Oh It's a scene alright....

Hey everyone,
It is with mixed emotions I report that my family has a slight obsession with the CSI crime series. I think the fam members would all agree that we like CSI Vegas the most, although our reasons would vary if asked to explain the how's and why's. For me, as a total side note to any relevancy here at all, I love CSI Vegas because I have been forever been in love with Marg Helgenberger, I have loved her since she played the "female escort" on China Beach. I swear she has barely aged and her sexiness has deepened in some understated, yet very rich way. She's smokin' hot. But I digress....
My reason for referencing CSI at all is because I just changed my sheets. If you are faint of reality read no more.
It is not my usual sheet washing day, this is one of those other circumstances that fits loosely into the sickness category. Thankfully the liquid matter on my bed was not vomit this time, instead a glass of milk that accompanied a bowl of miniature vanilla wafers. (side note for a million years Kevin pronounced them vanilla waw-fers, just remembered that and laughed)
Typically the only person that gets to eat in my bed is me, it usually occurs under a pile of text books and is usually something very bad for me and solely for the purpose of sustaining lagging brain power. It is rare at best. However, my Mimzy was sick this week and set up camp in my bed (hence my now pounding head,cramped up stomach and propensity for continual sneezing YAY!)
Normally I would kick an eating kid to the curb of my bed, if not right out of my room, but a recovering sick kid with big please Mom eyes and a squeaky worn out please mom voice, leave me defenseless.
And so spilled milk I cry about and strip my damn bead and all it's princess and the pea linens.
As I ripped layers from the mattress, I was awe-struck by the myriad of stains. I said aloud "wow" and thought the CSI peeps would have to reconstruct a thousand or more scenarios here. They would be emptying bottles of their magic spray and running their little light wand thingys up and down endlessly. Ha, they would never get it all right.
It's funny how the stains of a mattress piece together stories of of it's owners life, especially that of a parent with as many kids as I have. The things that have happened on that bed....

Am I gross beyond measure for even thinking about this? Am I alone???
Before I proceed, let me make perfectly, crystal clear that I am a clean freak by nature. I am NOT one to "let things go" around my house, un-cleanliness freaks me out and I am habitually, forever freaking cleaning something... There is however, NOTHING that can be done about the mattress stains, trust me I have tried. Many a times the steam cleaner and it's attachment have worked ferociously trying to remove a remnant of some puking episode or bladder break. Although some spots leave me unable able to name their person of origin, my favorite, most recognizable, is one I made myself.
It is a faint stain, the shape of a pond of water. In actuality it was a pond of breast milk. It was my second night home after giving birth to Emma. Being a master breast feeder, I was well aware that the small amount of milk I was making was just "pre-milk" and that the Mother load was due to arrive any time. I woke up in the hormonal exodus sweats, completely soaking wet from hair line to soles of my feet.
As I came to and got my bearings, (where is the baby and is she breathing) I began to realize that the pool I was swimming in was more than just sweat. And with that, I became aware of a faucet like feeling rushing from two enormous, mountain like masses from my chest level. I was the fountain of Motherhood and if a pool around me had been built, I could have easily fed all the starving children of at least one third world country, if not two. I just now groped my own breasts remembering how they quadrupled in size, Thank You Jesus for table food.
There has been poop and barf, pee, feminine accidents, spilled drinks, a glass or two of red wine, chicken noodle soup, sweat, nail polish remover and I am sure DNA of other varieties....

If the CSI agents of New York, Miami and Vegas all converged in my bedroom, they still wouldn't have the resources or time to sort this all out. My mattress is a crime scene of life....

