Moving...

This whole year has been about moving for me. Moving on, moving out, moving right along... It's been tough... i mean, WHO likes to move?? This weekend I moved from my apartment into a more comfortable townhouse. It was a little emotional leaving my little 2 bedroom apartment that saw me thru the worst of times, but I hope that the new place will be home to much better times. The boys each have their own rooms now, which should see a blessing. There is less worry about bothering the neighbors with Ryan's consistant stomping and Andrew's consistant yelling. I'm a little worried about the stairs, since it's 2 stories, but anyone who knows me knows that I worry about stairs with EVERYONE, not just children. I'm pretty sure in a past life I died falling down some stairs. I bet that was graceful.

I had some great help this past week(end) and I couldn't have done any of this move without everyone who was there. I'm SO fortunate to have such great family and friends.

Here's some pics from the move.

A little corner of paradise...

Old McDonald had a farm... behind my TV

More Mothers Day Inspiration

MOTHERS and MOMS


This is for the mothers who have sat up
all night with sick toddlers in their arms,
wiping up barf laced with Oscar Mayer
wieners and cherry Kool-Aid saying,
"It's okay honey, Mommy's here."

Who have sat in rocking chairs for hours on end
soothing crying babies who can't be comforted.

This is for all the mothers who show up at
work with spit-up in their hair and milk stains
on their blouses and diapers in their purse.

For all the mothers who run carpools and
make cookies and sew Halloween costumes.
And all the mothers who DON'T.

This is for the mothers who gave birth to
babies they'll never see. And the mothers
who took those babies and gave them homes.

This is for the mothers whose priceless art
collections are hanging on their refrigerator doors.

And for all the mothers who froze their buns on metal bleachers at football or soccer games instead of watching from the warmth of their cars.
And that when their kids asked, "Did you see me, Mom?" they could say, "Of course, I wouldn't
have missed it for the world," and mean it.

This is for all the mothers who yell at their kids in the grocery store and swat them in despair when they stomp their feet and scream for ice cream before dinner. And for all the mothers who count to ten instead, but realize how child abuse happens.

This is for all the mothers who sat down with
their children and explained all about making
babies. And for all the (grand)mothers who
wanted to, but just couldn't find the words.

This is for all the mothers who go
hungry, so their children can eat.

For all the mothers who read "Goodnight,
Moon" twice a night for a year. And then
read it again, "Just one more time."

This is for all the mothers who taught
their children to tie their shoelaces before
they started school. And for all the mothers
who opted for Velcro instead.

This is for all the mothers who teach their sons
to cook and their daughters to sink a jump shot.

This is for every mother whose head turns automatically when a little voice calls "Mom?"
in a crowd, even though they know their
own offspring are at home -- or even away
at college -- or have their own families.

This is for all the mothers who sent their kids
to school with stomach aches, assuring them
they'd be just FINE once they got there, only
to get calls from the school nurse an hour later
asking them to please pick them up. Right away.

This is for mothers whose children have gone
astray, who can't find the words to reach them.
For all the mothers who bite their lips until they
bleed when their 14 year olds dye their hair green.

For all the mothers of the victims of
recent school shootings, and the mothers
of those who did the shooting.

For the mothers of the survivors, and the mothers who sat in front of their
TVs in horror, hugging their child who just came home from school, safely.

This is for all the mothers who taught their
children to be peaceful, and now pray
they come home safely from a war.

What makes a good mother anyway?
Is it patience? Compassion? Broad hips?
The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and
sew a button on a shirt, all at the same time?

Or is it in her heart?
Is it the ache she feels when she
watches her son or daughter disappear
down the street, walking to school alone
for the very first time?

The jolt that takes her from sleep to
dread, from bed to crib at 2 A.M. to put
her hand on the back of a sleeping baby?

The panic, years later, that comes again
at 2 A.M. when she just wants to hear
their key in the door and know they
are safe again in her home?

Or the need to flee from wherever she is
and hug her child when she hears news
of a fire, a car accident, a child dying?

The emotions of motherhood are
universal and so our thoughts for
young mothers stumbling through diaper
changes and sleep deprivation...
And for mature mothers learning to let go.

