Wolking Family

I Heart Faces Photo Challenge | On Your Feet

2011-12-05T13:28:00.001-05:00

Another submission for the I Heart Faces photo challenge! This week the focus isn't on a face, but rather, feet! No one can deny the cuteness of baby feet, so I couldn't resit but to add this one to the challenge! If you'd like to get in on the fun, submit your photo by 9pm on Tuesday!

A Beard and a Mustache

2011-11-23T09:56:00.001-05:00

Sometimes I just want to sit inside a child’s brain so that I can try to understand why they do the silly things they do. More specifically, I want to sit inside my four-year-old’s brain to understand why he does what he does.

99% of the time, my son does is amazing, cute, wonderful, creative, funny and even witty things. But then there is the 1%. I can guess that most parents agree that is the percentage that leaves us scratching our heads. Most will agree that the 1% causes the most unpredictable, outrageous, hilarious (although we can’t let them think that) and puzzling concoctions our little ones come up with.

Here are some examples of the 1% that most of us have experienced:

• Crayons on walls

• Flushing items down the toilet

• Painting walls with things other than paint

• Sticking things up their nose

• Swallowing foreign objects

• Jumping from the couch and other furniture

• Dumping cupfuls of water out of the tub

• Cutting the telephone cord while talking on the phone

• Using your feet to scrub the tub with soft scrub instead of a sponge (true story, lived by my twin, my friend and me).

All of the above can do one of two things to parents. If your child does this on a day you have lots of patience, you just laugh it off and educate them on the “dangers of fill in the blank” and move on. Kids however have the uncanny ability to time their 1% in with the most hectic of days and when we, the parents, have the least amount of patience. Unfortunately, my child likes to experiment with the fragility of life in conjunction with my fragile patience. This is when the 1% throws us parents over the edge. This is when we go crazy, Broadway style.

Last night was no different. Doug, aka: the fun parent was on nap duty while I was out shopping. Because our 5-month-old has an unpredictable nap schedule, he told Deacon that he’d have to lay down by himself. Reason being, no one in the house would nap if Cohen cried the whole time. Doug assumed that Deacon would just fall a sleep on his own.

Once I came home, I quickly realized Deacon hadn’t fallen asleep. I went upstairs to lay down with him as a last ditch effort to get him to take a snooze. It was a rainy day so the room was especially dark, which made it difficult for me to see him. I lay down next to him, gave him a big hug and asked if he wanted to snuggle. He said yes, but immediately said, “Mommy, don’t turn on the light, okay?” I chuckled and replied, “I won’t honey.” Then I paused, got suspicious and said, “Deacon, why don’t you want me to turn the light on.” He stammered through is reply, “I don’t want you to see what I did to my face.” I obviously turned on the lights to see what he did. Deacon decided he was going to color on himself—with a permanent marker. I have no clue how he even found the marker or why he even thought it was a good idea to color on him, but apparently he knew what he did was a bad idea. I can imagine him finding the marker and thinking that it would be a lot of fun to color on himself, but then afterwards the guilt set in (we’ve all been there, yes?!) so he totally ratted himself out, no interrogation needed!

The worse part is that when I was trying to talk to Deacon about why Doug and I were upset, he kept making this hilarious face that was even funnier because of the marker! I busted out laughing, so I knew I was in trouble because once you laugh, it’s all over—the kid is on to you. After I laughed, Deacon laughed and I kept telling him it wasn’t funny and he looked at me and said, “Yes, mommy it is very funny.” I folded and agreed that it was pretty silly. In an effort to save a parenting, life lesson moment, I told him that I wasn’t upset that he colored on himself, but I was more upset that he disobeyed us and did that instead of napping. I also took it one step further and said he had to send photos of him to Santa so he could assess the damage. That’s when Deacon got really upset. He looked at me and asked what Santa would do and I said that I didn’t know. Then in the most pitiful voice and innocent look (chin down, eyes up) he said, “Mommy, I just wanted a beard and a mustache like daddy.”

