.

Our sitter is continuing. 

It's going to be okay, right?

Happy 3rd Birthday, PJ!

PJ turns 3 tomorrow.  Chances are I won't blog since I'm taking the day off to spend with him.  So here is his tribute, today.

Dear PJ,

Happy 3rd Birthday to my little guy.  I cannot believe you are three years old.  I remember so vividly the moment I saw you for the first time.  I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes when I held you for the first time and you looked at me.  I have never been so happy.

You made me a mama.  You were beautiful and perfect.  You had dark hair, and looked just like your daddy.  I couldn't believe how gorgeous you were. 

You have grown up so much.  You are such a boy.   You get dirty, you play rough, you run.  You love to play sports, especially golf, and you can identify every Chicago sports team.  You are independent, but you still need your mama.  You are smart.  You amaze me with the things you know, the things you do, the things you say.

You are loving and caring.  When you see that I am sad, you ask "What's wrong Mama?"  and you give me a hug and a kiss, complete with a pat on the back.  You tell me "No cry Mama" when I cry in front of you, which I try not to do.  Although you are sometimes not so nice to your sister, you take pride in being her big brother.  You stand up for her when other kids are mean to her. You tell me if she's crying and you hug her and try to make her feel better. She loves you so much.  I know, even so young, she looks up to you.

Everyday that passes I love you more.  I am amazed at how at 3 years old, your personality is without question.  You sometimes want to do everything yourself, and sometimes, you want mama to do it.  You're a picky eater, but I'll let you slide. 

I'll never forget when you were a baby and I'd rock you to sleep in my arms.  When I'd gaze in your crib and just watch you sleep, your sweet, angelic perfect face peacefully in dreamland.  And while I don't rock you to sleep anymore, sometimes I still sneak in to watch you sleep, and see that sweet, angelic perfect face -- albiet, older -- still peacefully in dreamland.  Your demands for hugs and kisses make me melt.  And hearing you say I love you is the greatest part of my day.

I love you so much, my sweet son, my first born.  I love every last bit of you, from the top of your head to the tip of your toes.  You're spirit, intelligence, sense of humor and pure joy inspire me every day to make sure to appreciate the day.  You've made me stop and remember not to sweat the small stuff, to be grateful for what I have, and to realize that at the end of the day, all that matters is that I have a family that can't wait to see me.

I love you, Patrick John.  Happy Birthday baby.

Tuesday's Things That Annoy Me

This was brought up in a group of friends, and I realized, it kind of annoys me.  And I still love the friends that don't agree.

1.  Bike Helmets

Seriously. If you are a mountain cyclist, or if you are riding on an expressway, or decide to dart into oncoming traffic, by all means, wear a helmet.  But my three year old?  Who's going to be 12 inches off the ground?  Who if he fell off the slide in our backyard would have a longer fall?  Who if he fell off his own BED would have a longer fall? Give me a break.  I rode my bike.  A lot.  I didn't wear a helmet, or knee pads, or shoulder pads, or whatever the hell.  I had friends that thought it was a good idea to ride their bike up a hill and them come flying down the hill, only to tumble off and roll halfway down.  If your kid needs a helmet for a bike, might as well make sure he wears one at the park too.   (I realize people may disagree with me, but alas, this is how I feel).

2.  People Who Bitch About the Weather No Matter what it is.

A couple weeks ago - the beginning of MARCH -- it was like 65 degrees in Chicago, but it was windy.

Said in whiny, annoying, make me want to punch you in the jugular voice "But it's sooo windy."  It is fucking MARCH.  It could be 20 degrees and soooo windy.  STFU.

It's been in the 80s or close to it for a week now.  "But now it's going to be soooo hot in July."  Yes, July, is fucking summer, douche bag.

This same person will then be all "It's soooo cold" in January.

3.  The Person Who Talks During a Concert -- the entire time

Why did you pay $60 to come to a concert if you were going to yell into the ear of the person next to you for the entire concert?  Here's a newsflash, moron -- put the album on your IPOD, and sit on your couch, and talk to the person next to you. You saved $60, the beer is cheaper, and you don't have to wait in line to pee.

