New Year, New Tag Line

I should have known better than to put in a tag line that wouldn't fully describe what exactly this blog is about. It's my ramblings, it was supposed to be about me and not so much the babes, but yeah right.

Because see, I am a stay at home mom. My job... which in turn is my life... is taking care of those 4 little bodies. And with The Chef opening his own place...

Oh, did I mention that?

90% of my readers know me. They also know that The Chef opened his own restaurant. But for the fraction that stumble upon this blog either by link or clicking that "Next Blog" button at the top of blogger, they may not know. But yeah, He did.

The Restaurant

Since Jelly has been 3, The Chef has worked a normal 9-5 dig. He was the executive chef at a local hospital and was in charge of any and all food. It was stability, it was weekends off, it was nights free, it was boring. He was going to crazy because well, he was better than that... and knew it. The stars aligned properly, and a half drunken conversation ended up with a restaurant.

HOLY CRAP what did we get ourselves into?

It hasn't been quite a month since the doors have been open, and it's been a massive adjustment for all of us. Jelly told his teacher that he "Doesn't get to see his dad that much, except for on the weekends" which meant that I had to explain to them that The Chef and I didn't split up, it's just that he's working. The threat of "Wait until your dad gets home" has become null and void, and I have to take them all to hockey practice.

So as the new year begins, I decided to change the tag line to more accurately describe what you will read here. Sure, my ramblings will be included, but it is about "Mom" me more than anything else. It's about being a single parent without really being one. It'll be about how I deal with it all... the ups and downs, and even the sideways...

It's just another's account on life.

My Top Ten 2010

I love lists... which is why I'm sure that I'm the one that always fills out those meme's "5 movies that changed your life" or "10 songs that will always put a smile on your face" So without much further.... eh... here it is:

Top Ten of 2010

(in no particular order)

10) Dish Network: Everything I want, for a fraction of the price. No outages, no problems, and I have my soul back from Time Warner.

9) Pineapple: Not that I'm not thankful for all of my children, but there is something about this little girl. Maybe it's because she is the last baby... Maybe it's because we hang all day while the other ones are in school, Maybe it's because she's just her... I'm not sure... but all I know is that she's awesome.

8) The Move to Elyria: The Babes are doing so good here. The schools are awesome, the hockey program is wonderful, and they have friends on the street. Plus, I'm in the same town as my bestfriend.

7) Friendships: I'm in my early 30's. I figured what friends I had now, it what I had. Never in a million years did I think that I would make that connection and actually develop a true friendship. 

6) My Blackberry: I love it. I really don't know WHY I fought having a smart phone for so long. It's wonderful even if I do get a smidge bothered by it dinging at me when I'm out and I get new email.

5) The ability to wear Pin Up Clothes: I have the figure to wear them, and I look darn good in them. This site is my new favorite.

4) MadaDesign: It's still in it's infancy, but I have great plans for it.

3) Delores: She's a punk, she doesn't listen, but she's exactly what I wanted. I wanted a lap dog and she is perfectly content to climb into my lap while we wait for The Chef to come home.

2) Kim Harrison. She's the brilliant author behind the Rachel Morgan, The Hallows series. I am so very happy that I found this spectacular author.
1) Fracas

It's not just about Santa

There are quite a few things I could tell you about this morning... like how Santa had left a mere 20 minutes before Banana woke, and she in turn woke her brothers. I could tell you about the reaction from my mom this year because The Chef and I got her exactly what she wanted. I could even tell you how my grandmother shed some tears over what The Chef and I gave her.

But at least the first one is for another day, if at all.

Today is the day that is celebrated as the birth of Jesus Christ. This day is one of the cornerstone days of my faith.

Luke 2:9-11 says: An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord."

In the hussle and bussle of all things Christmas, this message tends to get lost, even in my home, where my children do know why we celebrate Christmas. Even in my home where I do have a nativity scene displayed from the moment my Christmas decorations go up. This year, so much more than in years past, I feel the need to shout it from the top of my lungs. "Our Lord Savior was born this day!"

And I think I know why. Many people I know have been dismissing Christmas as nothing more than a secular holiday, and it is so much more than that. It's more than the man in the red suit, the presents and even the family. This day, at least in my house, at least to me, is one of the two most spiritual, religious days of the year.  And I find it very... disturbing... that I can be called names, and my religion can be attacked, especially on this High Holy day... because of this High Holy day.

The insults are said in a joking manner so they can claim innocence, or with a smiling face so they can call you uptight. And the only reprieve we Christians have is to do as our Messiah taught us and turn the other cheek, or as our mothers taught us, to just let it roll off our backs. But it still doesn't mean that it doesn't sting, and that it doesn't hurt our soul when these insults come from those that are close to us. I, like many others, will just hold my head high, and know that my soul is saved because of events that are celebrated on this day.

Merry Christmas

Melting Snowmen makes me Supermom (I have proof)

I am right now in the middle of what I like to call the Christmas Cookie Week. I bake to take to my inlaws for Christmas, I bake for my aunt's and my parents, and of course for Santa. This year there are more (read about why here), but just in quantity, because I make everyone's favorites. It's been crazy hectic, but I do really love every minute of it.

Banana, who knows I like to bake treats for classes, asked her teacher if it was ok if she brought in cookies for tomorrow, their last day of school before break. Her teacher says yes (and "thank you for asking if it was ok"). Banana tells me this when she gets home from school today. I have a ton of cut out butter cookies... no problem. Throw some icing on them and it'll be fine.

"Oh and Mom, they can't be Christmas cookies. A boy in our class doesn't celebrate Christmas or his birthday."

I think I have enough stars and snowmen cutouts that it'll be fine and then I get on Facebook.

Sitting there in my news feed, is a post from Betty Crocker. They are highlighting this blog that are making cookies called, Melted Snowmen, and I fall madly in love with them. This is the answer that I was looking for.

(Before we go any farther, there is something I need to tell you about myself...

You know the husband that watches the DIY channel and thinks suddenly that "building that *insert weekend warrior project here* isn't that hard... and then suddenly it is? Yeah, that's me when it comes to baking... anything. Usually I can pull it off, and like said husband, it may not be perfect, but it gets done.)

Besides, they are sugar cookies, how hard can they be?

Then the boys pipe in, "How about cookies for our class?"

Sure, why not. What's a few dozen more?

When Crazy Domestic made them, she used the Betty Crocker Sugar cookie mix. "No store bought dough for me, and I'm dumb enough I have all of the ingredients here to make cookies." She also used Betty Crocker Cookie Icing. "Why would I buy that? It won't set up in time and I'm crazy enough, I have all of the ingredients here to make icing."

