Parental Illusions...

I was so relieved to see a post on facebook this week which read "Lets see... I have two kids in time out, a dog in time out, and a baby that won't stop crying. It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood."
Why would this bring me relief you ask? Well, for one, the post wasn't mine and two- the post was by someone who I always think has everything "together" and doesn't experience some of the issues I have in parenting.
I think as parents we often try to hide our imperfections. We create an illusion. We don't speak of the back talk our teenager just gave us or the poor grade on our child's math test or the "beautiful" artwork on the floor and walls that your toddler made using the contents of their diaper. Heaven forbid we actually admit that our kids behavior... and perhaps our parenting skills are not how we want them to be. So instead we work hard to keep up the illusion that our little life is absolutely perfect all while secretly beating ourselves up because we know the truth.
We look at other people and compare (even though we know we shouldn't) our parenting skills or our kids behavior. We look across the aisle at the grocery store and wonder 'why can't my kids behave like that' or we sit at a restaurant and watch other kids and say "Wow, they are really clean" or we see the well-behaved child in line at the check out stand who isn't grabbing at things and crying for something and we start wondering if we are doing something wrong. We wonder what we aren't doing that those parent's obviously are doing.
Well, the truth is, we are just seeing those "well-behaved" kids at their good moments. All kids have times of acting up or misbehaving. Unfortunately, we are all too worried about keeping up our illusion that we just don't talk about those times. I think this needs to change. I want to see more facebook posts like the one this week. It makes us all realize we aren't alone and we are certainly not "bad" parents. We are all experiencing, or have experienced, the same things. Why do we hide the bad moments when we should talk about them? We need to stick together as parents and offer up support for each other. We need to look for the mom that may be on the verge of tears and tell her its okay. We need to see the parent who looks like they have been through the ringer and let them know that is a normal thing in parenting. We need to let people know we are human and better yet, our kids are human. The only way to do this is to speak up. Stop creating the illusion. Let people see us for what we really are... good parent's who are simply trying to do the best we can for our kids.
So let's make a commitment to each other as parents to share the good stories as well as the bad. To learn from each other, grow with each other, laugh and sympathize with each other and most importantly, realize from each other that maybe we aren't doing so badly after all.
 I want to thank the mom (who made her post on facebook) for making me feel a little more "normal" and for allowing me to hold my head a little higher today as a mother.

Hair today, gone tomorrow...

Well, the day has come that I never thought I would see. I am voluntarily cutting my hair....

Now in my first post here I told of my mother who has cancer and lost her hair from the chemo. I mentioned that I have always felt a special connection to my hair because it made me feel beautiful but after seeing my mom going through what she has I feel very different about it now.
My mom spent some time recently at Huntsman Cancer Institute and as I walked through the halls seeing people of all ages with their bald heads I couldn't help but think of my hair which is down to my waist. Oh how I take it for granted. My long flowing hair that I always keep in a bun or a ponytail. My long flowing hair that when down, gets more compliments than I can count. My long flowing hair that gets caught in the car doors and windows, gets stuck in my clothes when I get dressed... I could go on and on so let's just say it is a royal pain in the butt and call it good at that.
At the hospital, I saw these beautiful people fighting their cancer and decided that since my hair is no longer doing me any good it is time to do something with it. I am getting it cut tomorrow and donating it to Locks of Love. I can't wait. I am so thrilled to be doing something like this. What a wonderful cause. I am so glad there are companies out there that do this type of service for people.
Someone needs to find a cure for this terrible disease. There are just too many out there suffering with it. I am glad to see there are also so many fighting it and winning. This little hair donation isn't much but it is worth it even just to help one child get a wig. It may not make a difference to many but it will make a difference to one. If my hair will help that one child hold his/her head a little higher and give them the confidence they need to fight then it is all worth it. I am so grateful for this opportunity. This cause really means so much to me.
I want to also thank those who are donating to the "Dollar an Inch" fundraiser. I am asking people (who can) to give one dollar for every inch I cut (or whatever amount they can give) and I am so grateful for the support I have gotten. Every penny will help. It costs so much for those kids to get a wig so along with my hair donation I will send the money people donate so we can give a little extra help.
This time Saturday I will look like a new woman. I will also be able to hold my head a little higher knowing I am doing something good for someone out there (not to mention I will lose about 10 pounds from the hair I donate). What a great day it will be.

