Tears

Growing up, I remember my mom crying a lot.  Not necessarily bad or sad tears, just lots of crying. 

Every time somebody got married on All My Children...she cried. 

Every time a player was seriously injured during a Redskins game...she cried. 

Every time she heard a sweet or sad song, every time she heard about a new baby being born, and every time someone passed away - even if she only knew them through a friend of a friend of a friend's cousin's brother...she cried. 

And Lord help us every time my brother and I participated in a school play or chorus concert, or went to another high school dance, or drove a car for the first, second and fifteenth times, or participated in our respective sports...man, did she cry.

I honestly never really understood.  I "got" that she was proud of us.  I knew she loved us.  And I understood that someone getting married/having a baby/breaking their arm (and subsequently having to sit out for the rest of the season) were all semi-emotional moments.  But I just couldn't fully understand -- why did anything remotely emotional make her eyes swell up and cause her mascara to run?  (FYI - she's since discovered waterproof mascara.)

I'll tell you why.  Damn hormones.

For the love of all that is holy, hormones are ridiculous.

Perhaps I should preface this by telling you that I have never been much of a crier.  Bang the crud out of my shin and pour blood?  Ok, I'd cry.  Have my heart shattered in a million pieces by a (less than desirable) boyfriend?  Yeah, I'd cry.  Somebody passed away that was close and dear to me?  I'd definitely cry.  But otherwise my family liked to refer to me as the "hard ass".  I didn't really get emotional about things.  Case in point: my parents bought me a BRAND NEW car when I was a sophomore in college.  Did the whole surprise thing where they bought me a few silly gifts convincing me that was all I was getting, and then my mom told me she was dying to show me her rose bushes in the backyard and when I went outside, there it was -- a gorgeous, shiny new sports car with a gigantic ribbon on top.  They were POSITIVE I would cry.  Nope.  Not this hard ass.  I was thrilled and beyond excited.  But no tears. 

All this to say that I apparently was lacking in the hormone department up until about 2 years ago.

Then I got pregnant.

Pregnancy started out relatively relaxed.  No truly absurd outbursts or crying sessions.  But by about 20 weeks, I was crying and insecure about everything, stopping Todd dead in his tracks mid-dinner-making to console me.  And for about 17 more weeks after that, if I had a hormone surge, no amount of consoling could fix my need for a "good cry".  So I did a lot of random crying.

And then Nick was born.  And the crying only got worse.

Why?  I had not a clue other than I'd had a baby.  In my defense, it turns out that those tears were in fact less of the "baby blues" and more of post-partum depression.

Eventually all of those hormones evened out, I calmed down, and I was able to wrap my head around this mothering thing.

But now?  Now I can't help but think of my mom every single day.  Because the tears?  They still come...for reasons I would have NEVER shed a tear for before.

Sunday I cried watching football as they panned across Ravens player Torrey Smith's tear-stained face during the National Anthem (his brother passed away the night before, but up until Sunday I had no idea who Torrey Smith was).

Monday I cried listening to country star Lauren Alaina's new song 18 inches as she sang the words "7 pounds and 18 inches, the doctor lays that new baby's head right on her heart".

(I might've just cried typing out those lyrics.)

Tuesday I cried as I watched an old man carefully mount his bicycle in old town, shaky but confident, slowly riding it through town like I'm sure he's done a million times in the last 80+ years of his life.

And last night I cried as I recalled a conversation Todd and I recently had about bullying...knowing that all too soon Nick will be in school, and it is our job to protect him -- and it breaks my heart just thinking about anybody ever hurting him.

I cry any time I see a sorority sister announce her pregnancy or post pictures of her new baby on facebook.

I cry any time I know of a friend going through a difficult time and not being able to do anything to help console them.

I cry when I think about my grandparents and my parents getting older...knowing that I can't keep them all forever.  Wishing I could.

And I cry and I cry and I cry.  Sometimes happy tears, sometimes sad tears.  But they come.  And they come without warning.  I just can't help it.  It's these dang hormones.