Never Surrender

Hi,
So without going into too much detail, simply because it is not my detail to go into, something has happened to someone I love that I can do very little about. I will suffice it to say it is major and beyond what I ever imagined I would deal with, even by association. Now, with that out of the way I would like to discuss the Wizard of Oz. I think there is a connection here, although honestly I am not quite sure what it is as I write... (I just instinctively, continue typing) - I will say that some day over the rainbow, I hope that my "someone by association" will look back and read this and say to themselves, wow she loved me.
Maybe just maybe, the connective tissue I identify here is that me and my "someone" (by association) are engaged in battle for freedom from a wicked witch and arrival at that sacred place, where you are finally capable of realizing/admitting, THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME. If only real life was manageable, by simply aiming a bucket of water and clicking some ruby slippers...
For as far back as I can remember, the Wizard of Oz has had a profound effect on me. I recall my horror, when as a child, I watched, mouth agape as the Wicked Witch of the West tossed her hate filled balls of fire at the sweet scarecrow. I would hold my breath tight in my chest as if the last breath I drew before he went up in flames was my actual, last breath. I squeezed my eyes painfully shut, wincing as I shrunk down into myself covering my face anxiously waiting for the fire to be put out. My reaction never differed, regardless of knowing the movie by heart. I struggled with my intense fear the exact same way each time I watched. The thing about back in the day, is that back in the day that movie being on TV truly was a special occasion. I am old enough to say, VHS tapes and DVR's did not exist. As a girl, every time I sat down to watch that movie was memorable, I was enraptured as though it were all brand new. I still feel that way today even as my collectors edition dvd, collects dust on the shelf in the next room. So much about that movie evoked strong emotion. Auntie Em in the crystal ball calling out for Dorothy... "Run Toto Run"... The first flight of the monkeys and the "Oooooweeo" soldiers marching in front of the castle - geez they freaked me out....Dorothy Gale was, and still is, my #1 fictional hero. She was so loyal and brave and not even slightly put off by the lollipop guild. The way she skipped down that endless yellow brick road with so much hope and enthusiasm, made me think skipping while singing is essential to safe arrival at your destination...The two things I loved the most about Dorothy were that she befriended un-likely's with absolutely no judgment and jumped on their personal bandwagons with as much conviction as her own. And, that when the witch wrote SURRENDER DOROTHY in the sky, she flat out refused.

Memories from the corners of my mind....
In the end, we all know how it ends - the virtues the boys were seeking, were inside them all along. The Great and powerful Oz was just a regular guy with a balloon and a dream, Dorothy will miss her BFF most of all and finally there is, no place like home.
All my long life this movie has stayed with me... My Mother laughs JUST like the Wicked Witch of the West. My kids call her "Nana Witch" - I call my sister Courtney, "Toto"....And my best friend Mary, is my scarecrow.

The song somewhere over the rainbow is my theme song, how could it not be??? Where troubles melt like lemon drops a way above the chimney tops that's where you'll find me...If little blue birds fly beyond the rainbow why oh why can't I ??? It's just so Deb...
What prompted this verbal expulsion of emotion and thought, was a flat out conclusion to a "TIMBER" falling like a cut down tree,bed flop. I fell hard, face first and sobbed into my blankets. When I rolled over and looked up at the blank ceiling, I felt like Dorothy in the poppy field, exhausted hazy woozy. Once I made the connection of feeling like Ms. Gale in her time of great distress, I squinted at the white wall space looking for a sky and a rainbow. And there in my minds eye and ear I heard and saw my beloved Dave Matthews describing (at Leroi's funeral mass), the first time he heard him play his sax. He said, and I loosely quote here purely from memory, "He played the most beautiful version of somewhere over the rainbow, that was the night I fell in love with him"....
Of course it was. What other song could it have been?
- And then, what happened next is what always happens to me, because I am admittedly some sort of freak of nature. The whole damn thing, my horrific personal issue, the Wizard of Oz, Dorothy Gale, The Cowardly Lion (Brian), Run Toto Run, "only bad witches are ugly", "and I'll miss you most of all" A baby blue Leroi and the music of my life, converged in a sense of spiritual and artistic peace.
The Wizard of Oz is about life. It is about unforeseen circumstances, bad choices, devotion, commitment, deep thought, courage, friendship, determination, song and a conviction that there is HOPE in all of it - even the Wicked Witch was avenging her sisters death out of love and loyalty.
The illusion of Oz and a quick fix never works. You must skip the path steadily, oil some hinges, slap some noses and put out some fires along the way. In the end when you wake up from the bad dream and look into the faces of those you love and who love you right back, the bad dream is worthy of remembering....It after all is responsible, for getting you to the place of appreciation for all you have, that you in fact had all along....
This fixes nothing for my person who I cannot help. It changes nothing in the immediate.... Consolation prize in the interim, I love you. And you love me. And no matter what the path or how long it takes, I will be here when the nightmare ends. I have been here all along. And if, through this battle, you appreciate the courage, intelligence and big heart you have inside yourself, and you figure out that no one else can give you what you already are OR define you, it will be worth the storm. And after the storm comes the rainbow. Imagine me singing to you, as I have all your life...

