Friday

I have debated and debated and debated with myself about writing about the horror that was Friday, December 14, 2012. One minute my head is full of thoughts and opinions and ideas and the next minute I am just numb from that tragedy.

I have a lot of other “posts” floating around in my head that I want to share with you all but it doesn’t seem right not to pay homage to those sweet children. I need and want to address my thoughts and emotions about  all of the moms and dads out there who are mourning the very quick, unplanned, horrific end to their journeys in the parenting of the their child.

This post is not about gun control or violence in schools or God in schools or mental health. Those are the main topics I’ve seen and heard come up on the news and on social media sites. And those topics are relevant to the tragedy on Friday and I think they should be talked about and reviewed. When we have something like this incident slap us in the face, we should start talking to each other about what drives our society and about what we can do to keep our children safe.

But I don’t want to talk about those things in this post. I just want to share what Friday meant to me as a mom. I’m glad I wrote this all down and if every time you think about Friday you start to get panicky and horrified and sad like I do/did, I suggest you write it down too. Because that incident hit a spot in the core of the “parent” community in a way that changes the way you look at things. We have to process those things and deal with them. I just don’t think we can just jump to the next big event without taking a moment to reflect and prepare ourselves as parents.

So, here’s my Friday:

Like the morning of most of those parents in Connecticut, my morning started out fairly mundane.

On Friday, I woke up sick for the second day in a row. I woke up though next to The Boss Lady and I snuggled up to her under the blankets and I just laid there listening to her breathe and thinking about how I wished we could spend the whole day like that. We took our time getting ready for school that day. I planned to stay home from work to get over the insane sinus infection I had.

When I was getting her clothes ready for school, my sweet girl INSISTED on wearing this silly cookie monster shirt. It’s this bright blue shirt with a cookie monster face on it and it’s *that* shirt that my kid wants to wear nearly every single day. It cracks me up. We’ve managed to compromise to a once a week wearing of the shirt. In a way, I dread that day because there is NOTHING else in her closet that matches that shirt. Olivia’s hair is still very short so the shirt kind of makes her look like a boy. And in a way, I love that shirt. Because she loves that shirt. Because the way she smiles when she has that shirt on and the way she lights up when she says “COOKIE!” makes me light up too.

I took her to school and went to pick up some wrapping paper so I could spend the day wrapping Christmas presents. I'm still a little amazed at how much I thoroughly enjoyed running an errand BY MYSELF and how excited I was at the prospect of having a day at home BY MYSELF. When I got home, I made my lunch. I sat down on the couch and turned on the news. That’s when I first heard about and saw the devastation in Connecticut. I had tears in my eyes the entire time I was watching the news. It was so upsetting that I eventually turned it off and sat in another room, away from the tv so as not to be tempted to turn it back on, turned on Christmas music and wrapped gifts.

I know. That sounds callous and selfish. But I bet a lot of folks had a similar reaction. My head and my heart could NOT fathom what I had seen on the news. I just could not absorb that in an instant, at the hands of another human, 20 children were just gone from this earth. I just could not make sense of any of it.

When Mike got home, we talked about it a little more. The day before, Olivia’s *big* Christmas gift had been delivered and we had been talking about how excited we are to set it up and have it ready for her Christmas morning. Mike said that it made him so sad to think of those kids’ Christmas gifts sitting under the tree or in their parents’ closets never to be opened on Christmas morning. I nearly vomited at that thought.

We went to pick up Olivia from school and I felt such joy at seeing her smile and come running out to the car. I loved the feel of her tiny body in my arms when I hugged her and I had to keep myself from squeezing her too tight. I loved the sound of her small voice and the way she chattered about anything and everything on her mind.  

We were going out of town that evening and about 30 minutes into our car ride, I was contemplating dropping my kid off at the next truck stop with a sign that said “Needs a good home and is potty trained.” True story. My joy at seeing my child just 30 minutes before had turned into a splitting headache from the constant chaos. Her small sweet voice telling me about her friends that day had become an ear drum shattering whine. The tiny body I wanted to hold so close to me had morphed into a mass of flailing arms and legs in the midst of a temper tantrum.

To me this is what parenthood is: it’s that CONSTANT roller coaster and struggle of one minute being on Cloud 9 and the next being in the 7^th Circle of Hell. It’s wanting to give your kid away to some trucker but knowing that you cannot live on this earth if they are not on it. It is feeling like your heart is going to explode from love and your head from insanity all in the same moment.

And I thought of all of those parents. I thought of what their Friday morning must have been like and what their Friday afternoon had turned into. I wondered if they let their kids pick out some ridiculous shirt simply because it made them happy. I wondered if they had to negotiate good behavior for stickers or jelly beans. I wondered if any of them were frustrated at their little munchkins when they dropped them off at school that morning. I wondered if it EVER occurred to any of them that they would never have an opportunity to be frustrated again.

I cannot count the number of times that I have dropped Olivia off at school with a sigh of relief and waved to her teachers as I drove off shouting “Better you than me!” Never has the thought occurred to me that I would not have an opportunity to be frustrated or fed up with Lady Loco ever again. It makes me sick to think about that.

As much as that child can drive me bonkers, I do not want to spend a day on this planet if she is not here. I know that if something or someone were to take her from us, Mike and I would work to make some meaning of our lives. But we wouldn’t want to. We talked about that too on Friday. We talked about how if something happens to her, we would just want to die. For both of us, it is impossible to imagine being alive when she is not. And yet 20 sets of parents were faced with that on Friday and will be faced with that for the rest of their lives. My heart breaks for them.

Here is the conclusion and the meaning I came to from the events on Friday:

I don’t believe that we live in an evil world. Yes, that man was sick and possibly evil. But I don’t think that the whole human race is. Broken, yes. Evil, no. I can’t believe this world is evil based on the outrage that every single person I know showed at this event. I know there is good out there. What I don’t know is the answer to keep stuff like that from happening again. To my child. To any child. I don’t have the answer for that. I’m not sure that anyone does.

What do I know is this: if I lost Olivia tomorrow, I would want to know that every minute I spent with her counted. I would want to know that even if I had been frustrated with her, there was a love between us that was unbreakable. I would want to know that I let her wear a silly shirt because it made her happy and because her happiness makes me happy. I would want to know that my child had been loved by me, by Mike, by any who had known her. I would want her to leave this world knowing that she had been loved.

That’s all we can do as parents: LOVE THE CRAP OUT OF OUR KIDS. We cannot protect them from all harm. We cannot keep them from being taken from us. That’s the hard core and crappy truth. As much as we try to keep them healthy and safe, sometimes that is not enough. Sometimes, things happen outside of our plans and despite our best efforts. So, for the time that Olivia is entrusted to me, I am going to just love her. When I start to feel frustrated or like I want to drop her at the nearest Flying J, I will remind myself that every single day I have to love her means something. Every. Single. Day. Even the hard ones. Even the ones when I fall into bed exhausted and spent. Even the ones when I just want to quit. Every day that I am with her, every day I get to be her mom matters. Her life matters.