I ran to JoAnn's to get color for the icing and came across the tubes of Wilton frosting that all I have to do is attach a tip. SCORE! I stop at the grocery store on the way back and get marshmallows and get a tube of the orange gel for their little noses. Now on Monday, I had made cut out cookies with the babes up and running around, and I wanted to hang them all by their toenails before it was said and done it was more of a hassle than I was willing to deal with. So I figured I'll just wait until they go to bed... and then I waited some more... and some more... and I finally get started at 11pm. I figured I'd be done and in bed by 2ish.

I used the Sugar Cookie recipe and Confectioner's Icing recipe from joyofbaking.com I triple it because I figure I have at least 68 to make (Enough for each class.) I pull out the dough after it's 20 mins of chill time, and start to mold it... and I can't make them right. No matter how hard I tried, they were all different thicknesses, and my Virgo self was freaking right the hell out they weren't just coming out right. So I roll them and cut out circles. I'm looking at how many I have, and how many I need, and realize that I have to make more. I make another triple batch.

Finally, they are all done and out of the over. The first half are nice and cool, so I start on the icing. I double the batch, and in my sleep deprived super mom state of mind I think it will be enough to ice the 75+ cookies I have. I have to make more icing.  Double the recipe again, and I have 70 cookies iced. I'm not making more for the last 5 cookies. Time to move onto the marshmallows. I made 6 or 7 at a time, and it wasn't as sticky as I thought it was going to be. I have all the marshmallows on. Now it's time to pipe on the decorations.

Now, when I first saw these, I thought to myself, oh that will be easy. And you know what? It really was. It was uber easy. Just didn't think it was going to take me 3 hours to pipe 70 cookies. I didn't account for the massive hand cramps. I didn't account for the mistakes and how I was going to fix them. But at 6:30am, I was done. Completely done. All that was left was to go and sit for a minute and then I could box them up for the kids to take to school.

Banana woke me up. It was 7:10. I told her to get ready for school. Then the chef woke me up. It was 7:30. I shook the sleep from my head and went and boxed them up.

Melted Snowmen all ready to be eaten by school children

The boys didn't say "Thank you". In fact Jelly got mad because I wouldn't let him eat one. But Banana... she is the one that made it worth it.

"Mom, Thank you so much for making these cookies for *boy in her class*. These are really cool. You're the best." Followed by a huge hug and a kiss.

Covered in Thin Icing

When I was a kid, around this time in December, I would go to my best friend's house to decorate Christmas cookies. Her mom and her mom's best friend had stayed up all night the night before and baked until they just couldn't anymore. My BF and I would sit around her mother's kitchen table decorating those cookies until we were covered in thin icing, and our bellies were full with the cookies that were broken.

As the years went by and we grew up, there were many people who came and decorated for a year or two, and then our boyfriends started to come along, but it was always at least the two of us there. And as even more years passed, her mom would share that bottle of wine she was drinking. I do not remember a Christmas when I was younger not decorating Christmas cookies at her house.

But then we grew up. My BF enlisted in the Navy to serve her country, while I went to college. Our last year of making cookies together was the year before my BF left for boot camp. (We begged her mom to make us cookies, but her mom said if we wanted the we had to make them ourselves... and we did. It was the night of December 23, and we stayed up until they were all baked and decorated. That was around noon on December 24.)

Fast Forward to 7 years ago. She was home for Christmas with her kids. We laughed about how we were going to finally bake cookies together again, but an emergency pulled her back to Norfolk, and we didn't do it then either.

Fast Forward to 2 years ago. The day that she was supposed to drive the hour to my house, we had one hell of a snow storm, and it was the only day she had off. They didn't get done together that year either.

Last year, I was still recovering from having Pineapple, so I bought some refrigerator dough to roll out to at least have my kids decorate them. I just couldn't get it done though. (In fact all 3 of the older ones were flipping out because we didn't have home made cookies for Santa last year.)

But this year...

This year we are in the same city. This year, we have an entire day to do it while the older ones are in school. This year we have expanded our list from the basic 3 different kinds to having 11 different kids. And then, on the kids' first day of break, her kids and my babes, will all sit around my kitchen table to decorate cookies... and another generation will know what it's like to be...

...covered in thin icing and have their bellies be full of the cookies that were broken.  

Day One

I can't believe I actually did it. I started NaNoWriMo. I have wanted to for the last few years, but something always got in the way. (Last year I had a pretty darn good excuse me thinks.) But I started it.

One of the pieces of advice they give you on the site is not to write a story you have been thinking about. Something about being too invested, thinking too much... oh I read that advice two years ago... but it makes sense. So I haven't been thinking about Merrissa or Santino... to the point where I forgot Merrissa's mother's name. (It's Jazz BTW.)

So I think I will be blogging more? I honestly don't know. Real Life is going to get hectic... It's already started. But I feel the need to... write... to share words... because words are awesome...and they are just spilling from me.

I feel good, energized. Do I think that this is going to be the next great big thing? Oh hell no. I know better. Even with Doe's story I know better, but what I hope this brings me, is the knowledge and the ability to believe in myself. That I can do, that I can mark off one of the HUGE items on my shoulda coulda woulda list.

So, if you are writing a novel this November, and want a writing buddy, let me know. We can be each others cheerleaders.

I'm writing a novel this November. Are you?

Molly... you devious little muse you....

I was thinking about the book... the one I promised would be written by the end of the year... the one I swore I would complete... the one that I haven't touched in months... and I... yeah.

Anyway, my mom was cleaning out some stuff at her house and brought me things I thought were long gone, like Jelly's first Ren Faire pic. (Yeah, I smiled all afternoon about that one.) and in it was some BS writing that I did back... YEARS ago. I could tell that it was just more notes than anything, but it was painful to read.

But I remember that story. That was the first one. The VERY first one. The one that my sister and I had dreams of becoming a soap opera, the one that we had twisted and turned around and actually wrote an outline for. Granted looking back on that outline now, there is no way that a 40 year old Colonel in Army would knowingly have a relationship with his son's girlfriend's twin sister, who was 16 by the way. (You got all that?) But there were other parts. One of them being this amazing love story.

... Damien and Doe are going to go and sit on a shelf for a while...

... and I am going to write this one. The first one...

I'm writing a novel this November. Are you?

How Gizmo is making us watch The Polar Express

My sister and her brood came to visit on my birthday. Even though we haven't bought each other presents in years, they showed up with one for me. It was something I had been talking about wanting to get for a few weeks. It was nothing expensive, just something I wanted to share with my babes, it left that much of an impression on me.

It was none other than this movie.

What were those three rules again?