Emotions

So I haven't been as good about keeping up with this as I thought. We bought a house at the end of June and have been getting it ready to move in. We are now ready and have started slowly getting things in. I find it hard to even find time to eat let alone type my thoughts here.

The last few days our current house has started to look a little different. Things are disappearing from the floors and walls. What once used to be wall to wall furniture with things stuck in every nook and cranny is now starting to look quite bare.

We have been so blessed to have lived in this little house. We are truly grateful to my parents and aunt and uncle for letting us live here while we worked towards getting our own place. Time has flown by. When we first moved in we figured we would be here for a year maybe two and now we are approaching four and a half years.

This little house is quite old as far as houses go and it is definitely showing its age. We have had our share of "issues" here, including mold, leaky pipes, water tasting like metal, a basement that floods even with the smallest amount of rain, and a few other things. We are definitely looking forward to a newer home (that will have its own issues too I'm sure) and not having to deal with some of these things anymore.

That being said though, today I had a very unexpected rush of emotions. I was in Mason's room taking down the jungle baby decor that has been up since about two months before he was born. I turned to see a blank wall and suddenly found myself teary-eyed. Here again as I type and think, I find myself emotional. I stood in his doorway looking at a room with only a bed and curtains thinking of the wonderful times we have had in this old house.

Maintenance issues aside, we have been really happy here. We have had so many wonderful moments in this home. I suddenly realized the wonderful, happy times heavily outweigh the bad moments of dealing with some of the problems.

I realized today that it doesn't matter how nice or big your house is if you have made it a home. I have spent many days cussing the little things in this house and today I have realized this old house is a home. It has been our home for the past several years. We have had so many special moments here that will stay in my heart forever. The memories of mold, wet basement floors and clogged pipes will be forgotten but the love and precious moments we have shared here will stay in my heart forever.

My heart is full today as we prepare to say goodbye to this little home. I am grateful for the shelter it has given us. It has been a safe, comforting place despite the issues it has had. So goodbye old girl. Thanks for the memories.

A Kid at Christmas

So I am now at the point in our pregnancy that I feel like a kid waiting for Christmas. I am anticipating this wonderful thing and it just can't seem to get here fast enough. I think waiting for Christmas can be a little easier though. At least there is a set date on the calendar with Christmas. You know exactly when it is going to happen. As a kid, you know that as soon as you wake up (no matter the time) on December 25th, you will get to experience all of the greatness the day has to offer.
In some cases, if you have scheduled a cesarean or are going to be induced, you get that scheduled date to plan on. If you are like me though, you just know it is sometime in the next few weeks. Could be today, tomorrow or three weeks from now. That is torture!!! So if you are like me, you turn to books, websites, etc. looking for signs that it may be soon. Well, let me save you some time by saying that is about as helpful as having a blind navigator on an airplane.
Whether you are looking up signs you are pregnant or signs you are in labor (or anything in between), it is all very general and very confusing. For instance, in one book, if you look up the ninth month of pregnancy it gives many different things you may be feeling, such as; extra fatigue or extra energy, increased appetite or loss of appetite, constipation or diarrhea. I'm so glad they have narrowed down the symptoms of the ninth month for us there. The list is much larger but those few are my favorites. When you get to the actual labor and delivery sections of these books they aren't much more helpful either. The signs of labor are just as vague.
So here I sit, wondering if the pain/pressure I feel is that of a normal ninth month of pregnancy or that of the first signs of labor. Every time I get a little cramp I get excited thinking this is it. Get the stopwatch. Here she comes. The last few nights I have felt "weird," something in my body feels different, so I think, 'Tonight is the night. We had better get showers, etc. out of the way and be ready.' Only to find we get through another night with no trips to the hospital. I need to be patient but anyone who knows me knows that is about impossible.
I don't think it would be so bad if our last few doctor appointments hadn't been so up in the air. I guess that sort of makes me feel up in the air. We were scheduled to see my midwife Wednesday, Feb. 22. They called that morning and said someone had gone into labor and asked if we could reschedule.  What choice did I have. That same appointment was rescheduled FOUR times and after all of that I finally just had to see a different midwife rather than my own. That midwife said she would be surprised if we went longer than a week. She said the baby is so low that she couldn't even feel my cervix.
Well, there are still a few days left in the one week time frame she gave but I am feeling like it isn't going to happen. She did say it could be longer but said a few times she would be surprised if it was. It has now been one month since I saw my midwife and we should have been on weekly visits as of Feb. 22 (3 weeks ago). So as you can see, things have been a bit up in the air. I am feeling more anxiety just from all of the rescheduling alone, not to mention from the labor wait. I hope Grace will get here safely but I really hope it is soon. I am a grown up, I shouldn't have to feel like a kid at Christmas. In pregnancy, you are considered full term at 37 weeks (we are at 37 weeks and 3 days... not that I am counting) so I say, "Christmas is over, the decorations are put away, it is now time to bring on the baby."

