The Snowball Effect

I'm not talking about a cold nose or a sore face from catching one in the kisser (though, if that is a concern of yours as your children age, I recently came across a "safe snowball maker." So when your kids play in the snow, rather than making those dangerously deadly hand-packed snowballs, you can use this hand snowball maker to make soft, safe snowballs).

I'm talking about how when you get behind on one thing, you can't seem to catch up. And you get more and more and more behind, till eventually you decide it isn't even worth trying to get back in the swing of things.

I have not read any blogs in about a month. And I keep telling myself I'll get caught up, but even though I haven't been posting as frequently, I know my reads have been, and at this point, I wonder if I should go back and read the old posts, or simply pick up where they are. Or just not worry about it.

And, my daily document project. Yeah, that lasted almost a month. Maybe. But I love taking photos and showing off my kiddo. But really, it's just one more thing that I start and don't finish.  Like knitting. I have about 6 projects currently going. And, when I'm out and I find a really nice yarn, I buy it, because I would like something in that color, or I have a pattern that totally screams "Your sister would love this!" And now, I have a plethora of yarn, and haven't picked up knitting needles in about 6 months.

Or cleaning my house. When I'm so far behind on the dishes, what difference does it make to just add one more to the sink instead of washing it?

But, I have to keep telling myself that the slack I leave behind is picked up by the hubs. And he has so much on his plate, it isn't fair for me to keep piling dirty plates on.

So, my house isn't as clean as I like it. I have a bunch of unfinished projects. I don't know how any of my reads are doing. My camera hasn't been taken out of my bag in ages. But, tonight, I snuggled with Ansley. We rocked. We exchanged nose kisses. We laughed. We snuggled some more. And as I stood there cradling her ever growing body, and her eyelids got heavier and heavier, I can honestly say I wasn't thinking about everything that needed to be done. Because in that moment, I was doing exactly what I needed to do.

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.

She Wanted ME!

This morning while getting ready for work, I heard Ansley stirring in her bed. Instead of running to grab her out of bed, I let her just play while I finished my hair.

Then came the begging. "MaMa? MAMA!"  I went in, swept her up in my arms, at which point she started grabbing for that blasted bear.  Once he was tucked safely under her arms, we made our way to my bedroom.

Paul, having worked late the night before, was still just a snoozing in bed. So, I put Ansley on the bed next to him and offered her the television remote to keep her company.

I changed, grabbed my stuff and started to leave. I kissed the hubs, gave the kiddo a kiss on the forehead and said "Bye bye Ansley!  Mommy's got to go."

Without hesitation, Ansley climbed over Paul, reaching for me and starting to cry. I picked her up, got a big hug, but told her I had to leave.

When I put her back down, she started crying and trying to follow.

Now, don't get me wrong. I don't normally take satisfaction in my daughter crying. I don't like it when she cries. I don't like leaving her when she is crying.  But, these cries kinda made me smile inside, just a bit. She wanted me. She didn't want me to leave. And, considering she is probably the biggest Daddy's Girl I have evah seen, it was pretty spectacular.

Yeah, I feel like I've seen a double rainbow.

Heartbreaking

This post started out as something completely different. It was lighthearted and about how Ansley has started walking and how she is an absolute joy.

But, instead, I have been watching Teen Mom. Everybody has their guilty pleasures, right? Bon Bons, expensive shampoos, driving fast.  Well, mine is Teen Mom (ok, at least one of them. I do enjoy me some expensive shampoo, and, on occasion, driving fast).

My heart is seriously breaking right now. I don't understand how parents can act the way they do, not only toward each other, but toward their children. How can you justify using such foul language around a child that mimics everything you say? And saying "You make me do it" doesn't count. Own up to your actions. 

How can you justify treating someone like even less than dirt? And how, in return, does that person manage to hang around, being verbally and at times physically abused?  And how, with their lives plastered all over MTV, can these two allow this to go on? Why haven't people stepped in to assist?  This family is broken, possibly beyond repair, and we watch.  And I cry.

I cry because I know this isn't the only family out there like this. I cry because the child has no say in the matter, and is often times shoved to the back screaming while her mother sleeps in or cusses her fiance. It is completely unacceptable.

I know that I'm not the best parent. I know I get frustrated with Ansley, and with Paul. But I also know that we're the adults, and Ansley depends on us. Completely.

And I know that.  I guess that what make me the adult.

I'm not ready for this.

I just put my little baby girl to bed for the night. A little early because she skipped her afternoon nap.

When I get up in the morning, I'll have a 1-year-old.

And I can say that, because she was born at 6:20 a.m.

Goodnight baby girl, and good morning little lady.