Those babies that died on Friday had not been here very long. Can you imagine just 5 (or maybe a little more) years of life? The amount of time they had been here wasn't indicative of their impact. Their lives still had meaning. Their lives still mattered. They changed and shaped their parents in such a short time. I know because Oli has changed and shaped me in ways I never could have imagined. And she's done it in just 2 short years. 

When we say “life is short” never do we ever imagine “short” means just 5 years. But life can sometimes be that short. I’m going to make the most of every single instant of this life with my kiddo. I don’t EVER want to be left here without Oli but if I am, I will know that she was loved every single day of her life. I will know that she got to wear her Cookie shirt, that she got to have joy in her life.

If I lost Olivia, I would want to know that other parents could just learn to take advantage of every moment with their kids. That doesn’t mean every moment is going to be wonderful. Some of them are going to suck. But just try to be in the moment. Try to remember in those frustrating moments that it only takes one moment to take that all away.

I would want to know that people were praying for us. I would want to know that they were praying for our peace and for this world we live in where insane and awful things happen to people's babies. I would want to know that our world still had faith even when it doesn't seem possible that God was present in that moment. Prayer doesn't seem all that powerful when you have to bury your child but I think, I hope, that it is. And it is all most of us can do. Even though it is hard to see God in an event like that, I know He is there. Mike and I have and will continue to pray for those families and peace for the Newtown community throughout this tragedy. May God be with all of those families now and always.   

Let's try, "I love you," instead of, "I farted."

I just had yet another great phone convo with one of my very best friends and spiritual mentor (D$, that’s you!). Darci is someone who believed in me and prayed for me when I could do neither for myself. She constantly reminds me that I am God’s child even when I’m a complete mess and/or butthole. I wanted to share a thought/story that I shared with her and that’s been swirling in my crazy brain for a few days (maybe weeks?) now.

I don’t write a ton about my faith but I hope that you can see that in some of my writing and some of the way that I look at life and this crazy journey of Parenthood. My faith is my rock. It’s the thing that holds the Milligan Empire together. It’s the thing that guides me during all of the uncertainties in raising The Boss Lady. EVERY SINGLE DAY I pray over Olivia when she goes to bed and I pray that God would just guide me to raise her to be not want I want her to be but what He wants her to be to serve Him in her life.

Some folks comment on how I’m much more laid back as a parent than they ever thought I’d be. Apparently I was quite the OCD Control Freak in my pre-parenthood days. Apparently. I think my faith in God’s higher purpose for my daughter has a lot to do with that. Every time I hear the circus music playing in my head, I remind myself that I am here to serve Him in raising Lady Loco. Though Mike and I were extremely blessed to have been chosen to be Olivia’s parents on this earth, we know that she does not belong to us. She belongs to God and we are here to raise her to be whatever He needs her to be. There’s something exhilarating and sort of freeing about that. I know that even when I screw up, He will use those moments to shape Olivia and Mike and me.

So, here’s the thought/story I wanted to share:

If you follow me on Facebook (and I’m quite entertaining so you should!), you know that we’ve had sleep issues with Captain Crazy since August 24, 2010 (that’s the day she was born for any of you who have just joined us). Our new thing to get her to go to sleep is just to lay down with her in the bed. She loves that. If we put her in her bed, it takes her 2 hours to go to sleep. If we just put her in bed with us, it takes like 20 minutes. She loves the closeness. Often we’ll just listen to music or I’ll run my fingers through her hair or tickle her back. It reminds me of when my sister, Michelle, and I were little and she would just beg me (or whoever was laying with her) to tickle her back until she fell asleep.

A couple of weeks ago, Oli and I were laying in bed and I was just looking at her and thinking how lucky I am to have such a beautiful child and I said, “I love you so much Oli A.” And she said, “Mommy I have a booger.” Or something profound like that. And I had to chuckle because I just thought that is so typical that I am looking for some intimate meaningful moment with her and that’s what she has to tell me.

And I LOVE it when Olivia tells me she loves me. I mean, I practically crave it. That may sound crazy but all of you mommies, and probably daddies, out there know what I mean. When that child wraps her arms around me and says, “I love you, Mommy!” I feel like I am going to split open from the complete joy I feel in the moment. It doesn’t matter if the second before she has pooped on the floor or rubbed banana in the couch or purposefully thrown Goldfish on the ground and then stepped all over them. When she says “I love you,” it is the ONLY thing I ever need to hear.

It struck me as I was laying there with her, with her boogers, and thinking how much I love and would have loved to hear her say “I love you” back in that moment, that our God must also crave our love and affection that much. And even though laying there with her was good for her for going to sleep, that intimacy, that quiet time with her is good for me too. I love those times when she will lay quietly with me and just BE. 

Often, I am struck by the correlations between human parenthood and the parenthood of our Heavenly Father. And this is a big one.

I live for those moments when Olivia gives me love and adoration. And she doesn’t give it for any other reason except that she also feels loved and safe and comfortable. It comes with no strings attached. It is simple and pure and I crave that from her always.

Imagine then how much more our God craves our love and affection. Imagine how much more He beams when we purely and honestly say, “I love you,” with no expectations except that we are loved in return. Imagine how elated He is when we just spend time with Him and we are just fully present, we are just THERE.

When your child loves you, is there anything you wouldn’t give her? Is there any transgression you wouldn’t forgive when those three words are said to you? And honestly, even when your child is hateful to you or disrespectful, is there still anything you wouldn’t give her? No.

That’s what we do as parents. We live for and crave those moments that our children show their purest love and affection for us. We always, ALWAYS provide for them even when they are ungrateful, insane Gremlins. And when they say “I love you,” every tear, every heart ache, every dime spent is worth those three words.

When talking to Darci this evening, I told her the following story:

Every morning, Mike and I say a prayer together. It’s something we started before we were married and we’ve done it every day for like 7 years or something. Now that Olivia is up before Mike leaves, she’s been saying our prayer with us in the morning. She holds our hands, scrunches her eyes up tight, and at the end, jubilantly shouts “AMEN!”

One morning, we were praying and Olivia interrupted, “Hey Mommy! Hey Mommy!” Thinking she may have something to add to our prayer, in my very loving Mommy Voice, I said “Yes, love?”

“Mommy I farted!” she shouted joyfully. I just had to laugh and look to Heaven and say “She’s all yours.”

Darci got a kick out of the story and pointed out that we often do to God what Olivia did to us. We interrupt a profound moment or opportunity to spend time with Him to say “Hey, I farted!” or “I have a booger.” And still He loves us and provides for us and just waits for and craves that moment when we say, “I love you.”

Mike and I do so many things to see joy in our child. We take her to the zoo or aquarium for that ONE moment when her eyes light up and she is happy. We tell her we love her about 800 times a day for that ONE time when she says it back. And all of the work and all of the tears and all of the boogers and farts in the world are worth it for that ONE time.

AND GOD DOES THE SAME THING FOR US. FOR ME.