UGH! I totally played the Santa card, and it completely backfired on me! I said, “You wanted a beard like daddy?!” He replied, “Yes-I want to be just like my daddy.” I start to back pedal and reminded him that we when we are told to do something (take a nap) we need to do it and not do anything else (color on self). I did say that if he wanted to color a beard on him, he could have asked us and we would have totally gotten the markers out (washable) and he could have went to town, because I’d like to think that Doug and I are cool parents.

After the dust settled, we made Deacon soak in the tub to fade the marker away. We also discovered that baby wipes take the marker right off! By the way, baby wipes magically remove just about anything-yet they are supposed to be baby safe—haven’t figured that one out yet!

So, what is my point to all this? The 1% will happen to you. It is supposed to happen because kids will be kids. I know the silly stuff kids do that fit into the 1% occur at the least desirable times, but try to laugh it off anyway (except for when it is super serious!) T

he 1% is part of growing up, and even though it is such a small percentage, I like to think that the lessons learned are far greater than 1%!

I Heart Faces Photo Challenge | Autumn Splendor

2011-11-15T14:08:00.004-05:00

This is the first time I have entered a photo in the I Heart Faces Photo Challenge! As soon as I read the category, I KNEW the perfect picture I would use for the contest! Want to add your own photo to the challenge? You better hurry--the contest closes at 9pm tonight!

Soccer

2011-09-19T22:30:00.000-04:00

So after a year of Doug and I asking Deacon if he wanted to play soccer, he finally said yes! I was super excited that he wanted to try my favorite sport. Plus, fall is not fall unless you get to watch or play a soccer game. Some people have memories of huddling under blankets watching football under the Friday night lights, but I hold all of my fall memories on the pitch. Nothing beats stepping out onto the field with a chill in the air, sweet dew sticking to your cleats and the sound the soccer ball makes as it races across the field. Deacon, should he want to continue playing, will hopefully experience many happy memories with such an amazing sport like I do :)

Deacon is playing through NKYA, an awesome, volunteer driven organization that strives to teach kids to love the game, learn the basics and have fun. The organization hosts teams from U4 to U18 and every game is at the same park between the hours of 9 and 12 (Thank you!!!!)

So a typical Saturday during the soccer season involves Deacon getting decked out in his mini soccer gear:
shirt, shorts, cute little cleats and shin guards (why does he have to look that stinkin' adorable in his uniform?!) Then he has to have a yogurt to make his body strong (Did I mention that this kid is so persuasive he could sell an Eskimo an ice cube?) and off we go in my soccer mom wagon to the field.

Doug has to work Saturdays so it is just me and the kiddos--which is a sport in of itself! We fight for a parking spot, then I have to juggle getting the stroller out for Cohen, the soccer bag for Deacon, the diaper bag for Cohen, a chair for me, etc. etc. that's before the kids are even out of the car!!! Next I have to give Deacon specific instructions on getting out of the car and standing right by me while I get Cohen. I nestle Cohen's pumpkin seat in the stroller and what feels like we've been preparing for the decent down the hill for an hour, we finally make some headway.

Deacon grabs his water bottle and heads to the field to get a quick practice in with his team before the game. This is when I get to sit and watch :)

Not only do I get to watch my little soccer star, but the parents, and the droves of kids, tumbling down the hill to their game. It is like a battle field of Saturday tradition. Moms, dad's, grandparents and whoever is crazy enough to come to a game will pile on the junk to trek down the hill to their final destination. Mom's fumbling with their camping seats, coolers, snacks for after the game, camera, video camera, themed t-shirts with their kids names on it; no doubt did they earn the "soccer mom" title. The kids racing down the hill to the fields while the mom or dad or whoever else screams, "you're going to fa...." too late. little Jack fell down, skinned his knee, which threatens his ability to play the game. After a short pep talk, little Jack is ready to play.

I hear the whistle of the ref so I turn my head away from the train wreck of families colliding down the hillside, and focus on my sweet little boy as he gets ready to kick off.