Bittersweet.

As I sit here and type this blog post, it is T-minus 43 minutes until the end of my work day, and thus, the start of vacation. However, it's T-minus 4 hours and 43 minutes until we hit the road.

So I should be excited, right? I mean, a wedding and seeing tons of family, followed by 5 days on the beach with nothing to do except relax. I should be looking forward to Ansley's first time at the beach, and all the cuteness that is sure to be involved (especially a little lady bug bikini that I found as a steal at Goodwill).

And, I am excited. I've been looking forward to leaving for about 2 weeks. I've got outfits planned for some great Ansley pictures, and, of course, the typical khaki and white family photo on the beach. It's totally happening.

But, there's this nagging feeling that has brought me so very close to tears a few times today. Even now, the screen is getting a little blurry, and I'm wondering if this is what drunk texting is like.

In September, about 4 days before Ansley was born, I had to spend 23 hours in the hospital for observation. The worst part? Not the fact that I had to wear that stupid gown, or the fact that nurses kept checking in because they thought someone was crying in my room (actually, Paul was close to crying, but America's Funniest Videos was on, and his laughter was echoing).

No, the worst part was that I had planned to have dinner with my family, because they were heading out to New Mexico that evening to help my sister move. And instead, I was stuck in the hospital, unable to hug my sister's neck, and tell her in person how much I loved her before she moved across the country.

And, that's how it will be again.

When I leave tonight, it will be the last time (for awhile, at least) that I'll get to see my sister. She's leaving again. And while I'm so terribly excited for vacation and relaxation, I'm also terribly sad that Ansley will have to say goodbye to her favorite aunt, and not understand why.

But, I am excited. I'm excited that she'll soon see her husband, who has been deployed for several months. I'm excited that they get to be newlyweds again, even if their 1-year anniversary is nearing. I'm excited that she's more courageous than I am, and brave enough to start a life somewhere else. And I'm excited about what the Lord has in store for them.

And, maybe the excitement does color the grey. But, right now, it's T-minus 4 hours and 7 minutes, and I've made it through just about a whole tissue box.

A bit harsh.

Upon closer inspection, I realized that my post about my bad day was a bit harsh, and did not paint a truthful picture of said family member.

So, for that, I appologize to all my readers. As a woman, I tend to let my emotion fuel me. Paul pointed out that no matter how hurt I was, it did not give me the right to harm another's feelings.

If you're reading, I am sorry. It was not a mature thing to do. I, obviously, am not much of a person.

The Best medicine

Next on my love list is baby giggles.

What's that saying? It's something like the giggles of babies is like the poop of 1,000 butterflies?

That's probably not it, but, what I mean is, baby giggles are precious.

Like I've said before, it should come as an understanding that I love my husband and baby more than I can express on a silly little blog. So, I'm focusing on the small things.

Baby giggles. It doesn't matter how many tears are in a room at any given time, baby giggles seem to serve as a universal Kleenex. But, seriously, don't actually use a universal Kleenex. That could get really gross.

Ansley is much more animated now. And things make her belly laugh. And some things make her giggle. As fun as the big belly laughs are, it's those giggles that send my heart racing.

The other day, Ansley was sitting in her stroller waiting for Daddy to get ready to go on a walk. She was starting to get restless, so I decided to keep her amused. What possessed me to do this, I will never know, and I can't guarantee I'll ever do it again, cause it made me throw up just a little.

Instead of garden variety Peek-A-Boo, I opted for one that involved mommy spinning around very quickly and suddenly stopping in front of the baby. Though Ansley filled the room with giggles and claps, I almost filled the room with my lunch. I'm getting dizzy just thinking about it.

Last night, after finishing off her before bed bottle, she was playing on my bed while I sorted the laundry (before you call and report me to children's services, know that I was sorting the laundry at the foot of my bed). She was on all fours, and I tossed myself on the bed beside her. She would pick her head up, look at me, giggle and hide her face. She repeated this process for about 5 minutes. Despite me being crazy tired and it being over an hour past A's bedtime, I let her play. Because she was happy. And because of the giggles.

I think one of the best things about the giggles is that they are reserved for a select few. Occasionally, strangers get a smile, and sometimes the fam will get a fake laugh. But the all out giggles? Those aren't easily accomplished.

So today, I leave you with a picture. I need to try to get some video of the giggles, but I'm afraid my readers may get motion sickness because of all that has to be done to get them out. This is a picture of Ansley's new grin. She squints her eyes, waves her arms, and smiles really big. Normally, this face shows up with the appearance of a bottle, or the sight of a rescuer coming to get her out of bed in the morning.