For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers.

Single mothers and married mothers.

Mothers with money, mothers without.

This is for you all. For all of us...

Hang in there. In the end we can
only do the best we can. Tell them
every day that we love them. And pray
and never stop being a mother...

Before I was a Mom

Before I was a Mom


I never tripped over toys or forgot words to a lullaby.

I didn't worry whether or not my plants were poisonous.

I never thought about immunizations.

Before I was a Mom -

I had never been puked on.
Pooped on.
Chewed on.
Peed on.

I had complete control of my mind and my thoughts.

I slept all night.

Before I was a Mom

I never held down a screaming child so doctors could do tests.

Or give shots.

I never looked into teary eyes and cried.

I never got gloriously happy over a simple grin.

I never sat up late hours at night watching a baby sleep.

Before I was a Mom

I never held a sleeping baby just because I didn't want to put him down.

I never felt my heart break into a million pieces when I couldn't stop the hurt.

I never knew that something so small could affect my life so much.

I never knew that I could love someone so much.

I never knew I would love being a Mom.

Before I was a Mom -

I didn't know the feeling of having my heart outside my body.

I didn't know how special it could feel to feed a hungry baby.

I didn't know that bond between a mother and her child.

I didn't know that something so small could make me feel so important and happy.

Before I was a Mom -

I had never gotten up in the middle of the night every 10 minutes to make sure all was okay.

I had never known the warmth, the joy, the love, the heartache,the wonderment or the satisfaction of being a Mom.

I didn't know I was capable of feeling so much, before I was a Mom.

Life Music

I was driving around yesterday with the windows down and the music UP! I realize that I do not come across as a music person at all. I'm not up to date on bands, don't know what the hottest thing out there is unless it's on Q100 between 7 and 9 AM. What I do know is that I have about 5 - 10 key bands that I stick with, some of which is country music!



So I have some more songs to blog that are my key of life music. I love how songs remind me of people or situations in my life. Here are a few...

________________________________________

These songs are for the men who have impacted my life in some way. There were good times and tragic endings, there was comfort and friendship. There was, above all, emotion and care. Which we all needed. You learn something from everyone who touches your life. I don't regret much, but I do regret some.



Keith Urban - Stupid Boy (this applies to most of the guys I've met!)
http://youtube.com/watch?v=Xp8S0aDCleY

Plain White T's - Hey There Delilah (can't hear this song without thinking of you, J.)
http://youtube.com/watch?v=EbJtYqBYCV8

Sugarland - Stay (again, J... wow what a ride...)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yIyxkZod2cM


Matchbox 20 - Push (the story of my life, never has a song captured my own world in such a way.... I refuse to be pushed around anymore)
http://youtube.com/watch?v=s4fVhKU7NUk

Update

Ok I realize I've been slacking here. Things have been nuts for me lately! Batman and I broke up. And no, I never got to see the batcave. That's a huge reason I was over it. He didn't let me into his life as much as I was letting him in mine and I began to feel cheated over the effort. He had issues with me as well, anyone dating a single mom who tells her flat out "I don't want to raise someone else's kids" is just way too full of himself. I'm pretty sure no one asked him to raise anyone! They have a daddy. And more important, they have me. And he wasn't good enough to even know them. So it was just all for the best. Plus he wanted to do the whole marriage and family thing for himself for the first time and I'm just not the girl for that. I would definately get married again, but I don't want to have more babies... this is becoming a big deal in the dating world I see. Plus there was a girl he can't get over, so he's back trying that out again, best of luck to ya brother. He needs to experience his life on his own for the first time. He's way to selfish to be with someone who has been down that road and back again. I, on the other hand, am getting over it nicely (he made it easy to do that since he became a jerk).

Ryan started his therapies, it's all going well so far! He's talking SO much more. He's saying cool new words every day, like Shoes (this morning!) and Ella (yesterday, a girl in his class). It's so awesome!

Andrew is being really grown up all of a sudden. He's getting the worse attitude but also can still be so sweet! Ah the joys of being 4.

