You've Come a Long Way Baby!

This weekend, Mike and I packed our suitcases, strapped The Boss Lady in her car seat, and headed off for our 16 hour (round trip) car ride to New Orleans to visit my dad's side of the family. We weren't sure what to expect this trip since it had been nearly a year since we made the drive but we were ready for whatever came our way. Well, lo and behold, aside from a small playing incident where Oli ended up with a black eye, the trip was excellent!

Since Olivia's first birthday, one of the things I find the most fascinating is to look back on where we were a year ago. For instance, when football season started up again this year, Mike was so excited to spend Sundays watching the Cowboys (don't hate!) with Olivia. I, however, had horrible flashbacks to our attempts at nice family Sunday evenings from last year. I remember that first Cowboys' game vividly. We dressed Olivia up in her little Cowboys onsesie, turned on the game, then listened to her scream for several hours. Mike walked around the living room with her in her carrier, just swinging it back and forth trying to calm her.

This year though, she's perfectly content to run around the living room playing with her dolls while Mike cheers on the 'Boys. She'll even stop on occasion to clap for the guys. It's pretty darn cute.

Similarly, our trip to Louisiana this year was VASTLY different than our experience last year. Last year, we weren't even able to get out of the house before 9 a.m. This year, we woke at 5 and were out the door by 6:45. Ha!

During most of the drive last year, our sweet, then 6 week old daughter, screeched at the top of her lungs while I pumped breastmilk from the front seat of the car. I'm sure a few truck drivers got a view that probably took weeks to erase from their memories. The louder Olivia cried, the faster we drove, just hoping to get to our destination as quickly as possible. And of course, we got stuck in 2 major traffic jams. Of course.

Eventually, we discovered that those bumpy things on the side of the road helped calm Oli so we would drive half on the shoulder and half on the road. When she would settle down, we'd slowly ease back on the road only to have her start up again and we would swerve back onto the shoulder. It's a wonder we didn't get stopped for suspicion of drunk driving!

I remember both of us just staring at the road ahead, our eyes glazed over. I remember having a little pep talk with Mike and saying something like "Well, this is just how our life is gonna be now. Better buck up and get used to it." I was convinced we had another 18 years of screeching in store for us before we could ship her off to college.

Last year, when we got to New Orleans, we picked up my sister and brother-in-law who had flown in earlier that day and had been spending the afternoon in the French Quarter sampling some of Louisiana's finest beverages. During the hour long drive to my aunt's house, Olivia screeched uncontrollably prompting Mike to tell Michael and Michelle, "Well, I guess that pretty much sobered you up!"

Throughout our trip this year, Mike and I would just stop to reminisce about where we were just one short year ago and how different things are. It really is incredible how much has changed. What once seemed like utter insanity that I would never adjust to is now completely normal. And it's really not that insane.

Olivia really did great on this trip. Sure, we had a few fussy moments but for the most part she was excellent. At my grandparents' house, she played all over the yard while we all hung out. In the French Quarter, she sat back and enjoyed the sights and through most of the car ride she was pretty good. Instead of lots of screeching, we mostly heard her chatting to herself and her doll.

As we were out and about with her, people would stop to ask how old Oli was. I was surprised every time to hear myself say "13 months." WHAT??? When did that happen? When did we suddenly enter into the 2nd year of our child's life?

The small, screeching baby we brought to New Orleans a year ago, is now a babbling toddler who walked up to a perfect stranger at a restaurant and tried to crawl up onto his lap (or maybe she was just trying to get to his Bloody Mary).

I could seriously go on for hours about how fun and cute Olivia is these days. When we stopped to visit on the way back into town, my step-mom asked "Did you ever think you'd have this much fun with her?" NOPE!

We are having such a great time watching her little personality develop. It seems she has the best of Mike and me and a little of the worst of me (my head-strong tendencies and temper) and she is a fantastic little kid. She is mimicking everything she sees us do and she's starting to try to say a few words. "Uh-oh" is a favorite these days.

So, yeah, we're pretty glad we never really dropped her off at one of those safe-baby-drop-off-zones because we would have missed out on this really cool kid. And maybe on one of our future trips to Louisiana, Olivia will care less about playing in the dirty street puddles and I'll get to share with her some of the cool stuff I did as a kid. Based on the changes of the past year, I think anything is possible!

Happy Blog-i-versary!!!

One year ago today, I sat down at this very computer and I started to write about this crazy journey I was just 3 1/2 weeks into at the time. Mike and I had just put our sweet, new daughter to bed and we were hoping for a relaxing Saturday night together. Alas, that night would not happen. At the end of this night, one year ago, we were covered in poop and wondering if our new life would ever feel normal.

