Wish Upon a Hero is a website dedicated to granting wishes. Founder Dave Girgenti wanted to create an online community that offered a place for people to help others after the attacks on Sept. 11 and Hurricane Katrina, working under the mantra of “No wish too large and no hero too small.”
"Wish Upon A Hero is completely free to its users, allowing everyone who registers the opportunity to cast up to three wishes at a time. Because Wish Upon A Hero is designed to help everyone, wishes can be big or small, elaborate or simple, based on financial need or just asking for a simple favor." ~ WUAH website.
The website was suggested to me from a friend who has used it many times; to grant wishes, and also to cast a few of her own. I love that there - a stranger can help a stranger, and can remain anonymous if they wish. People that have never met, and probably never will are doing things, big and small to help in any way they can...
I thought about the spirit of giving as I dropped off some clothes, a few toys and a couple of housewares at a donation site this afternoon. My son sat strapped into his carseat, watching me through the window as I heaved the heavy bag out of my trunk and over to the donation box. He laughed and waved to me and I made a silly face and waved back. I realized at that moment that I was giving more than just items to a family that needed them, I was giving the gift of giving to my son and to myself. Sure, he might be a little young to understand the concept this time, and thats ok. He'll definitely grow older... And I so look forward to the many more holidays I get to spend showing him that Christmas isn't just about how many presents are wrapped under the tree, but how giving can be a present in itself.
Who knows who he'll be a Hero to someday :)
Monday, December 20, 2010
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Day 10: Down Right Beautiful!
Once in my younger years, a stranger in passing whispered to the woman she was walking with, "I wonder if that girl has some kind of genetic thing?" I immediately knew they were referring to the unusual way my nose is shaped, with the nonexistent bridge between my eyes, so it makes a curved "scoop" down to the bulbous tip... I remember having a heavy heart about that off-handed comment that I wasn't supposed to overhear or even understand for quite some time. My nose was a very tender subject for me; one that I was teased about at home and at school. Though I knew my family meant well and the "teasing" was more of a way to try to make me feel better about myself, my school-mates didn't shrare their affection. Their taunts and remarks were more of the brutal kind. And many a well-meaning parent looked at me through squinty eyes before realizing that they had been staring, only to shrug it off and go about their business.
I hit a turning point in junior high when, after a heart to heart with one of my still close girlfriends, I realized that my nose - was just a nose. I could let it bother me the rest of my life, or I could embrace it. I started to notice all of the ways that I stood out from those around me, and the differences made me... happy. Almost proud. If I wasn't going to "fit in" I planned on "sticking out" to the best of my ability. I was unique; no one else had a nose that looked like mine. Thats when the closeted extrovert in me got to crack open the door a little. I made some new friends, I joined a few clubs. It all seemed pretty easy then, once I learned that being liked meant I had to like myself first. Thats not to say that I wasn't still met with those who were uncomfortable with my strange appearance. And I still heard some hurtful things that would set me back a little. But there was no turning back now. I liked the way it felt to accept myself, even if some others out right refused to agree.
In high school I joined the dance team, where the Angel that was our dance instructor encouraged us to reach out, volunteer, get outside of our comfort bubbles. I took the challenge with an eager heart. We took trips to the Union Gospel Mission to visit the children, and community service was a requirement of being a member of the team. My junior year I volunteered to help with a project with the Discovery class of special needs students. I walked into a classroom that was full of excited, smiling, exuberant students. They all greeted me with an enthusiastic "Nice to meet you!" and I made about 8 immediate friends! After the project was completed, I visited with my new pals as often as possible. I would stop by their classroom to see what new things they were learning, and some would call to me down the hallway to wish me a good afternoon.
Once in a group conversation at lunch I was asked why I "got involved with those other kids". My response was "Why not?" The asker of the question was known for being a particularly 'loud mouthed' student, of whom I had made some attempts to befriend. Their constant negativity brought me down, and so I intentionally limited our interactions. Those other kids were my friends, what did it matter to why I got 'involved'? This person, I quickly assumed, was another of those that wasn't comfortable with the different or unique. And then it dawned on me, perhaps this nay-sayer was an old me. Maybe there was something they hadn't come to accept about themselves. My visions of this person being hateful were turned into seeing that they just needed to learn to love themselves. Then they might be able to love even the other kids. After that point I quit trying to avoid them, to trying to at least make peace with them. If only to show that I was different, and I accepted that fact, and that it was all going to be ok. When we graduated, we were still just acquintances. We hadn't become bosom buddies, but I had hopes that maybe I helped them in some small way.
Since those days, I've been blessed to make some awesome new friends. My husband and I had no idea when we bought our house after we were married, that we had hit the neighbor jackpot!! Little did we know that just across the street were 4 souls waiting to touch our lives. (and a few years after we moved in, a 5th little soul tip-toed her way into our hearts) The 'K' crew, as we so affectionately refer to them, have taught us so much about acceptance, life and more in the 5 short years we've come to know - and love - them. We've shared triumphs, as well as hopes and fears and dreams. And laughs. Oh, so many great laughs.
Those beautiful babies' Mommy blogs over at Welcome to my world... where she shares her darling son's prayer and the wonderful workings of his amazing heart.
The National Down Syndrome Society's website offers this: "[The NDSS] envisions a world in which all people with Down Syndrome have the opportunity to enhance their quality of life, realize their life aspirations, and become valued members of welcoming communities."
That precious angel of a child, as well as his whole family has taught me to realize some of my life's aspirations. They have most definitely enhanced my quality of life and have made my husband, son and myself feel like valued members of our little, close knit community of neighboring houses. We were blessed beyond belief to have been given the opportunity to be a part of their lives, as they are a part of ours.
I so look forward to more Beautiful moments with the best neighbors that anyone could ever ask for!
 |
| a young Emily with her 'Papa' |
I hit a turning point in junior high when, after a heart to heart with one of my still close girlfriends, I realized that my nose - was just a nose. I could let it bother me the rest of my life, or I could embrace it. I started to notice all of the ways that I stood out from those around me, and the differences made me... happy. Almost proud. If I wasn't going to "fit in" I planned on "sticking out" to the best of my ability. I was unique; no one else had a nose that looked like mine. Thats when the closeted extrovert in me got to crack open the door a little. I made some new friends, I joined a few clubs. It all seemed pretty easy then, once I learned that being liked meant I had to like myself first. Thats not to say that I wasn't still met with those who were uncomfortable with my strange appearance. And I still heard some hurtful things that would set me back a little. But there was no turning back now. I liked the way it felt to accept myself, even if some others out right refused to agree.
In high school I joined the dance team, where the Angel that was our dance instructor encouraged us to reach out, volunteer, get outside of our comfort bubbles. I took the challenge with an eager heart. We took trips to the Union Gospel Mission to visit the children, and community service was a requirement of being a member of the team. My junior year I volunteered to help with a project with the Discovery class of special needs students. I walked into a classroom that was full of excited, smiling, exuberant students. They all greeted me with an enthusiastic "Nice to meet you!" and I made about 8 immediate friends! After the project was completed, I visited with my new pals as often as possible. I would stop by their classroom to see what new things they were learning, and some would call to me down the hallway to wish me a good afternoon.
Once in a group conversation at lunch I was asked why I "got involved with those other kids". My response was "Why not?" The asker of the question was known for being a particularly 'loud mouthed' student, of whom I had made some attempts to befriend. Their constant negativity brought me down, and so I intentionally limited our interactions. Those other kids were my friends, what did it matter to why I got 'involved'? This person, I quickly assumed, was another of those that wasn't comfortable with the different or unique. And then it dawned on me, perhaps this nay-sayer was an old me. Maybe there was something they hadn't come to accept about themselves. My visions of this person being hateful were turned into seeing that they just needed to learn to love themselves. Then they might be able to love even the other kids. After that point I quit trying to avoid them, to trying to at least make peace with them. If only to show that I was different, and I accepted that fact, and that it was all going to be ok. When we graduated, we were still just acquintances. We hadn't become bosom buddies, but I had hopes that maybe I helped them in some small way.
Since those days, I've been blessed to make some awesome new friends. My husband and I had no idea when we bought our house after we were married, that we had hit the neighbor jackpot!! Little did we know that just across the street were 4 souls waiting to touch our lives. (and a few years after we moved in, a 5th little soul tip-toed her way into our hearts) The 'K' crew, as we so affectionately refer to them, have taught us so much about acceptance, life and more in the 5 short years we've come to know - and love - them. We've shared triumphs, as well as hopes and fears and dreams. And laughs. Oh, so many great laughs.
 |
| Kare-Bear, Koltie and K-Mo |
 |
| Down Right Beautiful! |
The National Down Syndrome Society's website offers this: "[The NDSS] envisions a world in which all people with Down Syndrome have the opportunity to enhance their quality of life, realize their life aspirations, and become valued members of welcoming communities."
