tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-217649352024-03-07T19:33:59.386-05:00Raising the boy...and girl!A place for me to post my thoughts about raising the boy and the new baby girl.The Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00356891012417537184noreply@blogger.comBlogger144125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21764935.post-67719550229680715862010-07-22T14:06:00.000-05:002010-07-22T14:07:22.057-05:00Seriously?"Seriously, Daddy, you're wearing green? You look like Steve from Blues Clues." - DylanThe Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00356891012417537184noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21764935.post-84295975764249933872010-06-21T19:10:00.001-05:002010-06-21T19:12:11.638-05:00I wanna learn...Sasha while watching a contemporary routine on So You Think You Can Dance:<br />I wanna learn to run like that and dance like that and jump like that and be like that.The Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00356891012417537184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21764935.post-48184287604603883662010-05-16T16:33:00.000-05:002010-07-07T16:33:41.363-05:00ThreeThree. How is it that you are three years old now? How is it that it has already been three years since my dream of having a daughter came true? How?<br />My sweet baby girl. You challenge me in more ways than I can count. You are so stubborn that it shocks even me. You are so beautiful that you take my breath away on a regular basis. You’re smart, witty, amazing. You look at me with those big eyes and the world melts away. I am in awe of how self-assured you are at the age of 3. I wish I could have just one hundredth of that confidence.<br />You had a tough act to follow, being Dylan’s little sister. Such an amazing role model to look up to. But man do you hold your own. You’re tough as nails, kiddo. You give us a run for our money every day. I can’t imagine you any other way. <br />In the last three years I have learned what it meant to be a mom to a daughter. To start to truly understand how special that bond is for a mom. My hopes and dreams for you are the same as for your brother. Love. Success – as you define it. Happiness. What I wouldn’t give to ensure your happiness. But, unfortunately, it will be out of my hands. <br />What I can do is this. I promise to support your dreams. To love you when you feel unlovable. To love you when I don’t like you. To hug you harder when you try to pull away. To let you go when you need explore. To welcome you back when you are ready. To pick you up when you fall. To put the pieces back together when you fall apart. To love you.The Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00356891012417537184noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21764935.post-34250411944372418472010-03-02T22:23:00.001-06:002010-03-02T22:24:41.767-06:00The Laundry Songwe washin' the clothes we cleanin' the clothes. we washin' the waundwy.<br /><br />Repeat times infinity.The Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00356891012417537184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21764935.post-44110022101542972492010-02-25T15:07:00.000-06:002010-07-07T15:08:17.441-05:00Happy Lucky 7My dear boy,<br />You’re seven. SEVEN. I cannot believe 7 years have gone by since you came into this world. Since I became a mom. Since everything changed.<br />You continue to amaze us every day with your kind spirit and your intelligence. With your warmth, your love, your generosity. The way to treat your sister is amazing. The love I see in your eyes for her makes me melt. <br />Your successes still far outweigh your failures and you make us so, so proud. I wish I could hold you by my side forever. I wish that you would fit on my lap forever. Stay my little boy. But, that’s not the world works. So I will continue to watch an awe as an amazing young man develops right before my very eyes. As you mature and change and grow. I love you baby. So much that I have never thought of my heart as my own since that cold day in February 7 years ago. Happy birthday my