The best part about U6 soccer is the sheer cluelessness most of the children have for the sport. It is entertaining to watch the litter of kids run with the ball. At that age the mere object of the game is to get the ball. That means even if your team mate has the ball YOU have to get it. There is no passing, no shooting, no strategic thought--in fact, it is a major cluster--but good glory it is hilarious! Some kids sit and pick at the grass, others try to get in the game and then there are those children (mine included) who anticipate the game so much that they tug on the pants leg of their poor, unsuspecting coach ask them when they get to play or kick or throw the ball. My son's coach deserves the medal of honor for his patience (and bravery), the kids really enjoy him!

There is one position that kids DO NOT want to play: goalie. They'd rather be in the action and kicking the ball (remember they are 4 and 5, the word team doesn't exist with them yet--and as a goalie, you have to think of your team). Anyway, my son begs to play goalie. I'm not kidding. One game, the coach gave in and let him be the keeper. My heart stopped and my stomach was in my throat. Why? well, I played goalie, as did my brother--and I guess I inserted my fears, anxiety and excitement into what I thought Deacon might have been feeling but quickly realized that his desire to be goalie wasn't to catch the ball, but to play with the soccer net. Oh geesh! "Deacon, keep an eye on the ball, be ready" I yelled. Then my brain told me to pull back the crazy. So I just sat silenced, stomach in throat, hoping to God he'd catch the ball if it came his way. A kid came barreling down the field (Can a 5 year old barrel?! I don't know but it makes for a dramatic effect to the story!) and tapped the ball towards the goal. I shut my eyes, wincing, the opened. And to my surprise, Deacon caught the ball! He threw it to the right player and the game continued. I was relieved! 2 minutes later, his luck ran out because the team scored on him. I quickly said, "it's okay bud, thumbs up!" He smiled and gave me a thumbs up--still as proud as we was when he caught the ball! The coach somberly walked to him and asked if he wanted a break. Deacon shook his head no and told the coach, "I still want to play goalie!!!" So, he let him! It was so sweet!

Within a couple minutes, the game was over--the snacks were passed out, the drinks were grabbed up by the kids, the gear was packed and we headed for home. Just like that--as quick as we trekked down the hill, we climbed the hill to go home. Saturday ritual was over for the day and so the day continued like any other Saturday. I left the goals scored (from both teams) on that field, it didn't matter who won because all I cared about was that my son had a blast. I left the critique there to. Deacon doesn't need to know how he could have been better--because as far as I'm concerned--he played like a real pro (for a 4-year old!) But there was one thing I did take: the memories, the smiles, laughs and the pride that my son had for playing a sport. I will remember these soccer Saturday's for the rest of my life and I only hope that we have many more soccer Saturday's to come. I hope that Deacon can continue to learn, grow and excel in the sport--if he chooses to do so, but most importantly, I just want him to have fun!

As I drove away from the field, I looked back at Deacon and he asked, "Mommy, aren't you so proud of me?!" and I said, "You have no idea how proud I am of you!" He flashed the biggest, yet sheepish smile I've ever seen.

I hope he does know how proud I am of him. I hope he also knows, what great lessons he teaches me, even at his young age. Life isn't about being perfect or keeping score--it's about having fun, letting go, and being in the moment.

Back in the Saddle

2011-09-13T10:00:00.000-04:00

Two weeks ago I started back to work. It was just as, if not more gut wrenching to leave my kids at daycare than it was the first time around. I thought I would be able to waltz right into the daycare, say my goodbyes and walk out with any tears. That’s funny isn’t it?!

As I walked in my oldest to his classroom I could already feel the lump in my throat forming. “Keep it together” I thought to myself, “Don’t let him (Deacon) know something is wrong.” I did my absolute best not to cry when I dropped off Deacon. He is a very sensitive boy and if he saw me crying, I feared that he would think something was wrong, attach onto me and never let go—which, would make the process even more difficult! Deacon kept going to school while I was on maternity leave, but I did keep him home two days a week so he could spend time with me and his little brother. Knowing that time was over, I was sad that I was going to have to say goodbye to the wonderland I’d been apart of for the last 10 weeks and embrace the reality and the need that both Doug and I need to be working in order to support our family. I gave him a tight squeeze, teared up (only a little) and said, “I’ll see you after school, sweetie-you be a good boy, okay?” Deacon said, “Yeah, mommy I’ll be good….Oh and mommy, I’ll check on Cohen, okay?!” I said, “I really like that idea, Deacon-you can be mommy’s helper!”