Other than that nothing else is going on. Lots of life changes and learning from mistakes. That's what we do right?

My favorite Forward...

We were sitting at lunch one day when my daughter casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of "starting a family. "

"We're taking a survey," she says half-joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?"

"It will change your life," I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral.

"I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations."

But that is not what I meant at all.

I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her.

I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes.

I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable.

I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking, "What if that had been MY child?" That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her.

That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die.

I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of "Mom!"will cause her to drop a souffle or her best crystal without a moments hesitation.

I feel that I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby's sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.

I want my daughter to know that every day decisions will no longer be routine.

That a five year old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's at McDonald's will become a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom.

However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.

Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself.

That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give herself up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years, not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.

I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor.

My daughter's relationship with her husband will change, but not in the way she thinks.I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his child.

I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic.

I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving.

I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike. I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or cat for the first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real it actually hurts.

My daughter's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes.

"You'll never regret it," I finally say. Then I reached across the table, squeezed my daughter's hand and offered a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings.

Sweet Baby Ryan

Sweet Baby Ryan has always been his name. He was the quietest baby, so good and calm. Didn't make a peep unless it was for good reason. He stayed a baby for so long being that he didn't roll until 8 months (about 4 months late) or crawl until 13 months (about 7 months late) or walk until 18 months (about 6 months late). I feel like he's been a baby forever. With a limited vocabulary of about 6 non-distinguishable words, he's the complete opposite of Andrew at this age. I try not to compare them. Of course, like every other new mom of 2, I started out comparing them, but it became obvious pretty early on that they are not the same in any way.

So as Ryan grew and got bigger physically, it was easy to see that he was not growing developmentally. I was at home with him his first year, and I felt like I worked with him just as much as I did with Andrew. But it didn't take. I took him to the doctor on many occasions, just to check his muscle development. When he wasn't rolling, wasn't pulling up, wasn't sitting on his own. The whole time the ped told me he was fine, he was just a big boy and wasn't interested in those skills right now, not to worry... it will come. I called friends of mine who are OT's and PT's and they encouraged me to call Babies Can't Wait. I asked my pediatrician, he said he would recommend waiting. Around this time my marriage ended, my entire world changed. I went from a suburban stay at home mom and wife to a single working mom in less than 2 weeks. I was emotionally unable to process all these changes and so I pushed them to the side and thought that I would deal with them later. I focused on trying to stay strong and do what I could for my boys. Ryan and his development got pushed to the back of my to do list. If I would have listened to my friends, I would have gotten him help sooner, but I couldn't handle one more thing on top of everything else going on. Thus the beginning of "mom guilt".

Ryan is now 21 months. He is tall for his age and very very strong. He is very loving and his face lights up like a firecracker when he's happy. I started the Babies Can't Wait process about 2 months ago and he was just evaluated last week. Ryan qualifies for Speech Therapy and Occupational Therapy for Fine Motor Skills. The therapists are claiming he probably has an Audio Sensory Disorder.. which his Ped finally agreed to. This is called Sensory Integration Disorder or something of that sort (the name of the disorder changed recently). Anyway, kids with SI cover many spectrums. They can be from one extreme to the other. Basically it's a problem with their central nervous system that causes their senses to be out of sync. Most people have heard of kids that won't walk on grass or won't taste different textures,etc because they are very sensitive to every feeling/taste/sound.... Ryan is the opposite. He needs more stimulation than average, needing to push, pull, bounce, stomp, grab, pinch, etc in order to feel. He craves resistance to his body, pressure on his skin, cramming his mouth with food in order to taste it, visually stimulating objects like light shows or bright cartoons, loud music and lots of movement.

So how do we deal with this, any why should we? Well first of all we should because this disorder would make it hard for him to learn fine motor skills. Fine motor skills require patience and gentleness. There isn't much gentle about Ryan. For him to learn to pet a dog without grabbing it, learn to hold a fork without stabbing something, learn to draw with a pencil without eating it... How do we help? I guess therapy, and patience, and lots of love. He's a brut, and will be one hell of a football player!