love.The Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00356891012417537184noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21764935.post-28205565536424780902010-01-30T12:54:00.002-06:002010-01-30T12:57:36.250-06:00BoysSasha has been sick and Dave and I have been taking turns staying home. On his day, S asked for a manicure. Dave told he she had to wait for mommy. Sasha's response: that's because boys aren't good at manicures. Only girls can give manicures.The Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00356891012417537184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21764935.post-72028407659487631672009-12-17T15:53:00.003-06:002009-12-17T15:56:50.337-06:00Finding FocusIt's been so long since I've been here. Not sure what has been keeping me away. Not sure what is pulling me back. <br /><br />I've never quite found the focus of this blog. It started as a way to communicate with those far away about the happenings with the boy. Those people never checked. In that time, it's morphed into more. The girl was born. I've gone back and forth with this blog between virtual baby book and virtual journal. I've wanted more readers and wanted absolute privacy. Still not sure what I want that focus to become.<br /><br />I do know I want to write more. I want to find inspiration again. I want the prose to come to mind again. I want to write more than emails and strategy decks. I want the words to flow.The Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00356891012417537184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21764935.post-30451805568957769632009-10-12T13:55:00.002-05:002009-10-12T13:56:49.005-05:00If I can teach her one thing......it's to believe the words in this poem pertain to her.<br /><br />Phenomenal Woman by Maya Angelou<br />Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.<br />I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size<br />But when I start to tell them,<br />They think I'm telling lies.<br />I say,<br />It's in the reach of my arms<br />The span of my hips,<br />The stride of my step,<br />The curl of my lips.<br />I'm a woman<br />Phenomenally.<br />Phenomenal woman,<br />That's me.<br /><br />I walk into a room<br />Just as cool as you please,<br />And to a man,<br />The fellows stand or<br />Fall down on their knees.<br />Then they swarm around me,<br />A hive of honey bees.<br />I say,<br />It's the fire in my eyes,<br />And the flash of my teeth,<br />The swing in my waist,<br />And the joy in my feet.<br />I'm a woman<br />Phenomenally.<br />Phenomenal woman,<br />That's me.<br /><br />Men themselves have wondered<br />What they see in me.<br />They try so much<br />But they can't touch<br />My inner mystery.<br />When I try to show them<br />They say they still can't see.<br />I say,<br />It's in the arch of my back,<br />The sun of my smile,<br />The ride of my breasts,<br />The grace of my style.<br />I'm a woman<br /><br />Phenomenally.<br />Phenomenal woman,<br />That's me.<br /><br />Now you understand<br />Just why my head's not bowed.<br />I don't shout or jump about<br />Or have to talk real loud.<br />When you see me passing<br />It ought to make you proud.<br />I say,<br />It's in the click of my heels,<br />The bend of my hair,<br />the palm of my hand,<br />The need of my care,<br />'Cause I'm a woman<br />Phenomenally.<br />Phenomenal woman,<br />That's me.The Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00356891012417537184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21764935.post-17781418610623818712009-10-01T08:51:00.001-05:002009-10-01T08:53:02.365-05:00Brotherly LoveThis morning Sasha followed Dylan into his room while they were getting ready for the day. She said "Mommy" in my general direction right after I closed the bedroom door for some privacy. <br /><br />Dylan: Sasha, I'm not Mommy.<br />S: HAHA, you're mommy!<br />D: I'm not mommy.<br />S: You're a baby!<br />D: You. Out of here. <br />And he calmly walks her out of his room. <br /><br />Ah, kids.The Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00356891012417537184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21764935.post-13934895929175227632009-08-23T21:28:00.002-05:002009-08-23T21:32:27.707-05:00Dylan UpdateDylan has had a big summer. He has learned how to ride his bike without training wheels and he can *almost* tie his shoes. He can also read even better than when he left kindergarten.