Not Gazelle but Baby Maker did OK

Brothers

Pregnancy Distractions

It's the OCD. It's my last pregnancy. It's because Dave's headed to the "chop" shop next
week. There will be no more pregnancies. And somehow I'm mourning.

And, it's a busy week - I have to get my fill of all the excuses...

Lately, even the prospect of to buy or not to buy a maternity swimsuit is a little overwhelming. Looking in the mirror is a disasterous situation I wish to venture alone...but really can I have a magic looking glass that hides me from the rest of the public (my husband) of the whale I've become?

Wallowing? No!

There is a beautiful baby boy growing stong inside my belly. Someone so loved already. so anticipated. So encouraging. So ready to share the world with.

I can get over my vain desire to remain non-plus sized. In return
Can I keep all these memories of Will and Avery that remind me that life is glorious even in it's struggles?
Please, let me remember what it feels like when Avery sees me when I walk into her classroom, kids club, corner and she is screams --MaaMaa! I missed you!
-Can we go wait for the boys?
-I don't like the way he/she sings.
- No, I don't want to make a new friend.
- BuhBuh's being mean to me.
- Are you mad at me?
-I don't want to wear that one.
-Can I be a princess?
- I don't want to marry a prince. Can I marry Daddy? Will?

And Will, the prodigal son, who is always torn between pleasing you and his consuming wants and desires.
-Mom! Can I earn some stars? Sure, go outside and play with your sister, clean your room, help set the table. Oh, you've changed your mind...yeah, but can I play my PSP?
-Mom! When are we going on a date day? Grandma's and Grandpa's? Toy store? Book store? Gym? Dave and Buster's? Target?
-Mom! Your the best cooker in the world! How many bites of brussel sprouts, soy meat lasagna, spinach and cous-cous do I have to eat?
-Mom! Can I be a solider? Sure, after college. Can I play football? Sure, in college. Mom! I got a paper cut six days ago, and it still hurts.
Please, don't let me forget that when Will and Avery look into my eyes I see they're beautiful souls dancing with enthusiasm and all life's possibilities. I pray that it their spark never goes away. It might dull, it might get sidelined by little things (like homework, cleaning the bathroom, eating all your vegetables, sharing Legos with your sister, gaining weight when your pregnant, sitting on peas after your vascectomy) but it's still there ready to tackle tomorrow without bruising too bad.

Lazy Meets Her Match with Exotic Destinations

Lately, it's been difficult to peel myself away from the travel channel. Tuesday, I managed to log in more hours behind the screen than a viewing of Gone With The Wind. There is a body crevice just formed to my expanding shape.

Monday was a great start. I went to LT in my maternity workout shirt and sweated 700 calories off in one hour of Cardio Resistance Training. Avery spent the time running around the jungle gym with her friends which usually only have boy names and sliding down the slide. Then, after Dave supported the idea of cereal for dinner, we headed out to the gym
again...together. It is my favorite way to sneak in a date. He didn't go to the big boy area where we were on Saturday. I don't like to go over there during busy hours. It can be extremely crowded and I am easily annoyed at men who 1) can lift 350 lbs, but re-rack NONE 2)all the grunting, slamming, waiting, and stinkiness is too much testosterone than this chica can handle. I might love the smell of sweat, but not the residual kind. YEEECK!

Tuesday morning my new love for Yoga came and went without my attendence. I couldn't stretch out my triceps from the burning sensation and frankly I didn't wanna get going at 8:15 in the morning. Some how, after all the travelling I did through the travel channel, I flipped to FIT tv. Maybe, watching will bring inspiration...

Wednesday, the highlight and haircut take place. Marye, my hair dresser, bless her heart, has to ask the salon coordinator to "please, turn on the air" because my cuerpo/hormones renerated so much heat that she felt an electric heater had taken the place of her client and sat in the chair for 3 hours on full blast. Was I just saying something about residual stink/sweat? I'm sorry, Marye!

Today is a new day. My workout clothes are waiting dutifully for me. First, big plans to meet with the 1st grade room moms for holiday "heehaw" party planning...Avery in tow. Will's last visit to the allergist for his two a week shots. Celebration lunch...celebrating Will, Avery, and Mom time and frankly, because it's Thursday. Then I promise a trip to the gym... all in good time, right!?!

A Welcomed Physical Assault

After a labor day's Whine Race 5 miler, I signed up for the Nov. 3rd Wurstfest 5 miler. A few things have happened since, it might be from the wine. Yesterday, Dave, Avery, Will and I pull up to the race as runners rush past in blazing glory and unhurriedly, we turn around and head to the closest IHOP in New Braunfels.

Okay, it's a little secret I've kept. TK, Jana, Nanu, you know, but I've been pretty sushed about it (unless you are the cashier, pharmacist, greeter at Wally-World). For some reason it just slips, but I really wanted to be quiet until week 13 is over. Well I don't like to keep secrets...
so I'll tell you. This house is expecting another. What do I think - three is a blessing, we are so excited, I'm officially a small child wrangler for life and I'm still smiling!