I turned around stepped out of his classroom and walked down the hallway to Cohen’s room. I shuffled my feet trying to delay the inevitable. I kept thinking and overanalyzing:

• Did I make the most of these 10 weeks?
• Did I hold him enough?
• Love him enough?
• Cuddle, snuggle enough?
• Is he ready, heck, I’m I ready?!

I knew he was going to be fine and that he would be loved and cared for. His teacher is wonderful--Mary is a true blessing! But regardless of who was going to care for him or how safe he will be, it’s not the same. It’s really difficult having to be a “working girl” (as Deacon calls it) and a full-time mommy. You basically give up your parenting rights during your working hours so that you can help provide for your family. No matter how wonderful the teacher or the school is, it just isn’t the same. That is what I find most difficult—that I am sacrificing 40 hours a week, so the little time I have with my children I try to cherish and have it be meaningful.

Anyway, as we walked into Cohen’s new classroom I put on a mask of happiness and calmness. I was going to fake it, or at least the best I could. We got Cohen out of his seat and I just squeezed him and held him tight. Mary came over and ever so lovingly said, “Oh my, look at this handsome boy!” She then said, “How ya doin’ mom?!” And that’s when the flood gates opened. I lost it. Beyond control, almost to the point of the ‘ugly cry’ but before I knew it Mary just wrapped her arms around me and said, “Annie, you know it’s going to be fine, you are going to be fine.” Let me point out that she didn’t say Cohen was going to be fine, that was a given, but that I was going to be fine! The empathy that she gave me was a gift—she reassured me that it was all going to be okay. As promised I lifted the typed instruction sheet from my purse and gave it to Mary. I prefaced it by saying, “This is not meant to insult you. I know what’s on here is common sense and probably not even necessary, but I just couldn’t help myself.” Mary laughed and said she understood. It’s not that I thought they needed the letter, but I needed it. It was the one thing I could control. During the day, I have no control to what happens at daycare with my children, I have to trust that they will be cared for.

So, I dropped off the bottles, stocked the school’s freezer with his “popsicles” (the term Doug coined for my breast milk that we stockpiled in our downstairs freezer), set his clothes in his crib, gave him another squeeze and held him for what felt like an eternity. Doug, was being so patient with me and was the rock to support me. I’m pretty sure he wanted to cry, but didn’t, he wanted to be strong for me. But as I held Cohen tight never wanting to let go, a voice spoke to my heart. “Anne” It said in a soft voice, “Let go. He is safe; both of your children are safe. Trust, and let go.” So with one tearful last hug, and a thousand kisses, I let go. I handed him over to Mary and I left arm in arm with Doug.

We walked back down to Deacon’s room to say goodbye again (we said we would). By now, Deacon is such a pro at drop off that he almost looked embarrassed that we actually walked down again. But then I said, “Love you sweetie”, and he mouthed the words, “Mommy, I love you more.” That boy has charm!

That was that. I got into my car, drove to work, only called the daycare ONCE and was greeted by my co-workers with hugs, smiles and a hearty “welcome back”. I am so lucky that I get to work with such incredible people; they are an extension of my family. That work day was a day of getting readjusted to “work life” and learning again how to establish a routine! Once the clock hit 4:00pm I was out of there and sped (not to fast!) down to the daycare to get Cohen and Deacon. As I knew it would be, Cohen did fine. He was a rock star, and took to Ms Mary quite well—I know he is going to be super close to her! Deacon was fine (as usual) and home we went. I survived the first day, and the days after that. Slowly but surely I am learning again how to juggle the duties of being a mom and a “working girl”.