<br /><br />He's grown up this summer. He still has a way to go in the maturity department, but he's growing up. And still the sweetest kid ever. <br /><br />The other day he was playing his DS when he wasn't supposed to. Dave and I were both a bit upset with him. I explained that we were disappointed because he did not listen to the rules. He said he forgot. I confirmed that it was ok but please remember next time.<br /><br />FF to the next morning. <br /><br />Dylan to Dave: Daddy, are you still mad at me?<br /><br />Dave: I wasn't mad, not a little disappointed and frustrated.<br /><br />Dylan: I'll remember the rules.<br /><br />To me, as I am leaving the house: Mommy, I'm sorry I didn't remember the rules last night. I do better and remember next time.<br /><br />Seriously, could he possibly be a better kid?The Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00356891012417537184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21764935.post-19733382697420704922009-08-23T21:22:00.002-05:002009-08-23T21:28:19.611-05:00FashionistaSasha likes dresses. Not just any dresses, party dresses. They must twirl, too.<br /><br />Since her party dresses tend to be on the pricey side, we aren't big fans of her wearing them to day care where she frequently sits in the dirt. The dresses are mainly reserved for weekend wear. Last weekend I decided she WOULD wear some cute capri pants and the matching T. We'd had the outfit all summer and I love it. After wrestling the outfit on to her, Sasha proceeded to throw a tantrum. Foot stomping, tears streaming tantrum. During said tantrum she said the following:<br /><br />I don't wuv it! It's too plain!!! Let's do pink!!! <br /><br />This mantra was repeated a number of times. "Pink" is her favorite little party dress. She finally let up and wore the pants. Oye.<br /><br />The week before she took a look at the top she was wearing and proclaimed: I don't yike this. This is not good fo' Sasha.<br /><br />God help me in 10 years.The Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00356891012417537184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21764935.post-535651596543927942009-07-29T20:56:00.000-05:002009-07-29T20:58:47.771-05:00I'm BackMan, I have been a crappy blogger. I constantly go back on and forth on blogging regularly and just blogging when I am compelled to say something. I’m thinking I need to go to regularly as I haven’t found I have a lot to say, lately. <br /><br />The kids are awesome. Sasha is pretty much 2 going on 22 and Dylan continues to develop intellectually and emotionally as well. I still worry about him but that will never change. I will always worry about him more. I have no doubt in my mind that the girl will plow ahead no matter what. <br /><br />A few really fun things have happened recently. Dylan is finally getting the whole 2-wheeler thing. We’re nowhere near the point of heading out for family bike rides, but he’s getting there. His reading also continues to improve even though it’s summer. I thought academic skills were supposed to slide in the summer? Sasha’s vocabulary is expanding at a rate I didn’t know existed. The other night she proclaimed her garlic bread was awesome. Hm, ok. She is also a big fan of saying “I don’t yike it.” or the even stronger “I don’t wuv it.” She cracks us up. We have listed our house and finally, I got a job.<br /><br />I’m ecstatic to be working again. I’ve said it before and I will repeat, I’m a more balanced person when I work. I have found a position, or rather it found me, that seems to be a great blend of being what I have always loved about being in account service and eliminating what I was starting to hate. We’ll see how it goes but I am very hopeful for the future.The Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00356891012417537184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21764935.post-32571599545468648632009-05-29T21:56:00.004-05:002009-05-29T22:37:04.520-05:00Holding Them Close and Letting GoMy heart hurts tonight. Last night was Dylan's school picnic. I watched children run off in pairs left and right. I watched my child watch from the outside. There was one little girl who repeatedly said hello to him, but that was it. Tonight he told me no one ever picked him, all year, to be their helper for passing out bday treats. That he doesn't have any best friends at school. This is the only time he has ever lamented about his friends, or lack there of, at school. The first time one of my fears for him, related to kindergarten, was realized. Dylan has a heart of gold and is a truly wonderful, sweet child. I think it might be holding him back a bit.