That precious angel of a child, as well as his whole family has taught me to realize some of my life's aspirations. They have most definitely enhanced my quality of life and have made my husband, son and myself feel like valued members of our little, close knit community of neighboring houses. We were blessed beyond belief to have been given the opportunity to be a part of their lives, as they are a part of ours.
I so look forward to more Beautiful moments with the best neighbors that anyone could ever ask for!
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Locks of Love
I've cut it short, I've dyed it red, brown and blonde. I've teased it, straightened it. I've pinned it, curled it, burned it (oops), highlighted it, pulled it and let it be. My hair has been through quite a bit in my 26 years on earth. But its always grown back, on my head and some other places of my body I wish it wouldn't... But if its one thing this life has taught me (with some very trying lessons) its not to take anything for granted. There are some children who would give all they could just to have a head-full of "normal" hair. Children who have been through far worse than 'a bad hair day'. Children who want to go outside and play with their friends, and not be stared at and labeled "different".
Locks of Love is organization that provides self confidence to those children that find themselves facing adversity in a dark time in their lives... "Locks of Love is a public non-profit organization that provides hairpieces to financially disadvantaged children in the United States and Canada [under age 21] suffering from long-term medical hair loss from any diagnosis. We meet a unique need for children by using donated hair to create the highest quality hair prosthetics. Most of the children helped by Locks of Love have lost their hair due to a medical condition called alopecia areata, which has no known cause or cure. The prostheses we provide help to restore their self-esteem and their confidence, enabling them to face the world and their peers."
The website states that *anyone* can donate hair. There are a few guidelines, the biggest one being that bleached hair (aka highlighted) is unacceptable, as it reacts with the chemicals that they use to treat the donated hair. Hair is used from men and women, young and old, all colors and races.
The next time you go to have your coif did, why not consider donating it to a child that could use a little boost? Maybe cut it a little shorter than you originally considered. The minimum length is 10 inches, tip to tip. How great would it be to encourage your daughter that can grow hair overnight to donate her ponytail to a boy or girl that can't grow it themselves? Was something ever done for you that was really wonderful? Is it time to 'pay it forward'? :)
Locks of Love is organization that provides self confidence to those children that find themselves facing adversity in a dark time in their lives... "Locks of Love is a public non-profit organization that provides hairpieces to financially disadvantaged children in the United States and Canada [under age 21] suffering from long-term medical hair loss from any diagnosis. We meet a unique need for children by using donated hair to create the highest quality hair prosthetics. Most of the children helped by Locks of Love have lost their hair due to a medical condition called alopecia areata, which has no known cause or cure. The prostheses we provide help to restore their self-esteem and their confidence, enabling them to face the world and their peers."
The website states that *anyone* can donate hair. There are a few guidelines, the biggest one being that bleached hair (aka highlighted) is unacceptable, as it reacts with the chemicals that they use to treat the donated hair. Hair is used from men and women, young and old, all colors and races.
The next time you go to have your coif did, why not consider donating it to a child that could use a little boost? Maybe cut it a little shorter than you originally considered. The minimum length is 10 inches, tip to tip. How great would it be to encourage your daughter that can grow hair overnight to donate her ponytail to a boy or girl that can't grow it themselves? Was something ever done for you that was really wonderful? Is it time to 'pay it forward'? :)
Monday, December 6, 2010
Dizzy spells, sleep and fun with ICE
Plainly put: this weekend left absolutely zero time for blogging. Friday night I was hit with a crazy dizzy spell that could have taken down an elephant. I took some phenergan for the nausea and completely crashed at 900. I had high hopes of staying up until midnight and going with my awesome neighbors to the local WalMart to pick up my copy of the "Eclipse" DVD (yes, I'm a 'Twilight Mom'). No such luck. I didn't move from my position of laying sideways across the bed until 430 a.m. when I woke up, changed into some pajamas (I was still in my day clothes) unwound the covers and went back to sleep. Turns out, my loving and adorable husband went to said store at "uh, probably 1230 or 1 a.m." to purchase my movie. It was waiting for me on our lamp table when I woke with our son at 8 a.m. Saturday morning.
And most of Saturday was spent trying to sleep off the effects of the anti-nausea medicine I had taken the night before. Wes and I cuddled in the recliner reading books (still in our pjs) or layed on the floor playing blocks. The entire house (dogs included) napped from about 12 to 2 p.m. We didn't dress for the day until about 4 when we went out to get some sunshine, and grab a (light) bite to eat.
Sunday (after a night of very restful sleep), we woke rejuvinated and were treated to the awesomeness that is the Gaylord Hotel's ICE exhibit. The theme this year was "A Charlie Brown Christmas" -- a very, very cold tent (approx. 12 to 17 degrees F) filled to the max with ice sculptures depicting Charles Schulz's imagination at its best.
And most of Saturday was spent trying to sleep off the effects of the anti-nausea medicine I had taken the night before. Wes and I cuddled in the recliner reading books (still in our pjs) or layed on the floor playing blocks. The entire house (dogs included) napped from about 12 to 2 p.m. We didn't dress for the day until about 4 when we went out to get some sunshine, and grab a (light) bite to eat.
Sunday (after a night of very restful sleep), we woke rejuvinated and were treated to the awesomeness that is the Gaylord Hotel's ICE exhibit. The theme this year was "A Charlie Brown Christmas" -- a very, very cold tent (approx. 12 to 17 degrees F) filled to the max with ice sculptures depicting Charles Schulz's imagination at its best.
We had such a great time. We took the scenic route home, and even stopped off at Big Daddy's favorite Camping/Hunting Outfitters store to let Wes see the big "Pishies!" (fish)
All in all, an entire weekend spent with my small family of 3 and an outing with our large family of 14 (minus a sister and her hubby) makes for a happy and grateful mama.
P.S. While I didn't post about any 'service' this weekend -- I did go through my clothes and have quite a hefty bag ready for donation! :)
P.P.S. I am also doing (most) 'service' posts on my personal FB acct. Friday's was Friends of Wednesday's Child ~ "Friends of Wednesday's Child steps in to help make [a foster child's] new life in foster care joyful and to ensure that their needs are met. Friends of Wednesday's Child is the only organization that provides funds to fulfill the specific needs of North Texas foster children when no one else can or will so they are able to have as normal a childhood as possible." and today (Monday's) is Susan G. Komen for the Cure
P.P.P.S. Watch for tomorrow's post on Locks of Love!
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Day 3: Whats warm, snorts and has a curly tail?
An orange tabby cat named Milo and a fawn pug named Otis pawed their way into my heart when I was about 5 years old. The furry stars of the Japanese-made film won over many a child's heart in America. My Mom bought the VHS for me as a Christmas gift the year it debuted and that was about the time that my unabashed love for Pugs began.
Something about the bug eyes, wet nose and curly tail of a Pug just totally melts my heart! Many members of my family are/have been Pug owners. Currently, my great aunt, second cousin and sister all have pups from the same mommy pug. My mom and dad adopted Ousier Boudreaux the Pug when I was in junior high. (yes, they named her after Shirley MacLaine's character in Steel Magnolias) She was a BEAUTIFUL tiny fawn female pug with a heart of pure gold. Oh, how my mother adored that dog. And my crazy fawn girl, Bridget, was rescued from a rather unsanitary home in a chicken cage in September of 2007. "Pidgie" as I called her, held fast to my side through some of my most trying moments while trying to conceive. Sadly, she passed away in March of 2009 when I was 7 months pregnant with my son. I still miss her...
So its no question that the DFW Pug Rescue is so near and dear to my heart. They take abandoned and/or abused pugs and find foster homes for them until they are placed with a "forever family". The Rescue's "no pug left behind" slogan really, truly describes their practices. Be it old, sick, blind, deaf --- no pug is denied.
But a pug's heart is just as big as their attitude! They are great family dogs; almost always aim to please and are ready to play at the drop of a hat. Most L.O.V.E. to cuddle and make great compaions.
My husband and I are currently parents to 3 "furbabies" -- 2 chihuahuas and a shephard mix. He sometimes pulls up the pugs available for adoption on the website and asks if I'm ready to be a Pug mama again. The ache in my chest for Bridget has yet to heal, and I know we are far too busy with our toddler and 3 poochies to be ready to welcome another couch Pugtato into our home and hearts.
If you find yourself just absolutely unable to pinch the pennies any tighter this holiday season, perhaps you can dig elsewhere to find something to donate? Most rescues and animal shelters will take blankets, towels, bowls and even some kitchen gadgets! Do your spring cleaning a little early and see if you might be able to help our 4 legged (and maybe even some 3 legged) friends.