Always look on the bright side of life, education and religion....

Hi all ya'll, (did I do that right - not Southern)
I have no time to blog for real today as my life has taken a complicated path (by association) and I find myself thrust into the center of a storm I must weather. Just think good thoughts - think DEB GOOD THOUGHTS.
I did however just reply to a discussion thread at school as part of an introductory assignment, I was supposed to post a comment on our reading - BOY are they in for it. Ha!!!
I thought, because I have no time to for my own thoughts (that are not academically related), I would just post that thread for you here to read and that way you won't miss me. AS IF you miss me - silly girl/old woman.
So welcome to my education - World Religion.
Hi everyone!
I am a habitual blogger in my personal time, writing/communicating is my thing and so....I am warning you all, this "discussion thread thing" could get dangerous for me :)
My thoughts... They are so varied and expanse on this subject to begin with, where oh where will I be in my head by the time May rolls around??? I am super excited by the prospect of expanding within the academic setting, being forty and in college provides a real appreciation for learning opportunities. BUT, in truth, I am even more excited by the possibility that this class may help me in some way define my own opinions and maybe even beliefs. I have found that my philosophy classes from the last three semesters awakened a very specific question in my personal life, What do I believe? Education, the expansion and well rounded-ness of my knowledge, only serves to provide more relevant and new/unknown variables to consider as I attempt to answer the big questions in my own middle-aged life. I am afraid (very) of my own death, and acknowledge I am certainly closer to it now than I was yesterday....Sigh, I want to explore the concept of religion some more before I am either meeting a maker at the pearly gates, thrust into my new body and life or, just plain done....
To comment specifically on the reading, I found it all quite fascinating and in my view the common thread is this - most humans require something aside from themselves and their own conscience to look/refer to for answers and control, regarding those things which we cannot.
In particular, I found the reading on the Indigenous people of our Native Americans the most thought provoking but this is simply because I have just studied Rene Descartes "God Proofs", along with his opinion of animals. Although I find there are aspects I agree with and disagree with in his philosophies, I am mostly torn about his opinion on the state of animal consciousness. I giggled a lot imagining what points he and a Native American what have debated in reference to the animal kingdom and the role it plays or doesn't play in our spiritual life. I find the Native American connection to the animals fascinating. Are they on to something, learning from and being guided (in simplified terms) by instincts that seem to provide a pretty reasonable order of things??? (Did that make sense?) Are there answers to our big questions by observing the natural world, the animals, the landscape, the seasons - natural death and rebirth? I wonder if it is just that simple? I think we are way too clogged up emotionally and spiritually these days - rules, regulations, possessions.... Maybe the order is in simplicity and maybe then my dog isn't being a bad boy by chasing the deer through the woods and leaving me standing there pissed off holding his leash.
And side note - the "trickster" deities - love this concept, kind of like the bad luck gods who throw you a curve ball to see if you duck, get popped, or smack it clean out of the park. Tricksters are everywhere, they are called CHANGE. I like the concept of worshiping the trickster, embracing your bad luck instead of bemoaning it. But....I say this believing I was an awful person in my past life and am karma screwed in this one - I could just be comforting myself here with a bright side only I see....
See you all in class :)

choose to believe?

Hey hey hey,
SO this semester I am taking a world religions class and although today is only day two, I find myself thoroughly submerged in questions relating to religion, the concept of God and what it all really means to me. It is so stupid that I am tearing up as I begin to type and open my mind to this vast and controversial subject. This topic is a huge one for me and one I am unsure I will ever reconcile with definitive conclusions and/or answers.