<br /><br />I want my child to have friends. I want him to make connections in childhood that will last a lifetime. I want him to have what I didn't have and always longed to have. I want him to have the security that comes with having some friends you can count on. Friends who you know have your back. <br /><br />I have spent the majority of my life with a feeling of not belonging. Always feeling like I am on the outside. Close enough to know what I'm missing, but far enough away that it is out of reach. I know the pain of being excluded, still experience it all the time. And, although that pain taught me a lot, I think I would have turned out just fine with fewer lessons. It's a big reason I am the way I am today. If we have are having friends over and other friends ask what we are doing, they will automatically be invited to join in the fun. I don't ever want anyone to feel excluded or unwanted. I certainly don't want my child to feel that. Ever. I know he will. I know Sasha will, too. <br /><br />When I was pregnant, one of the few things I loved about the experience is that no matter where I was, my baby was with me. I was protecting my child at all times. No one could get to my baby without going through me. The older they get, the less of a barrier I present. The less I can protect. The more I want to keep them close and never let go. But I have to let go. And that's the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my life.The Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00356891012417537184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21764935.post-35867147032346391142009-05-27T22:30:00.002-05:002009-05-27T22:37:31.408-05:00thinking againI had a wonderful coffee date with a former colleague/friend today. She's developing a fabulous business which I hope takes off for her. As we spoke, we did a little collaborating and the juices in my brain started flowing again. I left energized. Energized by someone valuing my ideas and input. Energized by the fact that I have ideas and input to contribute. My brain still works after all. <br /><br />I didn't realize how much I missed that type of exchange. How much I missed pulling from the parts of my brain which aren't used in my "mom life." <br /><br />We also discussed my love of writing and how I really don't do it enough. I mentioned a goal I have had for a while and have done nothing to achieve. I would like to write more. Pick topics at random, think about them and write down my thoughts. Form opinions in writing. Organize the randomness in my head into something cohesive and meaningful. I should really get on that.The Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00356891012417537184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21764935.post-6068755680524950622009-05-18T22:39:00.000-05:002009-05-29T22:40:38.875-05:002 Year StatsHeight: 36.25" (97%)<br />Weight: 28lbs 4oz. (70%)<br /><br />Development: Couldn't be better.The Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00356891012417537184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21764935.post-91473535636578755322009-05-16T19:21:00.001-05:002009-05-27T22:38:04.611-05:002 years<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpCZciCnQOpJUYPLzRg0Q4C05Zqoknk9xqvKAbi9Gjf55lG8LQvyRU_MQQndhhJa09Izq3GoXSqkxuHotQErpg1kicxKtZVm6rKfNQuocThUrhDEsvAqoCsRD3lfAxj53TswQs/s1600-h/IMG_0024.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpCZciCnQOpJUYPLzRg0Q4C05Zqoknk9xqvKAbi9Gjf55lG8LQvyRU_MQQndhhJa09Izq3GoXSqkxuHotQErpg1kicxKtZVm6rKfNQuocThUrhDEsvAqoCsRD3lfAxj53TswQs/s400/IMG_0024.