Oh, and by the way, our human parents still crave that too! No matter how old we are! Call your mom and dad, tell them “I love you.” Save your fart or boogers stories for another time. They’ve listened to that crap your whole life.  

I was floored by my little moment. As an adult it is really easy to feel like I am independent enough to not *need* to be waited on or craved. But I do need it. I love knowing that God provides so many things for Mike, Oli, and I and He does it without any expectation. But when we stop in in our day to tell Him, “I love you,” He nearly splits in half with joy over that. It’s kind of a cool feeling.

Okay, so I’m not going to end this with an “altar invitation” or anything like that. BUT, I will say that I think all of us parents (and even those of you who are not!) should take a moment to say, “I love you,” instead of “I farted.” I think we should take a moment to realize that no matter how old you are or whether your human parents are around or not, someone (um, God, in case you missed the point) craves YOU—your love, your affection, your “I love you.”  

Huggies for High Schoolers

Well, I guess we are potty training. Or I guess that’s what this is when your *teeny tiny baby* is wearing panties! Don’t get all excited. I said we are still in training. We aren’t pros yet. For instance, tonight after her bath, Olivia said no to wearing panties and actually chose to wear a diaper. And by the way, does anyone else who’s potty trained a little girl feel like you say the word “panties” a lot? Like today at work, my team mates and I were talking about getting something for the Christmas party and I said “Oh, I’ll get it. I have to go to Target anyway and get some new panties.” It didn’t occur to me until just now that if anyone had overheard that, I might get a call from HR tomorrow.

At any rate, here we are, buying panties covered in pictures of Minnie Mouse, and cheering about pee-pee in the potty, and cleaning poop out of underwear.

Oh yes, you read that right. That was my night last night. Cleaning poop. Out of underwear. Good. Times.

Look, this potty training gig was NOT our idea, I assure you. It all started about 2 months ago while Olivia still had her cast on (What, you didn’t know our kid had a cast on her right leg? Long story. Maybe I’ll tell it some other time. When I’m not too busy cleaning up pee and poop.). Her teachers at school told us that she had been showing some interest but they wanted to wait until they didn’t have more of a mess with the cast in the way. They wrote in her school note that she was ready and we would readdress it later. Quite frankly, I didn’t care one way or the other. The way I figured it, she’d potty train when she was ready. She might have been showing some interest but that wasn’t enough to convince me it was time.

But after the cast came off, Olivia set about trying to convince US that SHE was ready. Over the past month, every time her diaper is wet, Oli will come to us announcing that she has a pee-pee and rip off her diaper. She also asks often to wear panties and occasionally we would let her put a pair on. But, inevitably, 15 minutes later she would wet herself and I’d be cleaning pee off of her legs, out of her clothes, out of her shoes, and out of the carpet.

Take 2 weeks ago, Sunday. She asked to wear panties instead of a diaper when she got up. I figured we’d give it a go. Every 30 minutes we put her on the toilet but nothing happened. Then it was time to leave for church. Things were going so good that I wanted to be consistent and leave her in the panties. About 30 minutes through the service, I took Oli to the bathroom. Trying to show solidarity, I decided I’d go first to show her how big girls go pee-pee. Just as I was pulling up my pants, Olivia announced “I go pee-pee.” And then she did. All over the floor. Soaking through her panties and her tights. Pee trickling down into her shoes. 

Did I have the diaper bag with me with spare diapers and clothes? Nope.

I wiped the pee off of the floor, stripped her shoes, tights, and panties and put them in the sink. I then carried a shoe-less, pants-less, diaper-less child back into the church sanctuary and loud-whispered to Mike “Give. Me. The. Diaper. Bag.” I then headed back to the bathroom to continue the clean up. We put a diaper on The Boss Lady the rest of the day. And that entire week. I had decided to give up on panties entirely at that point. After that day, I didn’t give a crap if she went to prom wearing a damn diaper.

I mean, it was clear to me that she just wasn’t ready for it. And I was totally okay with that. I am just not obsessed with “milestones” for Oli. The way I figure it is that she’ll get there when she gets there. And unless her doc is telling me otherwise, I’m just going to assume that she’s right on track and will learn things at her own pace.

Not to mention that cleaning up a diaper is about 8,743 times easier than cleaning up pee off of the floor. Oh, and did I mention my complete disgust for public restrooms? Seriously. I have a recurring nightmare, and I mean NIGHTMARE, about a dirty public restroom that I am forced to use. It’s weird, I know. It’s my thing though. And it didn’t occur to me that when I had a little girl I’d have to brave a public restroom with her. See, I’ve mastered the public restroom. I can squat for a full 2 minutes. Have you ever tried to get a 2 year old to squat? Or to keep their hands out of the toilet or their pee stream? I’m considering in investing in a Hazmat suit just for public restroom visits.

But then we got the note.

Each day, Olivia’s teachers send home a note saying how she did that day and letting us know about any special occurrences. Monday’s note said, “Olivia is ready for potty training! You can send her in panties tomorrow if you want.” Um, WHAT?? You want me to send my teeny tiny baby to school in panties??!!??

I felt overwhelmed and excited by that note. If her teachers think she is ready then I guess that’s a good sign. Mike and I kind of assume that her teachers know more than we do about toddlers since that’s what they do all day so I just thought we’d take their word for it. Also, some of her school friends are potty training and I think she wants to imitate. Sometimes peer pressure is a good thing.

Tuesday when she woke up, we put the panties on and 15 minutes later I was cleaning pee from the carpet. I was determined not to be discouraged though and put a clean pair on her and sent her off with 3 changes of clothes. And she didn’t have an accident ALL DAY! Well, at least not until Mike showed up at the end of the day and she got so excited that she peed.

Oh, and until she got home. And tried to lock herself in the atrium while she squeezed a huge terd out. I tried to stop that one but was about 17 seconds too late. Luckily though she was pretty horrified by the poop in the panties incident and cried “There’s poo-poo on my panties!!!” Yep, kid, that’s what happens when you crap your pants.

This morning, we tried again. No accidents before we went to school. When I dropped her off, her teachers just raved about how good she was doing and how it was so great that she is indicating she is ready and doesn’t want to be wet or dirty in a diaper. So I went to Target today and invested in 18 more pairs of Disney designs to be worn on my child’s rear end. At 3 pairs a day, those, along with the 5 pairs we already have, will last a week without me having to do laundry. When I brought the panties home, Olivia danced around the kitchen shouting “Panties! Panties! Panties!” Calm down, Boss Lady, this ain’t Mardi Gras.

As I mentioned earlier though, after bath tonight, she completely refused panties and requested to wear a diaper.

So, at this point, I just don’t know what is going on. In a way, I just feel like throwing in the towel and telling her teachers that we’ll just put her in Depends when she outgrows Huggies. And in a way, the thought of not having to buy another $40 pack of diapers makes me giddy with excitement. I don’t want to push her but I also want to encourage her since she’s showing so much interest.

