I don't know where to begin. My day was so amazing, I don't even know how I am going to explains it's wonderment in a semi short post...but I will do my best. I guess my "day" started yesterday evening when I got to hang out with two important ladies---my twin, Theresa and my BFF, Brittany. I woke up, had an amazing cup of coffee and hosted a garage sale. Deacon was so incredibly patient through the entire sale and I even made a few bucks for our upcoming vacation--woo hoo!
Next I got to hang out with amazing people! I have the pleasure of photographing weddings on Saturday's with my amazing sister-in-law or as I'll refer as S-I-L (shameless plug: redphotofusion.com)
Today was one of those days that make me realize WHY I LOVE photographing weddings. Sara and Ben, two of the most incredible people who are head over heels in love, got married today. Let me back track. I met sara the day her good friend got married (again, another amazing day, family, etc, but that is a completely different story!!!) Anyway in conversation at her friend's wedding, I discovered that my S-I-L was photographing her wedding, but I wasn't booked for that day. My heart sank, but I couldn't bear to tell her I wasn't going to be there. Anyway, a twist of fate happened and it turned out that I was able to photograph the wedding.
SO why was it so awesome? number one, Sara's parents are gems. number two--she is in some way, kinda like me--quirky, silly, and finds humor in all aspects of life--so it was just meant that we met, I was destined to capture her wedding. number three--it was like a mini reunion, getting to see Macaira, her husband Andy and Macaira's family at Sara's wedding.
I got to witness at the wedding several beautiful things:
* two people who couldn't be more in love.
* kindness and generosity
* a grandmother who has more style than me who is unbelievably close to her granddaughter
* I got to witness a "hard as stone grandfather" burst into tears when he saw his granddaughter in her wedding dress
*I saw the love of sisters
* I got to listen to not 1, but 3 of the best weddings toasts on the planet.
*I heard beautiful voices of Sara's students singing at the wedding
* I witnessed the most creative b/g first dance ever--epic.
I am a better person for having met Ben and Sara and I wish them nothing but the best in life!
Next, my twin is in the hospital...that's all I know--hoping it is baby time! That in of itself makes for an amazing day.
Another amazing moment--ran into a co-worker as he was inspecting my Brother in laws lateral (that IS unfortunate, but that fact that I ran into him was cool)
The last amazing moment for my Saturday just happened seconds ago. I walked in the door, said hello to doug and I immediately hear Deacon calling for me. I looked at doug and cocked my head wondering why he was still awake. Semi-annoyed I went upstairs (reciting Corinthians I) and tried to be patient. I walked in Deacon's room and he got on his knees wrapped his sweet arms around me and whispered perfectly into my ear, "I love you mommy, so much."
As much as I was wishing he would be asleep (because 10pm is too late for a 3-year-old to be awake) I was so happy he wasn't. I had my own special moment with my son. I got to hug him a little longer and tighter and we got some good giggles in as well because we were exchanging butterfly kisses. He was the icing on the cake!
I plan to close the evening with a nice shower to rinse the sweat away from the wedding, drink a glass of wine, cuddle up with my husband and fall asleep only to wake up and hopefully enter into an amazing Sunday!
OH and there is cold pepperoni pizza in the fridge...LIFE IS GOOD!
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Thursday, June 24, 2010
My twin...
26 years ago, God blessed me with my twin. She and I were a surprise to my parents, since they were both in their forties. After 6 children, they thought their baby days were over...Theresa and I have always had a way of keeping things interesting I guess!
What was even more a surprise was when my mom gave birth to us. Back in the day, they did not to ultrasounds, so the Dr. Just assumed that since my mom was gaining a lot of weight (like 25-30 lbs is is hardly ANYTHING for twins) that she'd have a big baby boy.
My mom went in to labor, pushed and out came a tiny 4 lb 14 oz baby girl. uh-oh! 8 minutes later out came a tiny 5 lb 6 oz little girl. The 4 lb feisty one was me and the 5 pound "forgotten one" was Theresa. Theresa was hidden from the doctor...apparently I started loving attention the moment i entered the womb! Anyway, because of this Theresa was very sick and had to stay in the hospital for a while. Mom said she was a little fighter though, she rebound and ended up leaving the hospital a very healthy baby!
From the moment we were born, I was Theresa's protector. Lord knows I would fight and fight her, but if ANYONE tried to hurt MY twin--they had another thing coming! From homework, to boys, to friends and even sleeping in the same bed until we were 15 (ok even into college) because she was scared of the dark or a scary movie and just wanted me there. Truth is, I was scared too, but I didn't want to let my twin down--I never not wanted to be there for her.
I know it seems like I painted a pretty picture--and I'll say that today, our friendship couldn't be stronger--I love her in a way that only other twins can understand, but the truth is, Theresa and I didn't get along for the major majority of high school and even the first part of college.
call it the normal teenage girl melodrama, but with us, we made it very hard to live in our house. Honestly, I am ashamed of the things I said and did to hurt my twin and she has since said the same. It has been a long road of recovery--mending some of the damage that each of us put on one another. Now, though, I look back and see those trials and heartache as a blessing, a gift. Theresa and I are so incredibly close and I think its because of the storms that we were able to weather together.
Anyway--my twin is about ready to give birth to her second baby and we are so excited! We have such a HUGE family, but with each new birth, it feels like the very first all over again.
Theresa never got maternity pictures taken with Louis and said she regretted it. Now that she is pregnant again, she didn't want to miss the opportunity to get some pictures to record her pregnancy. I was honored that she asked me to be apart of that memory and I hope I did her proud....
This little girl ain't even born yet, and already a style diva!
She is one GORGEOUS MOMMY! I think in this picture, you see her soul--what a beautiful person you are twinny.
The cute little blond is my nephew and soon to be big brother! So what do you think, will Dar have blond hair, like her brother? Or Dark hair, like her mommy?
This is a specially crafted picture Louis made for his baby sister. He claims it is a picture of butterflies and footballs!
Theresa, I love you so much--I am so glad that I have a best friend, and sister like you to walk through life's journey with. Even though you and I are grown up, married and moms, there is always and will always be a special place in my heart for you. Everytime we see each other, I feel like we are 5 again playing my little pony, barbies or trying to fly--you are amazing.
