Expectations

The Christmas holiday is in full swing and to be honest this year has been a raw season in my life. At Thanksgiving I chalked this fuzzy feeling in my gut up to the timing so close to my Grandfathers passing. As we near Christmas the fuzzy feeling became more clear. The holidays remind me of expectations, ones met and ones that go unmet. Let me be clear what I mean by expectations....

Expectations of my family...our parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, siblings; the whole messed up lot of them. Let's face it, I don't know anyone's family to look like the Cleaver's. Sadly. Nothing made the unmet expectations in my life more clear than having a daughter. It is hard to face unmet expectations of your own but when it effects your child it is entirely different. 

I realized there are many people in my life that I have expectations of. None of which I have ever sat down and said "here are my expectations of you".  But many have failed my expectations. We are talking the basics here. We can use my Dad as one example. He is an alcoholic. He lies, manipulates, and is completely unreliable. He wasn't always like this. He is the most extreme case of unmet expectations. My expectations of him are that he maintains a home and a job, plans for his retirement, pays his bills, is there for me when I need him and acts like he wants to be a part of my life. He has failed on all accounts. Christmas is a reminder he is not who he used to be. My life and what I knew of as "family" is not what it "used" to be. When I think about what I want for my daughter, I want what I had growing up. From a kids perspective it was great. However, as I became an adult I started to see my family for the people they are.

Last night I helped deliver Christmas presents to a foster home with my office. This was the first time in my life I got to see the face of someone receiving the gift I was giving.  These kids ranged in age from 7-17. They have been in and out of foster care, 1 of 23 kids were up for adoption as the majority's parents have not terminated their parental rights. Most of them will live there until they graduate from high school. Some will return to parents or another family member and some will transition to another foster care facility. 50% of me was horrified at the harsh reality of their situation and 50% was amazed and grateful a facility like this one exists to help support these lost babies (I realize they are not "technically" babies but they are). They were amazing, bright, loving and kind children. They thanked us over and over and over. They asked for hugs over and over and over. They loved everything they got from socks and underwear to the footballs and easy bake ovens. One of the older boys opened his brand new package of sock and smelled them. He said "wow, these smell so clean". Breaks your heart doesn't it?

I've never worn a dirty pair of socks. I've never been without. It was easy to forget where I really was until I walked to my car to drive home. I was going home to my safe, clean and comfortable home. Everything was just where I left it...all my precious "stuff". The coveted bracelet I "had" to have for Christmas. The brand new lazy boy my husband "had" to have for Christmas. The one item every kid was amazed and excited about was the candy. To them this is a luxury item...YES in AMERICA a Milky Way is still a luxury item to some people. What was even more amazing was they would share this coveted candy with each other. To be honest, these kids don't even know where they will be next Christmas but they lived in this moment and shared their few prized possessions.

This "little office project" moved something in me. These kids had have expectations of their parents. Their parents have failed them in the most epic way possible. These precious kiddos don't have a say or a choice. We've all been broken somehow along the way; none of that means you must repeat the cycle. 

The greatest thing about my Grandpa was his character. He met my expectations, always. He was the adult he was supposed to be. He played his role. He stepped up when he needed to and stepped down when it was time for me to rise. As a parent, that is my job. As a wife, daughter, aunt, cousin, niece and granddaughter,  I OWE it to the people in my life to live my BEST life so that I can be what I need to be for them. We all have roles like the ones I listed above. Have you fulfilled those for the people who are counting on you? Are you living your best life? We all owe it to ourselves and to our families. Families are supposed to be about unconditional love, acceptance, forgiveness and security....THAT is what provides children the stability they need to grow into their potential. THAT is what allows them to reach their potential and be GOOD people in society. THAT is our responsibility as a human family. Merry Christmas! May this holiday season move you to make the changes you need to life your BEST life. God Bless!