So the next time you see me and think that I look like I've been crying...truth be told, I probably have.  Because most likely?  I was just watching the latest Subaru commercial.  And I guarantee if you've seen it, you've cried too. 

That is, if your hormones are out of whack like mine.

Dora saves the day...or night rather.

I'm blogging from my phone at 11pm on a Sunday night, because I don't want to forget this little moment. A moment not much different from any other night over the past 19.5 months. But a moment so sweet and pure that I just feel the need to write it down so that I don't forget.

Nick has always been a hit or miss sleeper. Fortunately, since he turned a year old, he's been more hit than miss and rarely wakes at night unless he's cold, teething, sick, or scared from a bad dream. And when that happens, it's usually well into the early hours of the morning, waking us all from deep sleep, jolting us upright in bed in panic.

But tonight, Nick awoke around 10:45pm...just as I was turning off the tv and putting down my phone for the evening. I checked the monitor to see him standing in his crib, crying out softly. I could tell it was either teething or a bad dream. So I went in to comfort him and give him some orajel to relieve some of the pain (he's currently cutting his eye teeth on top). The orajel didn't help and he continued to cry, while reaching up to put his little arms around my neck - begging to be picked up from the crib and pulled into our room and bed for the night. But being that it was so early in the night, I couldn't bear the thought of none of us getting any sleep all night, seeing as Nick is a terrible co-sleeper (tossing, turning, kicking, and generally laying awake talking to whinnie, me, daddy, the ceiling fan, etc. etc.). So I tried to hug him until he was content, but he refused to lay back down and continued to cry.

So I pulled out the secret weapon...Dora.

See, Nick is in a bit of a Dora phase. And by "bit" I mean completely and totally in love. And seeing as I'm a sucker for anything that makes my kid sublimely happy, I purchased him a stuffed Dora pillow a few weeks ago. But up until now, Dora has been an "awake" toy only.

So tonight, as he continued to cry, totally un-soothed by mommy hugs, I asked "do you want mommy to get Dora?". Instant silence. The tears ceased and he nodded a slight "yes". I sprinted downstairs, scooped Dora up, and ran back into Nick's room. As I handed her to him, I whispered "but you have to go ni-night with Dora". And he squeezed her with all his tiny 30+ pound might, laid down right on top of her, and went back to sleep. Just like that. Pure sweetness.

And now, here I am, blogging about how I got my kid to go back to bed, so that I too could get some sleep, and instead I'm staying awake to watch him snuggle with Dora, occasionally reaching out and rubbing a soft foot of his teddy bear across his face, as if to reassure his bear that he hasn't been completely replaced. Man, toddlers are the best. I love this little boy. And tonight, I love Dora, too.

At 30...

I turn 30 on Saturday. 

To me, 30 seems like much more of a milestone -- almost "epic" if you will -- than 18, 20, 21, or 25 ever did.

Maybe it's because I'm in that so called "prime" of my life.

Maybe it's because I'm more secure in my life - happier about my day-to-day - than I was at any of those previous age milestones. 

Maybe it's because at 30, I finally feel like I know who I am. 

At 30, I will have been employed by the same company for a solid 8 years.  The better part of a decade.  A company that has taught me growth, responsibility, and far more communications skills than I could have ever even imagined learning in my 4 years pursuing a BA in Communications.

At 30, I will have been married for 3 years.  A solid 3 years.  To a wonderful man.  A man who restored my faith in the ability to have a solid, loving, successful relationship.  A man who surprises me daily with his strength and commitment to our growing family.  A man who loves me no matter my age, weight, or amount of days I have gone between hair-washes.

At 30, I will have been a mother for 19 months.  To the most incredible, beautiful, intelligent child I have ever encountered.  A toddler than tests my patience and my mothering skills by the hour, but softens my heart and brings me to my knees in prayer and gratitude with every kiss and every hand-hold from his tiny little fingers. 

At 30, I will have been a daughter, sister, granddaughter, and niece for 30 years.  As part of an amazing family - built on solidarity, loyalty, and above all unconditional love.  A family that has always stood by me and supported my decisions.  A family that would give their lives for each other.  A family that I only wish I had appreciated my entire life, as much as I do now - at 30.