It's time...

It's time. Time to slow down the crazy pace of life and enjoy the journey. We are all so busy and so sidetracked in our lives that we are missing what really matters. Family, or better yet, time with family. Your spouse, your kids, parents, siblings, nieces or nephews, friends, etc. That is what should matter, yet, not many of us seem to have the time to spend with them.
We often hear people say, "Where does the time go?" or "Time flies" and it seems like the older we get the faster it goes. It sometimes feels like if we blink we will miss something. And really, none of us know exactly how much time we have. We are not in control of when our journey will end. We won't know when that distracted person in the other car will run that red light or when a routine supervised visit with your loved one could turn into a horrific tragedy. We don't know what life changing events will happen in our future. We have no idea how much can change or happen in the next five minutes, five days or five years. We plan our futures not realizing that things will be thrown in to set us off course. I am in no way saying we shouldn't plan for our future because there is nothing wrong with looking ahead. I just think that so many of us are so busy looking ahead that we miss what is happening right now. Plan for your future but don't miss out on the present. You won't get this time back.
I am not trying to be all doom and gloom. I just think many of us have a habit of taking time for granted. We are all so busy looking at our iPads, Blackberry's, calendars and computer reminders that we seem to have forgotten the important things. There will always be some meeting at work, some party, a soccer game or dance recital, errands, etc but we won't always have each other. It's sometimes the smallest of moments that can be the most impactful in our lives. It may just be the happy little grin you get from your toddler when he sees you heading for him first thing in the morning but something like that can stay in your heart for eternity if you actually take the time to notice it.
I want to encourage anyone reading this to put down your cell phones, turn off the computers, TVs, iPod's... whatever is distracting you from enjoying those precious moments with the ones you love. Breathe. Focus. Have fun. Allow yourself to "live" in the present even though you are planning the future. It doesn't matter if you are married, single, old or young. I can almost guarantee that right now as the clock is ticking, there is something truly important you are missing out on.
Now go on, turn off the computer....


Seriously, thank you for reading this but IT'S TIME!


Okay now you are just being difficult.

You know you're a parent when...

You know you're a parent when your Valentine celebrations go something like this...