She gets REALLY excited whenever she uses the bathroom on the toilet. I mean REALLY, REALLY, REALLY excited. Like this morning, she yelled “Mommy, I did it! I went pee-pee!” The evident thrill coming from her is infectious and I want her to do this if SHE wants to. But I DON’T want it to frustrate all of us. Right now, I don’t feel aggravated when she has an accident. She’s 2. It’s a new skill. I get that. I worry though that it will *start* to frustrate me.

The hardest thing about parenting for me has been not knowing how long the rough phases are going to last. Luckily though I have a few of those rough times under my belt and I know at this point that this will probably not last very long so we are going to stick with it. Either this will be a total success in about a week or we will just go back to diapers and try again later.

At any rate, it’s really cute right now to watch her learn something new. This morning, when I put her on the potty for like the 800^th time, she looked down between her legs and asked me, “Mommy, where’s the pee-pee?” It was so earnest and so concerned and so very cute. And what other time in your life can you wear Minnie Mouse on your business and not be considered a freak? Really, potty training does have its cute moments.

We’ll see what happens from here. If you want to be supportive, please send carpet cleaner this way! Or if this doesn’t work out, help sign my petition for Huggies to start making a diaper that will fit a high schooler. 

Thanksgiving for the Women

This week, I’ve been thinking a lot about the incredible women in my life. While I am thankful for so many, many things this year, I am especially grateful this Thanksgiving for the women who have helped to shape and teach me.

Before I had children, I would watch my friends with kids and I would sort of catalogue their parenting styles. Each parenting technique would sort of go into a category. Like “Don’t EVER do that!” or “Use that often,” or “What the…???” I don’t mean to say that I was being judgmental per say but I just thought I could somehow make a sort of Rule Book of my own with compilations of other women’s parenting styles.

Then I had Olivia. And I realized that some of the things I thought were genius just didn’t work with my kiddo. And some of the things I thought were insane were kind of brilliant. The thing is, as a mom, you just take all of your compiled knowledge and you use whatever it takes to make it through each day. There have been times that I have been brilliant in this gig and there have been times (okay MOST times) that I am just a blundering idiot. But through it all I’ve had this truly incredible network of women who have held my hand, laughed with me, cried with me, cheered me on, and never told me that I don’t know what I’m doing…at least to my face!

Today I raise a glass to the women in my life who have been with me thus far. You may not want to take credit for your influence here but the credit is yours and I am forever thankful to YOU:

To my grandmothers, Christa and Joanne. Two beautiful women who raised families, took care of a household, and have managed to keep their strong willed husbands in check for more than 50 years. My grandmother Christa came to this country from Germany as a young woman and has taken this nation by storm. She is funny and smart and knows how to make a mean schnitzel. My grandmother Joanne raised 6 six kids and lost her eldest, my dad, 14 years ago. I cannot imagine how that must have felt as a mom but she continues to be a strong example of what it means to be a wife and a mom.

To Mike’s grandmother, Nedra. She passed away this year on October 7 but her influence will live with me forever. Her faith was inspiring and she and though she too lost her son, Mike’s dad, she continued to be faithful and graceful in all things. She was regal and beautiful and we will miss her smile and her yummy sweet potato casserole this year at dinner.

To my mom, Jannette. My mom and I have not always had the easiest relationship but she continues to try her heart out and she faces her past failures with courage. She is always trying to make a better future and her love and pride for us is so evident any time you talk to her. We may not always be perfect but I am happy to say that my mom has become my friend and she is a seriously wonderful grandmother to Oli.

To my step-mom, Lisa. She could not have had a more awkward situation to walk into when she inherited me and my sisters but she took us on without batting an eyelash. She is strong and beautiful and has put up with some insanity as most step-moms do but she has taken it all with grace. She is generous and loving and she makes every family event so special. She was just as excited to become a grandmother as my mom and Mike’s mom were. We don’t share genetics but we choose each other as family and that creates a very special bond.  

To my mother-in-law, Margaret. She raised two incredible men and I am blessed to be married to one of them. I can’t even imagine being a mom of two boys but she endured farting at the dinner table and burping during church like a champ. She is very much a lady and helped instill manners and gentleness in her sons. She takes her role as a grandmother very seriously and when I think of whom I’d like to be as a grandma, she is someone who comes to mind. She lives for her grandkids and I love that she carries around photo albums of them.

To my sisters, Carly, Michelle, and Megan. To Carly and Megan for commiserating with me when our kids are acting like crazy banshees. For paving the road before me so I can always look to the two of you and know that this insanity is survivable. You are both wonderful moms and I feel blessed to have been a part of your own journeys in motherhood. To my sister, Michelle, who has no children but who is like another mother to my sweet girl. For holding my hand through so much of this journey and for just being here. That means more than you might know. If you decide not to have children, I will totally support that but I have no doubt that you would be an incredible mother. All 3 of you, my sisters, are the reason I cannot imagine Olivia being an only child. I have no idea what I would do without each of you.

To my sister-in-law, Emily. As she gets ready to celebrate her first Thanksgiving as a mom, I just want to say, “You are rocking this motherhood thing!” I have been so amazed to see her become a mom. She is great at it and my niece, Aislynn, is so lucky that she got Emily as a mom. Emily is always the one starting up some silliness at family affairs and I am always grateful to her for making me laugh even when I want to cry. She is a wonderful aunt to Olivia and she has become a great friend to me.

To all of my aunts and Mike’s aunt. There are too many of you to list one-by-one and that’s a GREAT thing! I cannot tell you all how much I appreciate the example you have been to me. You are all so loving and warm and open and I hope I am that kind of aunt to my nieces and nephews. You all have also shown me how to be a great mom since all of you are. Thank you for baby-sitting me as a kid and for supporting me now as an adult. I love you all so much.

To my cousins and their wives and Mike's cousin and wives of his cousins and there are MANY of you. We don't get to see each other much but I love knowing you are out there rooting for us and loving my Oli. Some of you are mothers and some are not but you have all helped to shape me. From the time we were kids and rolling around in the dirt to now as wives, moms, women, I am grateful to know and be a part of all of you. 

To my friends WITH kids. Thank you for being an example to me, a shoulder to cry on, someone to cheer us on, someone to celebrate the joys of this journey with. Thank you for sharing your own journey and for letting me be a part of that.

To my friends WITHOUT kids. Thank you for being just as excited about Olivia’s accomplishments as we are. Thank you for offering to watch her even though I feel certain that before I had a kid I never offered to watch anyone else’s! Thank you for your love of my kiddo and for sharing our lives.

You can see that Olivia has a long line of women to look to as an example for herself someday when she needs or wants someone to turn to. To say I am thankful for the inspiration you all have been to me would not be sufficient. Thank you for loving us, for shaping me, for believing in me. Thank you. Thank you. THANK YOU. Someday, when Olivia is giving thanks for the women she admires, I hope to make that list. I hope to be the example to her that all of you have been to me.

