Some Assorted News

So, I don't know why I've been so "secretive" for so long...I mean, I link to my blog on my Facebook page for goodness sakes, so it's not like I'm trying to hide from anyone. With that in mind, I finally put my picture and (ZOMG) my real name on this piece. Now you know something to call me other than "Cannonball" which has never been a nickname of mine except in the Blog-o-sphere. (Boochie or Ali-boo, however, have...)

And other than that, I am at a training this week and have limited internet access, even during our lunches, so I am on a bit of a sort-of blog hiatus. Except, keep your eyes peeled because I will be doing my first guest blogs this week. I'll let my fellow bloggers remain a surprise, and you guys just be on the lookout to see my crazy posts elsewhere! Of course, I'll try to linky so that you don't have to search too hard, but in case I'm busy, you can find both ladies in my blogroll to the right.

Have a great week!

A Mother's Letter

Dear Jacob,

I am writing this letter to you tonight on my blog because I can't find your baby journal that I've been keeping since before your birth, and you have just created a wave of emotions in me so huge that I need to let it all out to keep from bursting. I am crying and smiling and at the same time, aching that I can't go crawl into your crib and curl up around your little turtle body as you fall asleep. For I have just had an amazing Mommy Moment.

For me, it's the smallest things that bring me joy. Today, and for the whole weekend really, you have been a little down, clingy yet distant, and nonchalant about Mama. When I picked you up from daycare today you were happy to see me, but then you turned and reached for your teacher. At my parent's house, when I picked you up you would turn and cry at Nonni, wanting her to hold you instead. I have to admit, I felt a little jealous, a little jaded. Little babies are supposed to want their mommies above anyone, and I was rejected. When it comes to you, though, I know I can never hold on to that jealousy long because you are a fickle creature, and sometimes you just don't know what you want.

Tonight, you happened to just want home. Your dog, your toys, your room, and your parents all to yourself. Despite being tired, you played and smiled and danced and cruised all around the living room, reaching for me and daddy from time to time, happy to have our undivided attention. And when I got ready to put you to bed, something happened to erase all of my rejection anxiety. Lately, I've been holding you a little before bed, and you've allowed yourself to doze in my arms. I really lucked out to get such a good sleeper: for a long stretch, you would actually cry to be put in your crib at bedtime and it's only recently that you will let me hold you after nursing. I usually stand by the window and stare at your precious face, whispering to you how beautiful you are and how much I love you. Then I lay you gently in your crib and you flip right over and curl into a ball.

But tonight, you stretched out on your back, opened your eyes, and grinned up at me. Full open mouth, teeth bared grin. And then in the light of your seahorse, you sucked a little air in while smiling, like a teeny little gasp-giggle, what I've come to know as your contentedly happy noise. I smiled down at you and whispered "I love you soooo much" and then crouched, putting my face next to your crib. You stared at me, smiling, and stretched your hand out through the slats of your crib and touched my mouth. The look in your face as I kissed your fingers is something that I will cherish as long as I live, son. Such trust, and love, and joy at seeing your mom smile and whisper good night. I couldn't help but start crying, which seemed to get you even more excited. I didn't want to leave, but I knew the longer I stayed the more awake you would become.

Thank you, Jacob, for giving me such an overflowing feeling of love tonight. And keep up those good sleep habits so that in a couple of years, every now and then at least, I really can climb into your little toddler bed, curl myself around you, and stroke your hair until you are deep into sleep.

I love you more than life itself.

Love,
Mama

CABOODLES!

That is a seriously funny word...one I had forgotten about for quite some time (like, since waaaay back in the '90's). Until someone I know wrote it in a facebook status. Man, it brought back one searing memory faster than I could blink, and here I am, sharing it with you.

I am a meticulous gift giver. I feel like I spend hours thinking about what I'm going to give people at Christmas, making lists, converting those lists to Excel files complete with a budget calculator, and then online shopping until I find the perfect deal. On the flip side, I worry about gifts given to me. I want people to know that I am truly thankful for anything they give me, and I've always stressed when people have asked for me to make a list of what I want. It feels so incredibly vain and selfish, yet I sit down and plot out all the restaurants I'd love to eat at, spas I'd love to visit, and beauty products that I won't splurge on with my own money (well, most of the time...)

One year when I was around 11 or 12, those horridly awkward tween years (although we didn't call them that back then, we were just still children) my grandmother wanted my Christmas list. And the one thing I really wanted was a Caboodles make-up case.