Can't wait to meet my precious niece--she is such a lucky girl to have a mommy like you!
Monday, June 21, 2010
reflections on fathers
I know, I know--father's day is over. Why am I just know posting on this topic? Partly because I was having too much fun with my family yesterday to post, and also, I was having a very hard to collecting my thoughts to create something that would do the men in my life justice. As a matter of fact, I just don't know if I'll even be able to express what my mind is wanting to breathe life.
First, I'll comment on my husband. Wow. I always knew he would be a good daddy, but it wasn't until Deacon was born that I realized that my expectations were far surpassed. Prior to Deacon's arrival, Doug never so much as held an infant. I always thought he was scared or just didn't like babies. Until I saw him hold Deacon for the first time, then I knew why he held out. From the moment that his arms wrapped around Deacon, Doug was hook, line and sinker. He fell in love the moment he saw him and has been oogling over his 'precious boy' ever since. Every day since then, I have fallen more in love with Doug by the simple interactions he has with his son. The family time we spend together is always great and cherished, but I love sneaking in at night and listening to the way Doug reads to Deacon and the way Deacon fits perfectly in Doug's arms. I am inspired every day by the patience, love, understanding and care Doug shines onto our family--it challenges me every day to be a better mother. I love you though and through Doug--thank you for showing me what heaven looks like--I see it in your eyes every time you are with Deacon.
Now onto another important man in my life, my own father. He was 47 when my twin and I entered into this world--a seasoned father of 6, my dad just knew how to be a dad. Better yet, he knew how to be a dad to each of us. Being stern when he needed to be, but ALWAYS, i mean ALWAYS providing unconditional love and support. Dad worked a lot (duh, 8 kids!!!) so the time we got to spend with him was never wasted. Some of the greatest memories I have of my dad is when we would go on our dates to a baseball game and have a picnic on riverside drive. Those are some of the happiest moments in my life. We'd make a day of it--first by picking out a special hat to try and get the players to sign. Then we'd hit up a restaurant and grab take out and sit on a park bench along river side drive. I don't even remember the conversation, I just remember looking up at him and thinking "I am so lucky, remember this forever". After lunch, we'd jaunt over the bridge, buy illegal peanuts from the vendor outside the ball park and race down to the front of the stadium to solicit signatures from the Reds and even the opposing team. There was one moment where my dad encouraged me to lean over and get a signature from a Montreal player, problem is I couldn't get through. But because my dad said I should try, I proceeded to wedge myself through the crowd and I practically flipped myself onto the dugout reaching that go go gadget reach, hoping the player would see my strain, and alas--he grabbed my hat and signed it. I ran back beaming and my dad said, "honey, don't you know who that is?!" I had a puzzled look and he replied, "that's Pedro Martinez , one of the best pitchers in the league!" I really had no idea what that meant, but I truly was so happy that my dad was happy.
The point of that story, however is not about the game or the lunch or the walk, but more about the time that I have been able to spend over the last 26 years of my life. He has taught me more about love through the unspoken then anyone ever could try and explain. He has also taught me to work hard, be fair and treat others with dignity and respect. Dad, I love you more than you know--thank you for all the life's lessons, but more importantly thank you for loving me unconditionally--I have no doubt in my mind, that it is with your love that has influenced me and helped me become the mom that I am today.
Hope all father's had a great day yesterday--You are wonderful instruments in life's orchestra!
First, I'll comment on my husband. Wow. I always knew he would be a good daddy, but it wasn't until Deacon was born that I realized that my expectations were far surpassed. Prior to Deacon's arrival, Doug never so much as held an infant. I always thought he was scared or just didn't like babies. Until I saw him hold Deacon for the first time, then I knew why he held out. From the moment that his arms wrapped around Deacon, Doug was hook, line and sinker. He fell in love the moment he saw him and has been oogling over his 'precious boy' ever since. Every day since then, I have fallen more in love with Doug by the simple interactions he has with his son. The family time we spend together is always great and cherished, but I love sneaking in at night and listening to the way Doug reads to Deacon and the way Deacon fits perfectly in Doug's arms. I am inspired every day by the patience, love, understanding and care Doug shines onto our family--it challenges me every day to be a better mother. I love you though and through Doug--thank you for showing me what heaven looks like--I see it in your eyes every time you are with Deacon.
Now onto another important man in my life, my own father. He was 47 when my twin and I entered into this world--a seasoned father of 6, my dad just knew how to be a dad. Better yet, he knew how to be a dad to each of us. Being stern when he needed to be, but ALWAYS, i mean ALWAYS providing unconditional love and support. Dad worked a lot (duh, 8 kids!!!) so the time we got to spend with him was never wasted. Some of the greatest memories I have of my dad is when we would go on our dates to a baseball game and have a picnic on riverside drive. Those are some of the happiest moments in my life. We'd make a day of it--first by picking out a special hat to try and get the players to sign. Then we'd hit up a restaurant and grab take out and sit on a park bench along river side drive. I don't even remember the conversation, I just remember looking up at him and thinking "I am so lucky, remember this forever". After lunch, we'd jaunt over the bridge, buy illegal peanuts from the vendor outside the ball park and race down to the front of the stadium to solicit signatures from the Reds and even the opposing team. There was one moment where my dad encouraged me to lean over and get a signature from a Montreal player, problem is I couldn't get through. But because my dad said I should try, I proceeded to wedge myself through the crowd and I practically flipped myself onto the dugout reaching that go go gadget reach, hoping the player would see my strain, and alas--he grabbed my hat and signed it. I ran back beaming and my dad said, "honey, don't you know who that is?!" I had a puzzled look and he replied, "that's Pedro Martinez , one of the best pitchers in the league!" I really had no idea what that meant, but I truly was so happy that my dad was happy.
The point of that story, however is not about the game or the lunch or the walk, but more about the time that I have been able to spend over the last 26 years of my life. He has taught me more about love through the unspoken then anyone ever could try and explain. He has also taught me to work hard, be fair and treat others with dignity and respect. Dad, I love you more than you know--thank you for all the life's lessons, but more importantly thank you for loving me unconditionally--I have no doubt in my mind, that it is with your love that has influenced me and helped me become the mom that I am today.