4.  The Person Who Answers the Phone at the Pizza place.

When I say "I'd like to place an order for delivery." and you say "What would you like?" And I tell you and then you say "Pick up or delivery?" I want to reach through the phone and bang your head off the desk repeatedly.

5.  Left red turn arrow

Why can't I turn if no one is coming?? WHY???  Stupidest thing ever.  If NO ONE IS COMING, and I have the advantage of turning so I don't have to wait for this light, let me fucking turn.  Chances are I'm going to get stuck behind some moron that doesn't know green means go and I am going to have to sit through a second red turn arrow.

These are the days...

This weekend was absolutely awesome.  It was near or above 80 (that's right 80) in Chicago in March.

Friday we had a play date at McDonalds with one of my oldest and best friends (and one of my favorite people).

Saturday we cleaned in the morning. Then we met my stepdad for lunch at Red Robin (yum) where BOTH kids were very well behaved.  Then we got home and put Daddy to work.

My mom always wanted to buy the kids big outside toys.  And this was the one she got them for Christmas.

The bouncy house in the backyard was a gift a couple years back.  Yes, we have our very own bouncy house.

Daddy also had to put together Maggie's cozy coupe, because it wasn't fair for PJ just to have one.  And of course, PJ had to get his hammer and help Daddy.

Sunday we went to the zoo.  It was awesome.  Again, the kids were super well behaved (not sure what is going on here).  The best part was on the way home, completely unprompted, PJ says

"I had fun at the zoo Mom."

Heart = melted.

Then he proceeded to tell me he wanted to "go have fun in the backyard."

And that we did. 

Maggie's first pigtails. She needs a bit more hair, but still. She's fricking adorable.

PJ, immediately after I said "PJ, do NOT climb in the water table.  You're too big."

And seriously folks.  It does NOT get cuter than this.  It really, really doesn't.

Life's Lessons: The Wearing Shorts In March Edition

1.  Dudes.  It was 80 in Chicago yesterday.

2.  Yesterday was March 15.

3.  There's been plenty of March 15 (and later) that we've been bundled up with hats, gloves ands scarves, and shoveling snow.

4.  My kids wore shorts yesterday.  And sandals.

5.  Today I have flip flops on.

6.  We played basketball outside. 

7.  PJ would yell "I missed!"  or "Nice shot!"

8.  Maggie ran around yelling "WANNA DO!"

9.  PJ pushed Maggie around in the Cozy Coupe.

10.  Lots of giggles.

11.  Did you know bubbles are apparently a delicacy?

12.  Because Maggie put the damn wand in her mouth about 100 times.

13.  Tomorrow is St. Paddy's Day.

14.  I'll wear green. 

15.  Maybe have a green apple martini.

That's my boy.

John fake tackled me and pushed me on the bed.

PJ runs over, stands in front of me, put his arms out and flexes and says, LOUDLY,

"DON'T YOU PUSH MY MAMA!"

In a raspy, threatening voice.

That's my boy.

PYHO: Out of tragedy, happiness.

The past few years have been rough.   I watched my mom suffer from the worst disease, ALS or Lou Gehrig's disease, that robbed of her ability to move, speak, eat, or live.  I lost my mom to this terrible disease on February 24. 

I miss her more than anything.  I missed her so much when she was here, and now I miss her more than I could have ever imagine.  I'm sad that my stepdad is alone.  I'm sad that my kids will never experience their grandmother, because you bet your ass she would have been the best grandma there was. I'm sad that I'll never get to hear her tell me I'm doing a good job as a mom.  I'm sad she didn't get to do all the things she was looking so forward to doing.

But in the face of all this tragedy, I am striving to see the good.  Of course, I would have rather she'd never gotten ALS at all.  But since she did, and it is so cruel, I am glad she is no longer suffering because of it.  I'm proud that she fought till her very last breath. She gave it everything she had.  And I admire her for that. 