Saturday afternoon Jeff and I decided it may be a good idea to do our Valentine dinner before Tuesday to avoid bigger crowds. We decided we would just take Mason with us, after all, he is much more behaved than most kids at a restaurant. We got to one of our favorite places, Goodwood, (Yum!) and were met with the usual 30 minute wait... which for the Saturday before Valentine's was pretty great. Things were going pretty well. We got seated, ordered and kept Mason entertained with crayons and a cute little cowboy kids menu to color.
The food came out and looked delicious. For some reason Mason was being somewhat sluggish with his food though. He usually loves cheese quesadillas. We tried to get him to eat french fries, potato salad, small pieces of rib meat, diced tomatoes and bread but he just didn't seem to want much. Usually if he doesn't want something he just puts it back on his plate but not this time. He decided it would be better to just throw it on the floor or partially chew it and spit it in my hand. This was turning into quite a romantic dinner, I must say. Out of desperation I finally grabbed the dessert menu and asked the waitress to bring a slice of Texas Sheet cake. He would certainly eat this... what baby wouldn't?
After a few bites, he began taking ice cream out of his mouth and playing with it. We officially made the call that he just simply wasn't going to eat. He was acting out of sorts though too. Our well-behaved boy was doing opposite of his "norm". We just don't know how to react with a toddler who isn't being mellow. Jeff and I hurried to finish our food since Mason was now climbing out of his highchair yelling "Goodbye... See you soon" to everyone around us. I got on my knees to clean up what I could under his chair. We had certainly hoped for a more peaceful dining experience but I guess with kids you can't guarantee anything.
We decided to go for a short drive before heading home. We got on the freeway and headed north.  Mason began trying to fill his diaper. Then we came to the sudden realization that he had tried this earlier but had no luck. I started feeling bad that I hadn't gotten him some juice earlier to help out his poor tummy. I also felt bad that we kept trying to force food down him when he most likely didn't feel like eating with a plugged up system. I had been sitting there thinking how sorry I felt for myself not getting to enjoy our Valentine dinner and now was overcome by guilt that I had forgotten his little problem. It's funny how guilt can be so powerful.
Mason kept working on his diaper while we tried to decide where to stop. We had taken the Foothill exit with poor little Mason was almost in tears. Jeff remembered there was a Dan's market so we thought maybe getting out of the car and moving around a little would jump start his little system. We also planned on getting some prune juice which we knew would help. Just as we pulled in the parking lot we heard a noise. A noise that any parent would recognize without even having to look. Mason had been pushing so hard that it made him vomit. Luckily we were at a place where we could stop.... I was glad it wasn't on the freeway somewhere. I started to open my door to get out and was hit with the smell. I started gagging. Oh no, I thought, I have a full stomach and with this pregnancy smells are the worst. I was trying so hard to not have an issue myself so I could help our little guy. 'Okay, Megan, breathe through your mouth, breathe through your mouth' I had to get my breathing down before I could help him. Meanwhile, Mason is crying in the backseat and Jeff is making a mental list of things to grab in the store. I finally got myself under control and opened the back door. Wow, it didn't look as bad as I had thought. I began wiping his coat and car seat straps off with baby wipes. I took his coat off and there it was. It didn't look bad from the outside of the coat because it had all gone inside. His shirt was completely soaked. I stripped him down and tried to wipe things up as best as I could but Mason didn't want to sit there any longer so I had no choice but to pick him up and move him away from the mess. I carried him to the back of the Jeep and tried to keep him still. It was cold outside and his body was in a little bit of shock so he was shaking. I held him up against me, rubbing his back and arms until Jeff returned to help. He had gotten paper towels, water, more baby wipes and prune juice.
We had a blanket that we wrapped Mason in, and luckily, there was an outfit in the diaper bag that I hadn't taken out from the night before so we were able to get him cleaned up and at least dressed again. Jeff had him sit in the front seat to try to warm up (and give him a chance to finish his diaper problem) while I finished cleaning things up. Jeff had given Mason a few sips of prune juice but before it even had a chance to kick in, he was finally able to fill the diaper. Thank heavens. I have never been so grateful for a messy diaper. I took the garbage from the first issue to throw it away while Jeff dealt with the second issue. Finally, our little boy had some relief. It wasn't the way I saw our Valentine date going but I guess when you are a parent, that's just how it goes sometimes. We could finally head home. We decided to stop near our house to get some apple juice for Mason. As we pulled out of the gas station parking lot we could hear a high pitched squeaking sound. We realized it was definitely coming from our vehicle. Great! Just what we need. We got home and tried to see what was causing the noise which was coming from the front, right wheel area. It was too dark and we were too frazzled to deal with it. We went inside. I took a shower first then Mason took his second bath of the day. I realized that my feet and ankles were now the size of my calves. It felt like they would pop with a single step. Apparently I have reached the point in my pregnancy where water retention is inevitable. Jeff mentioned a smell coming from the kitchen sink and I remembered I had been soaking a bowl that I had apparently left sitting too long. I went to clean up that and bumped the bowl, spilling the contents all over the counter, under the toaster and microwave and onto the floor. Wow, could this night get any better!!! Jeff helped me clean up and we were finally able to sit on the couch to relax. Jeff, the incredible man that he is, massaged my legs, ankles and feet to relieve some of the swelling.
Well, it may not have been the most romantic Valentine's celebration but I certainly was reminded of why I love my husband so much. I don't know of many guys who would help out with things like he does. Even when I know he doesn't necessarily WANT to do things... he does and that shows me how much he loves me too. I am grateful that Mason is feeling better and back to normal. I am grateful for a wonderfully amazing husband who lives and breathes for his family. Thanks honey, Happy Valentine's Day.

