Saturday, August 28, 2010

Two Years of Miracles and Dreams Come True

"I was waiting for so long/For a miracle to come/Everyone told me to be strong/Hold on and don't shed a tear.

Through the darkness and good times/I knew I'd make it through/And the world thought I had it all/But I was waiting for you..."

--From A New Day Has Come by Celine Dion

Two years ago today...I met an angel God sent to me. She saved my life.

Glam-O-Mommy meets daughter

Ready to go home--third day

First moments at home

8 lbs 6 oz, 21 inches long

When I look at her, I believe miracles can happen. Dreams can come true.

One month old

Seven months old

One year old

Thank you, God, for answering my prayer.

Two years old, 30 lbs 8 oz, 37.25 inches long

Happy birthday, Big Girl. Mommy loves you SO much!

Cowgirl cutie, ready for her big party

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

This Blog Absence Brought to You by Twilight

I was on a really good blogging roll during the month of July, and then, almost three weeks ago, I discovered the Twilight phenomenon.

Now, I haven't been living under a rock. The first movie came out while I was on maternity leave, so I heard about it, but was a scooch more focused on my DARLING, ADORABLE BABY to go to a movie or read a book. Since then, obviously, I've heard all about the movies and the books when New Moon came out and then again just six weeks ago, when Eclipse premiered.

And still...very little interest in seeing the movies or reading the books. Kind of thought people were a little crazy for being obsessed with it. Not sure why...Robert Pattinson and Taylor Lautner are hot and I like Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but really did not care for Interview with a Vampire, and I think I mistakenly thought it would be more Rice-like than Scooby Gang.

And then, on a random Sunday night, with nothing on TV, I happened upon the movie on Showtime. I watched the last half and thought, hmm...interesting. My husband was out of town for the week, and TV was a wasteland, so when I saw it was on again the next night (gotta love Showtime), I DVR'd it and watched it after my daughter went to bed.

And that was it...I was obsessed. Crazy.

The following night I rented New Moon. And then I watched Twilight again Wednesday and Thursday night. When my husband came home Friday night, I was like, hey--good to see you! I'm going to see a 10:20 showing of Eclipse! Watch the baby for me!

And then I bought all four of the books and read them in about six days. I'm a fast reader, but even so, my husband was impressed...and probably a little perplexed with why his wife was all of a sudden obsessed with vampires and wolves LOL.

And then I bought the Twilight soundtrack and put it in heavy rotation on my iPod.

Note to other parents: The slow or instrumental songs on this soundtrack do an excellent job of lulling toddlers to sleep in the car.

More Twilight watching, ANOTHER rental of New Moon ensued this week, and I'm plotting to go see Eclipse again this weekend. Somebody help me.

In fairness, my Twilight obsession is not the ONLY thing that has kept me from blogging. I'm smack dab in the middle of two MAJOR projects at work that are causing me to want to tear my perfectly highlighted hair right out of my head and making me work some extra hours. I'm also in the final stages of party planning for my daughter's second birthday extravaganza next weekend, trying to figure out where to take her for two-year portraits now that my favorite studio has closed, shopping for our upcoming Jamaica vacation, and still carrying a bit of the parental load, although my husband is slowly doing better on the recovery front.

BUT...Twilight is probably the biggest factor in my lack of blogging, since I've mostly watched and re-watched it after my daughter goes to bed, which is usually when I blog. :) I'll try to be better, if I can resist temptation...

And for the record...TEAM EDWARD all the way!

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Margaritas by 9 a.m.

You know your day is not going well when you feel like downing a couple of margaritas by 9 a.m. in the morning. Especially when you can't remember the last time you had a margarita or alcohol of any kind.

My day started with a jolt as I accidentally turned my alarm off instead of hitting the snooze. I woke up an hour later, knowing I had no hope of getting my daughter to school in time to eat her school breakfast. What is key here is that her school breakfast is her SECOND breakfast of the day...she has milk and a handful of Cheerios when she gets up at home, then, within an hour, she has a second breakfast at school...usually something like milk, a muffin, and a big slice of honeydew melon. She cannot miss the school breakfast. Or any other meal. EVER.