My nephew (only 6 months younger than Butter), Butter and Banana had all been talking about wanting to watch horror movies. What better one to let them cut their teeth on than one of the one of the movies that made the Motion Picture Association of America revamp their rating system? So I got it in my head that I wanted... needed to get my hands on it, and show it to them. 

After all it had this guy in it... 

I want one!

... and this guy...

Back in the '80's when badass = evil 

The next day, when Pineapple went down for her nap, I put it in the DVD player, and curled up on the couch with Butter and Banana to watch. Now, it has been YEARS since I have actually seen this movie, so my memory was a little spotty when it came to it. What I do remember is, that when I saw it as a kid, it made me laugh in a few places, it made me jump in a few places, and I recall very vividly the kitchen scene. (Because honestly, could you forget the microwave?) But there is one scene I did forget about. (Go ahead and watch the 1:40 clip. I'll wait.)

(Unless you remember that scene exactly, you need to watch it. It's ok, I'll wait for you.)

That scene didn't set off alarm bells, in fact I didn't even give it a passing thought. I was more interested on the babes reactions. If a movie that influenced me as a kid would stack up to what they watch on a daily basis. They said they liked it, but neither have mentioned wanting to watch it again. I think it scared them a little more than they are willing to admit. No problem. We are still a few years off for scary stuff. 

Fast Foward a week, and the babes are talking about Santa, when my EIGHT year old little girl blind sides me with the blasphemy that rolls out of her dirty mouth tells her OLDER brother, "I can't believe that you are almost 10 years old and still believe in Santa. You are such a dweeb." (With an eye roll that made my eyes hurt.)

Wait? What?

I pull her aside later and asked her about it. She swore she was "just joking" and of course she "still believes". I played the old card of "Do you think that your dad and I could buy everything that Santa brings you?" She did the obligatory shake of the head "no". 

Then I saw it. 

That look that every child learns at some point in their life, the one that just makes you want to slap it right off of their precious little faces,  the one that reveals their internal thoughts of, "OMG. My {insert parent's name here} is so stupid." Banana had that look mastered at five, so she has had a lot of practice with it. Unfortunately, there was something so genuine about this one. So honest, so true... my heart shattered for the both of us.  I knew in that instant, she no longer believed.

I knew I was on borrowed time with the two older ones. Butter has a test for Santa this year. He is going to ask for something that The Chef and I always told him that Santa wouldn't bring him. He is going to put it in his letter and not tell The Chef and I what it is. (Baby monitors are such wonderful devices.)  Which of course under the tree would be that one thing he asked for. With that plan in mind, I figured we had one more year with Butter, and one, maybe two more with Banana.

I had no idea where she learned the truth. We are so careful, and I get on the ones who aren't. But what really confused me is that it's the beginning of September. I shrugged my shoulders and went about it, making a firm decision that The Polar Express would be on our "Not to Miss Christmas Movie/Specials" list. If I was lucky I could squeeze out one more Christmas with her.

Fast Forward a week and a half. I'm sitting down to watch one of the shows I recorded on the DVR. It's The Rotten Tomatoes Show. (For those of you that are not familiar with it, it is a movie review show shown on current.) Well, I record it at some off time, and instead of reviewing the most recent movies out in the theatre, it was a Top Five show. And on this show, they had a segment called, "The Top Five Kids Movies That Aren't Really Made For Kids" and what movie was mentioned?

First they talk about the kitchen scene, then they play the clip that I posted, and then they replay the line, "That's how I found out there wasn't a Santa." 

I felt my mouth hanging open as I smacked my palm against my forehead. 

We are most certainly watching The Polar Express this year. 

Another of My Affairs

I am an only child. 

That means there was more than one time in my childhood that I had to find something to occupy myself. This of course included finding something to do when my parents and I were waiting for food when we went out to eat. 

But being an only child, it didn't take much. All I needed was a pen or a pencil and a plain paper placemat. 

I didn't doodle exactly, oh no, it was certainly more personal than that... 

I wrote my name.  

Sometimes it was my full name, but more often than not, it was only the six letters that make up my first name. I would manipulate those letters, and turn them into something beautiful, something hard, something ugly, something soft. I would just write those six letters over and over again, and the only time that the style repeated itself was when I happened upon something that I liked. There were loops and curls, there were straight edges and corners...

... you get the idea.

I honestly believe all the time perfecting the one thing that was mine, it has now manifested into this affair.

Out of this short list, there is only one that I don't have installed... yet

I try to stay away from here and here and here. I could spend hours looking at all the pretties that others have made, wanting nothing in return. I have spent hours playing with... well... these little pieces of art. 

A well used font is the cherry on the top of a word sundae; the mundane becomes a little more tolerable, the special becomes just that much more. They can reinforce the declaration of love, or they can strengthen your message. 

Fonts are just awesome. 

A different kind of anniversary

All of these women including myself, have a very important thing in common. It is the thing that introduced us, and in the beginning what kept us together. We all have babies that were born in September 2000. We met online through an email group.

In the heyday of our group, there were over 20 members. It was odd at the time to belong to a group like ours. We were sharing details of our lives with strangers that not only were all over the country, but all over the world. There were discussions about our older children, our husbands, our jobs and of course our pregnancies. There was this abandonment of our personal social facade. We were able to be utterly honest because there was a safeness in the anonymity of it all.

Over the years members have come and gone, but we have stayed, the roots of our friendship running deep, binding us together in a way that I don't think any of us at the time could have possibly fathomed. We know each other's dreams and fears. We have shared the secrets that we hide from the rest of the world. We have celebrated with each other during times of complete bliss, and we have held each other when our worlds were falling apart, even though we are all states (and continents) away from each other. 

A few of us have been lucky enough to meet face to face, and it didn't take long to slide into the intimate comfortableness that only old friends share.


In your lifetime you make be fortunate enough to have one such friendship, one who loves you for all that you are, and everything your not. But to know that you have six such people in our lives...

So, on the eve of our children's entrance into double digits, the Wise One said:

 First, i can't believe they are gonna be 10.  But mostly, I think it is amazing and wonderful how we have stuck with each other despite distance and different lives - through almost all of us moving, relationships ending, more children coming, jobs gotten and lost, careers changing, new ventures begun, illness and problems with our kids and our families and friends.  We have supported and encouraged each other - given advice - shared ideas - and just chatted.  A lot of people probably couldn't understand it, but somehow it has meant a lot to all of us over these years.  I really love and appreciate the friendship of all of you.

and we all happily agreed. 

These strong, beautiful, powerful, intelligent, honorable, loyal, astonishing women make my life better because they are in it. And even though thousands of miles may separate us, that doesn't make what we have any less than just the complete and unadulterated awesomeness that it is. 


Happy September 2010!

The End of August, how did that happen?