Hope all father's had a great day yesterday--You are wonderful instruments in life's orchestra!
Friday, June 18, 2010
8 minutes
I have lost hope in the medical industry. Sure, there are wonderful doctors, nurses, receptionists, etc. But unfortunately I can only name a handful and have begun to wonder why doctors can get away with so much.
Lets start with the support staff: i.e. the receptionists, assistants and such. I don't know what makes their life so difficult. I know we have our own stories--but if I went off that principle alone, every person in the doctor's office would have had a horrible life and I simply, don't buy that. After my doctor's appointment I was advised to get some blood work done at the upstairs lab. I walked up the stairs and signed in. The desk was empty..not a single sole to be found. I sat, flipped through a magazine and waited. waited. and waited some more. 10 minutes later a woman came huffing and puffing in slopped herself in her chair and apparently looked like she was loving her job (note sarcasm). She then proceeded to pick up the sign in sheet, roll her eyes and call out, "WHOEVER, signed their name on this sheet for labs did it wrong. You need to sign on that sheet, and they are out to lunch."
First of all, I have a name, which was clearly printed on the form (as it instructed me to do so).
Second, the "lab" clip board was placed so inconspicuously I couldn't even see it until she flapped her arm and pointed her finger to the location it was sitting at.
I gracefully walked up to the counter and said, "I am 'whoever' and I apologize for the mix up." You can't tell the humor in that comment by merely reading it--but I was trying to lighten her mood--but I quickly realized she had no sense of humor.
I resigned my name on the "lab" sign in sheet while she very obviously held the other sign in sheet high enough for me to see her feverishly scratch it out with indelible ink. I. was. scared. Think of a toddler quickly grabbing something that they don't want anyone else to have. Sad that I compare a 20 something adult to a toddler. I honestly think Deacon has better manners.
The rest of the appointment was quite enjoyable. The phlebotimist was very kind, laughed at my jokes and even cracked one herself. At least one person in that building liked their job!
So lets rewind, pre-lab incident. I had to go to the doctor because I have been having strange "kidney-stone-type" pain in my back. I wanted to be sure I was healthy.
The receptionist was nice, but you could tell she was incapable of handling two jobs at once--her fluttering reminded me of a bumble bee or fly--not a straight pattern but a sept-jointed way of moving about. After she checked in me, I sat in the waiting room with an outdated magazine in hand, but was called back shortly after I got to the "hundred things for under 100 dollars" section.
The nurse assistant who called me back escorted me gracefully through the labryinth of halls until we reached the scale. I forget her name, but I'll tell you that she was a very nice woman. She gave me a high-5 once she realized I had lost 3 pounds since last visit!
After that, we landed in the patient room and she smiled, wished me a good weekend and told me the doctor would be in shortly.
It was a typical wait time: not surprising quick, but not dreadedily long either. The doctor walks in, a stand in for my normal doctor. He was polite with the how do you do's and handshake but I wasn't impressed with his evaluation.
His bedside manner was nice, but he lacked empathy, compassion and he most certainly did not treat me like a person. To him I was 8 minutes, I was a co-pay, his paycheck, another patient. That is discomforting. My name is Anne Wolking and I have my very own history separate from any one else in that building--yet we are all treated the same--depressing actually. I game him all my symptoms and he had me lie on the table, did some poking, prodding and even futzed with my ankle--not even telling me why he is doing that exam. He lifted me up and said, "it's not kidney stones, its muscle."
Apparently he was not listening to me. I said this was unlike any pain I have ever felt--and playing soccer and being a runner--I KNOW muscle pain. I asked him, if it is muscle-related why am I nauseas, why do I feel sick after I eat and why don't the pain meds work? He looked at me confused as if I have never said those symptoms before and said, "you're fine, but if you want I'll send you upstairs for some lab work..." To which I replied, "Well I think getting bloodwork done would be a good direction to take to rule out anything major..."
I hate to complain on this site, but I felt the need to communicate my story. I am a patient with her own history who is only asking for empathy and proper care. I don't need the mystery of my symptoms solved I just want to hear, "Wow it sounds like that really bothers you and hopefully we'll be able to find an answer to your issues."
Is it too much to ask?
Lets start with the support staff: i.e. the receptionists, assistants and such. I don't know what makes their life so difficult. I know we have our own stories--but if I went off that principle alone, every person in the doctor's office would have had a horrible life and I simply, don't buy that. After my doctor's appointment I was advised to get some blood work done at the upstairs lab. I walked up the stairs and signed in. The desk was empty..not a single sole to be found. I sat, flipped through a magazine and waited. waited. and waited some more. 10 minutes later a woman came huffing and puffing in slopped herself in her chair and apparently looked like she was loving her job (note sarcasm). She then proceeded to pick up the sign in sheet, roll her eyes and call out, "WHOEVER, signed their name on this sheet for labs did it wrong. You need to sign on that sheet, and they are out to lunch."
First of all, I have a name, which was clearly printed on the form (as it instructed me to do so).
Second, the "lab" clip board was placed so inconspicuously I couldn't even see it until she flapped her arm and pointed her finger to the location it was sitting at.
I gracefully walked up to the counter and said, "I am 'whoever' and I apologize for the mix up." You can't tell the humor in that comment by merely reading it--but I was trying to lighten her mood--but I quickly realized she had no sense of humor.
I resigned my name on the "lab" sign in sheet while she very obviously held the other sign in sheet high enough for me to see her feverishly scratch it out with indelible ink. I. was. scared. Think of a toddler quickly grabbing something that they don't want anyone else to have. Sad that I compare a 20 something adult to a toddler. I honestly think Deacon has better manners.
The rest of the appointment was quite enjoyable. The phlebotimist was very kind, laughed at my jokes and even cracked one herself. At least one person in that building liked their job!
So lets rewind, pre-lab incident. I had to go to the doctor because I have been having strange "kidney-stone-type" pain in my back. I wanted to be sure I was healthy.
The receptionist was nice, but you could tell she was incapable of handling two jobs at once--her fluttering reminded me of a bumble bee or fly--not a straight pattern but a sept-jointed way of moving about. After she checked in me, I sat in the waiting room with an outdated magazine in hand, but was called back shortly after I got to the "hundred things for under 100 dollars" section.