Something about the bug eyes, wet nose and curly tail of a Pug just totally melts my heart! Many members of my family are/have been Pug owners. Currently, my great aunt, second cousin and sister all have pups from the same mommy pug. My mom and dad adopted Ousier Boudreaux the Pug when I was in junior high. (yes, they named her after Shirley MacLaine's character in Steel Magnolias) She was a BEAUTIFUL tiny fawn female pug with a heart of pure gold. Oh, how my mother adored that dog. And my crazy fawn girl, Bridget, was rescued from a rather unsanitary home in a chicken cage in September of 2007. "Pidgie" as I called her, held fast to my side through some of my most trying moments while trying to conceive. Sadly, she passed away in March of 2009 when I was 7 months pregnant with my son. I still miss her...
So its no question that the DFW Pug Rescue is so near and dear to my heart. They take abandoned and/or abused pugs and find foster homes for them until they are placed with a "forever family". The Rescue's "no pug left behind" slogan really, truly describes their practices. Be it old, sick, blind, deaf --- no pug is denied.
"We rescue ALL pugs regardless of age or medical condition. Since we rescue ALL pugs, our veterinary care is our biggest on-going expense and we average approximately $150,000 a year in veterinary expenses. This amount is after our veterinary care clinics provide deep discounts. 100% of all funds donated to DFW Pug Rescue are used to pay for Veterinary care."Pugs really aren't "just dogs". They actually rank among the most demanding breed to care for. The folds in their faces need to be minded and kept clean. They are VERY prone to scratching their cornea's and needing eye surgeries (due to the bulging way their eyes are set). Some can have awful skin allergies, and do not tolerate heat and cold. This is probably a large contributing factor to why there is a need for such rescue.
But a pug's heart is just as big as their attitude! They are great family dogs; almost always aim to please and are ready to play at the drop of a hat. Most L.O.V.E. to cuddle and make great compaions.
My husband and I are currently parents to 3 "furbabies" -- 2 chihuahuas and a shephard mix. He sometimes pulls up the pugs available for adoption on the website and asks if I'm ready to be a Pug mama again. The ache in my chest for Bridget has yet to heal, and I know we are far too busy with our toddler and 3 poochies to be ready to welcome another couch Pugtato into our home and hearts.
If you find yourself just absolutely unable to pinch the pennies any tighter this holiday season, perhaps you can dig elsewhere to find something to donate? Most rescues and animal shelters will take blankets, towels, bowls and even some kitchen gadgets! Do your spring cleaning a little early and see if you might be able to help our 4 legged (and maybe even some 3 legged) friends.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Day 2: The Young and the Ruthless
I got an envelope in the mail yesterday with the print on the front claiming that there was a special gift tucked away inside for me. I opened the letter from St. Jude Children's Research Hospital to find a picture of a cancer fighting 2 year old little girl looking back at me. The gift was my yearly holiday themed address labels for me to use on my Christmas cards (and I do!). Guess my second day of service was literally staring me in the face. I've logged on this morning to www.stjude.org and browsed the site. To be honest, I usually just mail in a check whenever they send me a letter. It never occurred to me - until today - that I could save the paper and just donate online... wake up call. Serving sick children and Mother Earth both at the same time.
I didn't always support St. Jude monetarily. I didn't always know that there were so many children struggling to fight illnesses that my experiences taught me only "elderly" people got. Once while gathering with friends at Chili's, the waitress brought around a stack of 6x6ish inch papers with chili peppers printed on them, and a couple of crayons. She instructed that if we would like to donate $1 to St. Jude's and color a chili however we chose, that they would hang it up in their restaurant. I did so, and thought more about how creative I could be with the crayons and piece of paper than how my single donated dollar was going to help St. Jude's fund research to help kids not much younger than me live a little longer. A short while after the Chili's evening, I caught a tv special on an early Saturday or Sunday morning with Alec Baldwin narrating stories about 3 different children that had gone to St. Jude's in order to treat their Leukemia and brain tumors. Two of the children did not live through their treatments, but the other got to go home to the arms of her very happy and loving family. I sat and bawled, I could not turn the channel.
To quote the website about the history of St. Jude's:
But I'm not just writing about St. Jude's to get you to open your pocket book. I'm asking more that you open your heart. I'm asking that you be grateful for every healthy child in your life. I'm asking that you not take your own health for granted, or even that of your siblings, parents, grandparents or neighbors. Some children are born into this world and only live a short while. Some parents will visit headstones this Christmas, while you are sitting warm in your living room, holding your loved ones close.
So lets give thanks for a place like St. Jude's for all they're doing for the young people in this world. They are the ones, after all, that will take our places when we've gone. Help me share the story of these deserving kiddos that are *ruthlessly* fighting cancer for the right to live their lives every day?
Thank you!
I didn't always support St. Jude monetarily. I didn't always know that there were so many children struggling to fight illnesses that my experiences taught me only "elderly" people got. Once while gathering with friends at Chili's, the waitress brought around a stack of 6x6ish inch papers with chili peppers printed on them, and a couple of crayons. She instructed that if we would like to donate $1 to St. Jude's and color a chili however we chose, that they would hang it up in their restaurant. I did so, and thought more about how creative I could be with the crayons and piece of paper than how my single donated dollar was going to help St. Jude's fund research to help kids not much younger than me live a little longer. A short while after the Chili's evening, I caught a tv special on an early Saturday or Sunday morning with Alec Baldwin narrating stories about 3 different children that had gone to St. Jude's in order to treat their Leukemia and brain tumors. Two of the children did not live through their treatments, but the other got to go home to the arms of her very happy and loving family. I sat and bawled, I could not turn the channel.
To quote the website about the history of St. Jude's:
"When late entertainer Danny Thomas opened the doors to St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital in 1962, he was not just changing the lives of those children who would walk through its doors. He was changing lives across the world."Yes, my life was changed that morning. I knew I wanted to be a Mother to my own children someday; what if my children ever had to visit St. Jude's? When I donated, I knew then that I had supported them, if they should ever have to support us through a very trying time; but that wasn't my only reason for giving. Cancer had taken the lives of my grandmother and grandfather just a few years before. Cancer is everywhere. It touches families: babies, toddlers, kids, teens, mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, aunts, uncles, cousins.... friends. If my single dollar went towards givng a Mother an extra day to spend with her daughter or son, then it was money well spent.
But I'm not just writing about St. Jude's to get you to open your pocket book. I'm asking more that you open your heart. I'm asking that you be grateful for every healthy child in your life. I'm asking that you not take your own health for granted, or even that of your siblings, parents, grandparents or neighbors. Some children are born into this world and only live a short while. Some parents will visit headstones this Christmas, while you are sitting warm in your living room, holding your loved ones close.
So lets give thanks for a place like St. Jude's for all they're doing for the young people in this world. They are the ones, after all, that will take our places when we've gone. Help me share the story of these deserving kiddos that are *ruthlessly* fighting cancer for the right to live their lives every day?
Thank you!
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
32 Days of December
I don't have a thousand Facebook Friends. My Blog is followed by a whopping 6 readers. Unless I go to the grocery store, I only see approximately 10 people a day. The life of a Stay-at-home-Mommy/Work-at-home-Auntie is not exactly what one would call "social". But I do have access to millions of trillions of people via the wonderful World Wide Web! I can post something on my blog or Facebook and ask my very sweet "friends/followers" to repost, and they can ask their friends to do the same. Then, awareness can be raised that might not have been. And it all starts with one. One person can do one facebook post, or send one email, or click the donate button and give one dollar.
My sister was on her way out this morning after dropping off her youngest to me for the day, when she mentioned reading about an orphan named Cliff right now sitting in a government orphanage in Europe. He has Down Syndrome and there is a fundraiser being done to help whomever might decide to adopt him with the fees that go along with that enormous and selfless decision. After reading about it myself, I immediately posted a Facebook status with the link to Make Christmas Count for Cliff (see: button on my sidebar) so that my loving friends could repost, and raise awareness and maybe send some more donations his way.
And so starts my 32 Days of December Service project. My blog may not be one where you can come to be entertained, or even to be educated. But you can come and read what goes through my mind as I sit and let my fingers drift over the keyboard. And now they're directed at a purpose, to enlighten. I want to spend every single day in December in service. It may come in the form of donating blankets, canned goods or clothes to the local shelters in my area. Or helping a senior citizen load groceries into their car after their shopping trip at the store. But I will admit, most of my service will come in the form of finding worthy causes on the net and spreading the word about them. Raising awareness. Not just raising funds for all these things, though that is a goal as well.
As it is, I stand at my kitchen counter right now typing this up on my laptop as my nephew and son finish up their Chicken Nugget, fruit and milk lunch. My hands are busied most of the day with the loving task of changing diapers, wiping noses, kissing boo boos, reading books (over and over and over...) and putting babies down for naps. I wouldn't trade that for all of the money in the world. But, it does leave little time to do much else (including but not limited to: bathing, brushing my hair and putting on make-up or even matching clothing) I would love to find the hours in the day to create a lasting Memory book for my son - complete with stickers and hand written captions that detail every single action in every single picture; or to even go volunteer at the DFW Pug Rescue to help abandoned and abused Pugs to find loving homes. Maybe someday in the not too distant future, I will find some time to Martha Stewart my way through planting my very own vegetable garden and compost bin. But that day is not today.
