Dirty Laundry

This week, I've been attending a conference for work. I've really enjoyed it, and it is always fun to get together with several people who have similar careers, passions, and goals.

We've spent a lot of time addressing the issue of poverty, and how a community should respond. It has really opened my eyes to why so many of my students make the decisions they do.

I've always wondered why a child may go without several meals throughout the week because of lack of money, yet have a super nice cell phone or iPod, nice clothes and cable television.

Growing up, I always knew we were "poor," but it never really felt like it. We may not have had the nicest clothes, but we never went without a meal, and my parents did an excellent job of making the annual carnival seem really dangerous and sleezy (making me not want to go), rather than worrying us because the bills weren't getting paid.

But, that's not what this is about.

I know there are people that are seriously struggling under our current economic situation. And I know there are people that are living paycheck to paycheck.  But until recently, we weren't those people. And then, it all kinda seemed to hit the fan.

The Hubs lost all opportunities for overtime, because the department got their leash shortened.

Our AC went out, in July, and we HAD decided to splurge and get it fixed.

And we became regular tithers at church.  We used to tithe when we remembered the checkbook (about once every 6 weeks). Then we just started keeping a checkbook in the car.

I'm not putting all this out there to air our dirty laundry or anything, but just to share my recent revelation.  No one is immune.

The best laid plan can still crumble.  Savings accounts can hold only $.04.  And, hopefully, a family of 3 can make it 4 more days on, um, $141.

The great news is that this is really teaching me the difference between necessity and oh-my-goodness-this shirt-is-to-die-for-and-it's-on-sale-and-these-shoes-would-look-so-awesome-with-it-and-let's-celebrate-the-awesome-find-with-a-chicken-salad-sammy-from-Arby's!

Also, I'm learning that even though my checking account is dangerously low, all our bills have been paid for this month. The mortgage is up to date. I know that I've got enough food in the kitchen to last weeks. Well, except for milk. But that's primarily because I drink it like it's going out of style. We have soaps, shampoos, plenty of clothes, cars, insurance. Jobs.  Even when we struggle, we still have it so much better than so many.

There are about 12,000 homeless people in my state.  Whether it's because they have chosen the lifestyle or have fallen on hard times, the point is that each night, it's a guess as to where they will lay their heads.

And even though I'm stressing about making the nearly empty gallon of milk and half a loaf of bread last until Tuesday, Ansley had a warm bath, a nice snack, is sleeping in a comfy bed, and my tummy is full.

And the AC is cooling nicely.

Seal knew what he was talking about. Time keeps on slippin' into the future.

I MISS BLOGGING!

It is such a great way for me to unwind, but I don't even feel like I have time to do that anymore.

I fly solo in the evenings and can't seem to make any time for myself. I know there are other moms out there there that also don't get the joy of working the same shift as their hubs. And they seem to be able to find time to write, to read books, to shop online, to clean house and actually make a dinner.

How did my evening go? Minute by minute breakdown:

5:05- Leave the office and head to pick the kiddo up
5:20- Kiddo in the car, heading home
5:30- Squeeze in a walk before the rain hits
6:00- Return from walk, turn the oven on preheat for our frozen pizza we shared for dinner. Go outside to play.
6:10- Mommy runs inside to put the pizza in the oven.
6:11- Back outside. Ansley is helping me weed the flower beds. Really, I'm weeding and Ansley is taking the pulled weeds to the "pile," which happens to be in the other flower bed.
6:30- Mommy gathers up Ansley and both head inside. Take pizza off pizza pan, let cook for last 5 minutes on rack.
6:32- Change Ansley's diaper
6:36- Take pizza out of oven. Cut and let cool. Fix Ansley a drink. Cut her pizza into bite size pieces. Look at the window for the storm. Still not there.
6:40- Ansley and Mommy sit and enjoy pizza.
6:55- Prepare for bath (Ansley sitting on new potty chair while Mommy repeated says "C'mon Ansley! Go pee-pee!) Unsuccessful
7:10- Ansley in the tub. Mommy wets, lathers, rinses. Ansley plays.
7:25- Still playing
7:40 Ansley out. Jammies, brushed hair, milk cup, blocks
8:15- Talk with Dada on phone
8:20- Calm down time in Ansley's room. Rocking, swaying, GT and the Halo Express playing. Mommy singing.
8:25- Ansley in bed. Mommy finally takes a potty break. Return to living room to start clean-up
8:35- Rufus starts barking, Ansley wakes up. Crying. Mommy goes out to bring Rufus in.
8:37- Mommy arrives. Ansley clicks wanting a drink. Kid has already had three sippy cups since dinner. Mommy rocks a little more
8:38- Ansley back down. Mommy back to cleaning
8:41- Bunker barks at Rufus. Rufus barks back. Ansley cries. Mommy returns.
8:42- More rocking. More singing.
8:47- Ansley back down. Mommy back to cleaning. All blocks put away.
8:57- Ansley cries. AGAIN. Mommy arrives. Kid starts clicking. Mommy gets cup of water. Rocking.
9:05- Mommy puts Ansley back down. Starts raining. Mommy closes all the windows, turns the AC on, remembers she needs laundry for tomorrow, but doesn't want to wake the kiddo up, so decides to just wear business clothes tomorrow.
9:10- Yup. Ansley cries.
9:13- Ansley back down.
9:15- Mommy starts to order Proactiv. Doesn't like that they will automatically charge my card. Decides to return to Proactiv vending machine this weekend.
9:22- Checks facebook.
9:23- Decides to write blog post
9:24- Internet crashes. Total reboot