The nurse assistant who called me back escorted me gracefully through the labryinth of halls until we reached the scale. I forget her name, but I'll tell you that she was a very nice woman. She gave me a high-5 once she realized I had lost 3 pounds since last visit!
After that, we landed in the patient room and she smiled, wished me a good weekend and told me the doctor would be in shortly.
It was a typical wait time: not surprising quick, but not dreadedily long either. The doctor walks in, a stand in for my normal doctor. He was polite with the how do you do's and handshake but I wasn't impressed with his evaluation.
His bedside manner was nice, but he lacked empathy, compassion and he most certainly did not treat me like a person. To him I was 8 minutes, I was a co-pay, his paycheck, another patient. That is discomforting. My name is Anne Wolking and I have my very own history separate from any one else in that building--yet we are all treated the same--depressing actually. I game him all my symptoms and he had me lie on the table, did some poking, prodding and even futzed with my ankle--not even telling me why he is doing that exam. He lifted me up and said, "it's not kidney stones, its muscle."
Apparently he was not listening to me. I said this was unlike any pain I have ever felt--and playing soccer and being a runner--I KNOW muscle pain. I asked him, if it is muscle-related why am I nauseas, why do I feel sick after I eat and why don't the pain meds work? He looked at me confused as if I have never said those symptoms before and said, "you're fine, but if you want I'll send you upstairs for some lab work..." To which I replied, "Well I think getting bloodwork done would be a good direction to take to rule out anything major..."
I hate to complain on this site, but I felt the need to communicate my story. I am a patient with her own history who is only asking for empathy and proper care. I don't need the mystery of my symptoms solved I just want to hear, "Wow it sounds like that really bothers you and hopefully we'll be able to find an answer to your issues."
Is it too much to ask?
Thursday, June 17, 2010
it rained for 40 days...
I love the rain, how it refreshes the earth, the soul.
Nothing is more heaven-sent than being able to lay in bed, snuggled under the covers while listening to the world's symphony. From the beginning first drops to the gentle christening of the rain baptising the earth with a new beginning, I lay awake in wonder.
while the music unfolds, I wait for the crescendo..the thunder, the lightening. I am taken aback by the beauty of the dark night sky light up with such a commanding presence. I just lay, listen and nod off into a dream-like state and enjoy the moment.
Deacon will sometimes get a little frightened by the storms and I now that I have a child it is so fun to talk to them about God and his angels bowling. To this day, I still call out "strike!" with every crack of thunder I hear. He finally settled down, climbed into bed and we watched t.v. as we always do right before bed. We said prayers, read books and exchanged, I love yous before it was time for me to say goodnight. I think Deacon learned that night that Thunderstorms aren't scary, but rather, a lullaby.
Nothing is more heaven-sent than being able to lay in bed, snuggled under the covers while listening to the world's symphony. From the beginning first drops to the gentle christening of the rain baptising the earth with a new beginning, I lay awake in wonder.
while the music unfolds, I wait for the crescendo..the thunder, the lightening. I am taken aback by the beauty of the dark night sky light up with such a commanding presence. I just lay, listen and nod off into a dream-like state and enjoy the moment.
Deacon will sometimes get a little frightened by the storms and I now that I have a child it is so fun to talk to them about God and his angels bowling. To this day, I still call out "strike!" with every crack of thunder I hear. He finally settled down, climbed into bed and we watched t.v. as we always do right before bed. We said prayers, read books and exchanged, I love yous before it was time for me to say goodnight. I think Deacon learned that night that Thunderstorms aren't scary, but rather, a lullaby.
Monday, June 14, 2010
"Imma B"
I have been a mom for 3 years. I have loved every single minute of it, but I have begun to wonder, what actually makes me a "mom"? I am the same person I always have been, it's just now that I have a 3-year-old tugging on my pants leg. Sure my body has changed, I guess that would be a sign of my "mom-ness", but other than that, I am still Silly Annie girl who really thinks she is funny.
But there are things about me that make people proceed with caution or assume that I am different. This is in no sense a bad thing--I just am now finding the humor in it all.
I, like many moms know that people look at moms differently…even if your kids aren’t in tow. Maybe it is the mom swagger—the confidence “yea, I’m a mom—I can do it all, I am superwoman in my household!” only to realize that no, really, you have a cape still attached to you and that’s why people are staring.
Moms know other moms—just as motorcyclists give their signature “wave” of solidarity while passing eachother on the highway, moms give the “look”. It’s the “I’ve got your back” and “I understand why you are frazzled” look. Why, just the other day I was eating dinner with Deacon at a restaurant and a woman next to me was darting her eyes from her purse to the buffet line deciding what’s more important: potentially losing her purse in theft or watching her son make a mess all over the dessert bar. So I gave her the nod and said, “don’t worry, I’ll tackle anyone who tries to get to your purse” and off she went to assist her son. She came back and smiled with appreciation. It was as if we were tag teaming and the restaurant was a boxing ring—we owned it. Knock out—moms for the win.
Being a mom has it’s advantages—people more often hold doors for you, ask if you need help to the car, stuff a few extra crackers in your to-go bag for the ride home, lollipops for our children at the bank—people just know that moms really can’t do it all (even though we think we can). Wait a minute…we can do it all—we just accept the help graciously.
Moms like me know how to transform. One minute we are professionally dressed and ready to tackle the work world. If you are a full time Mom (God bless you!) you may be dressed to kill while walking your children to a play date or doing any other daily necessities that we work moms can't unfortunately get done. BUT when we are home and know that we will be there for a long time, we can magically dress into a slob-pjs, running shorts, oversized t-shirts---whatever you choose. WHY? I'll tell you why. It's comfy---and it is a lot easier to chase dragons or play puppy dog in comfy clothes than in jeans and high heels!
We moms also know how to transform for social events. Magically, we find time to shower, paint our nails, put foreign makeup on our face and show the world what we once were! This is the part I love, when I zip line down the stairs only to find my husband's jaw on the floor realizing that his wife "still has it!" That all becomes interrupted when your child (or more) comes running to you with a snotty nose or boo-boo--and that's ok--because while we are smokin' in our little black mini, we know how to bandage the scrapes of childhood and we know how to work a wet wipe! If we get a little "mom" on us--ie boogers or blood or crusts of dried food we don't really bother changing--we just flick it off and head on our way.