Today, we spent the afternoon with family and friends, cheering on the Cowboys and watching while Oli and some of her playmates ran all over the house scattering toys and tupperware. We laughed together, toasted with a few margaritas (it is Sunday Funday after all!), and enjoyed this beautiful Sunday.

As I began this blog last year, I could not imagine that my life would ever feel this RIGHT. It is chaotic and messy and sometimes just plain insane. But I'm right where I'm supposed to be.

Thank you for reading this crazy account of my adventures for the past year. Thank you for laughing with me, crying with me, empathizing with me and never once calling the authorities on me...well, at least not that I know of...

Thank you for following me on this journey and for being here every step of the way! Cheers to all of us!

Happy Very First Blog-i-versary to The Really Really Real Adventures of Mommyhood!

You Know You Are a Parent When...

You know you are a parent when...

You have a party. You buy beer for the party. Your house is empty by 8 and you are in bed by 9. And you have leftover beer.

You are driving home from date-night with your spouse and you see people just pulling into the restaurant/movie theater and you say "What are these people doing out so late???" You look at the clock. It's 8:30.

You start calling a night out with your spouse "date-night." People without kids don't call it "date-night." They call it Friday or Saturday or whatever other day of the week they go out with their significant other because they can go out whenever the crap they want.

It's not unusual to come home to find your husband patting and kissing a baby doll while sipping out of a tea cup.

You turn on Pandora radio as you get ready in the morning and you start bopping along to the song that comes on. It takes you until about the 3rd verse to realize you are dancing to "If You're Happy and You Know It" on Toddler Radio. And you are doing the motions.

You are on the phone with a friend who doesn't have kids and your kid starts squawking in the background. Your friend stops mid-sentence and says, "Do you need to take care of that?" You respond, "Take care of what?"

Doing 5 loads of laundry is considered "light."

You are digging in your purse for a pen and you happen upon goldfish crackers, cheese, lunchmeat, or some other kind of food and you have no idea how old it is. You just shove it aside and continue looking for that pen.

When your kid wakes up in the morning, even though you have about 8 million other things to do around the house that now won't get done because you'll be busy child-chasing, you still feel like your heart just came alive when you see that grin as you open the door and say "Good morning, Sunshine!"

My Sister

A couple of months ago, I saw a contest in Real Simple magazine. It was a blog contest and the topic that they asked people to write about was "The person I'm most surprised to be friends with is..." and you had to fill in the blank. The only rule was that it had to be 300 words or less. I submitted an entry and we were supposed to find out this week if I was a finalist. Well, I didn't hear anything so I'm assuming I'm not BUT I'm really happy that I submitted something anyway and I wanted to share what I wrote with all of you!

I want to say a word about this piece before you read it though. This piece is about my sister, Michelle. I have 2 other sisters, a younger half sister, Megan, and an older step sister, Carly, and they are both very dear to me. I was also blessed with a step brother later in life, Taylor. All of my siblings are so close to my heart. I chose to write about Michelle because we have been through so much together. Not only do we look quite a bit alike (we're often mistaken for twins), we have forged a relationship over the years that is so very, very close that we are pretty much inseparable.

Anyway, enough chatter! Enjoy!

 “When I grow up you will NEVER be allowed in my house!!” These were words my sister, Michelle, and I shouted at each other often. We frequently made this proclamation to each other, to family, friends, and anyone who would listen to us rave about how much we disliked each other.

Looking back, I’m not sure why we were such arch-enemies. I can’t remember what a single fight was about. Family and friends would remark to us and our parents that they had never seen siblings who fought so much.

On February 2, 1998, that all changed. I was in college when I got news that my father had lost his battle with cancer. When I got home, there was Michelle, running toward me with her arms open, tears streaming down her face. We collapsed into each other, sobbing. I stroked my little sister’s hair as she moaned “Why?” into mine.  Suddenly, my arch-enemy was my life line, my anchor, the only person who shared my pain.

The life of my friendship with my sister was born that day of my father’s death.

We’ve grown a lot in 13 years. Our shared grief eventually evolved into the shared joys of life: college, marriage, and most recently the birth of my daughter. We still fought over the years but have always been here for each other. Lately, I am often struck by the knowledge that I could not live without Michelle. She has been the constant in my life. The one person I never thought I would want in my circle of friends has become my best one.

I hope someday I can give my daughter the gift I was given. The gift of fighting, frustration, laughter, and unconditional love. The gift of a very first, very best friend. A sister.