And now? It's 9:33 and I haven't written anything of substance. The kiddo is finally asleep. The living room is partially clean, and all I want to do is go to bed. And, this breakdown? Very similar every night of the week. Normally Ansley does go down a little easier, though that is becoming less of common event.

I know that stay at home moms work. They are on the clock every minute of the day. Working moms may put in 8 hours outside of the home, but they aren't off at 5 p.m. when they get home. Because then, they are responsible to the big boss. And with the hubs gone at night, I get a taste of what single moms go through. It isn't easy. Parenting in general isn't easy.

And with all the things that I can't seem to get done, I feel like a failure on so many levels. My house is rarely clean, even though the hubs does an excellent job of helping out while he is home and I'm at work. But I feel that because I can't juggle being a mom AND being my own person, maybe I wasn't ready for a kiddo. Maybe that urge I have just to draw a warm bath and grab a book means that I should have postponed Mommyhood a little.

But, ultimately, even at the end of the day, when I'm exhausted and my teeth are fuzzy because I haven't had a chance to brush them and I'm trying to figure out if I can get away with not ironing my dress pants tomorrow and I'm struggling to hold my eyes open even at 9:41 (which, in college, was when the fun was just starting), I know that just a few steps down the hall is a kiddo who thinks I'm something special, even if my pants are wrinkled. And just a few miles away is a man that will be home in a few hours, find me asleep on the couch, and love me despite the mega blocks and plastic food that is littering the floor.

And, that does make me my own person. Because those two people love me for who I am, not how many books I read or how many witty facebook statuses I come up with. But because I love them both so much, I pour myself out day in and day out.

Besides, who needs to read Water for Elephants when there's Dr. Seuss anyway?

The giving of Thanks

Today is the day. The day where emergency room visits due to cuts increase tenfold, along with cholesterol and waistlines. It's the day that brings in the OFFICIAL start of the Christmas season (not Halloween).

It's Thanksgiving!

Today started early, with Ansley waking at 6. After crawling around in the bed, she finally fell asleep on my arm. We reawakened at 9, not cause of the kiddo, but because the pups needed a bathroom break.

I love playing hostess. I love cooking and opening my home. But that isn't what this day is about. It's about setting aside a special time just to realize how much we have to be thankful for. Though should we really only express our gratitude once a year?

No. But I must admit I struggle in that department. I don't let the hubs know how thankful I am for his willingness to work as he does to provide. I don't let my parents know that I'm thankful for them, because it has made me who I am.

I don't let other family members know how much they mean to me, and how thankful I am for the sacrifices they have made along the way.

I have so much to be thankful for, and I pray that every day I will realize just how many blessings I have. Even if one of the best ones has forgotten how to sleep.

Blessings to all, and a very happy holiday season!

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Sweet Little Marissa

So, whilst reading one of my regular reads, I happened upon another blog about a beautiful little girl named Marissa.

Marissa was diagnosed with an infantile spasms, epileptic disorder, in 2008. Now, more than 2 years later, her family is seeking to raise awareness about the disorder.

Marissa's treatment includes intramuscular injected steroids. The steroids, with the consistency of warm toothpaste, cost nearly $28k each. Marissa has had 11 vials. 


Can you imagine being given this diagnosis, and being told that your daughter, at just 3 months old, would have to fight for the rest of her life? And what about when you saw the price tag of that fight? You can't just throw in the towel. It's your child. 


You can get a quick update here, and continue to follow their story.


Here's the thing. Why am I blogging about this?  I fought over this for a period of time. I read the post on Harper's Happenings. Then, I followed the link to Marissa's blog. And I read. And I teared up. And I looked around.