So here it was, a Friday night and I was going out on the town with a dear friend of mine. We were traveling to Cincinnati—which from my house almost seems like a different country. I was excited—I was going to dance and sing and be “Anne” again. For a few short hours, my family was allowing me to rediscover who I am outside of what I already know. I would never trade in my life for something better—they way it stands, I couldn’t be any happier, but just from 10pm to 2am on Friday I was able to set aside Raffi and Disney and dance the night away to Fergie and other electro-pop beats that made my feet move in a way I didn’t think I could.
After our night of dancing we found ourselves at a neat little restaurant and I stuffed myself with Chicken Pad Thai and I remember looking at the clock and giggling at the fact that it was 3am and I was still out.
I made it home at 3:30 (yea, I know.) and lost of evidence of my girls night out and transformed back into being a mom. I was awakened at 6:30 by my sweet little boy, we snuggled tight with Doug and watched Saturday morning cartoons and I felt like all was right with the world. I thought, “yea, I can to do it all.”
I have decided this: I am a mom. But I am also a wife, a friend, a dancer, a singer, a comedian, a co-worker, you name it—I probably play the role. And in order for me to be a great mom, I NEED to be “me”. It is ok to be the person I always was, I just need to juggle an extra title.
So, here is to us moms—We are the ring leaders of life’s circus—we do it all, and yes, it is ok to continue to define who WE are in the process.
But there are things about me that make people proceed with caution or assume that I am different. This is in no sense a bad thing--I just am now finding the humor in it all.
I, like many moms know that people look at moms differently…even if your kids aren’t in tow. Maybe it is the mom swagger—the confidence “yea, I’m a mom—I can do it all, I am superwoman in my household!” only to realize that no, really, you have a cape still attached to you and that’s why people are staring.
Moms know other moms—just as motorcyclists give their signature “wave” of solidarity while passing eachother on the highway, moms give the “look”. It’s the “I’ve got your back” and “I understand why you are frazzled” look. Why, just the other day I was eating dinner with Deacon at a restaurant and a woman next to me was darting her eyes from her purse to the buffet line deciding what’s more important: potentially losing her purse in theft or watching her son make a mess all over the dessert bar. So I gave her the nod and said, “don’t worry, I’ll tackle anyone who tries to get to your purse” and off she went to assist her son. She came back and smiled with appreciation. It was as if we were tag teaming and the restaurant was a boxing ring—we owned it. Knock out—moms for the win.
Being a mom has it’s advantages—people more often hold doors for you, ask if you need help to the car, stuff a few extra crackers in your to-go bag for the ride home, lollipops for our children at the bank—people just know that moms really can’t do it all (even though we think we can). Wait a minute…we can do it all—we just accept the help graciously.
Moms like me know how to transform. One minute we are professionally dressed and ready to tackle the work world. If you are a full time Mom (God bless you!) you may be dressed to kill while walking your children to a play date or doing any other daily necessities that we work moms can't unfortunately get done. BUT when we are home and know that we will be there for a long time, we can magically dress into a slob-pjs, running shorts, oversized t-shirts---whatever you choose. WHY? I'll tell you why. It's comfy---and it is a lot easier to chase dragons or play puppy dog in comfy clothes than in jeans and high heels!
We moms also know how to transform for social events. Magically, we find time to shower, paint our nails, put foreign makeup on our face and show the world what we once were! This is the part I love, when I zip line down the stairs only to find my husband's jaw on the floor realizing that his wife "still has it!" That all becomes interrupted when your child (or more) comes running to you with a snotty nose or boo-boo--and that's ok--because while we are smokin' in our little black mini, we know how to bandage the scrapes of childhood and we know how to work a wet wipe! If we get a little "mom" on us--ie boogers or blood or crusts of dried food we don't really bother changing--we just flick it off and head on our way.
So here it was, a Friday night and I was going out on the town with a dear friend of mine. We were traveling to Cincinnati—which from my house almost seems like a different country. I was excited—I was going to dance and sing and be “Anne” again. For a few short hours, my family was allowing me to rediscover who I am outside of what I already know. I would never trade in my life for something better—they way it stands, I couldn’t be any happier, but just from 10pm to 2am on Friday I was able to set aside Raffi and Disney and dance the night away to Fergie and other electro-pop beats that made my feet move in a way I didn’t think I could.
After our night of dancing we found ourselves at a neat little restaurant and I stuffed myself with Chicken Pad Thai and I remember looking at the clock and giggling at the fact that it was 3am and I was still out.
I made it home at 3:30 (yea, I know.) and lost of evidence of my girls night out and transformed back into being a mom. I was awakened at 6:30 by my sweet little boy, we snuggled tight with Doug and watched Saturday morning cartoons and I felt like all was right with the world. I thought, “yea, I can to do it all.”
I have decided this: I am a mom. But I am also a wife, a friend, a dancer, a singer, a comedian, a co-worker, you name it—I probably play the role. And in order for me to be a great mom, I NEED to be “me”. It is ok to be the person I always was, I just need to juggle an extra title.
So, here is to us moms—We are the ring leaders of life’s circus—we do it all, and yes, it is ok to continue to define who WE are in the process.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
mixin and cleaning
It's a rainy day, I am cleaning, Deacon is playing play dough and my cell phone is MIA--what an awesome day! I am actually able to deep clean my house and I am OK with deacon mixing all the play doughs together--green, red, brown and yellow---for those of you who know me know that this is a big deal...
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Feeling a little "Groggy"
My friend Noah is a superstar! Why do you ask? Well, he bought be coffee and dropped it off at my work for me. Noah, Lauren (his lady friend) and I try to make it to Mass, but unfortunately my sleep deprived self has not been doing a decent job at this, so I have been skipping.
Today, the three of us were supposed to meet up for Mass and coffee, once again-I slept through my alarm and 6:30 past me by without even a warning! I called them and was very much bummed and even joked that they should drop off my favorite coffee to me--but they didn't take it as a joke, more like a challenge!
Noah and his ninja skills successfully made the perfect cup of Highlander Grogg with 3 packets of splenda and enough half and half to create a beautiful carmel colored coffee.