It’s all about juggling without dropping the ball. And the voice that spoke to my heart was right, I had to let go. I am for certain that voice was divine intervention; God truly was the one giving me a pep talk. Letting go is difficult and I may always have one hand on my children’s hearts at all times, but in order to grow, move forward and thrive I need to let go and trust. I had to trust that this was the right decision for my family and that my kids are being loved by their teachers almost as much as the love we give to them as their parents.

Superhero, super kid

2011-09-10T15:09:00.000-04:00

The first born has really been growing up lately. I swear each morning when we wake up and I walk in to check on the kiddos, Deacon just looks completely different than he did the day before.

He holds REAL conversations. He asks tough questions. He knows how to whine with the best of them.

I keep asking myself where the time went and how can it be that I almost have a kindergartner in my home?! I just pray that there are moments where his "little" self comes through again, so I can relive the beauty of the last four years he has been with us. Then as cued perfectly, Deacon transforms into a superhero:

I just sat and watched him pretend to fight off the bad guys and I think he really thought he was a legit super hero!

I giggled at how he would throw his arms up and "fly" and that he would pucker up his lips to make the "woosh" flying sound:

I loved how he took the PERFECT superhero stance, like our driveway was his 'city' and he was overlooking it to make sure the citizens were safe.

He then flew over to me and said, "hang on momma, I've got you!" I loved being rescued by my super hero super kid!

I am so thankful for those sweet little moments where I get to see him as a real kid, not just a growin'-up-too-cool-to pretend kid.

Brothers

2011-09-08T14:08:00.001-04:00

"There's no other love like the love for a brother. There's no other love like the love from a brother"
--Terri Guillemets

When Doug and I found out that we were expecting last year, we could not have been more thrilled! We were so excited, most of all, for Deacon to be a big brother.

As time went by and my belly began to grow, there was one question that seemed to be asked over and over again: "Are you hoping for a girl?" There were also comments like, "I bet you want a girl" or "Hey, if you have a girl, you'll be done!" These are all innocent questions, but definitely a very weird thought--A family is "complete" when there is a boy and a girl (and a white picket fence with a golden retriever name lucky). Before our 20-week ultrasound people would guess what I was having and the majority said "girl." I don't know if this was because we already had a boy and they just thought it was only right to think I'd have a girl, but it was a funny trend.

People were so persuasive that I was actually beginning to think that it was a girl. I even began referring to the baby as Charlotte, the name we chose for our hypothetical girl. Deacon even predicted that he was getting a baby sister.

Then, before we knew it, it was ultrasound day. Doug, Deacon and I filled the room with excitement. My mom came by as well to usher Deacon in the hall if needed. The technician was so wonderful and talked to us the entire ultrasound, telling us what she was measuring, why she was measuring and went over every tiny part of our baby. "You have a healthy, baby mom and dad," we could not have been happier. The tech then asked Deacon what he thought the baby was, and he replied, "a 'gurl'". The tech asked the adults in the room what we thought. My mother and I said, boy and my husband said, girl. In all honesty I only said boy because I thought for certain she would say girl and I wanted to be "surprised".

"Well" the technician said, "Mom, your right--it's a healthy boy." I was a bit shocked. Deacon was mad--he really, REALLY wanted a sister (would have thought he would have been ESTATIC to have a brother). I was almost in disbelief. What happened to my 'perfect' family?! Here after 20 weeks, I fooled myself into thinking we were having a little girl.

Was I happy I was having another boy? Absolutely! I was even happier that he was a healthy baby--that's all Doug and I ever wanted in our pregnancies, but I kept finding myself a bit conflicted. It would have really been nice to have a girl. I wanted to have that relationship and I know how Doug would have loved to have had a special bond with a daughter the way I do with Deacon. But this was the reality—I was having another boy. My family was ecstatic when we made the phone calls and it really wasn’t a surprise to them, since boys outnumber the girls in our family!