It's week 9 in the little olives lifespan. He/she is taking over my senses, uterus, and 140 lbs. body. I'm going to be honest here, I really liked being below 140 and at 5'8 can gain a LOT of weight when I'm preggers. Realistically, I can't be 130 lbs, but I can avoid weighing as much as Dave when we are delivering. Can you help? I know, don't eat bad stuff, but have you ever told a pregnant woman to stay away from a buffet line? Don't go there, it won't be pleasant...

I am soley concentrating on having a healthy baby and being a good mommy/ wife/ friend/ sister/ daughter, that's all. As far as trophy winning, running races for is a sweet memory, but I'll be there again in June...okay, July, when babiest bear is here, I'm not breastfeeding, and my abdominal muscles won't fall through.

Did you hear that? I'm not breastfeeding! I know, Dave can't believe it, but I'm really not. If I say it enough, he'll believe me. It is because I'm playing the three card... three is a house full. Will and Avery both wanna feed the baby. I can't deprive them. Plus, Dave really likes to take an active role that requires sitting and cooing. Don't follow in my footsteps, but I'm out the door, sista, without my shirt up and milk leaking.

So I'll be a better blogger... I've stepped away from the coolness of the porcelein rim and actually feel alive again. I've surrender my size 6s to Size Meduim maternity clothes so I'm in comfortable place. I weigh 145 lbs this morning and I run a mean 10 minute mile. Anything else is strictly confidental...hah!

Morning Madness and a Little Mourning.

There is something terribly wrong but some mornings start off the exact same way in Dallas... I wake up early. I walk down the hall to my parents den, cracking the door ever so quietly, shuffling across the pergo flooring, and over to the computer to turn it on. And Microsoft has the wonderful start up that's louder than a lion's roar on this blasted computer. Anxiety level already up, because heaven forbid I wake the sleeping giants in this house. I walk into the kitchen as the computer warms up. Tiptoe-ing over to the cabinet with the 4 cup coffee maker my Mom stashes for company, turning on the sink softly to drip the very needed water, shuffling in the back of another cabinet for the coffee grinds, adding all the necessary ingredients, and getting ready for heaven to fill my 20oz polycarbonate water bottle with a shot of milk (wow! 2% here and whipping cream ), 1 sweet n low, 1 equal, and mega 3.5 cups of coffee, with a reserve for Avery. While it's brewing, I walk into the 160 degree garage, close the door behind me, slip on my dad's 11EEE flip-flops, pray the garage door doesn't make any extra noise and walk the half acre down the narrow driveway of my childhood home to retrieve the much anticipated Dallas Morning News, the one we are deprived of in San Antonio, the land of horrible reporting. I take the paper out, trash the plastic longing for a recycling bin, and enter to the burrrrr of the coffeemaker all done! Then I sit at the computer, looking at my split ends, searching for the latest and greatest from the forums of gottadeal.com...scrounge for My Coke Rewards, go get the scissors to cut the split ends, swallow some coffee, decide that chasing down anti-anxiety pills with coffee is NOT the best idea, however valuable both are, while looking at my split ends with the glare from the computer illuminating them so deliciously. Opps, everybody's up and it's 10 o'clock.
However, some days are better. I get up with my cellphone alarm clock and put on my running clothes, Nike+ shoes, heart monitor and watch, and iPod with Nike sensor strapped around my arm. I set out with good intentions and custom my run to 4.25 - 6.25 miles. Humming along with the play list I shuffle yet seems to always play the same order and think how happy it makes me to be out. I've gotten really ambitious some mornings and head to the dam at Joe Pool lake. I've never run the full distance so I didn't know what I get myself into until 2 weeks ago. With all the gear, I'm at the dam, enjoying the breeze off the lake, taking a picture with my camera phone adding a local emergency contact, and slowly I realize that I've ran a long way and there is no end in sight. I can't walk and I can't slow down because the only people on the dam are cyclists who look as serious as Lance Armstrong in last at the Tour de France. I think I might die...now. Good thing I brought my phone, and what the he** was I thinking. After an hour and twenty minutes my feet on fire, I need water, my legs are jello, and I have not experienced a runner's high. I stop my iPod where the voice tells me "Good job, you have completed your longest run yet." Ahhh, there's the runner's high, just a little pat on the back makes this girl happy. 9.5 miles down. Pretty painful, but I did it... didn't I?
Next weekend, I'm at the same dam ready for 10 miles because I'm running the dam and over the fence, past the marina, and to Great Southwest Parkway, then back. I get out there pumped. I can do this! I start out, except there is no response from my iPod. I look down, dismayed at the fact that it says the screen reads key configuration, blah, blah, blah. No setting distance, speed, time, play list, nothing. In disbelief, I continue running, thinking if I push a certain combination it will be okay. Man, my necks hurting, my shoulders don't like all this weird postioning, and the tears swell into my eyes because I can't make it without verification from my techno-trainer, and I really can't make it without any music. Determined to prove something to myself I keep going, and over the fence, and back, thinking I really am not going to make it this time, and I didn't bring my phone this time. Out of shear stupidity and a little encouragement from the cyclists who don't look so serious this time, I see the end. My body hurts, my shoes are shot, and I can't even think about my iPod without getting a sicker feeling in my stomach. I get in the car, drive home, monitoring my heart rate that doesn't want to come down to a non-hazardous level, and jump in the pool Avery just got done pooping in, clothes and all.
After 20 minutes of just sitting there, I walk in and say "Hi" to my husband, with Ipod out-stretched into his receiving arms. He mourns it for me a little while, thinking about what to do. Well, I'm headed to the store asap. He pushes some buttons, and immediately it responds. My life is still connected. My 129 miles are still there. And I am again at the runner's high I was waiting for. Life is good. But "I need new shoes."