I am touched at the sheer number of people who came to say good-bye, who stepped up to be supportive, who commented on how much she loved me, how proud she was of me.

I am happy that this terrible experience has already brought my stepdad and I closer.

I am thrilled that, because it is something my mom would have wanted, that my family and I will be moving into their home -- a home that is bigger, better, nicer, and in a neighborhood where the schools are great and the kids will have a wonderful childhood.  Thousands of times better than where we currently are.

And I know that she is so happy that she was able to do this for me, for John, for PJ and for Maggie.  Knowing that they will have such a wonderful place to grow up, such a wonderful backyard to have fun in.  Knowing that their grandpa will be close by and able to come over often.

I am glad that the tension between John and I seems to have settled.  We haven't fought at all since my mom passed -- little nits here and there that have diminished quickly.  I never really thought about it, but subconsciously I think my mom being sick was leading to unnecessary fighting. 

I am strong.  I am stronger than I ever imagine I could be.  But I am strong because I am surrounded by people who love me and support me.

And because my mother was the strongest person I've ever known.

Love you Mom.

Sunburn...in March???

Yes.  We are all a little sunburned.  In March.

It was in the 70s in Chicagoland yesterday.  Absolutely gorgeous, absolutely fantastic.  It never occurred to me we could get a little sun, but we all have some color on our faces today.  And that's good. :)

The parade was fun, and the party after at our friends house was tons of fun.  It was so nice to be outside and see the kids running around.

A few funnies:

PJ, upon seeing his buddy's PB&J "I WANT PEANUT BUTTER AND JELLY!!"

(of course, I left his in the car, down the street.  So we left early to get it.  Such is life).

PJ, after I told him there'd be horses, and they took forever to get to us

"Where da horsies mama??  HORSIES!!!"

Maggie, upon discovering a carriage go by in the parade

"Bye Choo Choo!"  (so she's a little confused, it's okay)

Maggie, trying her first piece of corned beef "MMMMMM"

Happy early St. Paddy's day everyone! :)

Life's Lessons: The This has No Logical Pattern edition

1.  Bought PJ and Mags sunglasses.

2.  PJ loves them "My sunglasses Mommy?"  "Where's my sunglasses Mama?"

3.  Maggie?  Couldn't care less.

4.  My little guy turns three in less than two weeks, by the way.

5.  Um, how the hell did that happen?
6.  New Girl is by far one of my favorite shows EVER.

7.  Two weeks from today The Hunger Games comes out.

8.  I went to dinner Monday with my BFF without kids.  I can't tell you the last time I went to dinner with a friend on a weeknight without kids.

9.  We're hopefully going to be moving soon.  More on that at a later date.

10.  I am so excited it's almost officially grilling season.

11.  Grilling is my favorite way to cook. 

12.  Husband does a lot of it.

13.  And there are less dishes.

We're the South Side Irish...

Okay, first.

I'm not Irish.  Not one lick.  I'm Irish by marriage (or by injection, for you dirty minds out there, heh).  However, I am a Southsider and that, my friends, I am extremely proud of.  And since I'm Irish by marriage, obviously my kids are Irish.

Anyhow...

Sunday is the South Side Irish Parade.  Parade has been absent the past two years because of too much craziness -- people getting wasted, peeing on people's lawns, drinking on people's lawns, just dumb drunk stuff (which I am fully prepared to blame on the northsiders that bus it down for the parade, but I digress).

It's back this year.  I'm excited to take the kids for the first time. 

It's also going to be dry.  There are about, oh, 17 bars on the parade route (that makes the above a little more understandable, eh) and they will all be closed during the parade.  In years past, the east side of the street (read - no bars) was dry.  Now the whole parade is.

This doesn't affect me, however, I am curious to see if the West side gets as much play as years past.

I'll wear green, some shamrocks on my head, my husband will drink Jameson Irish whiskey, my kids will have candy thrown at them.