At 30, I will look towards the future with anticipation, excitement, and gratitude, for everything and everyone that has helped to shape my past 30 years, and everything and everyone who will be cheering me on through my next 30 years.

And at 30, I will spend more time being grateful, and less time being jealous.  I will spend more time with my family and less time only wishing I had done so.  I will be more patient, more respectful, more mindful, and more punctual. I will be more forgiving of myself if I stumble on any one of these.  And I will finally love me for who I am -- and for who I will become. 

30 already sounds awesome.

Back on the wagon

The weather has finally cooled off in northern VA and Saturday afternoon was absolutely gorgeous.  Seeing as the wagon has been parked in our dining room, loaded down with Nick's abundance of Pillow Pets (seriously, if you're thinking about buying Nick a present, please do NOT send a pillow pet...we have plenty), we decided it was about time we dusted it off, and took it for a spin.

Little man was so excited, he sat with his hands clasped and feet crossed the whole ride...

well, at least until he remembered he brought snacks along...

silly boy

I could just eat him up!

On Sunday, the weather was cruddy, rainy, and overcast most of the day, but fortunately still cool.  After a nice long walk around Burke Lake that morning (which ended in us getting soaked RIGHT before getting in the car to go home), I figured we hadn't had quite enough of our fill of fresh air, and figured we'd take another wagon ride after dinner.

And of course, what wagon ride is complete without snacks?

Cookies and milk in the wagon...possibly the best day ever!

On Monday, Nick had his very first visit to the dentist, and then joined Gramma, Great-Gramma Ardie, Great-Grampa, and Great Aunt Lauri (GAL) for lunch and an afternoon of being plain old spoiled with love, attention, and hugs & kisses. 

When he got home, it was so nice outside that I said "hey Nick, want to take a wagon ride up to the playground?"  Homeboy was a little cranky from a serious lack (read: NONE) of napping all day, that he just wanted his pacifier.  So I let him have his paci, plopped him in the wagon, and off we ventured towards the playground.  Only, I decided to go the long way around -- which apparently was just too long for Nick.  Little dude passed out.

Of course, I couldn't pass up a fantastic opportunity to catch it on video...

This wagon is proving to be our ultimate fall accessory.  Thanks Gramma & Boss!

iPhone Photo dump

So, Nick turned 18 months old, and true to toddler form is into EVERYTHING.  Keeping up with him is damn near impossible, as can be seen through the fact that the majority of my iPhone pics are blurry.  As soon as he starts doing something cute/hilarious/memorable/obnoxious, by the time I grab my phone to document it, he's already running on to the next cute/hilarious/memorable/obnoxious activity.  Case in point:

We took a weekend trip to visit Jay & Larissa. Nick LOVED scaling their steps up to the next floor.

While we were there, Nick displayed the true love he and Whinnie share.  And by true love, I mean "incredible tolerance" on her part.  Poor girl gets beat up by her "little brother", and she always comes back wagging her tail, hoping for more. 

  Jay also managed to snap this incredible picture of Nick while we were out to dinner in Scranton.  If that doesn't scream "E-Trade baby", I don't know what does.

We had left Whinnie's crate out after the last visit from the housekeepers, and Nick thought it would be a great opportunity to see what it's like to be a dog.  Not pictured: trying dog food and playing in her water bowl, which are also common occurrences in our house.

Sometimes he's super sweet and let's me grab him for a quick second to take a picture together.  Sadly, the majority of pictures we have together are taken from this angle -- the reverse camera on the iPhone.  Must remedy this soon.

Nick's current favorite toys are his little yellow school bus (insert short bus jokes here, if you must), and our kitchen cabinets.  He could open and close the cabinets all day.  Usually removing a dish, pot, pan, cooking utensil, kitchen towel, or [mom of the year right here] bottle of Windex.  He's always (ok, usually) well supervised, but I have opened a cabinet here and there and found his sippy cup or snacks. 

Point proven.  Another self portrait via iPhone.