My soap box

Something is eating away at me. I didn't really know what it was until yesterday. Here it goes...I feel enormously guilty about not breastfeeding my kid. I shrugged it off.  Heartbroken as I was, it just was not meant to be. I have watched my one of my dearest BFF's  struggle with breastfeeding. She is determined like I have never seen before to make her body produce enough. She is hell bent that she is NOT going to feed her baby formula. Where was my fire when my daughter stopped cooperating? Where was my drive to produce when I was pumping less than one ounce? Now Ashley is 3 and a half months old and been strictly on formula for about a month and a half.  I got 2 months in doing both breast milk and formula. So, yesterday at work, this nursing bit was eating away at me. I started researching BF (breast fed) babies vs. FF (Formula Fed) babies. The articles all read about the same. FF babies are heavier, longer, more prone to obesity, their immune systems are not as strong, etc... Great news *insert sarcasm here*. I had read this all before, only this time my heart ached and my stomach churned after each word. What a sucky mom I was, setting my kid up for failure before she even busted out the gates of life!! THEN, to make matters worse, I stumbled on a blog. What a mistake. This was parents, both men and women going back and forth at each other about breastfeeding.  If you ever want a good physiological experiment read some of this. Women attacking each other, anonymously, over this message board, for example"BF is 95% effort and 5% nature", "there is NO such thing as a woman who "can't" produce enough milk", "if you aren't producing, you are trying", "you're just lazy"....I WAS APPALLED. I had always wondered when I saw the news reports of kids being bullied at school, "who are these kid's parents that allow these bullies to act this way?!" I just found their parents!!!! 

Here is my soap box...We live in America. This allows all of us the liberty of freedom of speech. I get and appreciate that. I don't believe that means we use that to harm others. I don't believe we need to exercise this right every chance we get just so our voice/opinion is heard.  As a society we thrive on gossip and trash TV & magazines. Believe me, I subscribe to the same tempts...I love to catch up on the Kardashian's of this world. But none if this gives me or anyone else the right to judge a mom, who is already self conscious enough, about whether she BF's or NOT!! There were several entries from husbands and mom's about how they had tried laundry lists of recommendations to produce more BM with out success, cried for days, weeks, months at the "failure to produce". My heart ached for them. I understood so much of what they were saying.  My blood boiled as I read the comments back at them condemning their efforts as "not enough". How dare they. I thought to myself "what a candid snapshot of America". There are bullies in our schools because there are bullies in this world, this "adult" world. Bullies that hide out under the anonymity of the internet where you can be called "kid200sunshine" and say anything you want with no consequence. The truth is, there is a devastating consequence. In stead of supporting each other, we are cutting each other. Women cutting other women where it hurts most, critiquing them as a Mom. There is nothing in life that will make you feel more vulnerable than having a kid.

My challenge to myself and all you Mom's and women out there: BE NICE. Be gentle with each other. Be kind with your words and choose them carefully. You don't have to be "right" all the time. Your way may not be the best way. We don't all know it all. Be supportive. Be SELF REFLECTIVE. Take a good hard look at yourself and your actions. Are you a nice person? are you sensitive to others? 

When you think about the kind of world you want your precious baby to grow up in...what do you see? are you an example of that? We are all doing the best we can, to be the best Mommy's we can be. We are held hostage to our own up bringing and our own defaults. That doesn't mean we can't get better. That doesn't mean we can't learn something new.

I will not be reading anymore message boards. I'm judging them...they are trash. Like Mama's used to say...If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. What a great piece of advice.

...back to work...

As I shimmed into my maternity jeans thinking damn, I left these in the dryer too long, the pit in my stomach grew. Today was the day I had been dreading for 90 days, since the minute she was born. I was going back to work. It seemed like ages since I had been there. I tried on about 4 shirts and after leaving a heap on the floor decided on a t-shirt and cardigan. At least my arms didn't look too fat. arg. Sweatpants and sweatshirts didn't scream baby weight but my old pre-preggo clothes did. The anticipation mounted. How would I feel, would I still have "it", could I still do my job and be a mommy, wife, friend, daughter, blogger I loved being....I had gotten so comfortable in those roles. But it had to be done, rip the band aid off. 

As I drove away from day care, crying, I knew she would be okay. I knew the girls would take care of her. But I looked back at the empty hole where the car seat was and just sighed. I am paying someone to spend the best part of the day with my baby. Awesome. This is how it works for so many mommy's. AND IT SUCKS.  There is no nice way to put it. I live in this toilet swirl of doubt, guilt, sadness. Doubting we were making the right decision, guilty that I was excited to get back to the land of the working girl, sad because I already missed her like crazy. Why does this have to be so hard???