She's not a picky eater, my kid. I am, extremely, so I'm constantly amazed I created this little person who has yet to dislike any food I put in front of her. I feed her all kinds of healthy fruits and veggies and stuff that I don't actually eat myself and she LOVES it. So I try to ensure she always gets to school in time to have the school breakfast. She does not like to miss a meal!

So as I rushed around trying to get ready, I gave her a banana in addition to her regular breakfast since we were going to miss the school breakfast. She scarfed it in less than a minute and wanted more, so I gave her a second banana, which she also polished off quickly, and then I gave her a little extra milk. BREAKFAST ACCOMPLISHED.

Finally ready myself, I thought it would take me my normal 10 minutes to get her ready. Forty-five minutes later, sweaty and defeated, we finally left for school.

The minute I tried to get her dressed, she threw one of the biggest fits I've ever seen. She cried. She crawled away as I tried to change her diaper. She refused all my attempts to put her pants on. I took a break and gave her a minute to calm down, then tried again. More flailing and crying on the floor. Then, I tried my "I'm going to have to leave without you" trick, wherein I say, sadly, "Oh well. If you're not going to get dressed, Mommy's going to have to go ahead and go without you." Then, I take my purse, her bag, my lunch, and other assorted crap to the car, and by the time I'm back in less than a minute, she is usually eager to go with me and very compliant as I dress her. Not today! More wailing and flailing about on the floor ensued. At this point, I began talking directly to and trying to make deals with God. Seriously.

Finally, I wrestled her into her clothes and then put her socks on. She cried and tried to take them back off as if she were in pain from the socks, so totally defeated at this point, I took them back off. Then, she immediately got hysterical, crying, "Socks! Socks!" and put her feet out for me to PUT THE SAME SOCKS BACK ON. So I did. Then I put her shoes on and gave her a paci. And she finally calmed down. (Should've used the paci earlier, but I try to only let her have it in her crib and nowhere else.) Finally calm (both of us), but sweaty and frazzled (me), I  took her out to the car. Where she promptly flailed a little as I was going to put her in the car and hit her head on the corner of the car door. And then more wailing ensued. I'm sure my neighbors think I'm an awesome mom.

The 15-minute drive to her school was oddly silent. Neither of us happily sang along to the Laurie Berkner Band as we do most mornings.We were both kind of exhausted and defeated. At school, I hugged her and told her I was sorry for not handling her hysterics well and I was sure she was sorry she didn't just get dressed protest-free as she does most days. I felt it was important for both of us to own our mistakes. I then drove the few blocks to my office, went into my office, and sat down at my desk, totally deflated.

And desperately craving a couple of frosty margaritas. Like, seriously wondering, do they sell margaritas at 9 a.m.? This is San Antonio, home of the best margaritas in the world...surely someone is selling them at this time of the morning?! I'll just say I'm going on a Starbucks run and go hit a bar. I'm obviously not doing well as a mother. I need a drink!

Then, the crap started rolling in at work and I let my mommy guilt go and tried to deal with the work in front of me and get through the day.

At the end of the day, I started thinking about my poor daughter though. She is a child that lives and dies by routine. Not a schedule...just a routine. Like, if I say let's go take a bath, no matter what time of day the bath happens, she has to go get her towel first, then get in the tub, then when she gets out she tells the water goodbye, then she runs naked to her table and puts her arms up for me to pick her up and dress her. Every time. She thrives on routine.

And in the last month, her routine has been off. Way off. First, she spent three days with my parents while my husband was in the hospital. Then, my husband, a super hands-on Daddy, suddenly can't do all the many things he normally does with her and she doesn't understand why. Mommy is doing everything, including all the school runs to and fro. Nana is coming over two nights a week to handle her dinner, bath, and bedtime so Mommy can go to a class and Daddy still can't do those things. This week, Daddy is out of town at a training course, and she doesn't understand where he is. Her life's been kind of turned upside down a bit and the only thing she can do is refuse to go potty on the potty (total regression in potty training since my husband's surgery) and throw a crying fit because she doesn't know why Daddy's not there in the morning to help her get dressed or take her to school.

That's how an almost-two-year-old copes with stress. Her 37-year-old mother just craves margaritas at inappropriate times of the day.

Sunday, August 1, 2010

I'm 37, But I Don't Want to Be an Older Mommy

I'm 37.