This is what I am able to do with the time I have... right now. I'm setting no rules, I feel like that might limit me. I am going to strive to do this every.single.day. for 32 days (starting today). If you have a link to provide or a worthy cause to consider, I'm all ears. I will be either blogging or facebook posting, or both about my findings and actions.
Comments are more than welcome and much appreciated.
Thanks for reading!
Monday, November 29, 2010
Blogging in Bed
All I can say is: I really love WiFi, and my laptop, and our pillowtop mattress. I can veg out in front of cable tv (on mute) while listening to my playlist and enjoy a warming cup of cocoa. This is my idea of self indulgence. My sweet baby boy is snoozing in his room, Big Daddy is in the living watching "his shows" and I'm back here, in the quiet stillness surrounded by fluffy pillows and warm blankets.
Forget the facials and shopping sprees and spa days; I'll take a quiet half hour at home-sweet-home to recharge my batteries, reflect on the day, and be ever so grateful for the things I have in my life. A few moments to Thank the Man in Charge for another blessing filled day.
My nephew asking "Mommy! (sometimes Memmie) Watch!?!" Seeing my sister hug and kiss her son and mine. My Westin giving me random hugs and kisses, and my husband catching me off guard in a sweet confession of just how awed he is at our amazing child. Wishing my ill sister a better day tomorrow, and telling another sister to soak in all the youth of her babies now cause it'll be all too soon that they'll be leaving the nest and her at home willing them to come back and get under her feet and raise a ruckus.
Everyday I'm reminded that my Westin won't stay little for long. He grows and changes so much by the minute! It seems like it was just last month that he learned how to sit up unassisted, and now he's walking and talking, pointing out the "Pane!" (plane) and "Pih-ees" (pretties)...
So I'll rock him and let him twirl my hair until he tires of it. (I had considered cutting my hair in a short bob, but I think I'll leave the length so he can continue to run his fingers through it.) I'll pick him up and tote him on my hip until I just can't carry him anymore. The days are quickly running out, I know this all too well. Then other childish rites will replace the baby milestones...
But until then, I'll tuck in my little Wessie-poo, wish him sweet dreams and whisper 'I love you, booger boo' in his ear and slowly walk out of his bedroom door, smiling at him all the way. Then I'll sit for a few moments and enjoy just sitting; until it gets too quiet and I start wishing for daylight and for my boy to be awake again.
:)
Forget the facials and shopping sprees and spa days; I'll take a quiet half hour at home-sweet-home to recharge my batteries, reflect on the day, and be ever so grateful for the things I have in my life. A few moments to Thank the Man in Charge for another blessing filled day.
My nephew asking "Mommy! (sometimes Memmie) Watch!?!" Seeing my sister hug and kiss her son and mine. My Westin giving me random hugs and kisses, and my husband catching me off guard in a sweet confession of just how awed he is at our amazing child. Wishing my ill sister a better day tomorrow, and telling another sister to soak in all the youth of her babies now cause it'll be all too soon that they'll be leaving the nest and her at home willing them to come back and get under her feet and raise a ruckus.
Everyday I'm reminded that my Westin won't stay little for long. He grows and changes so much by the minute! It seems like it was just last month that he learned how to sit up unassisted, and now he's walking and talking, pointing out the "Pane!" (plane) and "Pih-ees" (pretties)...
So I'll rock him and let him twirl my hair until he tires of it. (I had considered cutting my hair in a short bob, but I think I'll leave the length so he can continue to run his fingers through it.) I'll pick him up and tote him on my hip until I just can't carry him anymore. The days are quickly running out, I know this all too well. Then other childish rites will replace the baby milestones...
But until then, I'll tuck in my little Wessie-poo, wish him sweet dreams and whisper 'I love you, booger boo' in his ear and slowly walk out of his bedroom door, smiling at him all the way. Then I'll sit for a few moments and enjoy just sitting; until it gets too quiet and I start wishing for daylight and for my boy to be awake again.
:)
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Daydream Believer
Oh, I could hide 'neath the wings
Of the bluebird as she sings.
The six o'clock alarm would never ring.
But it rings and I rise,
Wipe the sleep out of my eyes.
My shavin' razor's cold and it stings.
Cheer up, Sleepy Jean.
Oh, what can it mean?
To a daydream believer
And a homecoming queen.
You once thought of me
As a white knight on a steed.
Now you know how happy I can be.
Oh, and our good times start and end
Without dollar one to spend.
But how much, baby, do we really need.
Cheer up, Sleepy Jean.
Oh, what can it mean.
To a daydream believer
And a homecoming queen.
~
Well, the Monkees had it partly right. I was, and still am, a daydream believer but I was only a Homecoming Court Princess. No Queen here...
Never-the-less, my daydreams go something like this:
Justin and I in a big log country house with vaulted ceilings, rustic and antique furniture invite you to sit down and curl up with a good book. The mix of soft, faded, love worn fabrics in muted colors against the hearty, solid heaviness of the pine. Horses grazing in the pasture on grass as green as the Ireland hills with a breathtaking view of the rugged Texas landscape. The pinks and periwinkles of the setting sun, mixing together with cotton candy clouds in a quickly dimming sky. A warm fire crackling in the stone hearth, a big pot of beans smellin up the house as they bubble on the stove. My babies, all 20 of them nestled in their own little heavens -- some out in the tree house fighting off pirates with sticks for swords, some on the swingset trying to swing so high that they might land on the moon, others snuggled down in their beds, napping. And always, at least one (or two, or three...) in my lap, listening to me read "One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish"
And then I blink, and its all gone. And I'm faced with a reality thats actually *better* than a daydream. My very own son, smiling up at his Mommy that was lost in her own mind for a few moments. He giggles when I blow raspberries on his tummy. He claps and dances when the Wiggles sing a merry tune. He signs "please" "more" and blows kisses when he's trying to sign "thank you"... He reaches up his tiny hands to twirl my hair as I rock him to sleep. And he's R E A L. No amount of daydreaming could ever do justice to just how precious a child that is my baby boy.
Of the bluebird as she sings.
The six o'clock alarm would never ring.
But it rings and I rise,
Wipe the sleep out of my eyes.
My shavin' razor's cold and it stings.
Cheer up, Sleepy Jean.
Oh, what can it mean?
To a daydream believer
And a homecoming queen.
You once thought of me
As a white knight on a steed.
Now you know how happy I can be.
Oh, and our good times start and end
Without dollar one to spend.
But how much, baby, do we really need.
Cheer up, Sleepy Jean.
Oh, what can it mean.
To a daydream believer
And a homecoming queen.
~
Well, the Monkees had it partly right. I was, and still am, a daydream believer but I was only a Homecoming Court Princess. No Queen here...
Never-the-less, my daydreams go something like this:
Justin and I in a big log country house with vaulted ceilings, rustic and antique furniture invite you to sit down and curl up with a good book. The mix of soft, faded, love worn fabrics in muted colors against the hearty, solid heaviness of the pine. Horses grazing in the pasture on grass as green as the Ireland hills with a breathtaking view of the rugged Texas landscape. The pinks and periwinkles of the setting sun, mixing together with cotton candy clouds in a quickly dimming sky. A warm fire crackling in the stone hearth, a big pot of beans smellin up the house as they bubble on the stove. My babies, all 20 of them nestled in their own little heavens -- some out in the tree house fighting off pirates with sticks for swords, some on the swingset trying to swing so high that they might land on the moon, others snuggled down in their beds, napping. And always, at least one (or two, or three...) in my lap, listening to me read "One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish"
And then I blink, and its all gone. And I'm faced with a reality thats actually *better* than a daydream. My very own son, smiling up at his Mommy that was lost in her own mind for a few moments. He giggles when I blow raspberries on his tummy. He claps and dances when the Wiggles sing a merry tune. He signs "please" "more" and blows kisses when he's trying to sign "thank you"... He reaches up his tiny hands to twirl my hair as I rock him to sleep. And he's R E A L. No amount of daydreaming could ever do justice to just how precious a child that is my baby boy.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
The roundabouts & inbetweens
In my car there are animal crackers crunched into the baby's seat and carpet, juice splatters on the vinyl, sticky fingerprints on the windows, bouncing balls and board books cluttering the floor boards, a sturdy stroller in the trunk, a few loose sweater & blankies for the upcoming cold weather, a handful of restuarant napkins in the glove box, Toy Story in the travel DVD player for fussy car rides...