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337182536245584258" /></a><br />Dearest Sasha,<br /><br />Today you are 2. According to Baby Center, you are now a preschooler. Of course, I still call you the baby. My dear, sweet baby girl. The baby girl I wanted so much I was afraid to voice it just in case I had a boy. <br /><br />In the past 2 years you have brought so much into our lives. I have smiled endlessly, cried tears of joy, tears of pain, tears of frustration. I have been filled with pride. You are smart, beautiful, charismatic, happy and just all around yummy. I can't imagine our world without you. I can't imagine not being a mother to a daughter. My oh so girly daughter. You like your toes painted and your fingernails painted. You like your hair done. You like doing my hair. You like playing with make-up. And you like being the boss. Oh how you like being the boss. I can only imagine the joy you will continue to bring into all our lives. <br /><br />I hope you realize all your dreams, my love. I hope you will have a remarkable friendship with your brother. I hope we become the best of friends as well as mother and daughter. I love you, baby girl. Sleepless nights and all. I wouldn't trade it for the world. <br /><br />Love,<br /><br />MamaThe Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00356891012417537184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21764935.post-54446111330682494092009-04-05T22:50:00.002-05:002009-04-05T23:09:03.548-05:00what's next?After 3 months of unemployment I have found myself thinking a lot about what I really want to be when I grow up. I'm not sure I know. I know I am no longer very passionate about what I do. There are moments when I love it, but do I see myself doing this for the next 25 years? Not so sure. Is it something I am really good at or have my managed to fake my way along for the last 10 years? But if not the ad biz, then what?<br /><br />What can I do? What do I want to do? And, how much am I willing to give up in the short term to have a happier long term?The Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00356891012417537184noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21764935.post-16417108186661038472009-03-17T16:38:00.001-06:002009-05-27T22:38:44.329-05:00toothless<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifOoGm_U3ES-vDlK_n4mOhLzwKT38Go28LUbk6gW9bUmYo4-UiMl0ANa_I7NdR5zYBhsxVXMubuGqDgYeEBBK0SoBOlFB1KDYiArxb5U-GPivUIE8BlfodUplOgQAeEkbLlCXk/s1600-h/DSC_0086.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifOoGm_U3ES-vDlK_n4mOhLzwKT38Go28LUbk6gW9bUmYo4-UiMl0ANa_I7NdR5zYBhsxVXMubuGqDgYeEBBK0SoBOlFB1KDYiArxb5U-GPivUIE8BlfodUplOgQAeEkbLlCXk/s400/DSC_0086.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329490435251766562" /></a>The Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00356891012417537184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21764935.post-70104594432704558422009-03-17T16:08:00.003-06:002009-05-27T22:39:09.042-05:00Trouble. 28 pounds of trouble.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRS6qZvhkHOfoICiXjkydJWSd86DdpCtzz1-KXxBjwn14GgfW121FmNvQtQEedD8Vmvfx7Roig9NFW9U9f24R1cw6GkXetGgyR-7ivUzyYYBvk8AHCBH1pvBOkwddOupoFhA8t/s1600-h/IMG_3971.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRS6qZvhkHOfoICiXjkydJWSd86DdpCtzz1-KXxBjwn14GgfW121FmNvQtQEedD8Vmvfx7Roig9NFW9U9f24R1cw6GkXetGgyR-7ivUzyYYBvk8AHCBH1pvBOkwddOupoFhA8t/s400/IMG_3971.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314282639471761874" border="0" /></a>The Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00356891012417537184noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21764935.post-73341798001707291622009-03-17T16:01:00.002-06:002009-03-17T16:03:42.611-06:00Grace In Small Things: 81. being able to find the grace.<br />2. occasionally being able to decipher the baby girl.<br />3. friends who have a knack for saying the right things.<br />4. spring.<br />5. not having to go to work after a sleepless night.The Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00356891012417537184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21764935.post-70495900275982525232009-03-17T16:00:00.002-06:002009-03-17T16:01:20.688-06:00Circus FreaksD: Mommy, when I grow up I want to be a clown and be in the circus.