I was raised an Irish Catholic girl in a very Catholic family. I will be honest (without going into depth that may get me sued) that my experience is tainted a bit by bad behaviors having everything to do with people associated with the church, but certainly not within my actual church experience. Church for me was always a beautiful time, the sound of my Grandparents on either side of me passionately singing hymns is one of the safest memories I can conjure up from childhood. I will also admit however, that I never had the sense of devotion to Catholicism that my family seemed to experience, namely my Nana and Papa. The word of the gospel is straight from the lips of God in my Grandmother's opinion and there is NO other way. Jesus is our salvation and a Hail Mary will save your plane from crashing or redeem you should you not clear your plate at dinner. I WISH that I had the belief and devotion she has, I have watched her silently mouth the rosary over and over in times of fear and pain and have literally watched the fear and pain fall off of her with all the force of a good car wash. I wish I could find that kind of faith in anything outside of myself....
I make these detached statements, but then tear up immediately (again) as I guiltily feel the well of emotion rising to sting my eyes, I have an overflow of moments that smack of something higher and yet, I just don't know, but I do, but I don't...
The best way I can attempt to explain what I mean, is this.
I have a miracle - his name is Matthew Joseph.... I'll stay brief on this - the doctors said, terminate - the ventricle is blocked, the fluid has accumulated, his future is uncertain but certainly looks grave.
The first thing I did following scream, cry and sink to my knees, was grab my rosary beads wrap them tight around my fingers, Jesus tight in my palm and pray...Our Father who art in heaven...Hail Mary full of grace pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death..... I fell asleep praying and woke praying and continued on this way for weeks and weeks of what to me now, only resembles a numb haze. Every time that I went to the hospital for further tests (weekly) I first visited the hospital chapel where I knelt, hands clasped tight, forehead sunk deep into them and labored through these exact words, which I half spoke, half choked aloud, DEAR GOD PLEASE MAKE MY BABY WELL.
I did not believe he would be well in the end and believed even less, that I would survive his certain death. I quietly and gracefully prepared to die myself, if not in fact my actual life, certainly my emotional life. I was just waiting to say goodbye....I lived this way until somewhere around week thirty when I experienced what I refer to as a "divine intervention" where suddenly the landscape around me became grainy dots like that of an Andy Warhol print or the comics of a newspaper. The only exception to the glowing atoms surrounding me, was the twisted mangled body of a crippled teenage girl in a wheel chair and her loving Father doting on her every breath. I watched them in dismay and wonder as they communicated on a silent level, a language of a love so deep that I could see it glowing around them and emanating from them towards me, inviting me somehow to imagine I would ever be so lucky as to know this kind of intimacy.
I know it is hard to understand, it is even harder for me to describe, especially in short form text. The story deserves the inflection of my choked up voice as I travel back in time and see her again, see them again before me. This form does the experience no justice at all, I promise you. It was life altering for me. A look at divinity, a view of something higher - that someone, somewhere decided I NEEDED to see.
It was that very day that the weight of Matthew's health outcome lifted from me and I realized that because I was his MOTHER, I would know what to do no matter what. If he should be born into the world to die in my arms, well then my arms would be ready to hold him, my voice ready to sing to him, my heart full of love to send with him on his way. Whatever his destiny, I was THE integral component. And, if I were so lucky to have him live and instead face the many challenges of a disabled child, I would be blessed to have that rare kind of love like that Dad and his beautiful daughter...
Did God intervene? I have asked myself that question time and time again, especially when the terrorist attack of 9/11 ruined my first day of rest on maternity leave as I should have been preparing to give birth to Matt but was instead sobbing in horror as I watched the twin towers fall to the ground and with them the lives of thousands of people. The next day 9/12/01, I went to the hospital for my very last ultrasound to measure Matthews head, check circumference and swelling to see if vaginal delivery was even a possibility. As I drove to the hospital, the world around me moved in paces of shock, zombie like....The local firefighters were at red lights with boots collecting money for the fire houses in NYC. I entered the doors of Martha Jefferson Hospital that day in the same mood as everyone else in the country, SAD.
When I got up on the table and had the cool jelly smeared across my mountainous belly, I remember thinking, as Sheri (the tech) placed the ultrasound wand in the mound of gel, this may be the last time I see him safe....or alive.
I could not have been more wrong....
It is fuzzy what happened next - she said "I don't believe this" and I said "what"???? WHAT???