To say that things have been crazy hectic would be a very large understatement. Slowly boxes have been unpacked and things moved into their new places. Unfortunately other things have just been moved. I know it will take a while to get really settled in. Where we have more room in some aspects, we have less in others. I can organize things that I want them done... and I am finding that some things aren't where they should be. It's a chaotic mess, pure and simple. However, I am to the point where boxes are not threatening to take out a child... mine or one of the neighborhood kids. 

Yes, neighborhood kids. Butter and Banana have both made friends on the street. I have met their parents and several other neighbors. I was talking to my mom about it, and she said that the street I grew up on was like that. She knew the parents of the kids I played with, and several other of the neighbors close to her. It doesn't surprise me, I am in the same area that I grew up in. I am a lot further of a walk to my parents than I was to my in laws... as in the babes can not walk over there by themselves, but if I really need to get there I can with no problem.

The Chef went and got himself a new job, so we are waiting and seeing how the chips fall. He needed to be out of the place that he was... not to sound overly dramatic, but it was killing his soul. His immediate supervisor took every opportunity to throw him under the bus that he could, and that gentleman's boss and The Chef just had a personality clash that could not be resolved. He too downgraded his abilities, his talent, and made him feel worse than gum stuck to the bottom of a shoe. I am glad that he is away from there. I so very happy that he isn't constantly hearing how much he sucks every. single. day. 

As for the children, the oldest three are all signed up for school and more than ready for it to start. The city that we are in isn't starting until after Labor Day because of the construction that they are doing on the high school... better to have the entire district on the same schedule. Butter and Banana will be attending the same school and we are close enough for them to walk to and from. I have taken them a few times, and of course I will walk with them for the first few weeks so they know exactly where to go. It's not hard, it's pretty much a straight shot, but Banana gets lost walking around the block (I really wish I was kidding about that). Jelly is going to be attending the school that I spent my elementary years, and then next year he will walk with the other two. He is attending all day Kindergarten, which will be interesting. I am going to miss the hell out of him when he is gone... at least for the first few weeks days.

Pineapple is trying very hard to pull herself up, and she will stand if you hold her hands. She is getting more and more vocal, and she will give the other 3 her two cents if I am fussing after them when she is around. She still isn't the smiling baby that the other ones were, but you can tell she is content. She is the most easy going out of the 4 of them, and she is really up for anything. And oh... we have found out that applesauce is her crack. But that's another post. 

As for me, I'm going. My birthday is coming up fast, and I am really not looking forward to it. Normally I am all about my birthday (because ya know, birthdays are the ONE DAY out of the year that you can make it all about you, and no one cares. Hell, it's expected in this house.) but this year it's not clicking for me. 34 is an ugly word. I know I can't stop it, and I might as well except it, but it is honestly bothering me more than 30 did, and 30 rocked my world. 

Just a crazy little update... The Chef has to take the computer to work with him because his has not come in yet, so I am offline most of the daylight hours except for the few times I post on Facebook with my iPod. I hate being disconnected that way, but hopefully soon his work computer will come in, and I can have our laptop back. One can hope right?

Soon, we will be having a conversation about the law against nature, for cryin' out loud it's 90 degrees outside, hockey. Banana has skater legs already and Butter is taking on a new position. He seems to have a knack for it, and I don't have to push him to practice... but more on that later... 

This was hastly, and not a bit elegant... and I didn't get to play with words like I usually do, but I hear The Chef's alarm clock going off... 

Understanding Butter

My Butter is awesome. He has some mad skillz on anything that is electronic. He tries so hard, and is super considerate. He wears his heart on his sleeve. You know EXACTLY what he is thinking... and when that thought entered his head... every devilish little thought. Butter also has ADHD.

His preschool teacher talked to me about it, and said that Butter reminded her a lot of her son, and her son had ADHD. I wrote it off. I told her that it was because he had never been in that environment before, blah blah blah. I was thinking that he was a boy... and that this is how boys were. Boys are supposed to be rambunctious and bounce off of the walls. Besides how can he be hyperactive? Have to ever seen him zone out on video games?

Kindergarten comes, and at the first conference, she says something about there being a possibility that something isn't quite right. Eh... this is all day Kindergarten. He's just getting used to it. The Chef was already in South Carolina by that point, and he knew we were getting ready to move. She agreed that it very well could be nothing more than that.

In South Carolina, when he was introduced to his teacher, she was told "He is very young". She wrote off his behavior to not being the youngest in the class and socially immature. I also contributed a lot of what he was going through to the move. I mean we moved quite a few states and away from everyone. He is having a helluva time... Butter is one of the big reasons why...

We are back here for First Grade. And although he made the cut off for Kindergarten where he first started going to school, he was too young at the last two schools. Ok. He is the youngest in the class. I mentioned the possibility that he could have ADHD... his teacher told me she really thought it was a immaturity issue, and holding him back would do him a world of good.

Finally, after the umpteenth meeting with the second first grade teacher, and the school councilor and the principal, I threw my hands in the air, looked at the teacher and said... "I think I should just call a neurologist." She said... "I think you should." So The Chef and I talked it over, and I did.

His doctor looked at us during his consultation, and said, "Why is this intelligent boy here?" The Chef and I looked at each other... Butter had been up and down, and when the doctor asked us this, Butter was sitting on his lap going through his desk. We walked out with a prescription that day. I felt guilty... like I had done something wrong. I felt like I had let him down... and I had in a way. The doctor said that if it wasn't for the fact that Butter was so smart, he would have saw him when he was 5.

I dove head first into his new world. I looked up everything I could about ADHD. I read about the medication, and what it would do to him. I just did what any parent would do. Slowly we started to notice a difference. And then he was there in all his glory. He was the child that I only saw glimpses off before, the one I knew was always there.

We exhausted every option before we decided to medicate him. It was not an easy decision, but there is not one day I feel guilty for giving him his pill in the morning. I feel guilty if I miss the "magic hour" and he doesn't get it. He is making friends... the best way that he knows how. He missed the "how to make friends" stage of his life because I refused to admit that there was something else there. But he is making friends. He is concentrating and doing excellent in school... he made the Merit Roll last year. He is reading, and not just reading comics (although... there is NOTHING wrong with that). He is starting to get adventurous and he is actually putting down the video games and doing other things. (He told me that he liked to play the video games because his brain wasn't always "on" when he was playing them.) He wants to play cards, and draw, and make music.

There is such a stigma about your child being medicated for ADHD. Hell, ADHD in general still has a stigma attached to it. Even from those that are nearest and dearest to me make the occasional comment about how it seems that every child they know has it. In all actuality, it is only a small percentage of children aged 4-17 have been diagnosed with ADHD. There is so much negative surrounding this diagnosis, many forget the positive... and there is such a well of positive.