<br />M: Um, no you can't do that.<br />D: But I want to be a clown and be in the circus!<br />M: That can be your hobby.The Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00356891012417537184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21764935.post-40679814890353548512009-02-25T11:40:00.001-06:002009-05-27T22:39:36.723-05:006 years.Dylan,<br /><br />Six years ago you came into my world. Four days late, a 9 pound kicking mass of boy who was more beautiful than I ever could have imagined. Amazing lips, which didn't go unnoticed by a single person who saw you, dark hair like mine and chubby thighs I could have nibbled on all day. What came after was a crazy mess of emotions I never knew I was capable of feeling. A <a href="http://raisingtheboy.blogspot.com/2006/05/primal-love.html">love so fierce</a> it overcomes me at times. <a href="http://raisingtheboy.blogspot.com/2008/08/kindergarten.html">Worry</a> so great it overcomes me at times. <a href="http://raisingtheboy.blogspot.com/2006/08/head-strong-and-beautiful.html">Pride</a> so great it overcomes me at times. Parenthood is an all consuming thing, my love.<br /><br />I am honored to be your mom. I am proud to be your mom. I am proud of the human being you are becoming. The compassion you have for others. The amazing gift for reading you seem to have. The way you are with your sister - gentle, sweet, tolerant, loving. You can me laugh or cry in an instant.<br /><br />In the past 6 years you have learned how to do the following:<br />Sit up.<br />Walk.<br />Stand.<br />Crawl.<br />Talk.<br />Use a fork, spoon and knife.<br />Poop and potty in a toilet.<br />Colors.<br />Letters.<br />Numbers.<br />Phonics.<br />Reading.<br />Use a computer.<br />ALMOST ride a bike.<br />Drive us crazy. ;)<br />Write.<br />Raise your hand.<br />Share your toys.<br />Work the iPod.<br />Be an amazing human being.<br /><br />Thank you for being who you are every day of your life and giving me the great pleasure of being your guide.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">I love you.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifcWEdUEge4Qcc9b8QPhAfCEoU8lNCZtRGD-bXxLjfYHmyJPavXBnUyFQauY7vP3s7Mn0tbyaKvN0tULXwrPUZuVW4s1y04tuc2DFlggZLkrObByNLQN_dsyiOQpYQdq7Cao7W/s1600-h/Birth.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifcWEdUEge4Qcc9b8QPhAfCEoU8lNCZtRGD-bXxLjfYHmyJPavXBnUyFQauY7vP3s7Mn0tbyaKvN0tULXwrPUZuVW4s1y04tuc2DFlggZLkrObByNLQN_dsyiOQpYQdq7Cao7W/s200/Birth.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309768481135716178" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Birth<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIlzUUTqGih5CJcsb1ZOeP2TpcI7mmH1W0h0dmnSPYAG-XqkhjyreDUz3nHToLn7Q1WWH-w0evIlif2tELRrcKWljzjBwKb8DQdwaSVE50oJiFr2AMmp56rDu8Dz4oejYOrRg5/s1600-h/oneyear.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 132px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIlzUUTqGih5CJcsb1ZOeP2TpcI7mmH1W0h0dmnSPYAG-XqkhjyreDUz3nHToLn7Q1WWH-w0evIlif2tELRrcKWljzjBwKb8DQdwaSVE50oJiFr2AMmp56rDu8Dz4oejYOrRg5/s200/oneyear.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309770753941406786" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">One<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY6O6QG7qm9TNIKoQ_gcLtdj3Nn7Bou4gIlFkcdanvTig55x5h1boXCMCjxs3a3ORJdBaQ4gLcKHyooUMk0UeGcJqNnLQoBpDpgyWMc7hstZjP3aimNnK4lgFdjleNDTNJoBhl/s1600-h/twoyears.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY6O6QG7qm9TNIKoQ_gcLtdj3Nn7Bou4gIlFkcdanvTig55x5h1boXCMCjxs3a3ORJdBaQ4gLcKHyooUMk0UeGcJqNnLQoBpDpgyWMc7hstZjP3aimNnK4lgFdjleNDTNJoBhl/s200/twoyears.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309768491889548514" border="0" /></a>Two<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj26fHunFGpzkOthwswI0rBazzjfbrOKXIOkc7OPSK-EAAZNCvKdG3K-Jq9QecuDa8CU5tvduqhVGpjCGxAxDOKlv6fNMWD6beST7zLI2HVdEGHFsKHrg3wU9CaWfXBd9ALmjnd/s1600-h/threeyears.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj26fHunFGpzkOthwswI0rBazzjfbrOKXIOkc7OPSK-EAAZNCvKdG3K-Jq9QecuDa8CU5tvduqhVGpjCGxAxDOKlv6fNMWD6beST7zLI2HVdEGHFsKHrg3wU9CaWfXBd9ALmjnd/s200/threeyears.