Shyness and A Life Worth Living

It's amazing what can happen in a few months. Without journaling I fear it might disappear with everything else in my brain, in the swirling mass of sunflowers and thunderstorms.

First, I'd like to say that my number one, Will, is all done with kindergarten. I couldn't be more happy with his progress, my smarty pants. His teacher, Mrs. Gustowski, worked unbelievably hard with the 20 students. She ended up being a friend, and someone I don't think I could ever replace in Will's life, or mine. We promised to get together in the summer for some girl time. The only problem is that I have to stay in town long enough to remember that San Antonio is my heart and my home and actually pick up the phone and call these valuable people in my life.

I have to admit I'm not a phone talker. Yes, this surprises everyone because I try really hard to keep conversations going. Sometimes I seem down right nosy, but my friends' lives are important to me. It's funny to think that we live our lives so independently; one of my friend's husband can break his arm on a skateboard, while another is moving to Utah, another to Missouri, and another to Frisco and I'm just at my parents sitting in the pool with my children, wasting the summer away, building memories and reflecting on how lucky I am: to have the parents I do, the husband I love, and the children, who seem to bring more to my life than I can give them in a lifetime of parenting, and friends who bring me happiness, laughter, and darn good perspective.

I'd like to tell you a story about a woman who was so shy as a child she couldn't break free from her mother's legs much less raise her hand in school. She would stutter and stammer reading out loud in front of the class, although she would read anything she could get her hands on. Words were her secrets treasures, ideas she kept to herself, but she was desperately lonely, longing not to be afraid.

In middle school, the internal war raged on, but this time she took into was determined to end this conflict. She wanted to break herself from the chains of silence and self-consciousness. She plotted and planned what to say, made lists about things to talk about, wrote in a journal with side notes about funny things she saw on Saturday Night Live or in Bop magazine. Everyday she worked at it so hard, she would go to bed exhausted (because it was so hard to be something that you aren't) but with a pencil and paper on the nightstand just in case she thought of something else to say.

Now, she might still over-apologize for talking about random things and bouncing from one subject to another in fear of losing someone's interest. She might still be apprehensive when starting a conversation, but now that fear and anxiety sits in the back of her throat while the words spill out. With family and friends who accept her as she is, words are still treasures and conversations are recorded as victories in the battle. Self consciousness slides into the realization that we all are self conscious, that if something stupid comes out of our mouths it is soon forgotten, that once something leaves our vocal cords it doesn't linger forever imprisoned in someone else's mind.

Now, I have to tell you I'd forgotten how anxious I am about talking on the phone, meeting someone new, have any attention put on me, and how hard I work (sometimes more than others) to be the outgoing cheerleader.

My lingering shyness became ever present earlier this month when my best friend from college got married. It was a pretty big wedding and I knew two people in the crowd aside from the bride, groom, and bride's family. And it really doesn't count when those two people are your sister and her husband!

No problems at the ceremony, who cares if I sobbed loudly a few times, who cares if I laughed with no one else the when the priest said something funny, who cared if I reached behind me to grab the bride's mother's hand when it was poiniant. It was beautiful and all I could concentrate on is the love this couple exudes, the exciting future that lays in their hands, the fact that they are about to be Mr. And Mrs., take the good with the bad and make a wonderful life.

Then the reception hits and the wedding party walks in to Justin Timberlake's Sexy Back. Now this reception is at one of the nicest places you can go in Dallas but fear and anxiety hit me like a ton of bricks when the bride had to go from table to table, greet, mix and mingle. She did it so easily and confidently, and all this time I thought she was just like me. I shuddered at the thought that I could have easily been her if Dave and I didn't rush to the JP. But then somehow I ended up on the dance floor with my best friend, the beautiful and confident bride and we were jetted back to all the late nights in college were we were queens of the dance floor and the South Dallas drop.