Noah, thank you for being awesome and thanks for making a day a little brighter today!
Today, the three of us were supposed to meet up for Mass and coffee, once again-I slept through my alarm and 6:30 past me by without even a warning! I called them and was very much bummed and even joked that they should drop off my favorite coffee to me--but they didn't take it as a joke, more like a challenge!
Noah and his ninja skills successfully made the perfect cup of Highlander Grogg with 3 packets of splenda and enough half and half to create a beautiful carmel colored coffee.
Noah, thank you for being awesome and thanks for making a day a little brighter today!
Sunday, June 6, 2010
I want you to want me
I guess since I have grown up with music in my life since birth--I associate it with life in general..and anytime I can relate my life to a particular lyric or song or singer...don't think that I wont! Today was one of those days..driving home looking at my sweet sun-kissed boy just wanting him to want me again, to need me. My 3 year old gave me a glimpse today of his independence. Might I insert a little tangent. Ever since he could walk Deacon wanted independence--but it was never officially his...he'd always know he could find Doug or me to rescue him. That is what I call a stubborn independence, or "fake it till I make it."
Today, however was different. My sister Kathy invited us to their swim club for a few hours before heading to a family party--I gladly jumped in my car with Deacon and sped my way to the pool. Deacon doesn't know much about pools, aside from the tiny blow up ones we have at home--so before, pools tend to send him into a panic attack!
The day started out very much like I anticipated: Deacon clawed into my neck and wouldn't let go of me---he even gave me that look of, "why in the heck did I say this would be fun?!" So we hugged tight and snuggled in the pool while we sang songs and comforted one another...him from his fear of the water and my fear of having to let my boy grow up.
We then got out of the pool had a nutritious lunch of fake cheese and sodium (pretzel). Next thing I know, Deacon asks to go into the pool (baby pool) and as I got up to go with him he sternly says, "Mommy, no go wit me, you watch over der, I am good mommy." So like a good momma bird I watched...my eyes darting every which way, making sure he wasn't in danger. There were a few times he got to a part that was too deep and he usually find his way back and when I'd go to get him, he yell, "MOMMY I am GOOD!" Sitting back at my seat, crushed, I just kept watching him and my sister's neighbor said, "look Anne, he doesn't even need you anymore!" and I replied, "yeah but I kind of need him to need me."
I am not ready to let go. Granted, I still need to keep close watch on him since he is only 3, but lets face it--he is getting older, and capable of learning things and figuring them out on his own--and I am not OK with this. Maybe it's because I don't have a little running around this moment who does truly need me. Maybe I am sad that he is growing to fast and I haven't developed a magic potion to stop it, all I know is that I will never not 'worry'. My head is telling me that this is awesome--he is becoming self sufficient, he is learning social roles and how to play and share and make friends. He learning to take risks (like swimming with only swimmies and not me, AND rushing down a water slide, even after he fell over and went head first) these are all things that Doug and I as parents have taught him how to be--but my heart is crying. My heart wants my little holy man wrapped in my arms where I can I love and snuggle and never let go--but I have to.
I have a feeling that years down the road, I'll still have this anxiety--just as I do today. I will worry when he goes to kindergarten, his first dance, to the mall by himself, drives, goes out with friends, etc. etc. I don't mean worry in a bad way, but just in the "I'll hold my breath and squint my eyes and cross my fingers and HOPE that he is 'ready'."
We had a great day, I had a wonderful learning moment in parenthood and Deacon just showed his age a little better today. I am one happy momma.
Today, however was different. My sister Kathy invited us to their swim club for a few hours before heading to a family party--I gladly jumped in my car with Deacon and sped my way to the pool. Deacon doesn't know much about pools, aside from the tiny blow up ones we have at home--so before, pools tend to send him into a panic attack!
The day started out very much like I anticipated: Deacon clawed into my neck and wouldn't let go of me---he even gave me that look of, "why in the heck did I say this would be fun?!" So we hugged tight and snuggled in the pool while we sang songs and comforted one another...him from his fear of the water and my fear of having to let my boy grow up.
We then got out of the pool had a nutritious lunch of fake cheese and sodium (pretzel). Next thing I know, Deacon asks to go into the pool (baby pool) and as I got up to go with him he sternly says, "Mommy, no go wit me, you watch over der, I am good mommy." So like a good momma bird I watched...my eyes darting every which way, making sure he wasn't in danger. There were a few times he got to a part that was too deep and he usually find his way back and when I'd go to get him, he yell, "MOMMY I am GOOD!" Sitting back at my seat, crushed, I just kept watching him and my sister's neighbor said, "look Anne, he doesn't even need you anymore!" and I replied, "yeah but I kind of need him to need me."
I am not ready to let go. Granted, I still need to keep close watch on him since he is only 3, but lets face it--he is getting older, and capable of learning things and figuring them out on his own--and I am not OK with this. Maybe it's because I don't have a little running around this moment who does truly need me. Maybe I am sad that he is growing to fast and I haven't developed a magic potion to stop it, all I know is that I will never not 'worry'. My head is telling me that this is awesome--he is becoming self sufficient, he is learning social roles and how to play and share and make friends. He learning to take risks (like swimming with only swimmies and not me, AND rushing down a water slide, even after he fell over and went head first) these are all things that Doug and I as parents have taught him how to be--but my heart is crying. My heart wants my little holy man wrapped in my arms where I can I love and snuggle and never let go--but I have to.
I have a feeling that years down the road, I'll still have this anxiety--just as I do today. I will worry when he goes to kindergarten, his first dance, to the mall by himself, drives, goes out with friends, etc. etc. I don't mean worry in a bad way, but just in the "I'll hold my breath and squint my eyes and cross my fingers and HOPE that he is 'ready'."
We had a great day, I had a wonderful learning moment in parenthood and Deacon just showed his age a little better today. I am one happy momma.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Hair Cut!
Deacon got his wig busted today---that kids hair grows SO fast...
width="100px" height="100px" />
width="100px" height="100px" />
Love defined
before I begin this post I'd like to say that I am attempting at being creative with my page...we'll see how it goes I guess! But I digress...