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309768493639138434" border="0" /></a>Three</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg65S6oztt4OuudblpBwe1dzSRq9QdLtDltGkbvzhPHPFmdz-_2y1Wj2CJQLxO1M7My3EOp8088az7c9iXekjrumTad5isbvzKCOymEDj18HRGioK1xLIGegMzs5-orcM1LfHJy/s1600-h/fouryears.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg65S6oztt4OuudblpBwe1dzSRq9QdLtDltGkbvzhPHPFmdz-_2y1Wj2CJQLxO1M7My3EOp8088az7c9iXekjrumTad5isbvzKCOymEDj18HRGioK1xLIGegMzs5-orcM1LfHJy/s200/fouryears.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309768501979639890" border="0" /></a>Four<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRH9LnP8eRcZvO9w11D2JW4TAlONUfFVj0CDrkj7n29Ysxbgcp7MPnF3P6lK2LbQAYfT6Jk7zOgRc3kGI5k4Py3pu5gvyidlw0aBvFxqEPSyqP-FXcGuLNmSv5vPA1J_1Vh6ea/s1600-h/fiveyears.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRH9LnP8eRcZvO9w11D2JW4TAlONUfFVj0CDrkj7n29Ysxbgcp7MPnF3P6lK2LbQAYfT6Jk7zOgRc3kGI5k4Py3pu5gvyidlw0aBvFxqEPSyqP-FXcGuLNmSv5vPA1J_1Vh6ea/s200/fiveyears.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309768507153369986" border="0" /></a>Five<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQdSL4nS62vbE0isK0qZtA2R-cKnO3sT5txtXzJcEoSaNXvCxT1QvwlKKvndf-Id1RKUe7HZgQSEDeJzv-2peNBL-5s0JD13XkEV1VYHYzU_DIhIorr3O2c4VeJJKTkJ9aYtsT/s1600-h/sixyears.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQdSL4nS62vbE0isK0qZtA2R-cKnO3sT5txtXzJcEoSaNXvCxT1QvwlKKvndf-Id1RKUe7HZgQSEDeJzv-2peNBL-5s0JD13XkEV1VYHYzU_DIhIorr3O2c4VeJJKTkJ9aYtsT/s200/sixyears.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309768683515070930" border="0" /></a>Six<br /></div>The Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00356891012417537184noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21764935.post-52340742055947168922009-02-19T20:06:00.002-06:002009-02-19T20:10:05.725-06:00I'm Ready.I've been out of work for almost 2 months now and I'm ready to go back. I'm ready to wake up and have to get ready every day. I ready to have responsibilities that lie outside my home. I'm ready to be able to buy a $10 shirt without feeling guilty. I'm ready to interact with more than 5 people on a daily basis. <br /><br />I'm ready.The Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00356891012417537184noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21764935.post-56701408716690502952009-02-16T23:03:00.004-06:002009-02-16T23:08:38.947-06:00The GuiltI was out for happy hour with a friend about a week ago. Dave called when he had picked up the kids and they both demanded to speak with me. Dylan and I spoke then he handed the phone to Sasha. This is the conversation:<br /><br />S:IIIII MAMA!<br />M: Hi baby.<br />S: MAAAMAAAAAA<br />M: Hi baby.<br />S: Mama, I 'iss 'oo! <br />M: You miss me?<br />S: DA!!! I 'iss 'oo! Mama home!<br /><br />Unbelievable.<br /><br />Tonight Dave picked them up as I had gone to the gym. We were both on our way home. Again, I spoke to both kids. Dylan informed me had a great day and then handed the phone to S. Which, by the way, is always accompanied with the declaration: Mommy, Sasha would like to talk to you next.<br /><br />S: HI Mama!!!<br />M: Hi baby. How are you?<br />S: I 'aid, Hi MAMA!<br />Repeat times 3.The Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00356891012417537184noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21764935.post-6334270791052126822009-02-16T22:57:00.003-06:002009-02-16T23:03:17.524-06:0021-monthsThe baby girl is 21-months-old today. It's hard to believe it's been almost 2 years. It's hard to believe the crying, squirming little nugget we brought home from hospital is now a little person. A little person who wears pigtails, has opinions on everything from what to eat to what to wear, likes to have her nails painted, speaks in sentences, hams it up for the camera and does a million other things. She cracks me up daily with constant singing. She adores her big brother more than words can possibly express and charms every single person with whom she makes eye contact in a way I have only seen her brother do before. She's just so amazing. And I can't imagine a greater grace in my life than seeing my children interact. Seeing them love and seeing them learn.The Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00356891012417537184noreply@blogger.com0