Honestly, I can still be a hermit and the idea of getting out of my shell can transcend me into a panic attack, but once I'm there , not thinking about living but actually doing it, I realize that I have ONE chance in this life to have a good time with people who come and go and I better just kept on saying Hi to everyone I meet and enjoy the party. It can only last so long.

April 25, 2007

Is it a bad sign that my 2 year old has already negotiated Whoppers before 8am? This is coming from a woman who believes USDA's food pyramid and at one time found herself studying to be a nutritionist! Wait... what's this you want something to drink? Coffee? Well, drink your milk first. Then we are off to a Mom and Daughter run. Me pounding the pavement with Ipod in ear, you in Kelty jogging stroller with coffee and Sugar Babies!

ME: Hello? (resonating nervousness)
ME again: Uh... World of Blog? (gulp, it's been a long time)
ME resisting the beg: Are you still there? (okay,pleading)

Oh Man, I miss talking to myself. I've had so much to say but the dynamics haven't quite been right. So I apologize, my fathiful blog. Can you ever forgive me?

Meanwhile, during A's naptime I've been reading some great books. I read 7 of Mma Makotowse's #1 Ladies Dectective Agency. It's the kind of reading I fight to finish only to be sad when I close the last page. I have to admit it took me a while to get through book 1. We bought in a Pat's Place in Rockport. It stayed in my suitcase, then on my nightstand, moved to under the bed, where it was resusitated, because I can't stand anything to be under a bed, and finally read with an annoying South African dialect. WHat? I'm not sure were I conjured that, but it stuck with me throughout the book. Kinda like when Madonna married Guy Richie.

I do have a love affair with books - short ones, tall ones, skinny ones, and ohhh, fat ones. Over Christmas Dave almost sent me packing (not really) because of a shopping spree I had a Scholastic Book Warehouse Sale. When Avery and I walked in I felt so happy, I could have cried. It was an amazing thing! When Will gets his book order form I immediately transported back in time to when I would spend hours reading the descriptions, adding up the totals, and anticipating the blessed arrival. I scour his take home work - in hopes of the thin, newspaper print sheets - in hopes seeing the Scholastic logo - in hopes of pouring out the pages over the kitchen table, and finding gems I can share with the family. Obsessive? Yes. Impulsive. Maybe. Addictive? Yes, but are books really that bad? We all have to have our vices, some more than others.

In my dream of what heaven is I find peace in the idea of an eternity of books, Hershey with Almonds, a treadmill with jogging stroller attachment, and memories both sweet and stinky, full of rich characters, wonderful words, and lots of living! Not so bad, but I'm on a b...b...budget now and it might be heaven till I get my next trip to the Scholastic Book Warehouse. Man! It was good while it lasted.

So Many Questions, Such invaluable information

I can completely waste a perfectly good day wondering about things. There's a race coming up that Nanu and I are running - 4 miles around the San Antonio Courthouse. I convinced myself and Amy we needed to run with promises of grand door prizes and I've almost hooked Tracy, but she might not be available due to parental obligations. However, I'm hoping to get her with a great t-shirt clause. With that said, after a ritualistic morning e-mail check, it's 11 am and I have typed a dreadful, I wish I could take it (along with the hour or three I spent sitting in front of the computer) back. The e-mail reads:

Dear Runaway Bar Associtation 4 miler,

Hi! I apologize ahead for these questions, but as a curious runner I must ask:

1) Is there a prime parking location?

2) Is there a course map available? If not, can you tell me the streets we are taking?

3) What is your opinion about the shirts? Are they cute?

Okay, the last one is laughable, but again I am quite curious.

Thanks.

I have to admit that e-mailing gives me the courage to ask these questions that I would not ask over the phone due to India answering, hold, and "What, who is this crazt lady calling? Betty Boop?"

I suffer from this brazen, unabashed plaque often 1) because I really want to know, 2) somebody made me quite grouchy, 3) does any one really think customer service answers?

Sometimes, it's a generic reply, but it sure makes me feel better to get it out there. Again, a computer can be theraputic for this lady who sometimes thinks on a 7th grade level.

If you have any crazy experiences let me know, I would like to justify my behavior.

Your friend and ultimate time waster,

mrsmaggiemae

A is for Avery!

My Avery-bear must come from different stock... two parts daddy, .25 Mommy, and other unknown sources - hummm? She is who she is and that's is simply it. Most days we go with the flow; she's happiest doing her own thing. However, when we do get out in public she can be a bit of a diva. I said long before I had children I would not genderize. I would not label. I would only make sound choice in nutrition. I would not yell. And I would get down and play, who needs a tv? But, holy mother, with this girl it's all out the door.
  
Will, bless his heart, is a people pleaser. He loves everyone. If you tell him something he doesn't like to hear, it upsets him. He personalizes everything. He is my outgoing, talkative, open-hearted, old soul. On the other hand, Avery seems...I hate saying this out loud, well, she hates hate people. There, it's out there: I'm typecasting her future. She'll be tragically subjected to this fate just because I wrote it in a blog. She really is sweet (to me) but when we get outside the realm of this house, she wants nothing to do with anyone. She may look sweet and every little Granny this side of San Antonio coo over her cuteness.