It was a little different, however, when we would share the news with our co-workers and even strangers who asked what we were having. When I said we were having another boy, I almost got sympathy, like I should have been grieving over a death of a family member or close friend. People would say, “Are you okay?” or “So do you think you’ll ever try for a girl?” First of all, of course I was okay! I was pregnant and had a very healthy baby! Secondly, if I had a girl did that mean I wasn’t allowed to have anymore kids—two is the limit?! And what does that say to the 2nd born?! Sorry kid, not only do you have to be the middle child but we had another one because we really wanted you to be a girl. Oy’ vey!

I went home that night and really contemplated about this pregnancy and how it was going to change the dynamic of our family. “Will I ever have a girl?” I thought. I have no idea how many kids we will have, but I am pretty sure we are done at two (that was ALWAYS the plan because of the financial side of raising a family). But even if we aren’t done at two, does it really matter if I have a house full of boys?! Why does society care what I have? After that long self-discussion I decided to accept.

Before I go any further, I don’t want anyone to think that I was upset that I was having another boy—it was a matter of me battling my happiness against societal pressures of what a ‘perfect family’ looks like.

Anyway, I accepted that I was meant to be a mother of two boys. I must not be meant for hair bows, dress-ups, make up and other girlie things (again, if my boys wanted to play dress ups, I’d totally let them!). Instead I am meant for trucks, trains, dirt, mud and all the super hero conversations. I am meant to raise two gentlemen who are kind, generous and compassionate.

As I delivered Cohen and he was placed on my chest I realized how “right” it was—that my family WAS perfect and that God designed my family this way and that I am totally ready, willing and completely able to raise two boys. My epiphany was made even clearer when Deacon met his baby brother for the first time. There is just something about the love a brother has for another brother.

Two months later I am beginning to see that Cohen is returning the love by the way he follows Deacon with his eyes and how he can just smile for miles when Deacon makes a funny face or coos and talks to him. It is heart warming to see the amount of love and pride Deacon has for Cohen. He hangs on tight to Cohen’s car seat and when we go anywhere and he is the first to introduce his little brother—and he does so with a prize winning smile—it makes this momma’s heart so happy!

Every morning starts with a peek in his brother’s crib to check on him. Once Cohen is awake he is showered in hugs and kisses from his big brother—it is amazing. Deacon also loves to help me with his brother, except when it involves a poopie diaper. He just understands why Cohen needs a lot of attention and care, and he wants to be apart of that. Having Cohen has also allowed me to focus my time and energy to Deacon as well. I make it a point to do trips to the store or other errands with only Deacon. Sometimes I’ll wake him up and we’ll take a “pajama run” to the “donut store.” It’s just our time together and I love it so very much. I am sure I’ll have that same time with Cohen and I do now—once Deacon is asleep, Cohen and I just get to cuddle, play and relax. I scan over him a thousand times and just continued to be awestruck by this tiny (well not so tiny anymore) miracle that is now apart of out family! It’s funny how when I first came home from the hospital, I was frantic as to how I was going to divide my time in order to show the boys that I care about them individually (as well as them together) but now it just is so fluid—its just a part of my life.

I couldn't feel any more blessed—my joy is pouring out of my soul and I am excited to see where this journey takes me. I am excited to watch my boys grow up and to see how they interact with each other. I am ready for the sweet times they will share, along with the fights that are inevitable—no matter what gets thrown in my direction, I am totally ready.

Cohen's birth story

2011-09-04T16:00:00.001-04:00

June 17th, is a day my world got bigger, brighter and much happier. It was the day that Cohen George came into our lives. It was the day Deacon became a big brother. It was the day I became the proud mother of two boys. It was the day my heart grew 10 sizes.

I have written, deleted and written again this story--scared to post it for fear I'd forget such beautiful moments of Cohen's birth, but I have to trust that everything that needs to be read will come out of my fingers and onto the page.

So here it goes.

It was a routine, weekly Doctor's appointment. I had an early appointment and I was eager to get in and get checked out. I was three days away from my due date, and was not the least bit happy about it!