In my living room live about 1800 different kinds of sports balls, 5 different baseball bats, books with various pages torn out (one special, very loved "Bubbles, Bubbles" Sesame Street cardboard book has duct tape holding the binding together) various wheeled scooter toys great for pushing cousins in, lots of floor/throw pillows for pillow fights & cuddle sessions, a CD binder stuffed to the gills of Wiggles, Kidsongs, Sesame Street, Elmo's Greatest Hits, Nanny McPhee, Toy Story (1,2 & 3) Shrek, Little Women...
My "purse" contains one tiny wrist-wallet with my necessary id's and payment methods, a wipes case, 2 spare disposable diapers at all times, a package of crackers, a few errant gum wrappers, chap stick and a hairbrush.
My mind flutters through memories of first smiles, fits, words, feedings, cereal spills, sneezes, staring at my son while he sleeps, rocking chair giggles, bumps, bruises....
And my heart houses the love that beats & grows in size every second that I spend with my miracle child!
In my living room live about 1800 different kinds of sports balls, 5 different baseball bats, books with various pages torn out (one special, very loved "Bubbles, Bubbles" Sesame Street cardboard book has duct tape holding the binding together) various wheeled scooter toys great for pushing cousins in, lots of floor/throw pillows for pillow fights & cuddle sessions, a CD binder stuffed to the gills of Wiggles, Kidsongs, Sesame Street, Elmo's Greatest Hits, Nanny McPhee, Toy Story (1,2 & 3) Shrek, Little Women...
My "purse" contains one tiny wrist-wallet with my necessary id's and payment methods, a wipes case, 2 spare disposable diapers at all times, a package of crackers, a few errant gum wrappers, chap stick and a hairbrush.
My mind flutters through memories of first smiles, fits, words, feedings, cereal spills, sneezes, staring at my son while he sleeps, rocking chair giggles, bumps, bruises....
And my heart houses the love that beats & grows in size every second that I spend with my miracle child!
Friday, November 12, 2010
Judgements.
I started this on my Facebook status, as a stray thought, and now that I've given it a little time to percolate I've realized I could really elaborate on it...
Please Don't Assume --
... that just because I wear make-up, I feel ugly without it.
... that just because I am at home with children all day, I am incapable of hacking it in the 'professional' world.
... that just because I chose to pay for fertility treatments instead of my college tuition, that I have no sense.
... that just because I don't live in a mansion or drive a brand new car, I am without luxuries.
... that just because I've lived in the same town all of my life, I am ignorant to world events.
... that because I can smile in the face of adversity, I don't cry behind closed doors.
... that every word out of my mouth is aimed directly at you.
... that just because I am opinionated, I am witchy (with a B).
... that just because your day is jammed packed leaving you without personal time, that you can't still reach out & help in someway.
Please Don't Assume --
... that just because I wear make-up, I feel ugly without it.
... that just because I am at home with children all day, I am incapable of hacking it in the 'professional' world.
... that just because I chose to pay for fertility treatments instead of my college tuition, that I have no sense.
... that just because I don't live in a mansion or drive a brand new car, I am without luxuries.
... that just because I've lived in the same town all of my life, I am ignorant to world events.
... that because I can smile in the face of adversity, I don't cry behind closed doors.
... that every word out of my mouth is aimed directly at you.
... that just because I am opinionated, I am witchy (with a B).
... that just because your day is jammed packed leaving you without personal time, that you can't still reach out & help in someway.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
All in the Family...
Love After Love
by Derek Walcott
The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other’s welcome,
and say, sit here, Eat.
and say, sit here, Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine, Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored for another, who knows you by heart.
all your life, whom you ignored for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
~
My eldest sister just started her blog: Three Small Men and she is so very gifted in her writing, among her many talents. She must have inherited it from my mother, who blogs over at Texas Trifles.
The talent for putting thoughts into witty words, so to paint a picture in the mind must have been diluted by the time it got down to the 4th daughter. Sadly, I am nowhere near the writers that the other two beauties' blogs I listed are. Actually, I'm fairly certain the last sentence I just wrote could use re-wording and better structure... (however the sound of the television drifting into our tiny, messy & cramped "office" - 'professional wrestling' no less - is making it a bit hard to concentrate, but I'm not much for excuses)
I hope that you, whoever is reading this, enjoys my ladies' musings. Their stories are a treat, so sit down, relax and feast on the genius that is their gift.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Dixie Chicks "Lullaby"
I sing this song to Westin, when he's restless, when I'm rocking him, when he smiles at me, when he wakes up in the morning, when we're shopping at the grocery store....
They didn't have you where I come from
Never knew the best was yet to come
Life began when I saw your face
And I hear your laugh like a serenade
How long do you want to be loved?
Is forever enough, is forever enough?
How long do you want to be loved?
Is forever enough
Cause I'm never, never giving you up
I slip in bed when you're asleep
To hold you close and feel your breath on me
Tomorrow there'll be so much to do
So tonight I'll drift in a dream with you
How long do you want to be loved?
Is forever enough, is forever enough?
How long do you want to be loved?
Is forever enough
Cause I'm never, never giving you up
As you wander through this troubled world
In search of all things beautiful
You can close your eyes when you're miles away
And hear my voice like a serenade
How long do you want to be loved?
Is forever enough, is forever enough?
How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough
Cause I'm never, never giving you up
Why can't we know Why?
Here's a list of things I should be doing:
1. Vacuuming (ugh...)
2. washing/folding/putting away laundry
3. organizing/cleaning out paperwork in office
4. sleeping
instead I chose to blog. I may, however, regret it if my son wakes up when I'm slipping into bed.
But I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep without putting my worries into words and 'getting it off my chest':
My heart is hurting for my sister toinght. She is facing the same troubles that I did (and do) when I was trying to get pregnant. Her situation is a bit more complicated though, as my brother-in-law is not open to adoption as my husband still is. She called me this afternoon, in fairly good spirits, to tell me about her Half Priced Books find today. A comedic & sarcastic look into the world of infertility; how to answer the good-intentioned friends when they ask 'why you don't have kids yet' and mothers' stories of how they 'beat' infertility.
There are many injustices in this world that I know I will never understand. I only ask that God be with my sis tonight, and ease some of the heartache I know she's going through, and is yet to endure in her journey to become a Mommy.
I love you, big sister.
1. Vacuuming (ugh...)
2. washing/folding/putting away laundry
3. organizing/cleaning out paperwork in office
4. sleeping
instead I chose to blog. I may, however, regret it if my son wakes up when I'm slipping into bed.
But I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep without putting my worries into words and 'getting it off my chest':
My heart is hurting for my sister toinght. She is facing the same troubles that I did (and do) when I was trying to get pregnant. Her situation is a bit more complicated though, as my brother-in-law is not open to adoption as my husband still is. She called me this afternoon, in fairly good spirits, to tell me about her Half Priced Books find today. A comedic & sarcastic look into the world of infertility; how to answer the good-intentioned friends when they ask 'why you don't have kids yet' and mothers' stories of how they 'beat' infertility.
There are many injustices in this world that I know I will never understand. I only ask that God be with my sis tonight, and ease some of the heartache I know she's going through, and is yet to endure in her journey to become a Mommy.
I love you, big sister.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Try, Try, Try, Try, Try, Again???
If you haven't read all of the very few postings on this blog, then you may not know that it took over 3 years, some painful procedures, and lots'o'drugs to conceive our son Westin. Each month that didn't work, I went through the motions of disappointment, but I found that I had unbelieveable resolve and determination to find something that worked. I logged countless hours of internet research, I scoured the local bookstores' shelves for books devoted to conceiving. I think my husband and I only took about 4 months worth of breaks (tops, 6) in those years. Looking back, I am utterly amazed at the will I possessed to attain what I so desperately longed for.
The first wonderful, blessed, beautiful year of my son's life has almost come to pass, and I find myself wishing everyday that I could go back just 10 short months ago. I want to feel again the awe and humility in the moment that the plastic test in my hand showed 2 pink lines, instead of one. I want my belly to get big and round under my sweater. I want to wake in the middle of the night to jabbing kicks and punches to my vital organs. I actually (strangely) want morning sickness! I loved the feeling of growing a life, and feeling it thrive in my body. And then when he was born; his limbs flailing in the immediate space that he had to move after delivery; his stunning, large blue eyes scanning my face for mine; his soft, pale pink skin against a warm flannel blanket. Its no wonder that people like the Duggars have so many children. Its such a spiritual thing to witness, a new life coming into the world.
And now when we tote Wes around, and everyone gives their "Aw!" and 'He's Adorable!" the third thing that inevitably comes is "So, when are ya'll going to try again?" I want to scream "Hey, do you know how hard we worked for this one?!!?" but I know strangers have no idea of the troubles we endured; so we just smile and say "Maybe soon." or "We'll see..." or "We're just enjoying spoiling him right now!"
But, the questions echo in our heads... Do we want to stay a family of 3? Could we afford another beautiful baby? Will all of the same obstacles stare us in the face? Would a second pregnancy go as smoothly as the first?