Last week we spent an afternoon at our neighborhood playground.  It was SO hot, which Nick kept reminding me of every time he touched something (because "hot" is his favorite word), but he kept super busy and loved every single second of the "hot" slide.

This past weekend we went to my parents lake house for the "big reveal".  We had already been there before, but since our initial visit, the whole house has been painted, cleaned up, and decorated to the nines (seriously, if you need someone to decorate your beach house, call my mom...amazing).  Unfortunately I failed miserably when it came to taking pictures.  Blame it on the relaxation, fun in the sun, corn-hole games, too much kettle corn, or abundance of bloody Mary's and Riesling.  Regardless we had an awesome time, and Nick loved that he was able to enjoy some early morning Dora with his best buddy. :)

Growing Pains

I have Nick's 18 month post started, and had every intention of finishing it and posting it today (because, ya know, I'm only 2 weeks behind), but I feel like there's something else weighing heavy on my heart today that I just have to get out in writing.

I've posted before about how growing up is tough.  Aside from the jolt to your system when your old eating habits and work-out routine no longer keep your muffin top from muffining or your arms from developing that infamous flapping-in-the-breeze chicken wing effect.  And aside from the fact that your knees crack every time you stand up, causing you to limp like a pirate because hell - if we're talking ailments, we might as well discuss the constant back-pain/adult acne/bowels-that-can't-handle-spicy-food-like-they-used-to/hangovers-take-3-days-to-recover-from-now issues that constantly plague our aging bodies.  And even MORE so aside from the fact that no matter how desperately you try to win the lottery, it just ain't happenin' and your bills continue to roll in at lightening speed because who gives a shit if you just paid off your good-year bill for the new tires your SUV HAD to have, because inevitably the minute they receive the last payment it's like they send some sort of satellite signal to your dashboard causing the frickin' "check engine soon" light to pop on.

Aside from ALL that, there's the inevitable "I lost contact with some of my best friends because we both had too much to do, no time to do it in, and figured 'eh, they'll be there for me later'' syndrome.

And that's the one that sucks the most.

I remember being in middle school and struggling with the change-over of friendships that came along with dealing of awkwardness, puberty, a new found interest in boys, and those huge-ass glasses that paired just beautifully with my shiny new braces and horrendous poufy bangs (they were in style people!).  I went through a few groups of friends between 7th-10th grade.  But by the 10th grade, I'd found my solid foundation of friends.  We were a group of five and while we often varied who each of us was "besties" with within our own circle (usually from month-to-month, sometimes even week-to-week), we all always had each others backs and were for the most part, inseparable. 

But in those awkward 4 years prior to my Sophomore year, I remember often feeling left-out, getting into stupid bickering arguments with friends, and struggling to figure out who I was and where I stood in a group of other people my own age having the exact same internal battles.  I can't remember what exactly prompted it, or what minor middle-school drama moment I was experiencing at the time, but I clearly remember my mom telling me something along the lines of how one day I'd be grown up, living with my husband and my kids, and I would realize that my middle school friendships were just that - middle school friendships.  And that one day I'd have a solid foundation of friends, but as I got older, I would realize how those friendships would take a back seat to the priority of my own family.  And how important it was to hold fast to those solid friendships as they formed, because those would be the people I could count on most to be there - even in the backseat - supporting me and cheering me on from afar.

Well, I have to say, she was right.

I went off to college and continued to stay close with friends through the wonderment of AOL instant messaging, and the sheer luck that none of us ventured off across the country, keeping most of us within a few hours range of each other.  And oh how wonderful college was.  Seriously.  Best time of my life (you know, until I got married and Nick was born). 

College was not only an awesome way to figure out what I wanted to be career-wise in life, or how to perfect my keg-stand, but it was also a great place to make more friends.  And that, I did.  Not just because I joined a sorority (but boy did that help).  I had an abundance of friends in college.  Tuesday night with no early classes the next day?  I was certain to have SOMEONE I could call up to grab a beer (or 5) with.  None of my roommates available for lunch?  No worry, I'd just walk up to the Johnson Center and crash the Chi O table.  Friends were easy to find.