In short, the ventricle in his brain, after 38 weeks of pregnancy had suddenly, without explanation shrunk from completely dilated and covering the entire left side of his brain to within the normal limits and there it was grey matter we had never seen, developed normally underneath all that cerebral spinal fluid. The pressure had not damaged a thing....My boy turned nine and is here healthy as a healthy horse and driving me nuts on a daily basis. Praise God??? My Nana, the devout Catholic, told me God had made room for him, life and death are entwined....
Is that the work of God? Do I believe in God???
Today my professor addressed the class asking, "has anyone thought about where they were before they were born"???
I raised my hand the only whack job in the class and explained that I was evil in my past life I am SURE of it !!! How else can we explain the mammoth acorns that fall from the sky and hit me dead smack in the center of my head when there is no tree above me? Lets not forget the falling birthday squirrel that nearly beheaded me on my 38th birthday....
I have delusions of grandeur that have followed me from my past life as a bewitching evil princess probably responsible for mass murders if not mass seductions. Sometimes I think Marie Antoinette and I are the same and her party habits make me hopelessly bored in this lifetime....Sometimes I speak languages in my dreams that I have never heard before....I do believe that I was somewhere before here and that is most certainly not Catholic or indicative of traditional Christian beliefs...
What do I believe? I read about the "indigenous religions" of Africa and think some of it sounds faintly familiar.... I think it's possible that Hinduism has it all right....Is it about the next life? Is is about this one? Do I want to be nailed down? (wow I totally did not mean to make a Jesus reference there, no pun intended.)
I do know, that regardless of anything, a Catholic church makes me feel super safe and Jesus was a man I can respect no matter what the real deal is. Any man willing to die for a peace loving effort is a hero and worthy of worship. I pretty much worship Dr. King, no doubt
As I age, I find that I am less sure of anything I don't know for sure and really the only thing I do know for sure, is myself....
This class is going to break open my mind, I just know great revelations will come of this, whether they be Aboriginal, indigenous or Buddhist.....
So much to say so much to say..... (maybe music is the only religion I need ha)

All my personalities are PERFECT

Oh my word it has been so longgggg.
As I sit here and glance out at the house that looks as though it is falling down around me, I think, blog - really? How about clean? BUT it has just been too damn long and I have come to realize, the mess will be here day after day. HA ! Something I can count on !!!!!
Anyhooooo, I just posted what I thought was a hilarious facebook post, the arguing in my head of my split personalities. Now, I don't actually have a split personality BUT I do, like everyone have facets. I have a over achiever who gets orgasmic at the mention of a worthy challenge and then I have chubby Debbie (GOD I HATE THAT NAME) who whines that she can't do anything. (She was created by my Mother so so so so long ago when I could only eat desert on Sunday because I was, you got it chubby.) Whatev....
My point is to not write about the girls but rather to write that some people will surely scoff and go WOW that chick is so unhinged and wrong.
This has been happening to me most of my life. And I say, guess what I say?????
I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT ME.
And the sweetest part, is that it's true, not just words. You see, I have come to learn to be who I am and embrace the spastic, crazy BEAUTIFUL messiness that is me. At bare bones, it is all truth and I don't put on. What you see is what you get.
And I only care how I FEEL about it, what anyone else feels is their business not mine.
I heard a song the other day, driving in my silly bumper sticker littered truck by the artist who graces not only the outside of my 4runner but the inside too, my girl PINK. The song is called (and don't read if profanity offends you) Fuckin Perfect....
Made me think of me first and then my BF Mary second. There are a lot of songs out there that we believe are written exclusively for and about us, this one now graces my list up somewhere close to the top. The words to this song, are words Mary has said to me, over and over and over.....(to infinity and beyond)....
Now I love PINK. I mean love her with all my heart. I believe, she may just be the most talented girl in the world and really,  I want to be her. Every morning when I wake up. I go "pink check? - shit, still Deb UGH" - hell at this point,  I would settle to just be her trapeze....She is my girl idol and I worship her. Not only is she an AMAZING vocalist, her MESSAGE is ON POINT. She is a bad ass, take no shit, take it or leave it, kinda girl. My kinda woman.
I may be getting off track a bit or a lot but, recently Emma was singing "you can have whatever you like" while doing some Beyonce looking Bootie drop and I almost had a massive stroke and died on the spot.....I called she and Matthew to an emergency family meeting and began to explain to them about personal responsibility with their own bodies and jokes and dances and whatever etc. etc. - I mimicked Emma....You can have whatever you like and stuck my ass out and around and I said "NO NO NO NO NO EMMA" - NO!!!!!
It's like this my Daughter "SO WHAT I'M STILL A ROCK STAR AND I DON'T NEED YOU" while popping my guns and gritting my teeth for emphasis.....Her message is my message..... Emma is not going to be a stupid girl flipping her blonde hair back and pushing up her bra like that....Not if I have my say and PINK has hers.
Sometimes being the girl that sticks out like an misunderstood sore thumb instigates people to talk trash about you and make false assumptions. Sometimes being unique makes others seethe and have to spit venom for lack of anything nice to say. Sometimes not looking like everyone else will make you a slut for lack of anything more inventive to say...Sometimes not getting out of your car at the bus stop for hen clucking makes you stuck up (no really, I don't like the gossip is all) Most times you have to say WHATEVER and do what makes you YOU.
And so I am grateful to have my facets argue, it makes for entertainment and a constant high bar for me to get over (Insert When Harry Met Sally Orgasms noises here) I am grateful for friends who tell me all the time I am fuckin perfect just the way I am and for female Idols who write songs for me to have for personal anthems that I crank while I sit in my car at the bus stop....
And for the record I have slept with less people than you and yes, my boobs sag.