And the wheels on the bus go round and round....
The first wonderful, blessed, beautiful year of my son's life has almost come to pass, and I find myself wishing everyday that I could go back just 10 short months ago. I want to feel again the awe and humility in the moment that the plastic test in my hand showed 2 pink lines, instead of one. I want my belly to get big and round under my sweater. I want to wake in the middle of the night to jabbing kicks and punches to my vital organs. I actually (strangely) want morning sickness! I loved the feeling of growing a life, and feeling it thrive in my body. And then when he was born; his limbs flailing in the immediate space that he had to move after delivery; his stunning, large blue eyes scanning my face for mine; his soft, pale pink skin against a warm flannel blanket. Its no wonder that people like the Duggars have so many children. Its such a spiritual thing to witness, a new life coming into the world.
And now when we tote Wes around, and everyone gives their "Aw!" and 'He's Adorable!" the third thing that inevitably comes is "So, when are ya'll going to try again?" I want to scream "Hey, do you know how hard we worked for this one?!!?" but I know strangers have no idea of the troubles we endured; so we just smile and say "Maybe soon." or "We'll see..." or "We're just enjoying spoiling him right now!"
But, the questions echo in our heads... Do we want to stay a family of 3? Could we afford another beautiful baby? Will all of the same obstacles stare us in the face? Would a second pregnancy go as smoothly as the first?
And the wheels on the bus go round and round....
Sunday, February 21, 2010
In the shuffle (on my Playlist)
I have a very, very eclectic taste in music. Artists on my playlists include: my all time favorite Jewel, Andrea Bocelli, the Dixie Chicks, Robert Pattinson, Iron and Wine, Elvis Presley, Mandy Moore, Sarah MacLachlan, Enigma, Metallica, Stain'd, Stevie Nicks, Rob Thomas (Matchbox 20), Counting Crows, Pearl Jam, Led Zeppelin, The Shins, Stoney LaRue, the Rolling Stones, Sheryl Crow, Dolly Parton, Prince, Ludacris, **I think you get the picture**
Anyhow, one night while perusing Playlist.com (and being a total narcissist: i.e. searching for songs with the title of my same name) I happened upon an artist named Catherine MacLellan. The love I have for a solo acoustic guitar, and a folksy Soprano made "Emily's Song" an immediate favorite....
"Emily's Song"
When the rain pours down like this
on the working days,
you could just lay in bed,
but you know that you can’t stay there.
Well your whole life’s changing,
you got the house for sale,
23 years rearranging,
each breath seems a sad exhale.
Well love can be so forgiving,
gives you one more reason to live,
you just keep on breathing…
When the rain pours down like this,
and it just won’t stop,
its hard to recall asking the weather,
to send down those drops.
So let’s dance, let the water find us,
let’s gather round.
Love is coming at us from every angle,
let our joy abound.
Yes love can be so forgiving,
gives you one more reason to live.
You just keep on breathing…
So please don’t let me stop moving,
don’t let me sink on down.
I can feel my mind start losing,
I don’t have time for that right now.
So let’s dance let the water find us,
let’s gather round.
Love is coming at us from every angle
Let our joy abound,
Let our joy abound!
Anyhow, one night while perusing Playlist.com (and being a total narcissist: i.e. searching for songs with the title of my same name) I happened upon an artist named Catherine MacLellan. The love I have for a solo acoustic guitar, and a folksy Soprano made "Emily's Song" an immediate favorite....
"Emily's Song"
When the rain pours down like this
on the working days,
you could just lay in bed,
but you know that you can’t stay there.
Well your whole life’s changing,
you got the house for sale,
23 years rearranging,
each breath seems a sad exhale.
Well love can be so forgiving,
gives you one more reason to live,
you just keep on breathing…
When the rain pours down like this,
and it just won’t stop,
its hard to recall asking the weather,
to send down those drops.
So let’s dance, let the water find us,
let’s gather round.
Love is coming at us from every angle,
let our joy abound.
Yes love can be so forgiving,
gives you one more reason to live.
You just keep on breathing…
So please don’t let me stop moving,
don’t let me sink on down.
I can feel my mind start losing,
I don’t have time for that right now.
So let’s dance let the water find us,
let’s gather round.
Love is coming at us from every angle
Let our joy abound,
Let our joy abound!
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Sleep: for the Weak
Westin is *usually* a wonderful sleeper. His snooze routine (since moving him into his own bedroom at approx. 8 months old) has been 12 hours straight, through the night, not waking up to feed.
Well, I'll unashamedly admit it, I'm weak! I've been so sleep deprived this week, and I have the sneaking suspicion that the two razor sharp teeth cutting through his gums at the moment are to blame for the dark circles and bags under my eyes. He has woke three times a night for the past five nights.
Add that to the bad news my family received this week: my step-dad's biopsy came back as malignant squamous cell carcinoma, in a lymph node, and had to have a full body scan done. He goes in Tuesday to have the mass in his shoulder removed, and chemotherapy (possibly radiation). I've been so preoccupied and worried that my sleep hasn't been peaceful, to say the least.
Now that I'm getting the hang of this Mommy-business, and have my own daily routine, I haven't been as dog-tired/utterly exhausted. And my recent obsession for scouring the internet for fluffy baby butt coverings has had me up later during the week than I would have normally stayed up.
But, like Darius Rucker's song reminds me all too often "It Won't Be Like This for Long" and so I count my blessings, and Thank the Good Lord that I do have my son to wake me up in the middle of the night.
Well, I'll unashamedly admit it, I'm weak! I've been so sleep deprived this week, and I have the sneaking suspicion that the two razor sharp teeth cutting through his gums at the moment are to blame for the dark circles and bags under my eyes. He has woke three times a night for the past five nights.
Add that to the bad news my family received this week: my step-dad's biopsy came back as malignant squamous cell carcinoma, in a lymph node, and had to have a full body scan done. He goes in Tuesday to have the mass in his shoulder removed, and chemotherapy (possibly radiation). I've been so preoccupied and worried that my sleep hasn't been peaceful, to say the least.
Now that I'm getting the hang of this Mommy-business, and have my own daily routine, I haven't been as dog-tired/utterly exhausted. And my recent obsession for scouring the internet for fluffy baby butt coverings has had me up later during the week than I would have normally stayed up.
But, like Darius Rucker's song reminds me all too often "It Won't Be Like This for Long" and so I count my blessings, and Thank the Good Lord that I do have my son to wake me up in the middle of the night.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Crunchy, Green, Cloth Diapering (and all the jargon that goes with it!)
If you're wondering where I've been, why the lapse in postings, its not because I'm lazy. (maybe too tired to blog, but I've saved a bit of energy for this particular blogging, so you're in for a treat!)
I've been Cloth Diaper (CD) Stalking on Hyena Cart! Yes, I've lost my marbles. I've decided to start CD'ing my 9 month old son. And let me tell you: the start up to build a CD 'stash' is daunting. There ain't no Babies'R'Us trip and you're done... no ma'am. These puppies have to be hunted down (hence - "stalking"). And you have to put in the proper amount of research. One must decide between Prefolds, Pockets, Fitteds, AIO (All-in-One), AI2's (All-in-Two - variation of the AIO) and all the hybrids in between!!!
The picture includes: 4 g-Diapers (notice the tiny white lower-case 'g' on the solid colored dipes?) 2 g-Diaper liners that snap into the shell, 2 Fitted dipes with detachable inserts, and 2 BumGenius (BG) Pockets. g-Diapers are considered a cloth diaper hybrid that can be used with flushable, compostable (or tossable) inserts (that sit inside the snap-in/out liners) or you can 'stuff' them with plain tri-fold (prefolded) cloth diapers (the white ones that many a mother now-a-days use for a burp-wrag) Fitted dipes consist of a cloth outer "shell" (usually with a VERY CUTE print on it), and a snap-in/out insert (also called a 'soaker'). They are NOT waterproof, and if you're venturing out of the house, you might be so inclined to put a pair of plastic pants over the diaper, or you'll probably need to carry a couple of extra outfits... The BumGenius are pocket diapers that DO have a PUL (Polyurethane Laminate) layer that keeps the 'wetness' from going through the diaper (and onto his clothes.) They come with 2 seperate cloth inserts that you stuff inside the pocket.
I've decided that I'm a MAJOR fan of the BumGenius (BG) pocket dipes. Westin is a very heavy wetter, and the BG's last all night (Wes usually sleeps 12 hours without waking to breastfeed). The material that is up against his skin is a microfleece (I think) and it keeps his skin dry (even though the inserts underneath are COMPLETELY soaked)
Why did I feel the need, 9 months after his birth, to start such a circus? Well, I started to feel guilty about the 150ish disposable diapers a month that I was lugging to the curbside for the trash collectors to take to our local dump. To quote the g-Diapers website: "50 million diapers get tossed each day and each one takes up to 500 years to biodegrade." Who knew one sentence, 17 words, could cause a pit in my stomach the size of a grenade?? My son and his generation stand to inherit this planet. And the busy, consumer driven society that we've turned into don't think twice when we yank off a urine filled disposable diaper (also called a 'sposie in the CD'ing world -- yes, we're in our own world, but I digress) and slap on a new one, leaving the trash to rot in a landfill just a few miles down the road.