And last but not least, a huge thanks to The Boss Lady. Though she is not a woman yet, she has been an inspiration to me since the day I knew she existed. She has stretched and pushed me beyond what I knew possible. She has brought me to tears and then back to laughter quicker than I ever thought possible. She has taught me that a little dirt on the kitchen floor isn’t the end of the world and that my college days of pulling all-nighters really did come in handy. She shows me the joy in the every day. She is proof that there is an Almighty God who has a perfect plan and a perfect creation. She loves me even when I completely screw up. I know that kids are supposed to learn from their parents but I’m pretty sure that Olivia has taught me more about life and about myself than I may ever teach her. This motherhood gig has been my hardest and most incredible lesson so far. I cannot believe I was chosen to be her mom and I look forward to every lesson yet to come.   

As I sit down today with some of the women I’ve named here, I can say that this truly is a day of tremendous Thanksgiving. I hope today you can look around and see the people and things you have to be thankful for. I hope you continue to have many more days of thanksgiving beyond today. May all of you be blessed today and always! Happy Turkey Day! 

I like to read

I've written before about the absurdity and hilarity of some of the children’s literature out there but I’m finding that I actually mostly enjoy reading Olivia’s books to her. And my kid LOVES to read. Each night, I try to have her narrow our bedtime story time to 5 books but we usually end up reading closer to 10. Though I usually start story time exhausted, there is something so peaceful and, well, awesome about reading with Oli.

She gets so into the story and, since we've read most of her books dozens of times, she will usually tell me what comes next in the story. I love asking “What do you think is going to happen?” and she excitedly shouts the answer. 

One of my favorite things is to find her “reading” to herself. She flips through the pages telling the story to herself by memory. It is the sweetest thing. This video of her just makes me smile. I can't believe I was able to catch her in the moment AND that she let me continue filming!

Of all of the things Olivia is taking an interest in these days I’m most excited about her love of books. Maybe it’s because I also loved reading as a kid and I've always had the support and encouragement of adults in my life who are also avid readers.

I remember as a kid tearing through books, just so engrossed in the story. I remember picturing the scene and characters and feeling like I was there. I remember feeling so connected to the story line that I would wake up on the weekend excited to pick up where I left off in a book the night before.

My parents were big readers too and I am thankful to them for fostering this in me. My aunt Jacki, a teacher, used to take us to the library in the summer to join the book clubs. I loved the smell of the library and I still do. There’s something about rows and rows of books that is just beautiful to me. Though I’m not sure how this will happen since I refuse to ever move again but I kind of dream of having my own home library some day.

I can’t wait to take Olivia to get her very own library card. Although, who knows what that will look like in the future. I know this makes me a little bit “old” but I don’t love the electronic book era. I can appreciate saving some paper but there is something so magical about turning the page of a book or walking into a library and browsing the shelves for the next story to lose yourself in. I will just never get used to holding a cold electronic device and touching the screen to “turn” the page. I’m just not sure “Brown Bear, Brown Bear” would have quite the same feel if I read it to my sweet girl on an i-pad.

But I’m getting off track here. Regardless of how she gets into reading, I’m just thrilled that Oli is into it.

If you don’t read much to your kiddos, please start!! Not only does a lot of research show how healthy reading to your child is for their development, it’s so healthy for your relationship too. At the end of the day, sometimes I am so tired and I just want to turn on a movie and let her fall asleep watching Monsters Inc or some other genius Pixar creation. But once I’m sitting in the rocking chair with her and we are talking about what the gorilla in “Good Night, Gorilla” is going to do, I am in Heaven. Often she wants her baby doll to sit with us as we read and so I sit with The Boss Lady and Baby Doll and we dive into some adventure of some crazy character. It’s that time of the day where Olivia and I just get some down time and some time to use our imaginations a little. Even if reading this much doesn't make her a super genius, that’s cool. It makes me superbly happy. And I think it does the same for her.

And so, in honor of The Boss Lady’s love for reading and her love of the beloved Baby Doll, I've written our own little adventure. Enjoy! 

Adventures of The Boss Lady:

Where is Baby Doll?

This is The Boss Lady

The Boss Lady's favorite toy is her Baby Doll. Baby Doll does everything with The Boss Lady. Baby Doll takes a bath, eats dinner, and even gets her diaper changed whenever The Boss Lady gets her diaper changed. Baby Doll especially loves to go for walks,

and to the park to swing on the swings.

The Boss Lady and Baby Doll especially love to read books together

And Baby Doll never has to wear clothes because The Boss Lady wishes she didn't have to wear clothes so she figures somebody should be allowed to go au naturale. 

One day, The Boss Lady went to get Baby Doll so they could go play. But Baby Doll was nowhere to be found. The Boss Lady looked everywhere for Baby Doll. She just knew she'd find Baby Doll  at the park waiting for her to play,

but Baby Doll was not there. 

She immediately called all of her closest friends to see if they had seen Baby Doll

but nobody had seen her. 

The Boss Lady even asked The Crazy Barbie Head if she had seen Baby Doll. But Crazy Barbie Head said she had not.

"What baby?? I haven't seen any baby..."

But The Boss Lady wasn't sure she really believed Crazy Barbie Head. Crazy Barbie Head did have a little bit of a "reputation,"

Eventually she called her good friend, The President, to see if he had seen Baby Doll

"No, sorry, Boss Lady, I haven't seen Baby Doll
at all."

The Boss Lady was distraught. She stopped to ponder where Baby Doll could possibly be.

She stopped to have a snack so she could get her blood sugar up and think straight.

But still she could not think where Baby Doll might be. Finally, out of sheer exhaustion, The Boss Lady stumbled to her room. And there, in The Boss Lady's LEAST FAVORITE PLACE TO BE, was Baby Doll!

The Boss Lady was so excited that she decided she too would take a nice nap.

And The Boss Lady dreamed sweet dreams of hers and Baby Doll's next big adventure.

People with kids are 7% less happy

Several years ago, before I became a mom, I read a magazine article that included a “study” on whether or not people with kids are happier than those without. The author used quantifiers for happiness like money, sleep, leisure time, time with your spouse, vacation, etc. The finding was daunting: People with kids are LESS happy than those without. The author actually came up with a percentage and it was something like 7% LESS happiness.

I was reminded of this article Saturday night as I lay bawling my eyes out on the couch telling Mike that there is no way I can be a good wife AND a good mom and that either he or Oli was going to get the short end of the stick when it came to my energy or affection. Gone were our hopes of a relaxing Saturday night in the hot tub with a bottle of wine as snot and tears trickled down my face and shoulder shaking sobs racked my body.

Let me back up a little: 

A couple of weeks ago, we entered a new “Mommy Phase.” I’m not sure what is spurring this but suddenly Olivia needs my undivided attention 100% of the time and I am the ONLY person who can help her with anything. For instance, if she needs a glass of water, she’ll come up to me, tugging on whatever article of clothing she can grab, whine “I want water!!!!” and then throw herself on the ground if I don’t respond immediately. And if I’m busy with something else (making dinner, washing dishes, taking a pee) Mike will offer to help her. Her response? “NO DADDY DO IT!!!” She is determined that it will be ME who assists her in all things.