I have heard once and read twice this past week the following quote: "love is just a word until someone defines it for you."
I sat back and just thought, "huh, isn't that a great quote." I then got all gushy and thought once more, "Doug has most certainly defined love and has helped me see that it is way more than a word." I let that quote stew in my brain for the next few days and I began to realize that as pretty as that quote is, I disagree with it 100%.
In college, one of my favorite professors said on the very first day of class, "A word is a symbol that is arbitrarily assigned meaning." This brilliant understanding of our ever so confusing language shed some light on my thoughts. I thought that it would be incredibly sad that in 26 years of my life, just now am I defining love, and that love is defined by one person...silliness I say.
Don't get me wrong...I get it...I understand the Hallmark sentiment of the phrase of finding someone who defines love for you...but there are many more versions of love that I hope were defined by myself and by others throughout my 26 years of life.
So how has love been defined to me? Who assigned meaning to that word and why do I choose to care about it anyway?
Love in my life was first defined when God created the world. Next, love was defined when he gave us his only son, so that he may save us from our transgressions. Fast forward a few years (ok, a lot of years) and I define the love I know when my family began. When my mother and father were married and when they exchanged vows and said they would lovingly accept children from God. Love in my life continued to be defined with the births of all my siblings. Love is defined by my twin--God knew I needed her in my life. Love defined is my husband whose nickname simply is "patience". The minute I saw positive on my pregnancy test with Deacon added another line to the 2,000 year long definition of love. Love will never stop making it's presence in our life...we just need to be open to it.
Love has been defined through family, friends, teachers, pets, happiness and joy, sorrow and even pain. I sometimes find the most love in the darkest times of my life and to date that is the richest definition that helps me know what love is.
This world is a walking thesaurus--everyday I see love and everyday I understand it's power a little more. Complete strangers define the love I know--even through simple exchanges and actions. God put us on this Earth, he wants us to show his love for us to others.
I need to act, speak and be love--Love in Action. I am called to love my family, my friends and my enemies. I am called not to judge or gossip. I am called to simply be and do.
So to close my love speak, I will fill you in on events/people today that have helped defined love:
*Deacon saying, "I LUB you mommy"
*Complete stranger holding the door for me
*The warm sun
*Conversation with a dear friend
*Swimming
*playing soccer
*Deacon blessing me on my forehead
*a phone call from Doug
*my puppy curled up on the couch
*Dairy queen dipped ice cream
*my mother and father
*My neighbor
It's the little things more than the big things that define love. Please be awake to the world around you--God is trying to fill your heart with so much love, you just need to be open to it. Be open...take it in and give it away.
I have heard once and read twice this past week the following quote: "love is just a word until someone defines it for you."
I sat back and just thought, "huh, isn't that a great quote." I then got all gushy and thought once more, "Doug has most certainly defined love and has helped me see that it is way more than a word." I let that quote stew in my brain for the next few days and I began to realize that as pretty as that quote is, I disagree with it 100%.
In college, one of my favorite professors said on the very first day of class, "A word is a symbol that is arbitrarily assigned meaning." This brilliant understanding of our ever so confusing language shed some light on my thoughts. I thought that it would be incredibly sad that in 26 years of my life, just now am I defining love, and that love is defined by one person...silliness I say.
Don't get me wrong...I get it...I understand the Hallmark sentiment of the phrase of finding someone who defines love for you...but there are many more versions of love that I hope were defined by myself and by others throughout my 26 years of life.
So how has love been defined to me? Who assigned meaning to that word and why do I choose to care about it anyway?
Love in my life was first defined when God created the world. Next, love was defined when he gave us his only son, so that he may save us from our transgressions. Fast forward a few years (ok, a lot of years) and I define the love I know when my family began. When my mother and father were married and when they exchanged vows and said they would lovingly accept children from God. Love in my life continued to be defined with the births of all my siblings. Love is defined by my twin--God knew I needed her in my life. Love defined is my husband whose nickname simply is "patience". The minute I saw positive on my pregnancy test with Deacon added another line to the 2,000 year long definition of love. Love will never stop making it's presence in our life...we just need to be open to it.
Love has been defined through family, friends, teachers, pets, happiness and joy, sorrow and even pain. I sometimes find the most love in the darkest times of my life and to date that is the richest definition that helps me know what love is.
This world is a walking thesaurus--everyday I see love and everyday I understand it's power a little more. Complete strangers define the love I know--even through simple exchanges and actions. God put us on this Earth, he wants us to show his love for us to others.
I need to act, speak and be love--Love in Action. I am called to love my family, my friends and my enemies. I am called not to judge or gossip. I am called to simply be and do.
So to close my love speak, I will fill you in on events/people today that have helped defined love:
*Deacon saying, "I LUB you mommy"
*Complete stranger holding the door for me
*The warm sun
*Conversation with a dear friend
*Swimming
*playing soccer
*Deacon blessing me on my forehead
*a phone call from Doug
*my puppy curled up on the couch
*Dairy queen dipped ice cream
*my mother and father
*My neighbor
It's the little things more than the big things that define love. Please be awake to the world around you--God is trying to fill your heart with so much love, you just need to be open to it. Be open...take it in and give it away.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
An ice cream cone kind of day
I was a little concerned about Tuesday. In my experience, anytime I enter a Tuesday from a long weekend, it feels eerily similar to Monday. I feel terrible for Monday's--the common saying in many work places is the following, "Hey Jane, how are you?" to which Jane replies, "Ugh....it's a Monday."
Poor Mondays! Anyway, I went into work thinking that Tuesday was going to feel a bit of Monday's pain. I myself was running late to work and then when I got there I realized the amount of work I left at my desk for this coming week--ugh. So, I took a deep breath and worked 1 by 1--and by the end of the day, I actually felt accomplished! Tuesday, the new Monday, wasn't so bad after all.
After work, I raced down to Deacon's school and took a walk with a dear friend, len-len, as Deacons pronoucnes it. After the short, yet oh-so-sweaty-walk with Lauren, Deacon and I had dinner around his tiny white table. Imagine two adults trying to cram there legs under a tiny kids table--hysterical. I can't make him eat dinner at the big table, when he is so proud of HIS table--he even wants his plate and utensils, so he can "set it" himself! Adorable! The best part of the evening, however, was our fun trip to Aunt "Seesaw's" house to play with Louis. Little did those two know that Theresa and I were going to take them for ice cream!