I realize I'm starting to rant, so I'll give you another statistic to justify my recently considered nutty behavior: while the initial cost of CDing can be staggering (one (1!) brand new g-Diaper costs $17, a BG - $18 and a Goodmama Fitted - up to $28) the cost in the long-run is much less in comparison to spending $80 a month on disposables (thats $1,000 a year!!!) Most of the CD's that I've purchased have been "One Size Fits All/Most", and Westin can wear them until he is Potty Trained!! Keep in mind: some kiddos don't potty train until they're 4 years old, or 5 in some cases. That's $5,000 in trash! (or a down payment on a car!) I have spent $166 so far on 15 CDs and 2 bags of disposable g-Diaper inserts. If you don't count the $30 disposable inserts, thats approx. $9 a diaper, so I have been doing some major stalking for deals! (Hyena Cart has a "Spot's Corner" shop where Mommies sell Second-hand (read: used) CD's. Most are in EUC (excellent used condition). I have, of course, washed and de-germed the 9 used diapers I have purchased, but I couldn't pass up the deals I got! I'm a bargain hunter to the core!!
And yes, one must take into consideration the costs of the 'up-keep': electricity to run the washing machine, the water, and the detergent to get them clean. (I line dry most of our CDs to cut down on some electricity costs, and to extend the life of the dipes) But here's where I get on my soap-box (pun intended) -- I'm already running our clothes washer everyday (some days I don't, and I pay for it when I have a mountain of laundry laughing at me) Whats one extra nightly load of cloth diapers??? Not much in my book.
Not to mention, CD's B R E A T H E. There is no plastic (or chemical/crystal absorbing materials) in a cloth diaper to sit against my baby boy's skin over night, making a warm, moist environment which is where many a distraught baby struggles with insufferable diaper rash!
10 points to you if you've made it this far! I'll even spend the extra 5 minutes to give you a Cloth Diaper Jargon/Language chart!:
CD's'ing = Cloth Diaper(s)(ing)
I've been Cloth Diaper (CD) Stalking on Hyena Cart! Yes, I've lost my marbles. I've decided to start CD'ing my 9 month old son. And let me tell you: the start up to build a CD 'stash' is daunting. There ain't no Babies'R'Us trip and you're done... no ma'am. These puppies have to be hunted down (hence - "stalking"). And you have to put in the proper amount of research. One must decide between Prefolds, Pockets, Fitteds, AIO (All-in-One), AI2's (All-in-Two - variation of the AIO) and all the hybrids in between!!!
The picture includes: 4 g-Diapers (notice the tiny white lower-case 'g' on the solid colored dipes?) 2 g-Diaper liners that snap into the shell, 2 Fitted dipes with detachable inserts, and 2 BumGenius (BG) Pockets. g-Diapers are considered a cloth diaper hybrid that can be used with flushable, compostable (or tossable) inserts (that sit inside the snap-in/out liners) or you can 'stuff' them with plain tri-fold (prefolded) cloth diapers (the white ones that many a mother now-a-days use for a burp-wrag) Fitted dipes consist of a cloth outer "shell" (usually with a VERY CUTE print on it), and a snap-in/out insert (also called a 'soaker'). They are NOT waterproof, and if you're venturing out of the house, you might be so inclined to put a pair of plastic pants over the diaper, or you'll probably need to carry a couple of extra outfits... The BumGenius are pocket diapers that DO have a PUL (Polyurethane Laminate) layer that keeps the 'wetness' from going through the diaper (and onto his clothes.) They come with 2 seperate cloth inserts that you stuff inside the pocket.
I've decided that I'm a MAJOR fan of the BumGenius (BG) pocket dipes. Westin is a very heavy wetter, and the BG's last all night (Wes usually sleeps 12 hours without waking to breastfeed). The material that is up against his skin is a microfleece (I think) and it keeps his skin dry (even though the inserts underneath are COMPLETELY soaked)
Why did I feel the need, 9 months after his birth, to start such a circus? Well, I started to feel guilty about the 150ish disposable diapers a month that I was lugging to the curbside for the trash collectors to take to our local dump. To quote the g-Diapers website: "50 million diapers get tossed each day and each one takes up to 500 years to biodegrade." Who knew one sentence, 17 words, could cause a pit in my stomach the size of a grenade?? My son and his generation stand to inherit this planet. And the busy, consumer driven society that we've turned into don't think twice when we yank off a urine filled disposable diaper (also called a 'sposie in the CD'ing world -- yes, we're in our own world, but I digress) and slap on a new one, leaving the trash to rot in a landfill just a few miles down the road.
I realize I'm starting to rant, so I'll give you another statistic to justify my recently considered nutty behavior: while the initial cost of CDing can be staggering (one (1!) brand new g-Diaper costs $17, a BG - $18 and a Goodmama Fitted - up to $28) the cost in the long-run is much less in comparison to spending $80 a month on disposables (thats $1,000 a year!!!) Most of the CD's that I've purchased have been "One Size Fits All/Most", and Westin can wear them until he is Potty Trained!! Keep in mind: some kiddos don't potty train until they're 4 years old, or 5 in some cases. That's $5,000 in trash! (or a down payment on a car!) I have spent $166 so far on 15 CDs and 2 bags of disposable g-Diaper inserts. If you don't count the $30 disposable inserts, thats approx. $9 a diaper, so I have been doing some major stalking for deals! (Hyena Cart has a "Spot's Corner" shop where Mommies sell Second-hand (read: used) CD's. Most are in EUC (excellent used condition). I have, of course, washed and de-germed the 9 used diapers I have purchased, but I couldn't pass up the deals I got! I'm a bargain hunter to the core!!
And yes, one must take into consideration the costs of the 'up-keep': electricity to run the washing machine, the water, and the detergent to get them clean. (I line dry most of our CDs to cut down on some electricity costs, and to extend the life of the dipes) But here's where I get on my soap-box (pun intended) -- I'm already running our clothes washer everyday (some days I don't, and I pay for it when I have a mountain of laundry laughing at me) Whats one extra nightly load of cloth diapers??? Not much in my book.
Not to mention, CD's B R E A T H E. There is no plastic (or chemical/crystal absorbing materials) in a cloth diaper to sit against my baby boy's skin over night, making a warm, moist environment which is where many a distraught baby struggles with insufferable diaper rash!
10 points to you if you've made it this far! I'll even spend the extra 5 minutes to give you a Cloth Diaper Jargon/Language chart!:
CD's'ing = Cloth Diaper(s)(ing)
Crunchy = think Granola, think hippy, meaning Eco-conscious (or Green)
Stalking = searching online for very cute CD's, and trying to buy them before other Moms do!
Stash = the collection of CDs one Mommy has acquired
Stuff = placing cloth inserts into a cloth diaper
OS = One size fits all/Most
AIO = All in one (meaning one entire piece)
AI2 = All in two (seperate pieces)
PUL = Polyurethane Laminate Layer- aka waterproof layer
Sposie = Disposable Diaper
Lastly, who can resist a squishy baby bootie???!!!??? When I pick Wessie up and hug him, tickle him, and play with him, his little Baby Bum is soft and cloth! CD's are called squishy because the thickness of the material under an adorable printed diaper is so irresistable!
I'm happy with my decision, and proud of myself for attempting to do right by Mother Earth, and my son!
Stalking = searching online for very cute CD's, and trying to buy them before other Moms do!
Stash = the collection of CDs one Mommy has acquired
Stuff = placing cloth inserts into a cloth diaper
OS = One size fits all/Most
AIO = All in one (meaning one entire piece)
AI2 = All in two (seperate pieces)
PUL = Polyurethane Laminate Layer- aka waterproof layer
Sposie = Disposable Diaper
Lastly, who can resist a squishy baby bootie???!!!??? When I pick Wessie up and hug him, tickle him, and play with him, his little Baby Bum is soft and cloth! CD's are called squishy because the thickness of the material under an adorable printed diaper is so irresistable!
I'm happy with my decision, and proud of myself for attempting to do right by Mother Earth, and my son!
Thursday, February 11, 2010
The Quest for Parenthood a.k.a "Our Journey"
I've loved babies for as far back as I can remember. I grew up with 3 older sisters, so as the 'baby' myself, I didn't have anyone younger to annoy the spit out of me (and consequently to change my mind about the wonderful little people). The children on the cul-de-sac where I lived out my formative years were all in the grades below me. So I had lots of practice with my playmates' baby brothers and sisters. I learned how to change diapers, mix a formula bottle and rock a baby to sleep with great skill. The parents of said tots would love for me to come 'play' with their children, because they could get a few things done around the house while I entertained their youngins.