For instance, Butter is extremely creative. He wants to play with my paper and make things. Not scrapbook per se, but he wants to make books, and boxes, and... things. He draws and he will keep at it until what he saw in his mind is what is on the paper. He loves to go to Home Depot weekend with his grandfather. He is just so uber creative...

He is caring. We were watching Up, and there was this part towards the end that my water works started. Jelly told me that I better not cry during Toy Story 3 (I did), Banana told me to basically knock it off, but Butter, he teared up too and asked me to stop because he hated to see me cry. He came and sat by me for the rest of the movie, and as long as his sister and brother weren't looking, he held my hand.

He is a very strange mixture of class clown and being introverted. He does things left and right to try and make us laugh, but he is perfectly content to be on his own. He is such an AWESOME kid. I mean truly incredible creature, and what is so amazing is that this his true self shining through. What Butter is now is what was always there... we just had to find the bridge to take us there.

There is so much...

I can't divulge everything now... I wish I could. There are still things that The Chef and I need to talk about, things that need to be discussed and decided... Important grown up things, this is going to impact everyone things, no one and everyone will be happy things... we are going to make people cry things.

I want to hug the ones that this is going to hurt and tell them that this isn't about them... and I wish it could have worked out. I want to tell them that the only way things will change between us, if if they let them. But I know people are still going to be hurt, and upset... and to be 100% honest, I am hurt and upset...

I am getting the house packed... slowly our lives from the last 3 years are being packed away and sealed into boxes... Boxes that will carry us into the future, a future where I will not be crazy, I will make better decisions, a future where I will see rainbows every now and again... because constantly looking at this grey sky is starting to wear on the mind and soul.

I regret going crazy after Pineapple was born. More than I have regretted anything in a long time, I regret not reaching out for The Chef and telling them that I was not alright. Sure, I whispered it to him when the lights were low but even as I did, I knew that it was not enough. I just couldn't bring words to it when he looked at me. I regret for pushing those who loved me away, and not telling them that I needed them more than ever. They stuck by me though, they were there when I finally found my way out of the rabbit hole, and I love them more than they will ever know because of that.

But because I couldn't follow the bubbles to find my way to the surface for so long, The Chef and I have quite a few decisions to make. Because I was just a shell, my family has to pay for the mistakes I made. It's a heavy burden to carry.

The only thing I can do is tell those who love me, that I love them too. The only thing I can do is just make the best of the situation as it is sitting in front of me. The only thing I can do is make sure is that I will never let it happen again. I make this promise to my friends, my children, my family and most importantly, my husband. I have to remember that even though these next few decisions will hurt, they are a necessity.

All I can do is swear that I will never put the people I love in this position again...

...This I swear by the stars.

The Creativity Crisis - Newsweek

According to this article: The Creativity Crisis - Newsweek even though our children are getting smarter, they are getting less and less creative.

Interesting eh?

Good

After my recap last night with Slidell (We finished up Season One last night), I decided to try and write some fanfiction. I have been writing fanfic to help get the juices flowing, and to remind me that words ROCK! I have this idea... I have had it for a while... so I tried last night.

Yeah, nothing. Molly skipped town... again.

I said screw it, and started on It. You know which one I am talking about. It was hard at first, and I must have rewritten the first paragraph at least 4 or 5 times. There is a heavy worded, run on sentence in there where I take you on a tour of all the tenses. But I left it.

I left it and continued on.

Next thing I know, The Chef is up, and he is getting ready for work. I look at the clock. It's 6am.

Holy crap, it's 6 am.

Molly didn't leave, she just wanted me to write the real one.

The Chef asked me if I was up all night writing. I nodded. He gave me a smile and said "Good".

"Good"

The funny thing is, I do feel good. Sure I'm tired, but I did grab a couple of hours of sleep before the babes got up. Besides that is what coffee is for. Right?

I'm going to try and get some more in today... I need too, but I have to remember that the book is my part time job, and taking care of the house and kids is my full time one. That way I can keep everyone happy.

Because I like this... good.

We Are Being Attacked

The Chef is a BYOB guy... 

Brew Your Own Beer.

We have a name for the Brewery... and we have even named some of the beers. In fact, as I write this, I am waiting for a delivery from the beer store... next on tap for me... a Cherry (or Blueberry, I don't remember) Wheat. Shut up I like my fruit infused beers. 

So needless to say we are borderline alcoholics drink some beer. Now, because The Chef brews his own beer, we recycle beer bottles, as in, he bottles and caps them, we then drink them, and then they get rinsed and set aside so he can start the process all over again. He has been doing this for two years, and we finally started marking the caps. As for the taps downstairs... I have no clue what is in them... all I know is that it's yummy. Although I know he knows, I just refuse to get that face when I ask him what they are again. So like I said, we drink, we rinse, and they get stored.

Right now there are 5 or 6 on the kitchen counter, waiting for a bottle box (or milk crate) to free up so they can be put away...

But it's summer....

It doesn't seem to matter how well we rinse the bottles... every summer since he has been doing this, we have been getting these nasty little buggers... the dreaded fruit fly. They like to get their drink on too hang out right by the bottles. 

I know where we get them... my dear mother-in-law buys my babes fruit. She has since we have moved into this house. The kids get a kick out of it, and if she minded she wouldn't do it. So once a week, when they go food shopping, she brings over apples, grapes, strawberries and those effing bananas. 

Yeah... I know that is where they first enter my house... from the damn bananas. But Jelly LOVES bananas... and he will eat all of what she brings in a day if we would let him... 

I'm getting ready to put out the vinegar and bread. I am trying to do a natural approach this year since Pineapple is here instead of pulling out the industrial strength spray can of dumb little annoying drunk fly-b-gone. My Grandmother swears by the stuff so I will give it a shot.

What is the worst that will happen?

My Love, My Passion, My Hurt, My Life

Look over there to the right... you see that? It's a slideshow of some of my scrapbooking layouts I have done. Go me!

Why do I do it? I have been asked that question by a few of my friends that don't see my desire for it. They aren't scrapbookers, and they just can't understand why I get all excited if I find a pack of DCWV 12x12 paper stack on sale for $9.99

I am a pack rat by nature (I come by it honestly... you should see my parents house) but out of all of the things that they kept over the years, there isn't a ton of me in there. I mean, there are 3 pages filled out in my baby book. The kicker is... I am an only child.

So I have this unnatural desire to chronicle things in my life. The big and the small. I never want to forget what happened. (I could dig deeper and tell you that my grandmother had Alzheimer's Disease... and how that is one of my greatest fears... but I won't.) Besides... I don't think I am half bad at it.

