Rule #1 of Mom Club

You know the rules of Fight Club, yes?  Rule #1- Do not talk about Fight Club.  Rule #2- Do not talk about Fight Club.  Well, if you didn't know, now you know {I know you're totally busting out a little Biggie Smalls right now}.  Today I am going to school you on the rules of Mom Club, which are shockingly similar to those of Fight Club--Well, in their redundancy, at least.  Sheesh, 15 months at this mom thing and I've already got it figured out. 

Rule #1- Never Say Never

Rule #2- Never Say Never

You should know that I'm a control freak.  And I have an obsessive-compulsive personality.   And I can be a perfectionist with a lot of things.  When I became pregnant, I had this image of the mom I wanted to be.  How I would parent.  How I would handle certain situations.  What I *would* do.  And HELL no, what I shuddered at and vowed I would never do.  That image I had?  That model mom I wanted to be?  Yeah no. 15 months into this gig and I have probably broken *at least* 187 of the cardinal rules I swore I'd never break. 

What I've learned is that when it comes down to it, this crazy, fun, fulfilling and often overwhelming Mom thing has to be lived, not scripted.  Day to day.  Sometimes hour by hour.  And in this house lately, minute by minute.  Plans change.  Moods swing.  You have to adapt.  Never say never.  Why?  Why is that tiny morsel of information so important that it is the first *and* second rule of Mom Club?  Because at the end of the day, "Whatever works."  You have to do what works best for you.  For your child.  For your family.  And sometimes that means compromising with yourself and negotiating some of those hard and fast "I"ll never's."

I've learned that figuring out how to Mom {totally a verb, right?} often requires that I re-evaluate the beliefs and values I thought were the corner stones of my parenting.  I am evolving everyday as a Mom.  So when I said I'd NEVER give my child fast food and that I'd NEVER let her watch TV before she turns 2 and that I'd NEVER let her eat in front of the TV....I lied. 

Whatever works, right?

Daddy Love + the Motherland

It is so not Sunday Funday in this house when Daddy leaves for business a day earlier than the usual Monday.  However, I can't complain *too* much, considering leaving on a Sunday means coming home on Wednesday.  AND, the coming home on  Wednesday part?  Yup, that would be so we can bust outta this joint at the ass crack of dawn first thing Thursday.  We are headed to the Motherland!

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 As excited as we are for our road trip, we still have to endure 3 nights without our favorite guy and for some of us, it is pure torture. 

No joke, she will spend the better part of the next three days doing this...

...and looking for him every morning as soon as she wakes up.  She'll traipse around the house saying, "Da Da, Da Daaaaaaaa, Da Deeeeee," and make the saddest little scrunchie face when she realizes he isn't home.  Quite the love affair, I tell ya. 

As much as she'll miss him when he's gone, it doesn't stop her from helping him get on his way...

We love having him around.  And not just for the help.  Really.  It's the moments like this that just melt my heart.

Actually, I was hysterically laughing as I captured this "tender" moment.  Paul was reading her a Yo Gabba Gabba! book and was speaking in character.  "There's a party in my tummy, so yummy, so yummy!'  Yes, haters, we love YGG in this house and my husband can do a mean Brobee .  

While Paul is gone, Elena and I will be enjoying the last few days of our first Ohio summer.  #notsobadafterall.  Hopefully the weather cooperates so we can squeeze some fun in between the cleaning and the packing. 

We are so ready to wrap up the season in NJ surrounded by our family and friends.  Bring it.

Loss: 5 years later

I have had this draft sitting in blogger for weeks.  It is not for lack of thought that I haven't started.  The thoughts that will eventually give life to this post, they are always there.  Some days dancing in my memory, most days completely paralyzing me.  It's the words that I struggle with.  Every time I sat to begin, I just couldn't.  Couldn't find any words to make sense of this day and articulate how I feel.  So here I am.  It's the night before a day I dread and I sit here trying to dig into my  brain, my heart, my soul to give words to my thoughts.

At 2:08pm today I will have endured 157,766,400 seconds on this planet without the one person I was sure I could never live without.  My mother.  I was with her when she died.  I held on to her with an absolute certainty that as she took her last breath, mine too would be sucked from my insides.   I am in utter disbelief that I am still here, 5 years later, writing this.  Alive.  Breathing.