If I am sitting in the room with her while she is playing and my attention is on nothing else, all is happy and well. Heaven forbid though that I get a phone call or Mike and I try to have a conversation or I need to blow my nose. She will drop whatever she is doing, come find me, and demand “Mommy, I hold you!” until I pick her up. And if I don’t pick her up, she’ll grab both of my legs and bury her head between them until I do. Now, I’m not sure if the child is trying to make her way back up the birth canal or if kids are like dogs and examining your butt is a way for them to get to know you better or what and I don’t really care. The last thing I need is a rectal exam by my 2 year old.

It is exhausting and heart wrenching to not have an inch of personal space or to be able to have an uninterrupted conversation with ANYONE. The sad part is that in the morning, as I am trying to get 2 lunches packed, 2 breakfasts made, both of us dressed, teeth brushed, and the house in some kind of order, all I want to do is stop to hold her. But I can’t. Because telling my boss “Oh, I’m sorry, my kiddo needed extra snuggle time this morning,” isn't going to go very far to explain why I’m 30 minutes late.

And truthfully, there are times when I just don’t want to hold her. She’s heavy. I have a bad back. Sometimes, just sometimes, I want to eat dinner without someone sitting on my lap, putting their fingers in my food, and knocking my ice water into my lap. Sometimes, just sometimes, I want to sit on the pot in peace without having to respond to things like “Mommy, what IS that?” or “I have a booger!” Is that asking too much? Really???

This Saturday was no exception to this recent behavior and by the end of it, I was emotionally and physically spent.

Getting ready to get out of the house was challenging as I showered while Olivia banged on the shower door. I was reminded of one of those zombie movies where someone has barricaded themselves in a closet or small room while the zombies drag their hands across the surface of the door, trying to find some small entrance. And you kind of know that even though that person is safe temporarily, the zombies ARE going to find a way in and that will be the end of that character. Periodically, I would open the shower door and say "It's okay, I'm right here. I'll be out in a minute," shutting the door quickly so she couldn't climb in.

While at my nephew’s football game, things were a little better since Olivia had her cousins to play with. But, of course, during the awards ceremony, she was on a mission to find me since I was busy taking pictures for my sister. I managed to elude her only to find her later following some other brunette lady around, pathetically holding her arms up, sunglasses askew, whining “Mommy!!!” I should have yelled out to Olivia that that was not me. But, again like a zombie movie, sometimes someone has to be sacrificed so the others can get away so I just stood by and enjoyed having a moment to myself. If by some strange coincidence you are reading this, my apologies to you, poor brunette lady who apparently looks like me, for leaving you to fend for yourself against my crazed child.

My small reprieve didn't last long though.  Olivia's refusal to walk to the car by herself resulted in me carrying her as she pulled my pony tail and tried to poke me in the eye through my sunglasses. And as I felt the first drop of sweat roll leisurely down my back into my butt crack, I knew this was going to be a long afternoon.

We had plans to go to a festival downtown and check out our new city. The minute we were out of the car, the whining demand to be held was taken up with full force by The Boss Lady. In a moment of complete frustration, I said “I can’t carry you through this whole damn festival!” The audible gasps from the apparently perfect-never-say-a-curse-word-or-lose-their-patience-in-front-of-their-children parents was a sign that I was probably at the end of my rope.

The rest of the afternoon was a roller coaster of smiles and tears and when we got home, I was relieved to be able to sit down. And it was nice. Until I had to get up to make dinner. And though all was peaceful watching Happy Feet just seconds before, suddenly my audacity to get up to make dinner was just too much for my sweet daughter. Away we went once more with insistent pleas to be held, requests for crackers/water/candy/a different movie in the DVD player every 30 seconds, and my eventual relinquishment of the wine glass in favor of just drinking straight from the bottle.

During dinner, after repeated refusals to eat her dinner and stripping of her clothes, Olivia’s behavior sent me over the edge. As I sat there trying to eat, she stood by my chair whining “I sitta Mommy wap!” She tried to squeeze her little body between mine and the table as I asked her time and again to please just let me eat. At some point, I just put my head in my hands and tried to just go into my internal happy place. “You okay, Steph?” Mike asked. I shook my head "No." I couldn't even talk. What was the point of trying to explain myself? I would only be interrupted by more whining and toddler commotion.

That night, Mike gave Olivia her bath and put her to bed for the first time in 6 weeks. Let me be clear: My husband will help out with anything with Olivia but she REFUSES to let him put her to bed so I have to be out of the state for her to agree to that. However, Saturday night I think they both sensed that I needed a moment of peace.

As I sat on the couch, imagining myself on a secluded beach equipped with a never ending pina colada fountain, I started wondering “What is it that I’m doing wrong that my child feels like she has to cling to me all of the time? Am I not giving her enough attention? Am I not around enough where she feels like she gets enough time with me?”  

I got frustrated by the fact that I am not even able to have a conversation WITH MY OWN HUSBAND without her freaking out that my attention is not solely on her. It took Mike and I 3 days to finish a conversation last week. THREE DAYS!!!!

Last weekend, when he and I went for a night away for our anniversary, it was AMAZING. I loved getting to talk to him about whatever we wanted without being interrupted. I loved being able to take our time at dinner and enjoy just sitting quietly at times. It. Was. HEAVEN.

Look, I fully recognize that all of Oli’s behavior is typical 2 year old behavior. I know it’s normal. I know it’s just part of this age/phase. I know these things. But that doesn't make it easy. I miss my husband. I miss being able to talk with him. He will ALWAYS be more important to me than any other person on this planet. He is second only to God. And that’s the way it should be. But lately, I feel torn between giving my energy and affection to Olivia and having very little or nothing left over for Mike. He is gracious and understanding of this because I think he feels a little the same way, but I looked forward all day Saturday to sitting with him that night, enjoying a nice soak in the hot tub, enjoying conversation and just time with him. And that all went out the window with my sanity. That’s not fair to him and it’s not fair to me. My 7 year old self is stomping her feet, flailing her hands and yelling “IT’S NOT FAIR!!!”

I love Olivia Anne with my entire soul and I just wish I could find a way to balance her needs with my own and with Mike’s. It is really hard.

As I cried myself to sleep Saturday night, feeling like I had failed Olivia that day, feeling like I had cheated Mike, feeling like I didn't even have anything left for myself, I was reminded of that article I read so many years ago. Were we LESS happy now that we had a child?

Then Sunday happened. 

Yesterday, Mike had plans to have a guys’ day at NASCAR and I planned to stay home and spend the day with Oli. After Saturday’s events, I was a little anxious. But yesterday turned out to be the stuff that baby product commercials are made of. You know, the ones where the parents are snuggling their little babies and everyone is smiling and the baby is just so happy and the sun is shining and pretty much everyone has rainbows coming out of their tail ends?