The reason I fought about writing? It's because it's part of a giveaway. And by blogging about it, I have to say I honestly feel about this big.


And I deleted. And I rewrote things. And deleted some more. Even now as I sit at my computer, I struggle. Because I never want to be motivated by stuff. 


And I came to a conclusion. I only have 20 readers. 20 people that may or may not check my blog every day. But, of those 20, several blog themselves. And they have different followers. And those followers have different followers (it's all very trickle downish). Why does Marissa's dad want people to blog about his little girl? Not because he's some big attention monger like (c'mon. let's be honest) the rest of us. It's because Marissa was diagnosed early. And the earlier this issue is caught, the better chance of receiving treatments that work. So he started blogging.


And, ya know what, since he started marissasbunny.com, 11 children have received an early diagnosis.  That's 11 people facing an overwhelming battle, with 11 other pairs of shoulders to lean on. And maybe, just maybe, we'll help another family.


Maybe you can help in another way. Maybe instead of raising awareness by writing a blog post, you can hop on over to Marissa's blog and donate toward the monumental medical expenses the family is facing, especially with an upcoming surgery for Marissa.


You're within 7 handshakes of the entire world. Next time you shake a hand, why not think about how many people that's going to reach. And do something about it.


If you want to judge me, go ahead. I don't care. But while you're doing that, be sure to tell the recipient of that gossip about Marissa. You may be saving a life.


disclaimer: this post is counted as an entry for the iPad giveaway on marissasbunny.com. Hop over there and enter this stellar giveaway and leave Marissa a happy birthday message. It's coming up.

It's just one of those days.

You know, the type of day where you're struggling to stay awake.

And there is a light drizzle of rain outside, so it's constantly cloudy. And, it's November, so that means it's cold too.

And I just want to crawl into bed, heap on some blankets, and doze all afternoon. Because I'm tired. Physically, and mentally.

Despite this little cold thing going on, Ansley is in a surprisingly good mood. Until something happens. Like she falls. Or the dogs decide to run through her. And then the crying starts. And the whining. I can't handle whining. Cry all you want, but whining, different story.

And each and every night (with the exception of Friday), I'm by myself. I'm by myself to do dinner. And playtime. And bath time. And bedtime. And, it's just getting so.flippin'.old.

I am so thankful that I have a husband that is willing to work and provide for his family. Many people don't have that, and I can only imagine how much more difficult that is. But I don't like this whole "single parent" thing. I don't like that Ansley never really sees Mommy and Daddy at the same time.

And now, I switched to whining. And I hate that.

So, I suppose I'm left with simply one option: deal with it.  Forget that the day is gloomy. It doesn't mean that I have to be. Make the best of evenings at home alone by drawing a warm bubble bath and grabbing the latest Sophie Kinsella novel (Mini-shoppaholic. omg. So hilarious. Even on the cloudiest of days). Eat pancakes for dinner. Watch TV without feeling guilty for doing it while the hubs is home.

I think if I look just slightly to the west, 10 degrees past the tall building with the weird windows, I may see some angel rays poking through the clouds. It, sometimes it sounds like Ansley's snorting laughter. Or looks like some half baked ice cream (which, I will admit. I have not partaken in the frozen goodness of such a thing in months! Except for that day a few weeks ago when I just needed one bite. And then put it back in the freezer two bites later.) Despite how minimal an amount, those angel rays are sunlight. And it does brighten the skies, even if ever so slightly.

Do you have any personal angle rays?  Something that always manages to bring a smile to your face, not matter how many different shades of gray you happen to be wearing?

Love.

I love my husband. I love that he frequently brings me fresh flowers.

I love my dogs. I love that they know when I'm upset, and need a furry cuddle.

I love that even though Jillian Michaels is kicking my butt, I feel good. Because I'm doing something about my fat jeans not fitting.

I love that Ansley is generally a happy baby, and loves to wave at people.

I love her birthday decor.

I love my house, though am not at all opposed to getting rid of the old carpet.

I love that as I read more of the Bible, I feel closer to the Lord.

I love that even though our babysitting situation didn't work out, we've been able to find the best possible replacement.

I love polka-dots.

I love that a dear friend who just had a baby is able to strengthen my faith.

I love that the hubs got a much needed raise.

I love crunchy leaves.

I love reading books in a bubble bath.

I love watching Ansley nervously take a few steps, only to drop to her knees and crawl at lightening speed.

I love the feeling of satisfaction and comfort that comes with writing.

I love my life.

In the blink of an eye.

Last weekend? Super crazy. And now, it's over.