 PINK- FUCKIN PERFECT


Made a wrong turn, once or twice
Dug my way out, blood and fire
Bad decisions, that's alright
Welcome to my silly life
Mistreated, misplaced, misunderstood
Miss 'No way, it's all good', it didn't slow me down
Mistaken, always second guessing, underestimated
Look, I'm still around

Pretty pretty please, don't you ever ever feel
Like you're less than f*ckin' perfect
Pretty pretty please, if you ever ever feel like you're nothing
You're f*ckin' perfect to me!

You're so mean, when you talk about yourself, you were wrong
Change the voices in your head, make them like you instead
So complicated, look happy, you'll make it!
Filled with so much hatred...such a tired game
It's enough! I've done all I can think of
Chased down all my demons, I've seen you do the same


Like you're less than f*ckin' perfect
Pretty pretty please, if you ever ever feel like you're nothing

You're f*ckin' perfect to me

The whole world's scared so I swallow the fear
The only thing I should be drinking is an ice cold beer
So cool in line, and we try try try, but we try too hard and it's a waste of my time
Done looking for the critics, cause they're everywhere
They dont like my jeans, they don't get my hair
Exchange ourselves, and we do it all the time
Why do we do that? Why do I do that?

Why do I do that..?

Yeah, oh, oh baby, pretty baby..!
Pretty pretty please, don't you ever ever feel
Like you're less than f*ckin' perfect
Pretty pretty please, if you ever ever feel
Like you're nothing, you're fucking perfect to me
You're perfect, you're perfect!
Pretty pretty please, if you ever ever feel like you're nothing
You're fuckin' perfect to me..

safety in numbers, mine is 4....