Yeah, that was my day on Sunday. Though we did have one whining instance early in the day, the rest was very nearly perfect. We walked to the park and played for about an hour. Olivia brought her baby doll along and I got so much joy watching her help her baby slide down the slide or swing on the swings. We went to lunch, we had ice cream, she took a nap while I decorated for fall, and we finished the day with dinner at my grandparents. At bedtime, as I read her stories and sang her songs, I felt SO SAD that my day with her was ending. It was a complete 180 from the day before.

Last night, as I fell asleep, the answer to that article from so long ago came to me. For so long, I really couldn't put my finger on why people would have kids if they were going to be LESS happy than their child free counterparts. Why would anyone make themselves LESS happy?

The answer: Sunday.

The things that make you “happy” as a parent aren't all of the things you think are going to and they aren't at all quantifiable. I cannot explain the joy I got from watching my daughter put her baby doll on the slide next to her and count to 3 as they both slid down. I cannot explain how at peace I felt sitting on the patio at the ice cream shop, with 2 spoons and a giant ice cream sundae sitting in front of us. I cannot explain the overwhelming love I felt reading to my kiddo at the end of the day and smelling her freshly washed baby hair.

Try to add all of that up. There’s no calculator in the world that has a number big enough for the percentage of happiness that stuff brings.

As for the other stuff: getting to use the bathroom by myself or eating dinner without toddler fingers being in my food. Well, I’m not sure I’ll never say the word “damn” ever again but my logical self knows that this is just a phase. My more emotional self, well, she knows where we keep the wine.

The hardest part is still finding time for Mike and I to just be “us.” That’s not something I have an answer for today. BUT I feel extremely blessed that I have a husband that I can talk to and vent to when I feel overwhelmed. I am blessed to have a partner who is truly my other half, who fills in the gaps, who gives me room and space and time to find a balance. And together, we look forward to and know that there will be a day when we’ll call Olivia on the phone and ask how her kids are. She’ll vent to us about how hard it is and how she needs a break. We’ll sympathize and then tell her we have to go because our flight to some tropical beach locale is awaiting us.

In the meantime, I’ll just keep looking forward to Sundays. 

All Hallow's Eve and The Cookie Monster

As it turns out, Olivia isn't shaping up to be much of a girly-girl these days. She prefers t-shirts to tutus and prefers to let what little hair she has run wild all over her head rather than be burdened with something as silly as a bow or head band. SO, I was a *little* nervous when I went out on a limb this year with a VERY girly version of an old classic.

We are big fans of Sesame Street in this house so I thought it would be just adorable to have her dress as Cookie Monster (another of her many Toddler Obsessions). My sister, Michelle, saw a great idea on Pinterest for a Cookie Monster tutu dress for a little girl!! AWESOME!

I searched online for Cooke Monster blue tights and a leotard. I went to Hobby Lobby and priced out tulle and fabric to make the cookies on the dress. I looked at walls and racks full of sewing materials to find creative ways to create the face of the dress.

After a few days of finding the perfect materials, I logged onto Etsy and bought the costume from a lady in Arkansas.

Yeah, some mommies are good at making stuff. I’m a big supporter of those mommies by buying the stuff.

When it landed on my doorstep, I just knew it was the most perfect costume EVER. Olivia was even excited to wear it—for about 5 minutes. I started to get a little nervous about her school fall festival and Halloween. Would this Halloween costume that I so painstakingly took the time to enter my debit card information for even be worn?

Last Friday, the night of the fall festival, I excitedly called Mike on my way home from work.

“Is she dressed??? Does it look cute???”

“Um, she doesn't want to wear it…”

Crap.

When I got home I enthusiastically talked to Olivia about her school festival and how fun it would be to wear her costume.

“I watch Happy Feet,” she told me.

Double Crap.

I then switched tactics and opted for a tried and true method to convince someone to do something they don’t want to: Peer Pressure.  I told her how all of her friends would be wearing their costumes and how exciting it would be to see everyone. And IT WORKED!!! I was surprised at just how well this peer pressure tactic worked. No wonder I tried to smoke that Marlboro Red in high school even though I felt like my lungs were on fire…

At any rate, the fall festival was a success...Well, aside from the *tiny* meltdown over the Cookie Walk where she threw herself on the floor, blue tutu and legs flying like a crazed blue feathered gremlin. I think we handled it well though. We calmly took a deep breath and walked away, muttering to ourselves "Whose kid *is* that??" The costume though, temper tantrum and all, was definitely a hit! But we weren't done yet. We still had to coax her into the costume tonight—Halloween Night.

But our sweet girl surprised us and willing put on her costume and was out the door running down the street excited about her first real trick or treating experience. She went from door to door collecting her candy and getting side tracked by every pumpkin, shadow, blade of grass, etc. We walked around the block once and it only took us a solid hour and a half. Aside from the few stray teenagers with the plastic trash sacks wearing their t-shirts and blue jeans, our new neighborhood was very much in the spirit!

Though I was very tired afterward, I thoroughly enjoyed my walk with my little monster. I mean, are there very many things sweeter than a small child at Halloween?  As we approached the first door, I said “What do you say when you get to the door?” “Knock! Knock!” she proudly replied. Hmmm…okay, true. “What do you say when someone answers the door?” “Hello!” Hmmm…also true. What can I say? The kid is smart.

I loved watching her go up the steps to each house, pointing out the pumpkins and other décor. I got a kick out of hearing people ooh and aah over her cuteness. I especially loved the innocent look of gratitude mixed with joy and surprise when someone handed her a piece of candy. Each piece was worthy of being turned over in her little hands to be fawned over. Right in front of her was a huge bowl FULL of candy and yet she was completely enthralled by the *one* piece in her hand. Immediately she would hold it up to me and say “Open, please!”

Her gratitude and excitement over just one piece of candy was a small reminder to me of how much I take for granted. Oh to have the heart of a child again--to be so entranced by what you have right in front of you.

At the end of the night, 2 little boys knocked on our door as Olivia was taking a bath. I brought the bowl over to them and the boys each picked one piece of candy. Since it was the end of the night I said “Take whatever you want.” The look on their faces was priceless! They looked at each other, looked at me to make sure I was serious and dug right in. They each only took about 5-6 pieces but I've seen lottery winners who didn't look that happy!

I fully recognize that Halloween can be a silly and money draining activity but I really enjoyed this year seeing it through Oli’s eyes. I was reminded of a time when the thrill of my life was dressing up as my favorite character and running door to door getting small chocolate bars. My sisters and I would head out right at dusk and energetically approach each house with a booming "Trick or Treat!" hoping against hope that the people there weren't giving away something so lame as Smarties. I mean, was there anything that could ruin your Halloween like a sack full of Smarties or mints? I remember getting so excited over a prized Snickers or Butterfinger. We would come home at the end of the night and dump all of our candy on the kitchen table. We’d count up our loot and stare at it as if it were gold doubloons from a sunken pirate ship instead of foil wrapped sugar.

I've missed those days as an adult and I feel blessed to be able to experience it all over again through my sweet girl.