I turned this age over two months ago, but I find myself thinking about it a lot lately, especially as I am reading other people's blogs. I'm fairly sure the majority of bloggers I read are in their late 20s/early 30s, and many of them are moms of small children. And in my head, I totally think of them as my peers, but then they sometimes make a comment that tips me off to the fact that they are younger than me. And it's a little depressing, because I am also a mom of a small child, but I am an OLDER MOMMY.

Here's the thing... my mom had me when she was 24. When she was 37, she was having a full hysterectomy and I was 13, in junior high, angsting over whether any boys would ever grow taller than me, and listening to Tears for Fears and Heart.

Now, I'm 37, possibly peri-menopausal (why the heck else am I so darn HOT all the time? I used to be a cold person!), with an almost two-year-old, who is in day school, ignoring boys, and listening to Elmo and the Laurie Berkner Band.

I don't want to be an OLDER MOMMY. I still feel like a cool, vibrant young person most of the time--I stay up with the latest technology and movies and pop culture and all that. I tweet, FB, text, etc. I watch Glee and listen to Lady Gaga and Katy Perry. I know who Justin Bieber is. Granted, I'm just now catching up on the Twilight movies, but in my defense, the first movie came out the year I gave birth. I was kind of busy then and have been ever since. But I am trying to catch up on all of that because I don't want to be an OLDER MOMMY not with the times like the woman I'll call Mrs. S.

When I was 11, about sixth grade I guess, I had three close friends: K, J, and R. My mother was 35 at the time, as was K's mom. J's mom was only about 30, possibly a little younger, as she had her as a teenager. R's mom, Mrs. S, was 45. She was an OLDER MOMMY.

My mom and most of my friends' moms let us watch MTV* and knew all the latest bands and singers we liked--Hall and Oates, Huey Lewis and the News, Michael Jackson, Duran Duran, etc. Mrs. S never let R watch MTV or popular movies or anything like that. She didn't let R watch the premiere of Michael Jackson's Thriller video! Only the biggest cultural phenomenon of our time, the Thriller video, and she was not allowed to see it! Her mom just didn't understand any of that stuff.

*Note to younger readers: Back in 1983-84 when this story takes place, MTV actually played music videos 24-7. Seriously. IT. WAS. AWESOME. None of this Snooki-Jersey Shore crap.

So anyway, we always felt really sorry for R because her mom seemed so much older than our moms, and so out of touch with the times. And as I do the math, when my own daughter turns 11, I am going to be 46. One year older than Mrs. S was at the time--EEK!

I don't want to be like Mrs. S, an OLDER MOMMY! I mean, 40's the new 30, right? Look at the Sex and the City gals! I want to be tuned in to the latest trends and music...not in a way that will embarrass my kid or anything (I mean, Madonna's rocking and still awesome in her 50s, but I kind of think she should give up the leotards, you know? And cover up her arms--they kind of freak me out!), just in a way that she can relate to me and will think I'm a pretty cool Mommy when I'm picking her up from school with all the 20- and 30-something moms of her classmates LOL.

I kind of hope that tattoos and body piercings (other than ears) are out of fashion by the time my daughter is older, because if she wants those, I really will sound like an OLDER MOMMY. I can't help it--it was instilled in me by my proper Southern mother that nice girls just don't do those things LOL. The one time my mother seemed like an OLDER MOMMY to me was when I wanted to get one (ONE!) extra hole pierced in one of my ears (whichever one was the cool ear to do so, I can't remember now). She balked at this initially, but finally relented on the condition that I get one extra hole in BOTH ears, so as not to look lopsided or asymetrical, which kind of defeated the whole purpose. (Seriously. I am not making this up!)

So to my Future Tween and Teenage Daughter, I make this promise: I will try hard to be young at heart and up with the times so that you want to talk to me and share your world with me, but not so into it that I embarrass you. I will let you watch the cool cultural phenomenon-type events as they occur and take you to concerts by your favorite bands.

I only ask two things of you in return: (1) Please stay my little girl as long as you can--you have the rest of your life to be a grown-up, and (2) Please only pierce your ears and don't get any tattoos. Please. For me and for my mother, your Nana. OK? :)