And some of those people became not just friends, but best friends.  True to the core, deep down "I will ALWAYS be by your side and I'll kick some asses in your honor" type friends.

But here I am, 8 years out of college, sitting in my lonely office (oh yeah, I forgot to add "having a real-world job" to the list of things that suck about growing up), and I realize that about 90% of those friends and friendships are gone. 

I have pushed my family to the fore-front of my life.  My priorities have drastically changed from perfecting my beer-bong abilities to perfecting my toddler-friendly meal making prowess's.  I'd rather wear a pair of comfy jeans or sweats than a push-up bra and a low-cut top.  If given the choice between a night out at the club full of dancing and dirty martini's, 9 times out of 10, I'd rather have a quiet night in with a good book (ok, probably more like reality TV) and a bedtime that comes LONG before midnight.  And in all honesty and truthfulness, I would choose to hang out with my husband and son over just about anyone, any day.

That is the reality of my life now.

Somewhere between picking out a wedding gown, venturing off to the Dominican Republic with my heads in the cloud, getting knocked up, and subsequently giving birth to the most amazing little boy I have ever laid eyes on, my priorities shifted.  And all of those friends I made in college started to disappear.

Let me be clear.  They did not disappear by choice, but rather by happenstance.

And it makes me sad, yes.  But it also makes me realize how different my life is from my life 10 years ago. 

I miss my friends.  With a deep-gut ache.  With the heaviest of hearts. 

But how do I salvage friendships that have been strained over time...over years of moving on in different directions?

How do I explain to someone "it's not you...it's me" -- because truthfully, I am the reason these friendships have drifted.  But after all this time, I honestly don't see how some to mend something that's so far gone.

And in some strange (possibly twisted) way, I don't really feel the need to mend them.  They were what they were, and now they are what they are.  Should they come back and develop into something more - awesome.  But if they don't?  I don't really have time to worry about it now.  My priorities are different.  And they are just that -- priorities.

One thing is for sure though.  It's a comforting feeling to know that as we grow and drift from old friends, there are always new friends to be made and found.  I am lucky to have married a man that had his own solid friendship base, and to no longer feel the need to refer to these people as "my husbands friends" but rather as "our close family friends". 

And the cherry on top is the fact that those friends that I DID make in high school?  The ones that rescued me from the hells of 7th-10th grade?  They're still there.  And they don't need a phone call a day, or an email every week.  They understand that a support system comes in many different ways.  And we respect each others ever changing ways/days/years.  But they will be the people I call when I get pregnant again.  They'll be the ones I will genuinely cry tears of joy with when they call to tell me that THEY'RE pregnant/engaged/etc.  And they'll be there to pull me out of the dark holes, trials and tribulations that are sure to come in life.  Because when you've been friends with someone for more than half your life, eventually they stop being your friends, and they become family.

I'm lucky to have such a big "family"...even if I am lacking in friends.

Call me, maybe?

Today is my parents 36th wedding anniversary.  36 years -- amazing.  What a blessing to have them as my parents.  Matt and I are very lucky.

Of course, daughter of the year that I am, I forgot today was their anniversary, and called yesterday to ask if they could watch Nick for the evening/feed him dinner because Todd and I have a meeting with our mortgage lender tonight.  They happily obliged without nary a mention of the special date.

So this morning, as I was sending out an email and typed in today's date, it suddenly struck me "oh crap!  Today is mom & dad's anniversary!"

I felt bad for asking them to watch Nick on their special day (silly me, I should have known there was no other way they'd want to spend their anniversary than with their precious grandson), so I called mom to apologize and see if we should reschedule.

When she didn't answer the phone, I figured she must be busy, so I sent her the following text message (ignore the Catching Fire text, that was from a few days prior):

I'm just glad I didn't lead off the text with "Happy Anniversary!" Followed by "Call me when you have sex :)".  That would have been even more embarrassing.  Definitely NOT something I would ever ask my mom. ;)

Damn you autocorrect!