I know everyone says their mother is the best.  But mine?  Really, you guys, mine *was* the best.  Ask anyone.  She was selfless. encouraging, strong, sensitive, gentle, patient, tolerant, kind, generous, attentive, warm, loving--so loving--brave, and honest.  An angel among us.  She had a soft voice and gave the best Mom hugs EVER.  She could heal with one single touch, one glance.  I can still feel her hand stroking my cheek to wipe away my tears.  As I sit here writing, rivers of emotion pouring down my cheeks, I can honestly imagine her here doing just that.

As much as I can feel her presence and remember her, I don't allow myself to go to this place often.  I am physically aching.  It's weird.  When I get really upset I get a real live ache in my bones, concentrated mostly in my hands.  Probably only my mother and Paul would understand it's reference, but I've been known to cry that my hands hurt when my heart is heavy with sadness.  And right now the pain is almost crippling.

I feel bad sometimes that I don't allow myself to do more than skim the surface of my grief of losing my mother.  I have her pictures everywhere.  See them everyday.  But only every so often do I really look at them.  At her.  It is still just too painful to see her face and know that her memory is all I have left.   I have voicemails saved of her voice on a disc in my strong box.  Each time I listen to them I fall to my knees.  But I am so grateful that I have them.  I have little video of her, and though I've only attempted once to watch some, I am devastated that I don't have more.  Just to see her in the flesh- laughing, tucking a stray hair behind her ear, even just sitting drinking her coffee and writing out checks--I wish I had all those little moments.

It's sort of ironic, really.  My coping with her loss and how differently I dealt with the loss of my father.  My dad passed away when I was 10.  He was never sick a day in his life and had a seizure one night, later to be diagnosed with a Glioblastoma Multiforme brain tumor.  A death sentence basically.  He survived 9 months before I watched him die.

I was pretty much obsessed with death and dying after that.  My young mind was constantly looking at pictures of him, writing stories and poems about him, watching the 20 seconds of grainy 1987 video I have of him where he says my name just once.  I think I was afraid that if I didn't rememeber I'd forget.  With my mom, I think I'm afraid that if I don't forget I'll remember that I am surrving without her.  I don't know if that makes a sherd of sense to you guys, but it is exactly how I feel.  In my heart and my mind it is not okay to be living here without her.

My obsession with death and dying birthed my anxiety at a young age.  Go figure, right?  I mean a total text book case of paranoia that I would become an orphan.  I had panic attacks at school and missed out on dozens of sleepovers b/c I was terrified that something would happen to her.

My mother was only 42 when my father died.  My parents were high school sweet hearts.  He had loved her since she was 15.  I can still remember the night my father died.  My mother was so strong.  She kept herself together for my sister and I.  She was broken inside but was a rock for her kids. After my dad died, she never dated.  Never remarried.  My sister was 10 years older than me and living out of the house.  So, essentially, it was just her and I.  She devoted her life to me.  Her world revolved around me and mine around her.  We were best friends.  Not a day ended without heaing her tell me she loved me.  Not a night that I didn't thank God for blessing me with this angel woman to call Mom.  She told me before she died that I saved her life, that I was the reason she woke up every morning.  She survived the loss of my father because she had to for her children. 

Losing her was like losing a limb.  Or 4.  And although she got to be a part of much more of my life than my father, it isn't enough for me.  She didn't see me walk down the aisle and get married, sadly passing 8 weeks before my wedding.  She wasn't there to help me though my darkest days of struggling with infertility and loss, when she too stuggled with both.  She wasn't there when I held my daughter for the first time and she isn't here for me to tell her "I get it."  I finally have an understaning of how crazy she was about me.  How she would have sacrificed her every happiness, her last breath for me--Her child.  Her baby girl.







Not many nights ago I sat in the dark nursing my sleepy Lainey Lou.  I wanted to freeze that moment and touch every square inch of her from the tips of her toes to the crown of her head.  Because I was-- am--just so consumed by this incredible love for her.  And I get it now.  How much I was loved.  I miss that.  Yearn for that only-a-mother's-love kind of love.  There is no subsitute.  And I know we're all guilty, but when I see or hear people complaining or griping about their Mom, I just want to lay into them about how lucky they are to still have her.  So go, hug your mom.  Call her.  Tell her you love her.