Southside Irish, indeed.

In the face of sadness...

I've had a rough couple weeks, no doubt.

However.

PJ started saying awesome.

Maggie started saying hi and bye when she leaves and enters a room, goes to bed, pretty much whenever she can.

I got more hugs and kisses from little arms and little lips than I can count, and I never got tired of them.

I have friends who dropped everything to be with me, friends who brought me food, friends who took off work to attend services, friends who put their own families aside to help take care of mine.

I have family who ran errands for me, handled arrangements for me, who were there for me when they didn't have to be, because they are the family I married into, though you'd never know it.  They are my family.

I have a husband who was my rock, who was strong and calm, who knew when to talk and went to shut up, who knew when I needed to be help up and when I could stand on my own.

I have friends who came together to make a donation in my mom's name to held eradicate ALS.  Most of whom never even met my mom, but because they are true friends, stepped up in a time of tragedy and loss.

I have friends I never met, who sent messages and emails of love, support, and prayers, for a person they call a friend though they've only met on the internet.

I will never be able to hear my mom tell me she loves me, or tell me I'm a good mom.  I will never be able to call her for advice or ask her to go shopping with me.  She was taken from me too soon.  It's not fair and it sucks.

But she'd want me to smile.  She'd want me to laugh, dance, and enjoy myself.  Like she did.

And I know that despite the tragedy, despite the pain, I have love.  I have friendship, loyalty, support, trust, care, and love.  From more people than I can even count.

And for this, to all of you, both who read this and those who don't, I thank you.

Goodbye, Mom

My mom lost her battle with ALS on Friday, February 24, 2012.

She fought it with everything she had.  She fought it till her very last breath.

It was a battle she had no chance of winning.

She is at peace now.  She is no longer suffering.  She is no longer a shell of the woman she used to be.  The woman she should still be.

She was taken from us too soon.  55 years old.  She never got to spoil her grandkids.  She never even got to hold her grandkids, save for one time when she held PJ.  She won't see him play in his first T-ball game.  She won't see Maggie's first dance recital.  She won't be there on their first day of school.  Their graduations, their birthdays, their weddings.

ALS is the worst fucking disease there is.  It claimed my mom's life in less than three years, but the damage it did before that was more.  Much more.  It not only claimed her life, it prevented her from doing anything enjoyable in the last years of her life.   It robbed of her ability to hug her loved ones.  The ability to tell us she loved us.

I've spent the past couple of years missing my mom.  Grieving the woman she was.  Wishing she would final stop suffering and be at peace.  And now she is.

The pain I feel is unexplainable.  The loss, void in my heart will never be filled.

But I will go on. I will be strong.  I will laugh, love, and live.

Because that's what she would have wanted me to do.

I miss you Mom.  You will be in my thoughts every day.  I will miss you every single day for the rest of my life.

I love you Mommy.  I always always will.

Untitled

My dear friend Angie poured her heart out yesterday...about me...please take a visit.

Still waiting on mom.

Imminent.

My mom's death is imminent.  She was given a day or two yesterday.

Please keep her in your thoughts and wish for a quick, peaceful passing.

Thank you for all your support.

Life's Lessons: The Zoo Edition

1.  We went to the zoo on Tuesday because I was home with the kids.

2.  Yup, to a zoo, in Chicago, in February.

3.  It was EMPTY.

4.  We walked around for 1.5 hours before I saw any other visitor -- everyone we saw was a zoo worker.

5.  We went in the indoor exhibits, and PJ and Maggie were able to run around and do whatever they wanted.

6.  Maggie was in her glory.

7.  PJ would call me over to see an animal, sometimes knowing what it was, sometimes asking.

8.  They tweeted along with the birds.

9.  PJ made monkey noises in Tropic World.

10.  They happily got back in the wagon to move on to the next animal.

11.  They got to pet a kitty and a bunny. 

12.  They got to pretend to be veternarians and lemurs.

13.  My friends, a random weekday in February? 

14.  Best day to go to the zoo.