Women worked tirelessly so that girls like me could GO to work and hold a position better than "secretary"(although still a very honorable job). Why then do I wish we still lived in a society where women stayed home and that was acceptable? Why am I bitter that "the Jones" came along and lured us into more and more things we had to have? Why as I drive to my beautiful office, sit proudly as the office manager of three offices for a fortune 500 company do I wish I did not have this opportunity in the first place? THEN also wish for that regional manager position, wish I was on a book tour or a host on DWTS...then it would be okay that I worked because the money would be better, could have a traveling nanny and so on. Sigh...I guess what I am getting at is, why, why is it that women are tormented with these irrational and emotional thoughts as mommy's?  I want to be with my kid all day, know exactly what she does. I want to be at my office solving problems and feeling the rush of the corporate grind. Is that too much to ask?! 

The first day back to work was great. My baby did great. She probably really liked it at day care. When I got home I was so excited to see her. I felt so lucky to hold her and rock her to sleep. She is sleeping in her own bed, a product of me going back to work. The empty pack and play I see when I go to sleep tonight is a painful reminder of how quickly it feels like time is slipping away. What is next graduation, college, marriage, babies...ahhhhhhh! 

I am sitting here at 10:00pm at night (I should totally be asleep), watching the baby monitor, listening to my husband snore and loving my life. This parent trap is hard. It's hard on a woman, a marriage and your soul. Oddly, I feel a rush of being alive; having a purpose. I will get out of those dang maternity jeans, my arms won't feel so fat and my sweet daughter will still appreciate my love whether I work our side of the home or not. I don't know what the future holds for me as a working girl, as a mom, or a woman. I do know, I found my self again during that 90 days.  Maybe that's what its all about, digging deep and looking at life as LIVING not just being. My job now is to produce a good human being. What I do for a living just pays for it.

The final farewell....

I missed it. I arrived 13 1/2 hours late. My Grandpa passed away at 1:30am on 11/1/2011. I packed my 3 month old up, decided to forgo my 1st week back to work and on a whim booked a flight Sunday night for Tuesday. He would for sure make it until I go there. The travel went off with out a hitch. Ashley was fantastic. Once I arrived home, I got the news. I had missed him. I couldn't believe it. How could he do this to me! How could he leave me! I think the truth is he knew I, along with my cousins, were coming and he did not want us to see him in the condition he was in.

As I sit here and type this I am wearing his Marine's sweatshirt. It still smells like him. Tears stream down my face because I know in a short time that smell will no longer linger. I think I am still in shock. I keep expecting him to call or walk in the door. We are all busy with funeral arrangements, answering the phone, and making final plans. That certainly helps but soon enough we will all be home and the reality will set in.

I know God does not barter with us. I know he does not trade one life for another. But at this moment as I look back I feel blessed. With Grandpa being sick I was not able to talk to him as often as I would normally. In the last three months I have been so busy as a new mom I have just been able to keep up with the basic updates. I am been so wound up about day care and going back to work that I put Grandpa being sick on the back burner. Surly he would pull through, he always did. I feel like God was trying to tell me, "you know I'm going to take Grandpa, but in return I will heal your heart with a new life". Don't get me wrong, my heart is BROKEN, but when I look at my daughter, I smile and think how much Grandpa would have loved to hold her, how much he already loved her. She will never know him as I did. I realize that was never possible. Now I know he is watching over her and continuing to watch over me. 

I find myself thinking of things I need to tell him; try and imagine what he would say. I think of how life just goes on. As I picked this sweatshirt out of his closet I almost didn't want to move it. He was the last one to touch it, fold it and put it on the shelf. I wanted to stare long enough and pray I never forgot what his closet looked like or what the notes in his calendar looked like. It's like time is frozen in that room. 

As I sit here, I still cannot believe he will not be at the other end of the telephone line. He will not be there to greet me when I go home. He will not be there to physically see the rest of my life or watch my daughter grow.  But I am forever grateful he did see as much as he did. I am so blessed to have had him in my life. So long for now GP, so long.

Besties

Me & "the golds" on girls weekend

My STL Bestie! MISS YOU!