Elena Jospehine, my  baby, is named after my mom, Elena Jo.  Everyone called my mom Lou, though and we often call Elena, Lainey Lou.  It just fits.  What a love affair these two would have.  I can breathe only in knowing that every day with her is a day with a piece of both my mom and my dad.  Their legacy lives on in her.  I cannot wait to tell her all about them.

D & L (my parents, Don & Lou)

Angels watching over me...touching gift from my dear, sweet Summer.

Loving her Nana and Pop-Pop

So today, though I am sad that I cannot be surrounded by family and tending to her grave as I normally would, I am vowing, for my own daughter, not to sit in sorrow and wallow in my grief.  That is the last thing my mother would want. Not sure where the day will take us but if my Mom had her say, we'd soak up some sun at the pool, eat some 3 Musketeers, and share lots of hugs.  Sounds like a good day to me.

If you have made it this far, I want to sincerely thank you for allowing me this forum to open my heart.  I needed this. 

Much love...xoxo

Toddler Mom

Apparently my child did not get the memo that she won't be two until May.  Isn't two when the mayhem begins?  Meltdowns and power struggles?  Tantrums and 'tude?  I'm good for another 9 months, right??  Wrong.  Girlfriend has other plans.  

I never worried about having a toddler .  I suppose as a new mom I didn't  have the foresight to think of anything more than what my been-there-done-that mom friends had warned me about.  You know, sleepless nights, latching issues, engorged breasts etc.  Baby shit.  Literally and figuratively.

Well, just like no one warned me about the crime scene that was my lady parts postpartum, no one warned me of the preamble to the much talked about Terrible 2's.  I shall call them the Whatthef*ckhaveyoudonewithmysweetbaby One's.  It's a mouthful, I know.  Let's dub  it WTF One's for short, k? 

I am the first to admit that toddler hood is a totally different beast than infancy.  And I am not ashamed to admit that I feel more incapable as a toddler mom than I did as an infant mom.  Maybe it's because I really didn't anticipate this toddler shiz until 2.  Clearly I was ill-prepared.  This girl is giving me a run for my money!

I'm that mean mom that totally takes pictures of her child mid-tantrum.  I'm too lazy to search for them I don't have any on hand at the moment, so, instead I'll give you some evidence of this whirling dervish child of mine.  This is what happens when I turn my back for a second.  A SECOND!

Girlfriend is in to everything.  If it isn't locked up or bolted down, it's fair game.  And in case you didn't know, I am a neat freak. Yes, friends. Truth = I find pleasure in a good scrub and get my rocks off when all the labels in the spice cabinet face the same way.  Crazytown from Sleeping with the Enemy has got nothing on me.   #ocdproblems

Surprisingly, these types of messes do not bother me.  She's a baby toddler and babies toddlers make messes.  Messes are her way of leaning about the world--Cause and Effect--they are a natural part of her development.  I gets it. I can handle the path of destruction she leaves in her wake. Because the truth is, I'd rather be playing and making the mess *with* her.  And truth is, I like to clean.  So, at the end of the day, when the house is quiet and she is asleep, then I can get my freak on and clean to my heart's content.

Anyway, back to the lecture at hand...The toddler shit that is really throwing me for a loop?  Not the messes.  Or the not being able to turn my back for a second.  Nope.  The things that are really giving me a dose of youaren'taspatientasyouthink are the tantrums and the mood swings {Wow.  That sounds a lot like someone else I know when it' that time o' the month.} So yeah, that's what's going on in this house.  A lot of power struggles with a healthy side of smirking when Mommy says "No!"

I know.  I know.  Just like the messes, the power struggles are a part of her developing self.  She's testing her limits.  Figuring out how things work.  She can't communicate her wants and needs and it's frustrating.  But unlike cleaning, I don't get the warm fuzzies from trying to shove my ramrod-straight-I-don't-wanna-sit toddler into a shopping cart when it's time to go grocery shopping.  Know what I mean?

And so I remind myself that it is another lesson in patience.  Fifty Shades has been shelved for the unforeseeable future time being and  Happiest Toddler on the Block has taken residence on my nightstand.  And it begins.  I'm a toddler mom.