"Anne Wolking" the nurse called. I got up and waddled to the door with the wandering eyes following the 'big pregnant lady'. I am sure they were following me with empathy but I honestly felt like I a Peabody duck. "Step on the scale." I'd say those are the 4 most hated words a pregnant lady can hear! after that drama, I was asked to provide a urine sample. Talk about going from dramatic to comedic, trying to actually catch a sample over my big belly into a tiny cup was hilarious.

After all of the standard appointment agenda items I was put in a room to wait for my doctor. Within a few minutes she knocked, came in and said, "How ya doin' Annie?" "How am I doing?!" I replied. We both laughed. Her laugh. Oh how do I describe it? It's contagious, comforting, consoling and therapeutic all in one gust. She has such great empathy and understanding that can be blanketed all by her wonderful laugh! After a conversation of next steps, she decided to try and speed up the process by "stripping my membranes." Don't worry, I'll save you the details. She said it would maybe take a few days, I said, "I'll see you tonight." Again, she laughed, but sarcastically and said, "Ok, Annie!"

So that was that, I went back to work and plugged away at my to-do list. My contractions didn't waste any time and definitely picked up to where after a few weeks of wondering, "was that a contraction?" to being totally confident in knowing what a contraction felt like. They weren't painful, they were just there. They almost danced across my belly making their presence known in a beautiful labor tango. "Cake, piece of cake." I thought. I could handle those contractions all day long! By lunch-time those contractions, still not pain-filled, became more regular. So regular that my friends (how lucky am I that I can call my co-workers, friends?!) could actually correctly guess when a contraction would come on. One friend kept saying I was going to have the baby that night. I nervously said, "no no, Dr. Vormbrock said it wouldn't be for a few days." But I knew she was right. By the end of lunch I knew I wasn't going back to work that I would be going home to get things accomplished "just in case".

I walked, rested, did some laundry and even thought about what I'd fix for dinner. I then drove down to Deacon's school, and even joked with his teachers that I was in labor, little did we know.

On the way home contractions turned from a dance into a stampede--still not painful, just annoying. So annoying and consistent that I thought I should call my doctor. Instead I called Doug and in a irritated, indecisive, nervous sweep I asked him what I should do. That did me no good because I was just as clueless as I was. However, he came home, took one look at me and said, "call the doctor."

UGH. I was annoyed by his answer (I really don't know what else I wanted him to say!!!) but I called anyway. Dr. V answered and I told her that my contractions weren't painful but had been consistent for 90 minutes. She instructed me to go to the hospital for peace of mind (she knows me pretty well!) With that, Doug called his mom and she came over to watch Deacon. Before I knew it I was making tentative plans for her to stay the night, "just in case". Phone calls were being made, "just in case." Then panic struck. I sat, bags packed, contractions kicking my butt, just staring at my beautiful son. Praying that I spent enough time with him, that I prepared him to be a big brother. I kept hugging him, kissing him and just saying how much I loved him. For a moment, I grieved. I was saying goodbye to the beautiful life I knew and was going to enter into a chaotic world, that I knew I'd be so happy with, but it was the unknown that was causing the fear. I told Deacon we were going to the hospital to get checked out and he said, "You are going to have my brother, mommy?" I said that I didn't know but that I loved him so much. Tears streamed down my face as I hugged him, I wouldn't let go. He wriggled out of my grip and said, "mommy, be happy, I love you." With that Doug and I were off to the hospital.

Contractions were 5 minutes apart by the time we got to triage. Within 10 minutes they were 4 minutes apart--only this time they were being monitored on paper. However, no progress--I was still 4 cm. Dr. V told the nurse to let me walk for an hour. So in the sexy hospital gown Doug and I had a date. We walked the Labor and Delivery floor. It went from a dreamy date where we'd joke about my contractions to me having to sway through them. A few laps more around the unit I had to actually stop, breathe, sway and concentrate on the contractions. A few more laps and I had to do all the above and get my back rubbed.