The Gs: "Oh My! What a sweet little girl."

Avery: "No! Leaf me awone wad-y."

Grannis Chuckling :"Dear, did you just wake up? Are you not feeling well?"

Avery: "It's not funny ."

Then it's time for Mommy intervention.
A) "Your right, she's not feeling like herself."
B)"Yes, she's a BIT cranky."
C) No, she just doesn't like people.
 
While with Will this would have embarrassed me and I would have poured over some psychological babble about the age, sleep schedule, diet while in the womb with Avery it's just a simple answer. Sometimes, I think she just thinks it's plain funny to be mean as hell.


I would never trade her in for a different model. When running errands in October she can wear her Santa Claus ("I be HO! HO! HO!"), scream at a Granny or two, open the door to the changing room at Gap while Mommy's just slid off the 20th pair of jeans, I will always cherish who she is, because, to me, she is simply irresistible.

Who? Me??

I'm about to pat myself on the back. Don't get used to it. And if you don't like it don't read on. But I am happy! I started running because it's an easy way for me to lose weight. Before I was pregnant with Avery I would run 4 miles on the treadmill. We had a hard time implating THE seed into my jostled overy, so I slowed down, and concentrated on the elliptical machine. Bam! One month later, I am preggers with Avery! Dave, Will and I are on cloud nine. So forget running, although I know perfectly well you can run (lots) while you are pregnant, I automatically deducted that my body couldn't handle the trama, much less the smell of deoderant.

With Avery, I had gained quite a bit of weight. I could have birthed a five year old! Who cares if I eat 6 donuts! I'll just run it off. A week after Avery was born I jogged around the block with Will. I was serious about getting back to my old self. After the all clear from my ob-gyn I headed to the gym and cried with happiness when I stepped on the treadmill. This honeymoon was short lived - Avery hated me to be any where she wasn't. I didn't want Dave's heart to break every time I left. Plus, this milk-maid is not a copious producer. Even after fenegreek and enough water to pee a lake, I have just enough to pump a bottle - oh, I forgot, she didn't take bottles. So with a freezer of liquid gold, I sat waiting to lace up my running shoes.

This depression was short lived. E-bay and a good friend brought me to my prize Kelty jogging stroller. It is my favorite baby product. After this long introduction, I've used my jogging stroller more often than Avery sat in a high chair. We run together a few times a week. I put on my IPOD and go and go, walking, jogging, sprinting, panting in rainstorms, 103 degree 5pm heat, anything.

Lately, since I was introduced to a favorite friend who happens to be equally obsessive and our very favorite fitness instuctor, I haven't run as much. But we signed up for a charity 5K. So this Lifetime crew and my Nanu headed out together, new race clothes included! I have to admit I am not a competitive person - with other people. I could care less who got first, second, or third. However, I can be extremely competitive with myself - it's not a good thing - I strive for perfection and sometimes I really don't think I can ever be satisfied. But, it is really fun to try!!!

When the race starts I get a little nod from my friend "It's okay to leave me" and off I go. It's a little too fast of a pace, but clausterphobia is at it's highest here and I just gotta go. I find a good spot far away from the mob and in between a really tall man, who I just can't quite squeeze past, and my fitness instructor's 14 year old son. Mile 2, then Mile 3, and I might just crawl the rest of the day. A little attempt to sprint the last 10 yards because Avery and Dave are waiting at the finish line and I am THERE! Done! 3.1 miles, 23 minutes, where's the door prizes?

Dave is so proud and I can't figure out why. Where's the gatorade? Bananas? Chocolate Muffins? Live band? Trapeze Artist? Flame Thrower?

Dave: "Guess what Honey!?!"
Me: "Huh?"
Dave: "You did really good! I think you got first place in your age division."
Me: "Oh, Can you hold my water?"
Dave: "No, really."

Really! It's kinda fun to win. When they announce my name, I bend down like an Olympian to receive my medal. Hum, a girl can get used to this! But first let's go to Steinmart because the $20 gift certificate I won as a door prize is burning a whole in my sweaty pocket and if you're (I'm) lucky I might even wear my medal!

A Kindergartener, Two Birthdays, and a few Flashbacks

Life moves uncomfortably fast sometimes. Can't I just stop it still and say hang on, I'm not done here? This family has hit some milestones. First, Avery turned 2 and that same day we got to meet Will's Kindergarten teacher. Second, Will started kindergarten followed by his first concussion and visit to the ER on the second day of school, he missed the third...and I was ready to pull him out and throw him in any private school that had SMALL class sizes, naptime, and under 20K a year. Third, Will turned six and if kindergarten didn't make him grow up fast enough being SIX will.