Oh wait....I found some :)  

From smiles to meltdown to smiles in 30 seconds.

Caveat: And please, for the record, I am not complaining.  Not for one iota of a second.  I am not even gonna justify that lame thought one second further. 

Weekend Review

It was a good weekend.  One that I was not ready to say goodbye to.  Paul left for Indiana yesterday, putting the kibosh on our family fun a little too prematurely for my liking.  Elena was not pleased either and cried, "Daa Daaaaa Daddddaaaa," complete with big, fat crocodile tears when he left.  Broke. my.  heart.  

Friday, Elena & I met up with one of the girls that I've become friendly with.  Her cutie pie son is a few weeks younger than E.  We went to Touch-a-Truck, which is an event where kids can touch and explore all different types of trucks and vehicles from police cars to semis to school buses.  It's an awesome concept, but definitely requires another adult if you want to maximize the experience.  It would've been great if Paul was there to take her inside the trucks while I manned the camera/stayed with the stroller etc.  It was hot as balls and all Elena wanted to do was run around {on the pavement, of course, earning her her very first barely skinned knee}.  Needless to say we didn't see the inside of any trucks,  but it was still nice to get out of the house and be social.

 

She was this laid back for about 5 minutes.

On the move. 

This walking business is the bomb.  Sure, I have to chase her all over the place but she is seriously exhausting herself, which equals napping AND sleeping through the night.  #canigetanamen

Paul got home shortly after E woke up and we headed out to have cocktails eat.  I shared some nachos with Paul and had a salad, but this lover could have easily  been my main course. 

Salt rim +green bean/olive/celery/jalapeno garnish= Party in my mouth.

The rest of the night was spent assembling Elena's play kitchen, watching the Olympics, and sending hysterical texts and pictures back and forth with my sister-in-law while Paul was ready to kick me out of bed.

Me demonstrating how I look when I get my face wet in the shower b/c I am afraid of the water going in my eyes and up my nose. 

 

 Saturday morning we did our usual Target run, which would normally go without a mention here but I needed a segue for the below picture b/c I just couldn't *not* post it.  Not sure if this was before or after Paul begged me to put Elena inside the display crib.  

Sharing crackers with Darth Daddy.

Later in the day, we headed over to the local Irish Festival in our town.  Supposedly, it is the 2nd largest one in the country. Not surprising, considering I live in a town called Dublin. Daytime drinking ranks high on my fun things to do list, so I was quite excited.  I was also pretty excited because I'd heard that The Cheesy Truck was going to be there, which I have been dying to experience.  It's a specialty grilled cheese food truck.  'Nuff said.  I'll let the pics speak for themselves.  {Sadly I am not crafty enough to know how to make a fun little pic collage, or even how to post pics side by side, so you will have to deal with my novice skills of posting one underneath the other.}

Cheesin' for the camera by The Cheesy Truck

Pulled pork & Mac and Cheese on Texas toast with a side of loaded tots.  Tater tots with hot sauce, cheese, jalapenos and bacon. 

Words to live by

Jeni's salty caramel.  don't mind if I do. 

Sharing some of Daddy's Ugandan Vanilla Bean

The one advantage of living away from home is that we're doing a lot of things that I don't think we'd be doing if we were back in NJ.  If that makes any sense.  It's just us on the weekends...no family, no friends, no birthday parties or other social obligations.  We can't decide if there's more to do in Ohio or just that we weren't forced to take advantage of all the like opportunities back in NJ.  Either way, I'm glad we're getting out there #livingfortheweekends.

Sunday was spent doing stuff around the house.  Usual chores plus adding some touches to Elena's nursery and playroom.  We put together a toy bin that I had ordered from Land of Nod {love it)  and hung a mirror in E's room.  Lots of things checked off the list.  Love that.  

As sad as I was to kiss the weekend goodbye, I'm ready for a new week.  So is my waistline.  A clean slate with healthy eating and exercising.  We're going home in 2 weeks and it would be nice to feel a little better about myself than I've been feeling.  This week is gonna be all about self-control and dedication.  Really using the link up with Kristen and Raven to keep me motivated!