We hopped in the stroller (well they hopped, T and I walked!) and walked down to Dairy Crest. Here is the awesome thing about dairy crest, they sell baby cones for 35 cents each--what a bargain. It is the perfect size for me so I don't feel like I over indulged and it is PERFECT for the kids because they are able to keep up with the size/melt ratio with translates into less mess for me later on! Once we got to the ice cream hut both boys wanted swirl cones while Theresa and I couldn't resist the vanilla dipped in chocolate. That by far is my favorite--the perfect ice cream wrapped in a shell of heaven--yum! But my heaven was interrupted when Deacon decided what he passed up to get a boring swirl cone...and he pointed at my cone and said, "i want that, mommy." He then tilted his head downward just enough, lifted his beautiful eyes up and with is long eyelashes he was practically begging that I traded my cone with his. Let me tell you something--I would NEVER do that for anyone. Once I get my heart desired on something, I am hard pressed just to give it up. I think I won the "who loves who more" game!
After that we ran home watched a little bit of TV and waited for Daddy to come home. As soon as he came home, I was chopped liver! Deacon proceeded to tell me that I should go play soccer and Daddy will put him to bed. When I told him I didn't have soccer, he said, "uhm, you go running." I said, "no, honey, I don't need to go running." He then said, "you go to shoppe cop and get toffee, otay?!" This kid was really not liking the idea of me being upstairs...slightly heart breaking, but also welcomed because it was nice to have a little "me-time".
Doug came down stairs and told me that our little king wanted me to do "bum-bums." Bum-bums are what we did when he was an infant, and contiue to do so to this day. It is just patting his bottom--it worked wonders when he was a babe, and apparently now that steady rythym is comforting for him still. I walk upstairs, and lay down next to him and say prayers while doing bum-bums. Deacon then requested some songs...so I did. First up was a new one called Night Mantra by Renee and Jeremy www.reneeandjeremy.com. They are amazing. Then I sang the Deacon standard, God speed and Little Man. Before I knew it, my son fell asleep. I cried. Why did I cry? I kind of felt like an idiot that I was crying over something so simple.
But I soon realized that it isn't simple. It was a gift. God gave me the gift of music for a reason. Why, I don't know. I won't ever be famous for my singing. Last night was a reminder as to why he gave me that voice. I have a voice so I can sing my son to sleep. My voice can soothe his day away and calm his nerves, his fear and provide him comfort with his last waking moments before he slips into a peaceful sleep. My voice is something that I can share with my son, for him to enjoy--and that makes my heart happy!
Tuesday was perfect--Even if it did feel like a Monday.
Poor Mondays! Anyway, I went into work thinking that Tuesday was going to feel a bit of Monday's pain. I myself was running late to work and then when I got there I realized the amount of work I left at my desk for this coming week--ugh. So, I took a deep breath and worked 1 by 1--and by the end of the day, I actually felt accomplished! Tuesday, the new Monday, wasn't so bad after all.
After work, I raced down to Deacon's school and took a walk with a dear friend, len-len, as Deacons pronoucnes it. After the short, yet oh-so-sweaty-walk with Lauren, Deacon and I had dinner around his tiny white table. Imagine two adults trying to cram there legs under a tiny kids table--hysterical. I can't make him eat dinner at the big table, when he is so proud of HIS table--he even wants his plate and utensils, so he can "set it" himself! Adorable! The best part of the evening, however, was our fun trip to Aunt "Seesaw's" house to play with Louis. Little did those two know that Theresa and I were going to take them for ice cream!
We hopped in the stroller (well they hopped, T and I walked!) and walked down to Dairy Crest. Here is the awesome thing about dairy crest, they sell baby cones for 35 cents each--what a bargain. It is the perfect size for me so I don't feel like I over indulged and it is PERFECT for the kids because they are able to keep up with the size/melt ratio with translates into less mess for me later on! Once we got to the ice cream hut both boys wanted swirl cones while Theresa and I couldn't resist the vanilla dipped in chocolate. That by far is my favorite--the perfect ice cream wrapped in a shell of heaven--yum! But my heaven was interrupted when Deacon decided what he passed up to get a boring swirl cone...and he pointed at my cone and said, "i want that, mommy." He then tilted his head downward just enough, lifted his beautiful eyes up and with is long eyelashes he was practically begging that I traded my cone with his. Let me tell you something--I would NEVER do that for anyone. Once I get my heart desired on something, I am hard pressed just to give it up. I think I won the "who loves who more" game!
After that we ran home watched a little bit of TV and waited for Daddy to come home. As soon as he came home, I was chopped liver! Deacon proceeded to tell me that I should go play soccer and Daddy will put him to bed. When I told him I didn't have soccer, he said, "uhm, you go running." I said, "no, honey, I don't need to go running." He then said, "you go to shoppe cop and get toffee, otay?!" This kid was really not liking the idea of me being upstairs...slightly heart breaking, but also welcomed because it was nice to have a little "me-time".
Doug came down stairs and told me that our little king wanted me to do "bum-bums." Bum-bums are what we did when he was an infant, and contiue to do so to this day. It is just patting his bottom--it worked wonders when he was a babe, and apparently now that steady rythym is comforting for him still. I walk upstairs, and lay down next to him and say prayers while doing bum-bums. Deacon then requested some songs...so I did. First up was a new one called Night Mantra by Renee and Jeremy www.reneeandjeremy.com. They are amazing. Then I sang the Deacon standard, God speed and Little Man. Before I knew it, my son fell asleep. I cried. Why did I cry? I kind of felt like an idiot that I was crying over something so simple.
But I soon realized that it isn't simple. It was a gift. God gave me the gift of music for a reason. Why, I don't know. I won't ever be famous for my singing. Last night was a reminder as to why he gave me that voice. I have a voice so I can sing my son to sleep. My voice can soothe his day away and calm his nerves, his fear and provide him comfort with his last waking moments before he slips into a peaceful sleep. My voice is something that I can share with my son, for him to enjoy--and that makes my heart happy!
Tuesday was perfect--Even if it did feel like a Monday.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