Friday: Trip to town to look at some cars in hopes of solving single-car frustration.
Car lot closed. Settle for a great dinner at O'Charlie's. All in all, not a bad day. Except upon arriving home and noticing a huge hole in the center of our guest bed's mattress. Luckily, it's just a foam mattress, so we weren't out too much.

Saturday: The hubs wakes up with a scratch in his throat. Progresses through the day. Fantasy football draft, which found Peyton Manning on my team. Score. Oh, and, we traveled to visit the in-laws, during which time my wonderful dog had 6 puppies. Probably explains the mattress.

Sunday: Hubs worse than the day before, and Ansley really is a little booger. Skip church to nurse my family back to health, all while fighting it silently myself. One puppy dies. Cried a bit, which didn't help the sore throat or congestion. Day ends with a trip to my parents for dinner. Solid.

Monday: Early trip to car dealership, only after having discovered a bestie was in labor... on labor day! Laughed at the irony for a bit (ok, honestly, still laughing about that). Leave dealership after about 3 hours to think about the proposed deal. Visit friend in hospital, meet new baby. Glorious gift of life. Return to dealership to sign papers, only to discover after 2 more hours that they had prepared them wrong and the original amount they quoted us would have to increase by about $50 a month. Turned around and walked out. Bummed. Dinner out with hilarious little girl (Ansley), followed by some emotional shopping. After trying on my normal size of jeans, bought the next size up. That's never good.

Tuesday: Got up for work. Those pants that I bought a size up? Yup. Still too small. Yikes. Had a friend over to help with decorating for fall (blessed season). Had my rear end kicked by Jillian Michaels. In fact, I couldn't even finish the workout. And she said she'd see me tomorrow. We'll see about that.

And, here we are. Catching up on all the latest social networking going on, listening to the workout DVD music playing over and over, and enjoying the miracle of life that's just 5 feet away in a box, 20 feet away in a nursery, and 50 miles away in a hospital.

Life is beautiful. Even when it seems to be colored gray.

No way. NO.WAY.

I didn't really get much of a chance to blog last week. For starters, my neighbors have been out of town so I'm pretty sure they turned their Internet off while they were gone. And, since their signal just happens to trespass into my computer room, their departure meant the Internet decided to stay home.

The more important reason I didn't blog? This week, I got to understand what it's like to be a single mom. And ya'll, it sucks.

Now before you run of thinking that the hubs hit the road, let me explain. Paul was going through some training during the day, and was working his normal shift in the evenings. So he was leaving at 7 a.m. and getting home, completely exhausted, at midnight, just to do it again.

Ansley found her way into my bed each morning about 7, where she used me as a jungle gym as we watched Arthur (which, by the way, there is an episode of Arthur about head lice, just an fyi). We got up at 7:30. Ansley had her rice and fruit, then a diaper change.

While I showered, she played in the bathroom floor. I fixed my hair, did the make-up and got dressed while she happily (normally) sat in the floor playing with Rascal or mommy's foam rollers.

Then I gathered everything up, put Ansley in the car, drove about 10 minutes out of my way to drop her off with my blessed sister who so kindly "offered" to watch the kiddo while I was at work. I arrived at work about 5 minutes late, which, considering I live less than one minute from work if I drive there, yet I still manage to be late, was pretty impressive.

I'd work til 5, then head back to pick up the kiddo and go home. Mornings were the same all week. Paul did get to come home early two evenings though (really three, but because he had to work 3rd shift that night, he slept from about 5 p.m to 9 p.m.). And what did I learn?

1. I learned I never want to be a single mom, EVER. Even though Ansley was fairly easy to handle, it was still a struggle to get myself ready for work, the dogs fed and put out, and Ansley ready to go. On top of that, trying to clean up after getting ready was nearly impossible, and I was lucky if my breakfast made it out the door with me.

2. I have a new respect for single moms. I've always respected them, but this week made it that much more real to me. Especially when they still manage to look gorgeous while doing it. How is that even possible?

3. Sometimes, you just have to let the babe cry, because it isn't a good idea to try and use a flat iron with the baby on your hip.

4. It is such a blessing to have a sister that is home visiting and considers it a PLEASURE to keep the kiddo for 8 hours a day for no money, but the status of "favorite aunt."

5. Crawling babies need more food, or they will become babies who wake up in the middle of the night hungry.

6. It doesn't matter how long you ignore the monitor and pretend to still be asleep, if your husband is tired enough, he's not going to wake up.

7. If you make enough appearances in public sans husband, people will ask you if you are still married.

8. Sometimes, it's worth skipping lunch just to catch a nap.

9. Never, NEVER take for granted the generosity of someone willing to hold the baby while you eat, or go to the bathroom, or breathe. It's beautiful.