Hope your weekend was a great one!  Happy Monday!

Friday's Letters

Dear Joe on Big Brother, Dude, stop screaming.  You're like the old man version of Dora.  Ever heard of an inside voice?  Try it.

Dear Water, I know you are good for me but I really wish you tasted more like orange soda or maybe a Shirley Temple. 

Dear Fall, I'm so excited for you I can almost taste it.  Summer is great, and all, but I miss Uggs and leggings and pumpkin spice anything and everything. Mmmm.

Dear Elena, Seriously with the dancing?  I can't.  Every time you hear music you start shaking your groove thing and doing your crazy reverse raise the roof move.  Don't ever stop.

Dear Paul, How is it possible that you were singing Adam Sandler's Hannukah Song when you got home only for me to tell you that I had *just* been singing his Thanksgiving song trying to get Elena to eat her turkey.  I mean, really???  #soulmates

Dear "Like if you think this is sad/funny/cruel/ironic/beautiful..." posts on Facebook, You are annoying as all hell.  You are clogging up my feed.  I will never click like, even if I DO like you.  Strictly on principle.  And yes, I am old enough to remember who Captain Kangaroo was.  WHO CARES! 

Dear proud displayers of stick figure family stickers, In case you didn't know and wanted my opinion, these are the dumbest invention ever.  I honestly don't care about your BBQ-ing dad and your Shop-a-holic Mom and sporty kids.  Let's not forget Rover and Whiskers.  I'm all about loving on your family but pimping them out as decals on your ride is lame. 

Dear Self, Why are you such a hater today????

Dear Nutella, Don't ever change.  You are perfect just the way you are.  

Dear New Followers, So excited you're sticking around! Thanks so much for the love! You make me a happy girl.

Happy weekend...Get at it and make it a good one! 

Inspire Me: HEALTHY Link-up

See that link-up button up there?  That beauty is the brainchild of two awesome ladies,  Raven and Kristen.  They've teamed up to give their readers that little virtual kick in the ass nudge many of us need.  Maybe you want to lose weight, tone-up, fit into that dress, or rock that bikini.  Maybe you're physically fit but your diet could use a make-over.  Whatever your goal, if you are inspired, it's likely because you believe there is a healthier version of yourself to be had.  I'm finding motivation to get fit from lots of different places these days, and with a sweet tooth the size of JLo's booty, I need all the inspiration I can get.  So, I'm super excited to participate and share the journey to a healthier me with all of you.  Accountability? 
Yes, yes, y'all.

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Ya see, I have always had body issues.  Have always felt uncomfortable in my skin, even though most people would probably consider me skinny. Not unhealthy skinny, just average thin, I suppose.  I felt fat even when I was skinny. 2003 self...yeah, I'm talking to you.  I am currently 132 lbs and 5 feet 8 inches tall.  Technically, that is pretty proportional, but for me, it's heavy.  I am skinny fat.  Actually, these days, I'm feeling pretty much just fat-fat. Ideally, I would love to be at my goal weight of 125 lbs.  That is what I weighed when I got married.  

The loss of my mother & our struggle with infertility sent me into a black hole.  I literally ate my way out of the dark.  Food is comfort and I wrapped myself up in it like a warm blanket.  It's really quite astonishing that I am not morbidly obese.  I can really stuff my face.  And four years of IVF injectibles does not a svelte figure make.  

I did shape up a bit right before I got pregnant.  I was in one of my besties weddings and was committed to eating healthy and working out.  I was also attempting to grow a baby and was taking care of myself.  But then, I did get pregnant and I spent 9 months barely working out for fear that I would lose my babe.  Crazy, I know, but you just can't shake certain fears out of someone who has endured loss and failure and severe infertility. 

And then, well, I became a mom and my world changed and I honestly don't think I examined myself closely in a mirror until after Elena turned one.  Truth.  I lost most of the baby weight quickly but my body, well, it was just not the same.  And it shouldn't have been the same.  I get that.  I birthed a 6 pound 4 ounce human out of my HooHa.