 A true "silver"

I had coffee at my house with a BFF of mine today. I have done this often with some of my best mommy friends while on maternity leave.  It has been amazing to connect with these women. We talked about several things over coffee. Had some giggles and some conversations from the heart. After she hurried out, late to pick up her darling son, I was left to digest our conversation. It got me thinking of all the girls in my life. My BFF's. The girls I turn to when all else has failed or I need to hear someone tell me what I already know in my heart but can't accept. I love that I can say girls (note the plural) and not the girl. That tells me I have cultivated some very special friends over my life time. These girls are PRICELESS. They don't care how much money I make, what kind of car I drive or if I am donning the latest fashion. They do however know the whispers of my heart, my past and hopeful future.

Sing along with me girls..."make new friends but keep the old, one is silver and the other gold" yes folks a little jingle from girl scouts. It did not make much sense to me then since the "oldest" friend I had was from preschool and the worst thing that happened in our lives was not getting the Barbie we wanted for Christmas. Please note this same friend got gloves, underwear and bathrobes for Christmas year after year...it was truly the worst! As I think back on this song now, it makes an entirely new kind of sense. I am still friends with the little girl I met in preschool with the same name; along with a few others from high school. They are the "gold" they are the girls who know my movements, my smell, my past and who I was before I was anyone. They might not know what I did for lunch today or what my week looks like. But you can be sure they know my Grandpa is dying and my kid goes to her first day of day care next Tuesday.  They know and will feel my heart break that day. They were the ones who sent Sheri's Berries with an I love you card after I miscarried my first pregnancy. Their hearts cried too.

But then there are the "silvers" the spunky, crazy, fun, loving darlings I have picked up along the road of life since leaving that comfy home town. It's taken some time to find these "silvers". I do not open my heart to just anyone. They didn't know me. They didn't know my favorite color or my favorite Starbucks blend...but they dug. Theses girls have dug into my heart and soul to the meat and potatoes of my being. I can spot one a mile away. I know the girls I love to be friends with. It's almost like dating, see them across the room, try and strike up a conversation and then BAM!! set a "girl date". Weird, but this is what you do when you move away from home. I don't have the luxury of having the SAME group of friends I had in high school. Although that "luxury" does not open the door for new beginnings. The "silvers" I have met along the way have pushed me to open my heart and try new things. Shown me different ways of living this life. They are geniuses; filled with creativity and love.

As I sit here today and reflect upon each and everyone of these besties in my life. I smile. I tear up because I miss the far away ones so much. I look forward to my next lunch/coffee date. I giggle as I "remember that time when we...". I try to cut off the ankle bracelet the police have given me after a night out on the town with one of them...KIDDING!...seriously JUST kidding! The honest truth is we girls cannot get by with out a little help from our friends. They are the life blood that we rely on for that deep seeded desire for connection and comfort. They are the ones who bring you food and diapers when your new baby arrives, send you Sherri's berries when your heart is broken, send you that text to say "I'm thinking about you today...hope you have a great day!". I love these women. These "golds" and "silvers" God has put in my life. I am SO lucky. I hope that when my besties sit back and think of me, they feel the glow in their soul I feel for them. Thank you for being my "golds" and "silvers". Thank you for loving me, sticking with me over the years, taking a chance on being my friend, listening, crying, laughing, but mostly just being you with me.

Death be not proud

GP in Perdido Key, FL

Enjoying wine we brought back from Italy

D-E-A-T-H. It is such a sobering word. One that echos pain, emptiness and hopelessness. This word pulls at your heart strings and makes your soul feel pale. When you hear this word, you secretly thank God its not you or your family. Death is making a cameo appearance in my life right now. It is lingering and haunting my family. My Grandpa has cancer. He had prostate cancer twice before, but now he is 80+ years old and his body is not working like it used to. This time it's Leukemia. He has exhausted all his medical options. Currently he is enrolled in a pilot program of which he has only been able to receive one treatment. His doctors love him. The nurses this he is cute and funny...He is. 