Puddles

With a pretty much sleepless night, a stomach ache, and Jeff getting up early to go ice fishing, I had a very strong feeling our little man (who usually sleeps in until almost 9 AM) would choose today to wake up early.

Just after Jeff's alarm went off (about 5 AM), Mason started fussing. Jeff went to his crib to try to settle him down but with no such luck. After a few minutes, Jeff brought Mason to our bed. I thought to myself, 'Hopefully he will doze off quickly so we can get him back in his crib and I can try to get some sleep.' It was then that I saw two very wide, bright eyes starring at me in the dark. It was definitely going to be a long morning.

I laid there tickling Mason's back and started a conversation in my head, "Please Heavenly Father, let us just get a little more sleep. I really don't feel well and I need at least one more hour." Mason rolled over and said "Show?", which is his way of asking you to turn the TV on. I turned Disney cartoons on just as Jeff was leaving and it didn't take long to realize that sleep would not be in our immediate future.

I knew I wouldn't stay awake if we stayed in bed so I took Mason to the living room. At least there he would have his toys to entertain him, giving me a few more minutes of rest (not sleep). I found myself on the couch fighting desperately to keep my eyes open but I could tell I had moments of defeat. Luckily, I am a pretty light sleeper because anytime Mason made a noise I was awake and checking on him. I kept fighting, I wasn't going to give in. After all, everyone knows that a sleeping mother and a curious mischievous toddler are not a good combination. I was doing okay thanks to the fact that Mason kept climbing up and down in my lap. As long as he was on my lap, I allowed myself to close my eyes and "rest" because I knew if he was with me he wasn't getting into trouble. Up and down he went for quite some time. I could tell he wanted to cuddle with me but as soon as he felt like he was going to go to sleep he would get down again.

One last time he crawled up in my lap... I admit, I was "resting" so I didn't really pay much attention. I just pulled the blanket over him as I had been doing all morning. After a bit, he decided to get back down. I helped him and watched as he walked away. I sat straight up and said, "Mason, what are you doing?" There was my almost two year old walking away from me, completely naked from the waist down. I knew he had taken his pajama bottoms off earlier and wasn't concerned with that but there was his little bare butt running across the floor. I started to laugh and scanned the room looking for his diaper. I took him by the hand and headed for his room. He giggled the entire way. I laughed again but also had many questions in my mind. How long had he been without his diaper? How many puddles did he leave on the floor? WHERE were the puddles on the floor? How could I let myself fall asleep enough that I didn't even notice this?