And now?  Now I can finally fit into my pre-pregnancy shorts but there is no denying the muffin top and love handles that spill out.  I know what I need to do.  I am not looking for a shake or a magic pill.  I know that eating right and working out will lead to the results I'd like at attain.  My problem? I lack in the motivation department.  Like my husband loves to say, "Excuses are like assholes.  Everybody's got one."  I can always find an excuse not to hit the gym and an excuse as to why it is imperative to my well being to have that fifth peppermint patty. 

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So the beauty of this here link up is that it's got some major potential to become a huge circle of support and motivation for those of us that are inspired to get fit.  I love reading other people's successes and stories.  It helps me.  Inspires me.

This shit I'm spewing here?  I'm not doing it looking for the "Oh but no, you're so skinny".  I'm over that.  It boils down to this...You do not see my nekkedness.  Only my poor husband isn't spared that travesty.  I have jiggly thighs with cellulite, a plump rump, and a muffin-top that plagues every potentially cute outfit and shred of confidence I have these days.  I want to find that healthier version of myself.  I know she's in there.

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A few things in my arsenal to help me get fit: 

+My fitness pal app.  Love this.  Counting calories works for me and this app is super easy and user friendly.  Love.  I have to recommit myself to this little gem.  Like yesterday. 

+Get Running app.  Awesome Couch to 5k program.  I used to be able to run.  Now, I'm sucking wind barely a mile in.  Determined to run 30 consecutive minutes without stopping by the end of this bad boy. 

+Gym membership with gym daycare.  Goal is to hit the gym at least 3 times a week.  I struggle with dropping Elena off at the daycare.  I know.  I know.  Good for her and good for me.  I'm working on it. 
  
+30 day/300 Ab Challenge that I started thanks to Shannon.  I need to get serious with this b/c the results are undeniable.  These exercises are no joke.

Get after it ladies!  Good luck!

So What! Wednesday

This week I'm saying So What! if...

I cry watching the Target "going to college" commercial that runs during the Olympics.  Every. Single. Time.  That song reminds me of all things infertility and loss and renewed hope.  Tear jerker, y'all.

I'm the farthest thing from southern {but secretly wished I was when I was little and used to lie and tell people I was from Tennessee and talk with a drawl.  Whaaat???} but still just used the word y'all. 

I'm eating a PB&J on my husband's white bread {even though I have my wheat in the bread drawer.} And dayyum it tastes gooooood.

My child is obsessed with Yo Gabba Gabba! Like gets hyper-ventilating-excited when she hears DJ Lance Rock's footsteps.  I'm partial to Foofa, Paul likes Muno, and my money is on Brobee being E's favorite.  Figures.  She seems to be as bipolar as he is these days.

Elena was the only kid during our first "lap time" story hour that couldn't sit still and kept walking into the middle of the room and up to the lady reading the story.  #missindependent #rulebreaker

look at meeeee

I'm embarrassed at the ghetto fabulous pedicure I gave myself last night.  I haven't polished my own toes since I was a sophomore in college.  Dating myself here but that would be circa 1996/1997.  Ouch. 

Mama wants a new pair of Nike Frees.  Even though my current running sneaks are not totally worn out.  

It took me a good day to figure out how to suck the water through my new camelback water bottle spout.  There's a learning curve for everyone, right?  Apparently not, seeing as how my 14 month old daughter figured it out in like 2.5  

I love Elena's Crocs more than I could have imagined.  I don't know why I am so obsessed.  Maybe because when I say "Where are your Crocs?" she points to the little crocodile guy on the rivet thingy.  Gah.  Love.  They just look so freaking cute on her feet.

I am thinking of calling Verizon Fios every single day to beg them to bring their service to Ohio.  I miss my FiOS.  It was the bomb.com. Time Warner Cable is CRAP.  Almost enough to make me never turn on the tube again.  I said *almost*.

Fruit Flies skeeve me out.  Seriously....where do they come from?  I can't have a frickin banana in this heezy for more than a day before I've got those pesky suckers flitting around my face.  

I am so super excited to be home in August to celebrate one of my bestie's birthdays.  Like seriously CANNOT wait! Paul and I haven't had a line-up-a-babysitter kind of night in FOREVER.  Drunk bus + Jersey Shore= It's on like Donkey Kong. Holler!

What are you saying So What! to this week?? Head over to link up with Shannon at LAID to get your So What! Wednesday on!  Do it!!!