He is at a stage now where he cannot do much for himself. I can only imagine the mental anguish this brings to a man, a Marine and middle school principal. A man who's mere presence commands attention. His booming voice lingering in the room at Christmas for everyone to hear. A man who makes a mean Italian salad and loves his Chianti. A gentleman who loves his family fiercely and believes in the power and strength of the institution of a family. This man who can no longer feed himself. He sits in chair day in and day out in the hospital just breathing. I hear he occasionally mentions the Lion's game or comments on the score of the Green Bay game. He cannot hold a conversation. No one really knows what he can hear so they don't say much. This man is 1800 miles away from me. I cannot see the graveness of this situation.  I only hear it in the voices over the telephone. I am certain he would not want me there to watch this slow demise. He is too proud. 

My heart hurts for him. He is and has been on many accounts one of my very best friends. He has told me on many occasions he has lived a good life, he has no regrets.  I want to run to him. These are the times that the distance from family is extremely regrettable.  I want to scream out to God to fix him; to make it better. God has already given me everything I need from him. You see, God gave me my Grandpa when I needed a Dad, a friend, a confidant, a teacher and a leader. God gave my Grandpa words to heal my heart, mend the scars and empower me to go on. I will desperately miss my Grandpa but I know it is time to stop asking God for more. God has answered each and every time I asked and even when I didn't know what to ask for.  The lessons I have learned from him are many but the greatest of these is love. Honest, unconditional love. I will carry that with me always. Thank you Grandpa for everything. Thank you God for my Grandpa.

The great divide

I can seen now how easy it is for husbands and wives to lose each other once they have children. Ashley is only 11 weeks old and I can feel the "great divide".  Before she was born (she is our first) we talked a lot about how it was going to be, how we were going to be stronger, better, "different" than other parents. We heard the warnings of friends. When a baby comes; everything changes. Women and men have no way of knowing how this little teensy being will change their hearts and souls.

At the beginning, our lives were merely survival. Keeping Ashley alive, eating, maybe sleeping, and marveling at this little life. We were fortunate enough to have my mom help us out for a couple of weeks to get us on our feet. Once she left, I immediately felt the gravity of being "alone".  My husband was at work all day and I was "alone". Ashley was still so small I could not leave the house. Best I could do for my own sanity was take her for walks in the neighborhood. There is something no one tells you about motherhood....you feel alone a lot. Even when you are physically not alone. I quickly found, since I was not working, Ashley became my "job". Understandably so. AND I LOVE IT! I love everything about her and being with her. But there is also some unfamiliar territory....

When my husband gets home from work he is tired and wants to relax...this is the first time I am seeing another human being ALL day. I want to talk and tell him all about her last poop!! Understandably he gets that glazed over look and I am deflated. I retreat. He is listening, but he's not.  The best I have to contribute to our conversation is about Ashley, our friends babies, what I read online today about babies, and the neighborhood gossip...most likely about their babies.  This all leaves me feeling a little lost. I was out in the "real world" but now I live in this bubble. I love it here but I am in here alone...well with my mommy friends too. I miss my husband. He has a life outside the bubble. He goes to work, goes out to lunch, gets his hair cut, plays golf, has business dinners, travels for work etc... In my frustration I wonder why he doesn't want to live in the bubble too. I get angry. I can't do it all! I tell myself...some of this is self inflicted because I like to be in charge of Ashley. But I still get angry that I can't just go get my hair cut. It's a big ordeal planning around when my husband will be home and available. I make sure Ashley is fed and hopefully sleeping to ensure his time alone with her is not too difficult. I try and shield him from the "hard" times so that he doesn't get frustrated or disinterested.

I don't give my husband enough credit. He can and he is willing to do more. In an effort to "protect" him I also alienate him. Sometimes I don't give him a shot to be successful. I just do everything and become more and more resentful. That's not fair. As a wife I am part of a team. A team that has chosen this life....that includes this little bebe we are responsible for. Our responsibilities for her will not always be 50/50. I get that. I just don't want to feel alone. I don't want to cry out of frustration. I'm not sure what the answer is for us. I'm sure its different for everyone. Date nights, bible studies, couples vacations, etc... I know this is just a phase of MANY we will go through with a family. I know I need to do a better job at communicating my needs, giving up some of the control to allow my husband to have experiences with Ashley and I know I need to find "me" again. I am a different woman today than I was before she was born. I am a different wife. This new me is uncomfortable...like the pre-preggo jeans I still cannot fit into. *big sigh* I can do it. For our kids sake, we can fight for our own identity women. We can fight for our marriages to be strong, solid foundations as an example for our children and grandchildren. My daughter deserves at least that. Does yours?