I'd like to think I'm a spring chicken, that I walked out of college with a baby on my hip, closely followed by another baby, and Dave right by my side cheering the team on. Somehow, and not so slowly my babies are big. One wakes up, showers, makes breakfast, looks over some books, and commutes on the big yellow bus. The other hangs around the house saying "I do that myself" or most painful "Leave me alone" when she wants to play by herself. And a cower over the corner to cry.

As a mother I should be happy to foster independence, I really should... but it's so hard to let go and have them face the world alone. I know I'm not in control. "I do it myself" takes over and I'm left to worry. But, mostly I fear that the happiness and innocence of youth will disappear and I'm left with disgruntled teenagers who hate me and want to get the hell out. I know, I've got a few years, but the go so fast. Tomorrow will I forget Will's giggly laugh and sensitivity? Will his sweet and compassionate heart disappear? And Avery, I loved her one-ness. For the love of goodness, she's only two, but she is already on her way to thirteen. She rolls her eyes at me (you, too Jana!!!) and says that's cool, dude - I'll admit she is not the people pleaser Will is, and if you say hi to her she might just bite, but when you've won her over, you are as good as gold. Anyway, I'm defining and I shouldn't be, but it is what it is. And so is this growing up business. I'm gonna have to toughen up, carry the memories, and push forward to the finish line - and you better not trip me!

Okay, so after this mess, I have more: tonight we're packing the car for a trip to Dallas. Dave and I are attending my 10 year high school reunion. I've worked hard to avoid anyone from high school (minus the best friends) but tomorrow I'm throwing myself into a crowd of them to play catch up (are you fat?, rich?, married?, ect.) but it gives Dave and I a few good nights out together (with the kids who are growing up too fast home with the Grandparents) and what a better reason to celebrate!

A Summer Painting

There is nothing as satisfying as pulling blue painters tape off a wall. I spent a good half of the summer with the blue plasted on each delicated dividing plane. It's a new addiction: while some are in it to transform a room with color, me, nah, just a good tug of the tape.

Home is Where the Heart Is

We are HOME! and I couldn't be more excited! After two weeks and few days more later we head back down I-35 to home. I didn't tell you this part, but two days at M&D's is enough for me. It's not my house anymore. My kids do not have rules. They get anything they want. Will shops on e-bay, plays WarCraft with Grandpa until 11pm, drinks Sprite with cherries hourly, and requests to eat where there are waiters (no, it's NOT McDonalds anymore for this gourmet eater). Avery wakes up and asks for COPPPEE and SpongeBob. If she has anymore "fruit snacks" she might become one. And if, she doesn't go to sleep without me laying right next to her with "LIGHT OFF!" I might be forced to take sleeping pills, lots.

I actually feel disgusted and guilty because I have no control and all I can think is that my parents could have retired until they had gradchildren, okay, children! But, these kids are so over indulged. There are people starving and my kids order milkshakes at RedRobin! And this isn't really a legitimate complaint.

Anyway, it was a working (mostly on my frailing nerves)visit. I reorganized a few closets, weeded flower beds, and wondered mostly how I got out of M&D's house alive.

I'd like to set the stage:

My mom has a very funny sense of humor, mostly sarcastic and sometimes cynical, but when she's happy it's infectious. She is a very patient person which is a blessing with the crew she was delivered. And she loves her granchildren. One of my favorite memories was when Avery a few months old. Mom flew down to visit and Will, Avery, and I picked her up at the airport. We'd gotten out and were standing as close to the arrival gate as we could. She rounded the corner and Avery peeked out of the leopard print sling just in time. With tears in her eyes, and Will running so fast to hug her, she really looked happy. Love it! Growing up, we knew Mom loved us, she would listen and let us mull over our teenage problems, never criticizing. She would repeat her mantra :If you don't have something nice to say don't say it. Or you should have lots of friends, you don't need one boyfriend. Everything in moderation. And other snippets of motherly wisdom. However, she talks so little, sometimes you wonder if she's really in there. Sometimes, she's so patient you wonder what the heck she really wants to say - like, Stop Whining You Brats!!! No, not really, Amy and I would be crushed. But anyway, this might be overthinking on my part and because I'm so different I might not understand.

The other player is my Dad, who bless his big heart, flys by the seat of his charismatic pants. He is the talker and the spender. He's the one who cries when you leave and gets all choked up when you tell him you love him. However, he can go into a store and $300 later and 6 shirts identically the same, he realizes he forgot what he went for. He is no dummy though, my Mensa dad, but for the love of goodness, put that down and walk away. I can tell him that after the 5 cookie you just aren't tasting them anymore, and Mom is a good cook we don't have to go out to eat all the time, and No, you don't need to keep the newspaper from 1982 anymore. But controlled by something defecient in his brain, he simply isn't hearing you and you are wasting your time. I worry about him though, it's seems so stressful to be a hoarder and a gimmie more-er.

But really who am I to judge? These are my parents, and they have made LOTS of sacrifices for me, I can let them spoil my children, I can appreciate the life they have given me, and I can be thankful that I don't live in that house anymore!