Come on ladies, you know that either brought you right back to somewhere between 7th and 9th grade, or you are now slack-jawed in all of the early '90's awesomeness going on right therr.

Now, knowing my Granny the way I do, I was all excited for Christmas that year. I had been asking my mom for a Caboodles for months and she just would not give in. Every time we went to Wal-Mart I eyed them, wondering which color Granny would pick out for me, how big it would be (b/c ya, bigger was totally better, we used a lot of eyeshadow AND hairspray in middle school in North Cack). I couldn't get over myself and this Caboodles deal.

And then we got to her house for Christmas, and as I eyed all of the gifts under the tree (Granny went WAY overboard with Christmas presents) I spotted one of those plastic Christmas bags with my name on it. And the shape of made my stomach churn. Because under that bag, I could tell, was a makeup case. A Sassaby makeup case. And I just got more and more nervous and anxious as my turn to open gifts came. Not because I was a bratty spoiled kid, but because I could tell Granny was so proud of getting me exactly what I had asked for and I was nervous that she would be able to tell from my reaction that it was not the right thing. I tried to fake it, I really did. I smiled and hugged her and said thank you and nodded my head when she beamingly asked me if it was the right one. But she could tell.

She kept asking me if I was sure it was right, if I was sure it was ok. I assured her I loved it, but when we got home it just sat in my room untouched. None of the cool girls at Carnage G.T. Magnet Middle School (yes, I went to a school named Carnage, and yes hubby teases me every time I saw it) carried a Sassaby. I would be mocked if I brought that Burgundy monstrosity to the dress rehearsal for our dance recital. Finally my mom just made me exchange it for the one I wanted, and it was like a sigh of relief.

I don't know why I am so worried people won't like my gifts, but I know I am much more worried that people will think I don't appreciate theirs. I would love to hear your gift giving/receiving stories!

How I Picked a Fight With My Husband Because the Baby Spit Up.

So, I met a friend for lunch today. A new friend, as in, a blogger friend from online that I was meeting for the first time in "real life". I was very excited for said meeting, as we have "known" each other online for some time and well, to be honest, from the moment I "met" her I just knew we'd have a lot in common.

And we did: we both had to pull our hair into ponytails to eat, we both like cheese on our burgers, and she let the first "f"-bomb fly about 4 1/2 minutes into our conversation, which put me totally at ease. In any case, the point of my story is first impressions are important and I actually cared how I presented myself, so I decided against the still-in-use maternity top even though I am now 7 pounds lighter than when I got pregnant and put on what I consider a nicer top and shrug.

And then my husband woke up late. So, at 7:12, with exactly 3 minutes left before we had to pack into the car, I was holding Jacob and preparing his bottles (after I had already nursed him, changed him, dressed him, and kept him from sticking anything sharp or poisonous in his mouth all morning) while my husband was STILL GETTING HIMSELF READY OVER 40 MINUTES LATER, and the kid puked. All down the front of my shirt, all over his own outfit. What the what? Seriously, he hasn't spit up in months, and this is the moment he picks to let it all out? So unfair, right? So what did I do?

I yelled at my husband. Poor guy happened to make it to the kitchen within seconds of the incident and said, "do you need any help?" I looked him with sharp, sharp daggers instead of eyes and said, "yeah, like RIGHT NOW, and five minutes ago too, by the way." He had to take Jacob upstairs to change him while I frantically "washed" my shirt in the sink. And I'll admit it now, it was totally mean and uncalled for, and not at all the kind of wife I want to be, but we all have those moments. In the car he said (this is him apologizing for not helping) "I don't know how I wasn't ready on time today. I got up at the same time yesterday and had 15 extra minutes to fix the bottles."

What can I say? I've always been a beast in the morning anyway. I am not a gal that wakes up smiling and waiting for the birds to come and visit. I need a pee, a shower, and a good iced coffee before I'm really up and at it, and he is well aware of that. I have a friend that always says to her husband, "you knew what you were getting when you married me, so you shouldn't be surprised by it." I guess that's how I feel. Hopefully tomorrow will be a better commute.

I'm torn about this giveaway...

So, this cool mom over at http://takencare.blogspot.com/ Taking Care of Twins is giving away an ERGO. No, really, an ERGO.

I was torn about whether to post about it on my own blog because, well, that's just competition. But in the end, since I have two baby carriers and don't super-love either, but super-love wearing Jacob whenever possible, I would really LOVE to win an Ergo.