Mommy must have websites!

Hi Friends!

Here are a list of websites I have found fun and helpful...please comment if you have any additional to share! Enjoy!

www.publix.com

- they have a great baby club. When you sign up you get a wonderful resource book along with pages of coupons..that are actually useful!

www.zulily.com

- Great site with unique boys and girls clothing, toys, and items for Mommy :)

www.pinterest.com

-A-mazing website loaded with anything and everything from decor ideas, recipes, party ideas, etc...you will become ADDICTED! I've been stalking the Christmas picture ideas...so ridiculously fantastic!

www.myperfectsale.com

- super cool site that you can customize for your favorite brands and you are alerted when they are on mega sale

www.kidecals.com

- custom decals for your kids (or your own!) stuff...I am using these for Ashley's bottles and formula containers at daycare. They can withstand the dishwasher. Very cute!

....oye! crying baby...gotta run. Will post more as I find them. I look forward to hearing back on what websites you "must have" in your life!

A step back into my "old" life...

Last night we went to bible study...something we did BA (Before Ashley). A very different experience than I remember. We brought the little A with us who slept through about 30-40 minutes. Let me preface this with this bible study is with a new group. And let me just add, for the first time in my life I felt socially inept. My mind was 100% on my little one sleeping in the other room. I guess I am also feeling out of practice with "making conversation". Ashley doesn't really talk back....yet ;) Anyhow, once she started fussing I bounced her around a bit behind the scenes and then attempted to feed her. Note the word "attempt". My diaper bag could sustain life for a family of 4 through a hurricane....but I had only packed 2 - 4oz travel bottles. 4oz per feeding that's what she eats. As I am sitting alone in the other room, listening to the bible study progress, I start feeding my screaming little one. Frazzled myself, I screw the cap on and begin to feed her. One suck on the nipple and the entire 2oz bottle gushes all over Ashley and I....seriously?! ****!!!! I had put her in a super cute outfit to go too!!! Luckily she did not cry any harder. I scooped her up and cleaned her up, changed her clothes and proceeded to feed her the other 2oz soaking wet with formula and stinky. 

Alone in the other room. I am not good at this yet. I am not used to this life yet. My eyes lined with tears glance down on Ashley and I smile. She is perfect. She doesn't know I stink or that I feel like running for the hills. She doesn't know I feel inept tonight. She just knows I have met her needs and hopefully in that little mind that I love her more than she will ever know. John patiently gets up after all this fun is over and exits graciously from bible study. He, who has been in main stream society, kindly asks me if I need anything and makes small talk with me in the car. He loves us, stinky and all. Bless his heart.

I am a Mom.

I don't remember when I washed my hair last. I had coffee and a rice krispy treat for breakfast. To save money, I am creating a photo studio in my house to take Ashley's Christmas pictures. I think most of what is on TV should not be watched by kids. I pray each night for God to watch over my family. I have a will. I think about life insurance.
I am a Mom.
I dragged my husband, baby and Mom to a farm 40 minutes away for my 2 month old to have the pumpkin patch "experience" (or for really cute pictures). I cry in the shower, alone, because of all my fears. I don't like the mattress at day care because it's not comfortable enough for my child.
I am a Mom.
I don't worry about my next new purse. I don't think about my next new outfit. I want to be a hip, cute mom, but I want my kid to be hipper and cuter. I want my kid to go to college, get a good job, have babies and be happy. I worry about my daughter getting hurt, attacked, molested, mistreated, misunderstood, ridiculed, not liked. I want the world to love her as much as her Daddy and I do.
I am a Mom.
She is perfect. She is special. She is amazing. She is a miracle. She is a blessing. She is smart. She is talented (well, I am sure she will be).
I am a Mom.
She is stressful. She is fussy. She does not sleep through the night. She does not always cooperate. She will fail at some things. She needs us to support her. She needs us to tell her she is good enough. She needs us to protect her. She will not agree with us. She will not like us. We love her madly, fiercely, passionately, unreasonably.
I am a Mom.
My baby has an amazing Dad.
We are parents....and the journey has just begun.