As I squeal for joy entering San Antonio, our car is showered in butterflies. Literally, thousands of butterflies are covering the car. It's amazing, and I realize I AM HOME. I have choices in this life. I am not bound to certain doom. I can float like a beautiful butterfly and I'm not coming down, until I have to change the dirty diaper that's been stinkin' up the car for the last hour.

Global Warming at it's finest in D Town

I'm protesting 107 degree Dallas heat. So far no one's listening, but I have a few fans. It's disgustingly hot! This morning we went to visit my sister in law and my beautiful niece who is turning 2 tomorrow. She and Avery are so cute together; they irresistibly chase each other around and share baby dolls. My parents live 20 minutes away and we get to play when we come in town - which during the school year doesn't mean much, but in the summer we play catch up.

My sister in law is 8 months pregnant with baby 2 and is moving at a much faster speed than I can with the air conditioning set a 55. So she invites us over for some sprinkler time at a local park. And despite the urge to sit under the fan in a dark room, Ave and I head over for our play date at 9am, swimsuits in hand. It’s a good thing, because the second we hit the park the girls were shrieking with excitement (okay, mostly Ave, my niece would just smile her beautiful smile) and it was so infectious you wanted to splash around too.

Just one thing, it's not even 10am and I have soaked through my shirt in sweat. No wet t-shirt contest here, just one sweaty, stinky Mom, trying miserable to escape from this Hell that's located 267 miles north of MY HOME! I don't won't to seem like I'm not having fun, but I've been a cranky kitty since I've been here and it's simply related to heat. There is no shade, I can't escape.

Projects for an Idled Mind

Perhaps it's because I'm not good at sitting still (except behind the computer), but I've become obsessed with all things home makeover-ish. I'm perfectly happy with my house - all the furniture isn't screaming at me to rearrange it. But, I need something productive to do - and this usually means some project that I get half way through and regret or look at Dave for his help in finishing it.

So...I'll admit it, it's just an excuse to shop. And it all started a trip to IKEA and another one. I dragged #1 and #2 with me for promises of fun - a NEW toy and a SPRITE, plus lots of gum for #2 because she mostly swallows it. We did have a lot of fun for the 5 hours of overwhelming (and cheap) world of IKEA. However, next time I will take up the FREE child care they offer and shop buy myself for the two hour time limit. After two seperate hours trashing the toy section, I realized I just want to get the heck out - the kids can stay and shop !?! However, when I checked out, drove 45 minutes to M&Ds, showed off all the great buys, I realized it was a PERFECT day!


Yep, you have realized it... I am crazy. Except it gets worse. So my best friend who has moved back to D Town from a working stint in Phoenix came over that night. She isn't the shopper I am - she runs in, buys what she wants, and leaves within a reasonable time period. I have to look at everything, think about it, carry it around, think some more, put it back and repeat the process. No, it's not fun, but I'm accepting the fact that I am crazy and it's just in the package that's become me. So I am on this high and I have to bring out everything again, show her, and apologize for not behaving properly as I am clearly obsessed.


After I calm down I realize a few things: Dave's already hung up on me and already can feel the heat of the unrelenting guilt that overcomes me after this process. Okay, so I have to return a few items. I'm going back with a strategic plan - think only playroom/office and a cohesive style for our bedroom. Did I say I was only returning items?

So my next victim is Mom, and although I have a shopping style more like my Dad, she has agreed to go on the adventure. I don't think she is truly aware of what she's gotten herself into. So we pack it up and head out another 45 minutes and $3.25 for the tolls.
Horrible, awful, but in the sadist fashion - FUN! Mom had only one request: “Are you ready to go?”
Almost, can you watch Ave in the toy section while I run through here?

Overall, I realize I have too much time on my hands. I might need professional help. I need to keep my own obsessive habits quiet in my head. (So SORRY!)

Until next time, I'm off to Home Depot to refinish a bookcase!
  

Accepting and Not so Accepting

These days I am happy to finally feel free enough to accept myself once and for all. I've worked long and hard trying to put the pieces together in a way that I would be satisfied with and I am so over it. This is me pure and simple. I'm done asking questions and tweeking my self image so that others are pleased with me, and I in turn can feel acceptable. Done. Over with. Who the heck cares. I have ONE life to live - and I am who I am.