Good Morning All,
In the middle of the night last night, my beautiful, sweet, sensitive little daughter Emma Claire came furiously climbing up the center of my bed as though she were being chased. She woke me very suddenly and apologetically, explaining expediently that she had a nightmare that she had been kidnapped. She said and I quote "It was just awful Mumma and I can't stop thinking about it, I think I might need you to hold me".....
For me, fear or illness in my children triggers my Maternal instinct like nothing else. I could have been accepting the Nobel peace prize at that very moment and I would have dropped it immediately to free up my arms to wrap tightly around her. I held her into my chest, squeezing her, she was shaking like a brittle autumn leaf in the wind and I had to literally contain her to dull the quaking. I could feel her heart beating, it was dangerously fast and mine beat in time with hers, my fear spiking too.
I don't ever want a police officer to ask me for a picture of Emma to post on an Amber alert. It is the understatement of the century to say I would not do well with a missing child.....
(I don't want to go there)
My point for writing about this experience is simply that I was thinking about children and their fear a lot last night and I thought it was blog worthy, thought worthy, hug worthy even.
Yesterday my friend Steph called asking if I was available to keep her baby daughter Sydney for a few hours while she took her husband Scott to the urologist (poor guy had kidney stones - ouch) I was happy to take Syd as she is quite possibly the sweetest baby since Emma. Stephanie came and dropped her off and all was  just fine until about ten minutes in when Sydney looked around my house and realized that Mommy and Daddy were no where to be found....Her bottom lip began to suck in and out with her heaving deep breaths and her big innocent eyes welled with pools of tears. She looked and looked and heaved and heaved....Her sad face was killing me. I was holding her and rubbed my hand over her soft baby hair and I said "I know honey it's scary isn't it" - children find their safety in their parents, period. Sydney knows me very well and actually really does love me, about a minute into the sad face and the hair stroking she head planted on my shoulder and sighed as if to say, okay I guess I am okay for now. The rest of our time was full of crawling hide and seek games, laughing, chewing plastic straws and pretty much baby fun.
When Scott and Steph returned to retrieve their bundle of love and she saw them, heard their voices as they talked with Kevin in the next room even, her face literally lit up light someone had flipped on her switch. She was like a little glo-worm, her joy and comfort elevated to a level that can only be felt while in the midst of the Rents and her smile in turn, lit up my kitchen.
God being a MOTHER is the best thing ever. It really is something else to be another human beings safe place....I feel privileged that whoever it is that makes these decisions thought me capable enough to give me four opportunities to FEEL this and BE this.
Our kids need us to be worthy.... It is so easy in the midst of busyness and craziness to overlook what we mean to our kids. It is so easy to just drive them here and there, fold their laundry and nag them to take out the trash, so easy to take for granted that they are here and we are here with them.
Kids love us as much as we love them. And that's all I have to say because I am crying now.
My advice for the day Moms and Dads, revel in that you = safety for your children. Revel in that they are safe. Hold them like I held Emma, like I am sure Steph held Sydney. Hold them tight tight tight. It's quite something this bond, it's quite something to be the everything to someone who is your everything.

The little things

Good late afternoon/early evening,
Today I went for my very first outside run of 2011. I am ashamed to say that I haven't done a legit run, in I don't know how long, I would guesstimate maybe over a year or more....Dumb. Today was more of a walk/run, I pretty much interval trained for about three miles. OH MY GOD, it felt so GOOD. I mean it felt awful too don't get me wrong... My ass muscles and calves are throbbing intensely and my right hip is apparently pissed off because it keeps pinching sharp and sudden, like a quick I HATE YOU !!!!
Too f'n bad hip, you've been lazy too long.
While I was out and about in the hood today, I was meditating in my head on how much gratification I enjoy from the simplest things in life. Today I found it in working muscles, Jason Mraz on the pod and the sunshine bathing everything in the most perfect golden and sparkletastic light. A bonus as I walked/ran, I couldn't help but notice Willoughby's big furry ass a few paces in front of me just jiggling away. This sight was laugh worthy enough all on it's own, but when I realized that his ass cheeks moved in perfect syncopation with the Latin beats of the song blasting in my headphones, I was flooded with so much joy that my reaction was to stop and hug my dog.
An elderly man fetching his mail, looked at me rather disapprovingly. His face read, "you have a screw loose", but I paid no matter because my big, beloved fur ball was hugging me back and all you need is love, love is all you need....
As I approached this new year and thought about resolutions, I spent a lot of quiet contemplative time in my head considering SIMPLICITY. I also pondered how I could acquire a state of mind that would keep me from wanting THINGS that I don't really need and instead choose to be mindful/appreciative of what I already possess that is satisfying.  On January 1st, I set forth with a strong ambition to love my life, simply because I HAVE one.
Today I was super successful in that endeavor, finding a walk outside with my dog and lunch at school with my kids has left me feeling serene.
I hope I have good health this year and I hope that I live to see 2012, because if I am fortunate enough to enjoy the next 359 days, I am feeling confident that my enjoyment level is going to be off the hook....