10. Pop-Tarts are perfectly acceptable for dinner.

It is difficult when Paul works such a strange schedule. It's flippin' hard and I feel like I'm going to pull my hair out sometimes (like when I FINALLY get Ansley down and Bunker decides to run through the house barking and chasing the cat, that actually should be outside but isn't because I can't catch him because the dog is chasing him and the baby is crying and my cell phone is ringing and I'm missing the season finale of Glee), but I have that reassurance that my husband will be home. Eventually.

And, if I need him to, he'll stay up with Ansley, even if he's tired. Because he loves us. And, he'll even watch Glee.

My Partner

I love my husband. There is no hiding that fact. He is honest, trustworthy, faithful, and really, really good looking.

He is a hard worker, doing what is needed to provide for our family. When I was pregnant and my air conditioning went out in my car, he said he would fix it for me. He got me a new car. My dream car.

He's worked numerous jobs at a time, and has made multiple offers to me to stay at home with the babe. But, we're partners. And I want to help.

Right now, his work schedule means that Ansley and I spend evenings together five days a week. She gets mornings with Daddy and evenings with Mommy. Thursdays and Fridays are our family days, as well as Saturday mornings and Sunday mornings.

It isn't the most fun. But, after a couple of years, you get used to it. I don't have to feel guilty about having specific television shows I enjoy watching. Because Paul isn't home, and it doesn't take away from our time (though, it does occasionally happen to take away from laundry time). I get time to blog, and read, and take a warm bath, and keep filling up the tub when the water cools off. And I love it.

But, even when I'm eating from my personal pint of Half Baked and watching Glee (I started out as a closet fan, but no more. I am Totally.Addicted.), I miss him. And sometimes, I miss him so much I can't think about anything else. I can't distract myself, and all I can think about is when he will be home.

Tonight is one of those nights. It hasn't been particularly bad. Ansley's bedtime routine wasn't trouble. I even cooked myself dinner rather than opting for the regular bowl of cereal or frozen meal. It's been a good night. But I miss Paul. And I really need him here. NOW.

Because my back has been itching for about an hour, and I can't reach it. And it's driving me crazy.

Blessing Counter

Reason # 5,908 I am blessed: my child.

Recently, I've been touched by a family in Texas. I feel so close to them, yet I've never even met them. I've never spoken to them. I've never even seen them across a crowded room. But my heart breaks for them.

A few days ago, I found myself crying in the shower. Crying for a little girl named Layla. I had only known about Layla for a few days. But, in those few days, her story touched my life.

You see, Layla, a beautiful little two-year-old, was diagnosed with nueroblastoma last year. After intensive chemotherapy at the end of 2009, the Marsh family was given only a few months with Layla.

But, those months were taken, as Layla's doctor discovered two more tumors in February. I came into the picture just as Layla was making her exit.

I happened upon her family's blog, Layla Grace, and couldn't pull myself away. I read many of the postings, going back to the first post made. And I was amazed. And it hurt me.

I was amazed at the beauty of the little girl, and her eyes that were so full of life. And I was hurt by the recent family pictures. Though absolutely beautiful, how difficult it must have been knowing this would be some of the last photos with your little girl.

I was amazed at the faith the family had. Despite their circumstances, they continued to lift up the Lord's name, praising Him for their gifts, and trusting in His perfect timing. And, I was hurt, because I had to admit, if I were in their shoes, it would be very difficult for me to do the same thing.

I was amazed at the outpouring of love, and the compassion in every comment left on the blog. The entry from March 7, the last before Layla passed, had over 1,000. Who knows how many stumbled upon the site and didn't comment. And I was hurt because I didn't feel like words were enough to heal their hearts. I wanted to fly to Texas, and do something. Anything. But there was nothing I could do.

So, I cried. I cried in the shower because I felt like my own heart was breaking. I cried because it didn't seem fair. I cried because my little girl was sleeping just down the hall, while Layla had left the arms of her family. I cried because they were so strong, and I was weak.

I would never wish their story on anyone. But I can't stop thinking about their ultimate devotion. Even in their utter misery, they managed to encourage me. Me, some 1,000 miles away. Not in the same position. The Lord used them to speak to me.

And, each day, I've hugged Ansley a little longer. I've laughed with her a little more, and I've tried to make each day precious. Even when she is crying and won't take a nap, I'm trying to remind myself that Ansley is not mine. She has been given to me to care for and love, and despite my objections, that time is not guarenteed.

So, remember the Marsh family, as they adjust to life apart from Layla Grace. And tonight, count your blessings. I know I will. And I'll probably throw a few extra in, because I'm sure I've forgotten more than I can count.

This post in honor of Layla Grace Marsh.