See, I am one of those creative people... who doesn't have a creative bone in her body. I would love to be able to paint, to draw, to create... and the only thing I can seem to really do that is with paper. (Although, I do make forum signatures with Gimp and I don't think I am half bad at that either. LOL) It seems though that with photos and paper I can make things... things I like, and unless the world that I show my stuff too is blowing smoke up my butt, they seem to like them too.

I am not one of those "This is the latest trends" scrapbookers. Sure if something looks neat, I might pick it up, but... I am not the first one on the boat. Hell, the only reason I have a Cricut machine is because my dear Mother-in-Law gave me her old one. (But oh... I get it now... I so get it now...) I mean THIS looks like fun, but I won't be getting it anytime soon. (And for those out there keeping track... yeah I know it has been out for a while. LOL)

I am not one of those chronological scrapbookers either. I crop what I want, when I want. I have this awesome pic of Banana dressed up for school. She was rockin' the Hannah Montana/Miley Cyrus look. She was adorable. Like I said, so cute I took a pic. I chose the wrong size when I printed it out so I can't seem to make it fit on the layout how I want, so I have to get it redone. Am I done with her baby album? Nope. Hell I am not even done with Butter's and he is going to be 10 in September. I just now, after scrapbooking for almost 10 years, figured out how I am going to make layouts if there is more than one babe in them.

Another reason that keeps coming back to the forefront of my mind when I think about it (like for this post), is that there is no hard and fast rule to doing it like there are in so many other crafts. I can journal if I want, I can not journal if I don't want. If I want to do an album that is nothing but black and white photos I can. If I want to put red on every single layout I can. As long as I am happy with it, who cares.

I also am one of those scrapbookers that crop the "not so good times". After the rain is done pouring, and the sky clears from the darkness, you usually can see a rainbow... and those rainbows are usually the most beautiful we have ever seen. That is another reason I don't scrapbook chronologically... sometimes I can't face the not so good. It's just too much, too fresh in my head. It will get done, just when there isn't a scab to rip off. I don't show those layouts to others though... well The Chef sees them, and depending on what it is, I will show them to the babes, but no one else does. The things that are on those layouts are my pain, my hurt. Who wants to see that? And for me, doing the layouts of the "not so good times", it seems to help heal whatever bad thing it was.

Because see, these are my books... and my memories. They are telling the story that I want to tell. There are good stories, stories to make the time pass on a Saturday afternoon, stories that you consume like junk food, and there are stories that aren't so great, but it is what happened. These books are telling the stories of my life. The stories I never want to forget, the things I never want to lose. The things that I hope if when a future generation look at, they will see my love, my passion, my hurt, my life.

They will see...

me.

To Banana on her 8th birthday

{Note: I have gotten into the habit of writing my babes letters on their birthdays. One day, when they are old enough to appreciate them, I will hand them all over. Either that, or they will get them when I die. Either way... I want them to know, to understand, how they were, who they were, and just how much I loved them.}

Dear Banana,

You are officially 8, and officially driving me nuts. Not in the "I have to drink everyday to cope with you way" it's more like the "Where did you come from" kinda way. You are so much more of a girl than I was/am/ever thought to be. Not that it's bad, I'm just unsure on how to deal with you when you get like that. I know that some of it is your budding hormones... which I can't believe you are old enough to have yet. Some of it I am sure is because of Pineapple. Not saying that you don't love her... because there is not a single doubt in my mind that you do. I know you do. But she is a girl... and I am sure that people fawning over her isn't helping you any.

Not that you would admit it. 

And I love you for that. There are days when I throw my hands up in the air and scream at the gods, and then you come out and throw your arms around me and tell me you love me. It is genuine, sincere, and it does make me feel better. Even though there are sometimes when you don't choose the right time to do it. I know you mean the best when you do. 

See, that's the thing about you. You are always trying to make others feel better. You do what you can to make it happen. Even if it means giving some of your things away. Even if it means that you would go without. Which I guess know is the reason why your dad and I have a hard time with it when you say, "This is MINE!" It's just so unlike you. I'm working on it. Your dad is working on it. And I hope by this time next year, if you do say that, we won't get pissy with you like we do now.

You like your hair short, much to your father's dismay. I understand it though. I keep mine short. You don't look the best with longer hair, even though this last time when we went to get it cut, I begged you not to get it cut as short as you did. You actually wanted it shorter... but I said no. If you are anything like me, there will come a day when you will just do it. But that day is somewhat in the future. I would say a long time, but I know better... it seems like yesterday you were 2.

You are turning into one helluva hockey player. You played forward this year in Spring, but you keep telling us you want to be a goalie. We bought you a stick, and all we need now is to get you a baseball glove. If you want to be a goalie, I am not going to stop you, but I wish you wouldn't be. You GET being a center. You GET positioning and what you have to do when you get the puck. You GET it all... But I know no matter what position you choose... be it a goalie or a forward or defense, that you will rock it. You have heart for the game. You love it. 

You still have a love affair with giraffes. I don't get it, but I don't need too. Moo Moo bought you a stuffed one in a blanket that very very rarely comes out of your room. You take it to her house when you spend the night, and when I come in at night to kiss you and turn off your light, you are sleeping with it. When we go to the zoo, we spend a ton of time at their exhibit just looking at them. If it keeps up, I can see you getting a tattoo of one someday. 

You are also finding music... more so than before. Moo Moo and Grandpap bought you an MP3 player for your birthday, and I have been busy filling it with music for you. Some of the stuff... Miley Cyrus, Ke$ha, Lady Ga Ga makes me gag, but it is yours... and I have to remember that I was a pop junkie too at one point (Hell, I do like Miley's song: Party in the USA). Pop music is good... in small doses. It's like the junk food of music. LOL 

You are a scrapbooking junkie too. Again, no surprise there, that is my hobby of choice. And Grandma does it, and Moo Moo does it. Grandma got you scrapbooking stuff for your birthday as a matter of fact... so did Aunt Nyoka. You are constantly begging me for pictures... I told your dad that we are going to need two printers, one for you and one for me. 

You just finished up the 2nd grade. Your teacher's name was Miss L. You liked her enough. Everything in school comes easy for you except for spelling, which you come by never so naturally... but the thing about that is, I don't think you really try at it either. You haven't had one thing that you have struggled with, and I think that because everything else is so easy for you, you think why bother. Well that is what I think anyway. 

You have a few friends besides the ones you were born with. E being the most important and who has claimed the title of BFF. You two don't see each other as much as you both would like, I know that is partially my fault because I don't have a car to take you to her house, or to bring her here. I'm working on it. I hope that she will be in your class again next year. I think that would do you a world of good. E is a good kid. I like her. And when your parents like your BFF it makes the world smoother. 