So since I'm feeling so confident I do have one other fear I need to face: I have a reoccuring dream that my beloved Maria comes back. She was our nanny when Amy and I were little. She lived with us from the time we were one until we were 10 1/2. She made an amazing impression in my life and I can't let go of the loss so easily. My parents hired her to help with the housekeeping and small child managing. When we lived here in San Antonio, she stayed in a small addition/ workspace behind our house on Prinz. When we moved to Duncanville, she moved in with us. She was our family though she spoke only Spanish, was extremely Catholic, and wouldn't learn how to drive. She never married, saved all her money, and sent it home to Teocaltiche, Mexico where her parents and siblings lived. When we were 10, her brother wrote her explaining that he needed her to come back home - her parents had passed away and he, too, was not in good health. Selfishly, I didn't want her to go - she was the person I would run to when I was in trouble, sad, scared, and lonely. I would wake her up in the middle of the night if I was having bad dreams, she would make a palate for me on the floor, give some M&Ms, and say prayers for me. I thought she could do no wrong, and when I questioned if my parents loved me enough (Hello, I'm high maintenence) I never questioned if she did or did not. She was an amazing painter, could play the piano from ear, and was intelligent as any overly educated person silver spoon feed from the states. However, she was here to take care of her family and they wanted her back. So she went back. I begged her to stay, I gave her my teddy bear as ransom, I told her I would buy her a house next to mine when she came back. And the only thing she asked of me was that I don't lose my Spanish.

In my dream, she comes back and I can't speak. My tongue is frozen. I have so much to say and no way of saying anything at all. I can't even tell her about my understanding husband, loving children, or the life I live that she would be proud of. I can't say anything at all and here is my big chance. It's an awful dream and in reality I know it's the truth. I can't even express myself properly in English, much less Spanish. Anyway, she's written my parents and asked that we write her. And I just brush it off with "I don't have anything to say" like an annoyed brat, when I'm really afraid because I can't say the things I want to - mostly, I can't say thank you for being in my life, thank you for understanding me, and still why did you have to go?  

Endurance Training

It sounds awful, but I've had almost two weeks of William free days. I didn't go to the gym, cook dinner outside a cereal box, or listen to Avery and Will yell back in forth before I drown them out in the "Big Bad Meanie Mom" voice that transcends from these vocal cords in a chorus unheard by most - except when this sibling business entered my life 22 months ago. So in this short free time, I have blissfully ran in and out of stores with one arm free FROM the nagging that comes with an independent five year old and shopping: "Hold my hand", "Do you need to go to the bathroom?" "No, I'm not buying that." "We're going in here because I WANT TO!" Sure, I can get a lot done, but without Will I find myself walking around without much direction (this happens when you let the first born boss YOU around).

  

I love the relationship Will and Avery have. When we picked up Will from Dave's family reunion in Cameron, Texas on Saturday, Will had such a deep sense of happiness and love come across his face when he saw his sister as he asked her for a record long hug. (And she didn't hit him.) It's so sweet. Unfortunately, two days later it's overshadowed by screeching about toys, hitting, hairpulling, scratching, getting the elusive "Dandy" or "Choc Milk" which is all done by Avery who is quickly tattled on by Will. In turn they both get in trouble, basically because in the Summer Heat (AND it's NOT technically Summer)I have the patience of a crack addict.

He's back and I've lost all the endurance I gained throughout their short lives. Wish me luck as I frantically make a list of all the activities a girl with two can do. We rush off to the park in the morning and I'm already hitting up the Mantra "This too Shall Pass", I pray that quickly I remember what it's like and am recharged and ready to go before tomorrow comes (or the summer's over). Meanwhile, I've logged some miles outside running (mostly from the fear of long summer days) and this is a good thing. Just keep me away from the grab and go food I can stuff anxiously in my mouth between "Please, just eat your brussel sprouts." "You can't have twizzlers for breakfast." "No, Avery, we don't have cake." Oh, please, I pray 3 miles away from my house, can't I just enjoy this time rather than wish (run) it away.
  

28! 28!! 28!!! 28? 28?? 28??? 28?!! 28!!!!

I have been so excited to be 28 and now that I am I still think it's pretty darn cool. Since I can remember I've wanted to be 28 - when I was six someone asked me tauntingly:
"Bet you can't wait till your seven!"

"No, 28!” I say, as seriously as you can take a girl who likes to spit water between the gaps of where her front two teeth were, lifting her leg and calling this a fountain.

What? 28? and my whole childhood disappear? No sir, no ma’am , no thank you. This would mean no braces or running under the basketball net in hopes of a ball hitting me in the mouth so I could get the pouffy lips back, no drivers ed or attempts at "borrowing" my mom's Cadillac to cruise D Town, no falling in love with the high school best friend on the rooftops in Spain, no late nights dancing until I was the only one left, no college(or what I remember), no reformed "partners in crime" (aka Good Girls Gone Bad Gone Good) with my college best friend, Michelle ( a Lutheran Minister's daughter), no marrying my most important best friend (that's you, Dave)whom I had a crush on since first glance (however still in turmoil with high school bf and another cutie) Opps! Wait… there would be no Will, no Avery! NADA that makes me who I am today. HOWEVER I’d be 28! Oh, wait... I am! Yes, ladies and gentlemen I'll be blogging about this one for a while! But, this old lady's gotta get some sleep... its 10:06 and the best friend/first glance is already snoring LOUD enough for me to hear through the 1900 sq feet that is my house. Oh, for the Love of Arthritic Knees and a Bad Back, where are my stinking ear plugs?