My Mother has often said that I have an "old" soul, and that I am mature beyond my years. That I wasn't typical of the usual role that the youngest of siblings often plays = the spoiled, rotten, center of attention kid. Not that I was without my faults: I was an especially tender-hearted child. Very prone to break out in tears if someone so much as looked at me wrong. I was very, very attached to my Mama...
School teachers started harping about college and gave the "What are you going to do with your life?" speech earlier each year it seems. In junior high, we had "Career Day" and I wavered back and forth between a NASA Scientist, Marine Biology and Archeology. It wasn't until after my nephew, Connor, was born in January of my 8th grade year that I had even given thought to a possible career in Medicine. His birth opened up my 14 year old eyes to the "origins" of babies! From then on, my mind was made up, I was going to be a Labor and Delivery Nurse!
I was on the Drill Team in high school, tried out for the Captain spot my senior year, but made Lieutenant again for the second year in a row. Maybe that was divine intervention. I'm almost certain that if I'd made Captain, I would have most likely had pursued a major in Dance. I hadn't had any form of professional training, and may not have made it very far. Its all irrelevant, anyhow. After graduation, I signed up (and paid for by myself) County College courses that had everything to do with my future major, Nursing. I would get my pre-requisites at a cheaper rate, and then finish out my degree at a 4 year institution a little farther down the road.
My husband proposed to me on my 19th birthday (7 months into our relationship), at the end of my first semester. The agreement was that we'd both continue with schooling, and not rush a marriage. I told him that I wanted to be engaged for a year or more, to ensure that we fully got to know one another before committing ourselves to each other for an eternity. We were wed on May 14, 2005. Thirteen days after our two year dating anniversary.
I took a break from college that next semester, and we had decided to try to start a family. College and my degree was no longer something that I felt I was being led to do. My heart just wasn't in it. I was spending my time and money doing something that had become mundane, just to appease those around me, and it felt like I was betraying myself. I think I had the baby part of my life figured out -- but I know now, that I was meant to be a Mother to my own children. We kept our trying to conceive a secret from our families. We knew we'd get the "wait 'til you've finished college and have a degree and get a job" and the "you've got plenty of time to have babies" speeches, and just weren't interested in continually trying defend our decision.
I'm so glad we jumped on the baby bandwagon as soon as we did. One year and no baby into 'trying', I found out that I had Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS). It causes extreme pain (due to cysts formed on the ovaries) and causes infertility. My heart was crushed. My OB/GYN prescribed fertility drugs, and we kept trying.
Fast forward to April 29, 2008 - I had an elective Laparoscopy done to try to explore the possible reasons for my still not having gotten pregnant. The doc was able to remove some scar tissue, and see first-hand that my body was in prime condition to be able to bear a child.
We were 3 years into trying to have a baby. July 15, 2008 - My first appointment with Reproductive Endocrinologist Dr. DeLeon. He took my rather hefty medical file into his hands, and was taken aback by all of the information it presented. I was a 23 year old woman, who had undergone a lot of fertility testing, to no avail. He was very interested in what I had to say, and was willing to let me suggest our next possible course of action. He prescribed, and I immediately started medicating with a drug intended for diabetics (works on insulin absorption in the body - which is affected by my PCOS) took a different type of fertility drug (I had taken 10 cycles with Clomid, a very popular, and often prescribed fertility med.) and took a "Trigger Shot" on the most optimal day for conception to occur.
Exactly one month after my initial appointment with DeLeon, I finally get my first Positive Home Pregnancy test. I was pregnant! My due date was April 25, 2009 (my Mother-in-law's birthday; Westin is her first grandchild) but Westin decided to arrive on April 29, 2009; one full year to the day after I had the Laparoscopy done.
We often call our son our "Miracle Child". We had many doctors tell us that we'd never conceive without the aid of In-Vitro Fertilization. Westin is a product of our determination and faith. I never stopped believing that I would be a Mom, that I would make my wonderful husband the amazing Father that he is today. We never gave up, and I definitely hope Westin inhereted our stubborn streaks!
My Mother has often said that I have an "old" soul, and that I am mature beyond my years. That I wasn't typical of the usual role that the youngest of siblings often plays = the spoiled, rotten, center of attention kid. Not that I was without my faults: I was an especially tender-hearted child. Very prone to break out in tears if someone so much as looked at me wrong. I was very, very attached to my Mama...
School teachers started harping about college and gave the "What are you going to do with your life?" speech earlier each year it seems. In junior high, we had "Career Day" and I wavered back and forth between a NASA Scientist, Marine Biology and Archeology. It wasn't until after my nephew, Connor, was born in January of my 8th grade year that I had even given thought to a possible career in Medicine. His birth opened up my 14 year old eyes to the "origins" of babies! From then on, my mind was made up, I was going to be a Labor and Delivery Nurse!
I was on the Drill Team in high school, tried out for the Captain spot my senior year, but made Lieutenant again for the second year in a row. Maybe that was divine intervention. I'm almost certain that if I'd made Captain, I would have most likely had pursued a major in Dance. I hadn't had any form of professional training, and may not have made it very far. Its all irrelevant, anyhow. After graduation, I signed up (and paid for by myself) County College courses that had everything to do with my future major, Nursing. I would get my pre-requisites at a cheaper rate, and then finish out my degree at a 4 year institution a little farther down the road.
My husband proposed to me on my 19th birthday (7 months into our relationship), at the end of my first semester. The agreement was that we'd both continue with schooling, and not rush a marriage. I told him that I wanted to be engaged for a year or more, to ensure that we fully got to know one another before committing ourselves to each other for an eternity. We were wed on May 14, 2005. Thirteen days after our two year dating anniversary.
I took a break from college that next semester, and we had decided to try to start a family. College and my degree was no longer something that I felt I was being led to do. My heart just wasn't in it. I was spending my time and money doing something that had become mundane, just to appease those around me, and it felt like I was betraying myself. I think I had the baby part of my life figured out -- but I know now, that I was meant to be a Mother to my own children. We kept our trying to conceive a secret from our families. We knew we'd get the "wait 'til you've finished college and have a degree and get a job" and the "you've got plenty of time to have babies" speeches, and just weren't interested in continually trying defend our decision.
I'm so glad we jumped on the baby bandwagon as soon as we did. One year and no baby into 'trying', I found out that I had Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS). It causes extreme pain (due to cysts formed on the ovaries) and causes infertility. My heart was crushed. My OB/GYN prescribed fertility drugs, and we kept trying.
Fast forward to April 29, 2008 - I had an elective Laparoscopy done to try to explore the possible reasons for my still not having gotten pregnant. The doc was able to remove some scar tissue, and see first-hand that my body was in prime condition to be able to bear a child.
We were 3 years into trying to have a baby. July 15, 2008 - My first appointment with Reproductive Endocrinologist Dr. DeLeon. He took my rather hefty medical file into his hands, and was taken aback by all of the information it presented. I was a 23 year old woman, who had undergone a lot of fertility testing, to no avail. He was very interested in what I had to say, and was willing to let me suggest our next possible course of action. He prescribed, and I immediately started medicating with a drug intended for diabetics (works on insulin absorption in the body - which is affected by my PCOS) took a different type of fertility drug (I had taken 10 cycles with Clomid, a very popular, and often prescribed fertility med.) and took a "Trigger Shot" on the most optimal day for conception to occur.
Exactly one month after my initial appointment with DeLeon, I finally get my first Positive Home Pregnancy test. I was pregnant! My due date was April 25, 2009 (my Mother-in-law's birthday; Westin is her first grandchild) but Westin decided to arrive on April 29, 2009; one full year to the day after I had the Laparoscopy done.
We often call our son our "Miracle Child". We had many doctors tell us that we'd never conceive without the aid of In-Vitro Fertilization. Westin is a product of our determination and faith. I never stopped believing that I would be a Mom, that I would make my wonderful husband the amazing Father that he is today. We never gave up, and I definitely hope Westin inhereted our stubborn streaks!
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Dedication
The miraculous conception of my son is the reason for anything I do. He is the epitome of everything I could ever aspire to be. He made me a mother (well, my husband had a hand in that as well, I suppose...) which is why I shall dedicate this blog to them, the two men for whom I exist. I have high hopes that this will serve as a timeline of our lives (**kicking myself now for not starting it as soon as I saw the two pink lines**) and that we will look back on the accounts to be entered, and smile at our memories that we may have forgotten in the chaotic moments that make up our wonderful, crazy, beautiful life.
I promise to invoke a few giggles, a couple of raised eye-brows, and hopefully a handful of humble smiles.
I promise to invoke a few giggles, a couple of raised eye-brows, and hopefully a handful of humble smiles.
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