Mason was still squealing with delight as we came back to the living room to start the puddle search. Was it true? Could it really be? I didn't see a single wet spot anywhere! I was so relieved. I couldn't believe it. All I could think was that maybe he hadn't been without the diaper for very long. I knew at that point I had lucked out, I needed to get  up and do something so I could stay awake. I got breakfast ready and walked over by our computer desk to pick Mason up and get him in his highchair. Suddenly, I felt liquid between my toes. I didn't even want to look down. I knew what I had stepped in. But for one brief moment I thought, 'Maybe his sippy cup just leaked.' A girl can hope, right? Well, considering he had milk in his cup and what I was standing in was clear... I knew. It was a large puddle and when I found the main part of this wetness, I saw that it began about halfway up our brand new computer desk and went down onto the floor. Seriously?? I explained to our little guy that he isn't a dog and doesn't need to mark his territory. I couldn't be upset with him since it was my fault for dozing off. I patted his head, put him in his highchair and proceeded to clean up the puddle.

I discovered something today... I always hate rainy days when you are running through a parking lot and step in a huge puddle. You can feel the water gush into your shoe and you have to deal with wet feet, socks, shoes and pant legs the rest of the day... Well, I would rather that happen than step barefoot in a puddle in my living room any day.

FYI... The weather forecast for today calls for galoshes.

Beauty

This is my first official blog on a new site and I want to dedicate it to my mother. The strongest, most incredible woman I have ever had (or will ever have) the privilege of knowing.

I have recently been feeling like my hair needs a makeover. The bun and ponytail have gotten quite old so it is now time for a change. I have been spending a good deal of time searching websites, flipping through magazines, channel surfing, etc to find the "perfect" new look. Asking myself how brave and bold I want to be. I have major anxiety when it comes to my hair. My hair is long, thick and naturally curly, which I am told, is the perfect combination. At this moment (when straight) my hair reaches about 4-5 inches above my waistline. I think it must intrigue people because there aren't a ton of women out there who let their hair get that long these days. Well, because of this, I get a lot of compliments on it. Strangers approach me to tell me how pretty it is. Now, I am not trying to brag or anything, I am just getting to my point... the way I see it, my hair is what makes me "pretty". People don't come up and say, "YOU are so pretty" or "you have such a pretty face", they say, "Wow, your HAIR is so gorgeous". This doesn't make the decision to cut it any easier. Those of you who have experienced this will understand.

Well, today I was reminded of the summer of 2009 when we were told my mother has stage 3 ovarian cancer. We were all devastated, of course, but relieved to hear that with treatments, she could be with us for years to come. About 2 1/2 weeks after her first chemo treatment, she began losing her hair. It was fast and furious and she decided to take care of the problem before it got the best of her. We went to the salon and had them shave her head so she didn't have to go through the agony of having the hair fall out on its own.

That trip to the salon was the first time I had ever seen my mom bald. I think it was harder on me than it was on her. I didn't love her any less or think she was ugly. I knew that hair was a small price to pay for "life". It didn't take long for me to realize that not only had I seen my mom bald for the first time but I also saw her "true" beauty for the first time. I have always loved my mom and always thought she was beautiful. She is my idol. But for the first time I saw her true, raw beauty. I saw the beauty in her heart, the beauty in her strength, in her faith and in her courage. I saw the beauty in her thirst for life and in her desire to beat this awful disease. I was able to see her beautiful bravery that she still has today. Beauty radiated from her like a bright light and does to this day. I have never seen anyone more beautiful than my mother the day she went bald. I still see that beauty in her and I am glad I have the opportunity to see that type of beauty every day.

She is now starting chemo treatments for the third time since that summer and I am grateful for this one little reminder. The hairstyle I pick really doesn't matter because what really makes a person beautiful is not on the outside. It doesn't matter how long or short I have my hair, if I can exhibit even half of the qualities and characteristics my mom has displayed, I will be beautiful.

Life's Little Pickles

Pickles are an interesting thing. Sometimes even just saying the word makes your mouth water with desire. While other times, a pickle can be bitter or sour and leave much to be desired. I find this is much like life and the experiences (pickles) we are in every day. Sometimes those pickles make our mouths water and wanting more, while other pickles leave a bad taste in our mouth.

I have decided to do this blog to discuss some of life's little pickles... whether they are good or bad, desirable or undesirable... just some of the things in life that leave some sort of "flavor" in my mouth or some impression in my mind. I hope you enjoy.