You like to read... which I find to be awesome. I love to read... and when I was your age it is what I did. I would read for hours and hours, which is what you do. You take your books upstairs, and I can't tell you how many nights I have had to turn off your light, with the book opened beside you. You are picky about what you read... just like your dad. If the story doesn't grab you instantly, you are over it. You read to Jelly a lot, and Pineapple frustrates you because she won't sit still. 


I am amazed everyday with the things that you do, the things that you say. I am so blessed to have you as my daughter. I am so lucky that you choose me to be your mom. I just hope that I can continue to do right by you.


With all my love...
Mom

Did you know my favorite show was Stargate SG1?

When asked what my favorite show is, I will always throw in Stargate SG1. The idea that it could actually be happening now... that is what gets me. That is what makes me love the show... well the first reason.

That being said... I have a Stargate BFFF. Well, she is more than just my Stargate BFFF, she is a really good friend. Her name is Slidell. Well... her screen name anyway. She hopes to get a job educating young ones, so I don't want to take the chance and refer to her by her real name.

Anyway... we are rewatching all 10 seasons of SG1. And not only are we watching it... again... we are blogging it as well. The Stargate Best Effing Friends Rewatch Blog

Feel free to stop on by and tell us to stop. LoL

The Plan Still Stands

I have a computer. Finally. Again.

It's wonderful. I have been able to really see what people are complaining about in Facebook. I have been able to respond to emails. I have been able to make comments on forums that I love...

And I have been able to write some fanfiction... which is just warm up.

The plan still stands. I will have my book written by the end of the year.

When will the Mommy Ramble End?

I sub-titled this blog 'Who said it had to be all this "Mom" stuff?'. It seems as if that is all I blog about… the four babes. Sure, there has been the odd one out, but…

The main reason I started this is to help me find me again. Because if you haven't noticed, I'm all about my babes. Not that it is "wrong" or "bad" or anything else like that. It's just… there is more to me than just being a mom.

There has to be.

I promise I'll start blogging about other things than the babes. It may not be today, it may not be tomorrow, but I will.

Awesome things I forgot

Pineapple came along 5 years after Jelly. In that time things have changed... like no strawberries until 1 year. And of course somethings have stayed the same… like putting babies on their back to sleep. But you forget so many of the little awesome things that infants do.

Here's some of things I forgot, in no order…

Hearing them play in thier crib through the monitor.

The first time they reach for you.

When they learn how to splash in the tub.

After they get teeth and bite themselves.

When they get so excited they turn into little jumping machines. (Ok, my babes turn into jumping machines.)

When they roll over and get mad.

Being used as a teether.

Now here are some of the things that are just as awesome as I remember...

Big, open mouthed, slobber filled kisses.

When they scare themselves with thier voice. Be it laughing or just cooing.

Watching them get excited about something new.

Having them tap you when you are tapping them, be it for a burp or to try to get them to go to sleep.

Holding a sleeping baby.

Yeah… babies rock.

Summer Break started early!

I had debated for a while if I was going to blog about this. Now that it is no longer fresh, I can look back on it, and check Momma Bear when she needs to be checked. I guess what I am trying to say is that I can be objective…

Maybe.

The third graders at their elementary school have have a party. It's huge. It's a big deal because the third graders are leaving and going to a new school for the fourth grade. Well Butter still hadn't been told if he was going or not. I went to the school to ask his teacher about it. Butter had told me a few things that didn't make sense, and I wanted his teacher to explain it to me.

I went up there after school had just let out. This was on a Tuesday. The party was that Friday. I had all four babes with me. His teacher came down and we went off to the side of the main hallway to talk. Little did I know that it was going to turn into a screaming match, after the teacher, the professional, would lose his temper with me.

First, I asked if Butter was going to the third grade party. The teacher (who shall now be referred to as Mr. A) said that he hadn't made up his mind yet. That Butter hadn't deserved the right to go yet. Then the crap hit the fan because I questioned him.

I don't remember all of it. It has been a week now, but I do remember some key points. Mr. A screaming at me about how Butter has taken away so much if his instructional time, how Butter had to be perfect for four weeks to be invited to go, how The Chef and I did nothing at home to correct his behavior at school. I called him out about how after a sit down with all of the important people things were supposed to change. I asked him what about the things that they were supposed to do for Butter. Then I told him to do his job and be his teacher. It was so loud, not only did my babes hear him, but the secretary poked her head out if her office to see what was going on.

At that point, I walked away from Mr. A. I told Butter to get his things from the classroom because he was done with school. Then I went to talk to the principal.

I sat in her office for two and a half hours. I told her about all the things that had happened over the course of the year with Butter. I told her how The Chef and I tried to talk to Mr. A. We told him how to get Butter to do things. I told her how when we would question something we would be ignored. That we never were told one time that Butter had a good day. I told her how Butter would get in trouble for tapping his pencil. I asked her if Butter was such a horrible kid why was he then making the Merit Roll? Why was he being invited out to lunch for doing well on the standardized tests? She of course couldn't answer me. And most importantly, I reminded her that Butter is a 9 year old little boy.

Her mouth did hit her desk when I told her that Mr. A expected Butter to be perfect for four weeks. She did smirk when I asked if Mr. A was having a bad day.

She told me there was two options: A) we could let Butter start Summer Break early. Grades were already in. B) we could sit down, Butter, Mr. A, her and me. I choose option A. I told her that I no longer trusted Mr. A; Butter could walk on water fir the last eight days, but sneeze sideways and Mr. A would rip off his head and crap down his throat. Mr. A was human, but I could not take that chance.

She apologized to me for the unprofessional behavior of one of her teachers. I want a formal apology that I know will not come.

All I know is that if Jelly or Pineapple are assigned to Mr. A's class when the time comes, I will demand a teacher change. I know that Banana is safe. Even if things didn't go down like this, they try not to have siblings with the same teachers the year right after each other.

Next year is a new school. Next year is a fresh start. But the first time… the very first time we get a complaint from a teacher… about this BS, we will pull him. I can not make him suffer like this year.

Butter has discovered lyrics!

Butter's favorite song right now is "So What" by Pink. I honestly think it's because she swears in it, and as long as he is singing along with it, I don't care if he says it. (And well, he told The Chef that she's hot.)

He was jamming along with it, and then paused it. He told me that it's like she's signing about him. I gave him the Momma's eyebrow, and he told me, "When she says this... It's like it means this…"

I'm postive hockey isn't what she had in mind when she wrote it, but to this kid, it is.

It was a wonderfuly bittersweet moment.