I’m already looking forward to next year, to searching all over to find someone who will make that perfect costume that represents whatever The Boss Lady’s character obsession is that year, to running door to door with her, to marveling at the simpleness of pumpkins and chocolate bars. To be reminded that sometimes the sweetest things are the ones you already hold right in the palm of your hand.

Happy Halloween! 

Excited to wear her costume!

We missed Daddy on our walk. He stayed to hand out candy! 

Ready to go! 

I'm bringin' CRAZY back!!!

For the past several weeks now I have debated with myself over how to reenter the blogosphere and get back into sharing all of the insanity and awesomeness that is my life. To be honest, I’m a little nervous about getting back in. Then I thought of you all, my adoring readers. I mean, I can’t even imagine how lost and devastated all of you have been over the past several months since I went on blogging hiatus. I’m sure your nights and days been spent in a haze as you waited to see that Facebook announcement that I had made a comeback. Right???

What? Like you don’t have delusions that people just adore and hang onto your every word. ;)

 I have no idea how many of you actually care what’s in this blog but the truth is, telling this story, sharing the crazy, the wondrous, the beauty of Mommyhood is what helps keep me sane. Also in my absence, a few family and friends said things like “I noticed you haven’t blogged in a while. I really enjoyed reading your stuff and laughing with you!” That was nice to hear and it was all the encouragement I needed to make my big re-debut.

Why did I take a sabbatical in the first place? Simply put: I was worn the crap out. After our move into our new-to-us-but-old-and-needed-lots-of-things-done-to-it house, my job picked up speed and the days started whirring by. And, oh yeah, did I mention I now have a freaking TWO YEAR OLD???? TWO, PEOPLE!!!! The Boss Lady started growing like a weed and I started feeling torn about spending any amount of time away from her. I have spent the past several months working and soaking up every spare second with Mike and Oli. I feel like she is growing so incredibly fast and that scares me a little. I don’t want to miss a second.

And, after a day of working and toddler chasing I am incredibly exhausted.

Last week, I was talking to a friend and telling her about some of the major stresses lately and she shared some of hers and I thought (and said) “Oh my gosh, I’m so glad to hear other people feel that way!” When I start to get stressed or when things get crazy I have a tendency to just want to hunker down until it’s all over. But that doesn't help my psyche. What helps is to get it out. To admit that I’m struggling and when something great happens it’s just as beneficial to share that as well and to have people to celebrate with.   

So I realized that this place, here with all of you, is where I work out all of that exhaustion, fear, joy, overwhelmed-ness that is this time of my life. I’ve missed being able to share the antics of The Boss Lady with all of you. I hope you’ve missed it too. Because while I may have stopped writing, the crazy never stopped coming. And boy has there been quite a bit of it! Some crazy good. Some crazy…well, not bad exactly but certainly anxiety inducing. And every minute of it has been filled with a crazy love for my little family.

So here we go again! Choo-choo! All aboard the Crazy Town express…

My Drunk Friend is now My Toddler

Lately, Olivia's toddler behavior has me in a constant state of deja vu. I keep thinking "This feels so familiar..." And after a night out with some friends recently, I realized why her insane happy-one-minute-crying-the-next attitudes make me feel a bit of nostalgia for days gone by.

Did you ever have that Drunk Friend in college? You know, the one who was almost always a good time but a night out with her could end in hysterical laughter or sobbing and you didn't really know which until you were right smack dab in the middle of it kicking yourself for getting sucked into her crazy antics once again.

Well, that's my daughter. Minus the alcohol, of course. I'm serious. She is that drunk friend who is laughing and cutting up and is the life of the party until some switch flips and suddenly she's Crazy Pants McGee and yelling at you for that time you let her eat an entire chocolate cake by herself after her loser boyfriend dumped her. And at the end of the night, you are just left shaking your head, thankful that she finally just passed out and you can go have a moment of peace and sanity.

Oh, but The Boss Lady is a little different than my drunk friend because I don't have to deal with it on Friday or Saturday night. Even better. I get to deal with this constant emotional upheaval every blessed day of my life.

And you know the biggest problem with that drunk friend is that no matter how many times the night ends in tears and regret, you do it all over again every weekend because when that friend is in her happy place, things are AWESOME. So, you put on your favorite skinny jeans (or when I was in college, tight black pants), grab your wallet and off you go for a night out in Coo-coo Cachoo Ville.

But now you probably think I'm the crazy one comparing my daughter to a drink-happy college chick. Allow me to show you the parallels.

Imagine this scenario from your own college days with your own Drunk Buddy:

One Friday night, you're sitting in your apartment/dorm/sorority house/wherever, contemplating a girlie movie and pizza or a pint of ice cream...oh, who are you kidding, you were gonna eat the pizza AND the ice cream. Then your phone rings and it's Captain Crazy herself. And she's all,

"Hey, want to go out and grab a few drinks tonight? Maybe we'll even do a little dancing!"

And she seems like she's in a really good mood and it all seems innocent enough so you tell her you'll meet her in about an hour then you go make yourself all pretty for all of those potential husbands who might be hanging out at the bar.

The night starts off really great! The two of you are out dancing and everybody's happy. You're out on the dance floor shaking your money maker, feeling like this night is going to turn out in your favor.

Even your friend has brought out her best moves for tonight!

But then it happens. The damn deejay plays THAT song. The song that your friend and her old high school love used to call "their song." Then before you know it, she's throwing back shots of Hot Damn and yelling at everybody in the bar,

"HE NEVER LOVED ME!!!!"

She's getting all destructive and more crazy by the minute and you realize that cute guy you've been eyeing all night is NEVER going to speak to you if he thinks you hang out with this every night,

And then you're trying to do damage control by distracting her by reminding her that he was balding or by pointing out all of the other cute guys at the bar. Or just by pointing out anything shiny in the place, just trying to make her smile.

Suddenly, Vanilla Ice starts blaring through the speakers and she jumps up shouting,

"That's my JAM!!"

while showing everyone in the place her belly button or new bra. So even though like 30 seconds ago, you were trying to keep her from polishing off an entire bottle of Rumple Mints and trying to convince her why it might be a good idea to head home while you were still ahead, suddenly you're back out on the dance floor for what she promises is "this one last song."

But you know it's not over. It's far from over. So you just chase around Lady Loco hoping she'll eventually run out of steam and let you call a cab.

You finally convince her to leave but, of course, you can't just go straight home. No, you have to stop at the gas station and get some munchies because, as she says,

"I just CRAVE sugar every time I drink."

You grab a year's supply of Skittles and Snickers and then you get her home and FINALLY convince her to get into bed. But she doesn't go down so easy. It's a battle to the finish. One second she's laying her head down and dozing off then popping up insisting that she's ready to hit the next club,

Then thankfully, she passes out.

Then you crawl into bed thinking "How in the hell did I let myself get sucked into this??"

"And what in the hell did she do with her pants??"

But you know you'll do all over again the next weekend. And whether the night ends in hysterical laughter or hysterical tears, you know you just can't get enough of that little drunk monkey.