So I'm blogging about it. Good luck!

Family. The Kind I Didn't Come From.

While I cannot be as specific as I'd like at this time, I am having overwhelming feelings of love for my Mother-In-Law today. What a truly great person. And although I know my mom is my favorite, my husband's mom is a close second. I really lucked out, as we have all heard the jokes and complaints before...they eye-rolling "in-laws" comments, the rants, the family implosions. Hell, I honestly believe that I have better in-laws than some people have actual blood-relatives. (Oh, and don't get me wrong, somewhere down the chain of my husband's family are people I'd like to spend less alone time with Joran Van der Sloot at this point.) But luckily, those are few and far between and I totally lucked into some really great relatives that have adopted me as one of their own.

Today, however, is my mom-in-law's turn. When DH and I got too sick to take care of ourselves earlier this year, she didn't ask but informed us that she was on her way to pick up little man from daycare and keep him for the night so that we could recover. She brought us gatorade and chicken soup, had prescriptions filled, and just took care of it so that we didn't have to. No guilt, no questions asked, just an honestly selfless act. And this was before we sent him on overnight trips because he was still waking at least once or twice a night. No complaints from her.

This is a woman that had my entire family rolling in laughter as she told the story of how at 3 years old, my husband discovered his "junk" for the first time. He was riding his little tricycle around the kitchen naked before bathtime (the love for naked baby time runs deep in our family) when as he was getting off, he spotted "IT". He looked up at his mother with horror and said, as if a pest had attached itself to him, "What ISTHAT?!"

In fact, all of her stories have us laughing when she tells them and my own mother always talks about how she has such a knack for storytelling. And how you can hear the love for her children in her voice when she talks about them. Her sons are somehow both Mama's boys, but not the annoying, always have to call their mom before making a decision kind. More like they respect their mother's fairness and seek her opinion for important things. She somehow is able to give advice without being intrusive.

I don't want to share too much because some of our family is, in fact, private, but she is just a wonderful person. I remember being so scared to meet her when hubby and I had been dating for about three months. Would she judge me? Would she think I was too slutty for her son? Too loudly, obnoxiously flamboyant? (If Jacob brought home a girl like me that's what I'd be doing.) Would she spend our dinner's together Bible-thumping and feeling like I wasn't good enough for her son because I didn't believe in the religion they did? None of those things occured.

In fact, she has been a big part of my journey back to Christianity. Never judging, never pushing, never telling me I was wrong or ridiculing me, just being there in case I had questions, and using her own life to demonstrate a non-hypocritical Christian.

So today, I am celebrating the fact that I have two awesome mothers to look up to, to go to for advice and love and comfort, and to show my son what growing up with two of the most awesome grandmothers in the world feels like. I had that growing up, and I'm so glad that he will experience the same. Instead of having favorites, he will love his grandmothers as equally as I did, because they both love him so much!

Karing For Keegan

Every day I remind myself to not take the health of my son for granted. Being part of an online community has exposed me to every little "complication" that he could have had, ranging from the simple reflux issues that we escaped to the unthinkable journey my friend Laura made with her beautiful Eli, carried to term and born naturally, living for a precious 12+ hours despite an early diagnosis of Trisomy 13.

Today is a day where it would be impossible to ignore how lucky I am. Lucky that my child sleeps 10-12 hours most nights. That he has hit every vital milestone, has gained weight at every appointment, has never had a problem eating (although sometimes he would just rather play). He is the easiest baby in the world to take care of, and whenever I catch myself grumbling otherwise I remind myself of what else I know is out there.

Luckily there are people in the blogging community that are 1400 times stronger and more caring than I am. One is Joanna, who is raising an ADORABLE happy little girl who happens to have worn a stylish hip cast for the last 6 weeks. Despite her own dealings with doctor's appointments, limited mobility, and changing diapers in a cast, she is selflessly using her blog to raise money for Keegan and his family, a sweet boy diagnosed with the rare Medulloblastoma, a malignant tumor in his brain.

Please, please, please, if you have not already, check out her official post here:
http://raisingmadison.com/2010/06/08/karing-for-keegan/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+RaisingMadison+%28Raising+Madison%29

Fancy link is not working today, so I apologize for the really long hyperlink. Despite the fact that you can WIN LOTS OF STUFF, this fundraiser will mean so much to a family that is fighting every moment to give their son the best chance at life possible.