10 years

10 years ago today at 9 in the morning, I was trying to put something on my stomach to calm the butterflies.

10 years ago today at 10:30 in the morning, I was getting my nails done.

10 years ago today at 11:30 in thr morning, my hair was being put up into my veil.

10 years ago today at 12:30 in the afternoon, I was putting on hose and making faces at my mother as she kept taking picture after picture.

10 years ago today at 1 in the afternoon, I was getting my makeup done, and putting on a beaded white gown.

10 years ago today at 2:15 in the afternoon, my dad and I were engrossed in nervous small talk.

10 years ago today at 2:20 in the afternoon, my dad told me that I could still back out if I wanted too.

10 years ago today at 2:30 in the afternoon, my dad walked me down the white runner to where my future husband waited.

10 years ago today at 3 in the afternoon, my husband kissed me for the first time, and it tickled my toes.

Today, 10 years after we promised to be with each other through the good times and the bad, we have made it. We have been shaken… but we have never fallen. We have had trials… but we have survived.

I love him so much more now than I did 10 years ago. I have found out what a strong man he is. When I have been at rock bottom, he has helped me up. He is my sounding board, my calm when a storm hits.

He's an awesome father, a wonderful husband, and an extraordinary man…

Here's to another 10 years, and 10 after that, and 10 after that, until forever and a day comes.

Lost

“To make yourself something less than you can be - that too is a form of suicide” - Benjamin Lichtenberg


As I was searching for quotes yesterday to use in cards and on various scrapbooking pages, this one struck me. Struck me so hard that I even used it as a Facebook status. (I know, I use quotes a lot for status messages.)

It's a truth that I seem to have forgotten. It's a truth that seems to have gotten lost. Lost, because somewhere along the way I did. Somewhere in growing into a wife and a mother, the things that made me tick, were pushed away for what I thought I had to be. And how long could that last?

For me, 10 years now. It was a gradual progress. Slow and steady, until I looked in the mirror and I didn't see myself. The Chef has even made a comment or two about mini skirts and combat boots.

I only own crocks now. Oh and a pair of shoes I got at the Salvation Army that cuts off all of the feeling to my toes.

So who am I? What defines me? Can the pysdo-Me that I let take over coexist with person I was... the one I am desperately trying to dig out of the back of the closet?

Here goes nothing.





- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Morning at the rink

And so begins another Spring season. I'm watching Banana on the ice, trying to show these boys that a girl can play. She's trying to impress me, picking up speed when she passes the glass where I am sitting.

These boys though, don't seem to care that she is a girl. They are passing her the puck, and not one has made a comment.

It's amazing what a different program has to offer not only Banana, but Butter as well.

One of the worst things that The Chef and I did, was to put him back in the program we left. He hasn't been this excited about hockey, since he first started playing.

I just hope his self esteem hasn't suffered any permanent damage.

I want my babes to excel. I want they to know what a real team is. I want them to know that all coaches are not like the ones we left...

But above all, I just want them to have fun.

I think this is the program we can do that in.

(And oh yes... This rink is cold.)

I'm back....

I have tried to find the right app for blogging. My computer took a dive, and all I have is my apple product.

There have been things that I have wanted to blog about, but I couldn't because I had no way to do it.

But it's all good now. I feel... Liberated.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

New Year, New Start, Same Old Characters: Family Edition

I am not usually one for New Years Resolutions. They last for about a week, if that long, and then get tossed aside. So, this is not a New Years Resolution post. This is a post about the things that have happened in the last year, and the ways I can improve on them. This is a post about the ways that I can help my family, the ways I can help me.

One year ago, Pineapple wasn't even a dirty thought in my head. I had given up on the idea of having another baby. The Chef and I started to talk about it, and we decided to take the plunge. This year, I will take care of her, and love her with everything I have in me. Some nights days it is hard, but it is just the two of us getting to know each other. She is a beautiful, wonderful little creature, and I am so glad that she picked me.

Over the past year, I have watched Butter start to come into his own. He will never be the most popular kid. He will never be the most athletic. He will never like school like he used too. But that is okay. He has one of the biggest hearts I have ever met. He is stumbling through, trying to find his footing, but he has a good hand hold. He is the one that we make mistakes with, but that is the right of being the first born. This year, I will try to remember that he is still only a little boy who is entering that awkward stage. I will try my damnedest to not be so hard on him, and to expect the world from him.

Over the past year, I have needed to hold onto Jelly more than I should have. I was so scared that he would feel displaced with his baby sister, I treated him so much younger than what he was. This year, I will treat him like he is the awesome 5 year old that he is. I will hold him responsible for his actions and not make excuses for him.

Over the past year, I have demanded so much from Banana. She has always been older than her age, and I have treated her as such for too many years. Being my daughter is hard... I expect her to wear dresses and beat up boys. I expect nothing less from her than to be her best. This year, I will try and remember that she is still a little girl, a little girl who tries so hard to live up to my expectations. I will let her lead the way, and just offer to help smooth out the bumps if she needs me too. She is my heart, and the one that causes the most "Mommy Guilt", through no fault of her own, and I will remember that. I need to remember that.

And finally... over the past year, I have disappointed The Chef in more ways than I could possibly imagine. Yes, I did have his baby, but while I was pregnant I went crazy. My brain just shut off, and I, singlehandedly, could have destroyed our lives... and everything that he had given us. My husband being the man that he is, just took me in his arms and loved me even more. He was my foundation when I collapsed. This year, I will try and be better. I will be the wife that he so deserves.

No resolutions, just affirmations. A game plan if you will. These are promises that I have made to myself... promises that I know I will keep. Welcome 2010. I embrace you with open arms.

New Year, New Start, Same Old Characters

I fancy myself a writer. I'm not 100% sure on why, but the idea of being a published author just excites me so. I have this idea for a book... and it's a damn good one if I do say so myself.

I have started and stopped it 3 or 4 times now.

I have committed to several excuses on why I haven't finished it... the last one being pregnant with Pineapple. They are nothing but excuses because I have never before been able to admit to myself that it is actually fear.

There is the general fear that it will be horrible; that people will patronize me and tell me that it is great when it isn't. The fear that I will put myself out there and be rejected for it.

But there is something deeper... I am more afraid, more fearful, of actually succeeding.

That is crazy you say. "You don't want to succeed?"

It's not that. I want this piece of my heart to be the fantastic story I know that it is. I want to share this story, my story, with the world. This is the big one on my "Shoulda-Coulda-Woulda" list. I need to do this. But at the same time... in the same breath, I am truly petrified.

This year, I have made up my mind that I will complete this story. I will conquer this feeling of being inadequate.


I have to do this. 


The Chef will hold me accountable and give me deadlines. 


I will do this.