Through it all, even in my moodiness, Doug never left my side. He timed every contraction, coached me, consoled me, comforted me--he did everything right. 40 minutes into my walk with him I told him we needed to get back to the triage room and that I wasn't going to make it the full hour. We went back to the room and he got the triage nurse. She checked me and I was a 5cm--can you say ADMITTED!!! It was baby time. However, we all thought it would be a few hours. So around 9:20 phone calls were made. My sister Kathy made her way to the hospital, as well as my sister-in-law (she was going to photograph).

Boom, within a few minutes of the phone calls and the nurse aide getting me ready to be transferred I was in full, hard labor. The breathing techniques weren't going to work and I knew that if I wanted to have this baby medication free I would have to "Let go and let God." I handed it over and told myself that I needed my body to do what it needed to do. With every contraction I would moan in pain, it was the only way it provided any relief. The aide was getting annoyed by this because I wasn't able to answer questions (excuse me, I'm trying to labor here!!!) I also kept asking if my doctor was on her way, and they said, "we left her a message." I should have taken that as a big fat red flag!

Kathy came into triage and immediately relieved Doug of stop watch duty so he could focus on me. She would tell me exactly when a contraction was going to happen, bingo, there it would be. She coached me through the peak of them and tell me when I was almost done--she was amazing.

Cathi, my nurse, FINALLY came in at 10:10 and said my room was ready. Kathy asked that I walk down to the room...dang her :). Walking during a contraction is just about impossible. The pain is so great--it is paralyzing. I had Doug run to the car to get my bag (I refused to bring it in before hand just in case we'd have to do the walk of shame back to the car). I got to the room and the nurse began to admit me into the hospital. Coleman came rushing in with her camera as I was struggling to answer questions, so my sister answered them for me and Cole immediately started capturing memories. With one heavy contraction, my body took over and pushed. Cathi, the nurse looked at me and said, 'Are you pushing?!" I said, "no, my body just did." a few questions and one hard, PAINFUL contraction later I pushed again. "No no no honey, don't do that, you'll hurt yourself." I said, "I'm not pushing on purpose, my body is doing it on its own." She then asked for me to lay on the bed so she could check me out. "Well it's a good thing, You're almost complete." Oh how I wish I knew what I looked like when she said that. "complete?! as in, like I'm ready to push?!" Doug wasn't back yet, my doctor wasn't anywhere to be found and I began to panic.

Everything after that was a blur. The nurse quickly called in for back-up. An army of nurses flew into the room to get ready. I began to cry and looked at my sister with such fear, she knew I was scared. "Annie, this is what happens when you go natural--things move very quickly, you're going to be just fine." She asked me if I wanted to pray, yet the only words I could speak were, "Lord, come quickly, I need you." Over and over. In my head I kept thinking, "I'm not ready, please, God, I'm not ready."

Well ready or not, Cohen was definitely ready. Doug came back into the room unaware that I was practically pushing. He rushed to my side. Then within minutes Dr. Vormbrock came in and laughed and said, "well, you just didn't want to wait, huh Annie?" I said, "I told you I'd see you tonight." She kicked off her shoes to show that she didn't even have her socks on--that's how quickly she tried to get to me.

Now with normal deliveries there is a climax right before a woman pushes. Her bed is raised, the blue cover is draped over her midsection, the doctor is wearing a huge garment and mask, the lights are on--almost like a stage for a performance, not for me. Doug and Kathy were kneeling beside me, Dr. V was sitting on my bed, in only her scrubs and the nurses were holding my legs back. There wasn't any time to get ready for the big production. Cohen was coming and quickly! And unlike my first delivery and not knowing when to push because of the meds, I knew EXACTLY when to push and as a matter of fact, Dr. V just told me to push when I wanted to, "Annie, PUSH!" I just kept hearing the battle cry, "push push push. push push push." I locked eyes with my Dr. and she said, "Annie, draw your legs back and give me one push, Cohen will be here!" I beared down, took a deep breath and pushed...pushed and PUSHED. The burning I felt turned into cool relief as she placed my beautiful, healthy boy onto my chest.

Tears of joy rushed down my face as I looked at Doug in amazement. I looked to my right and saw my sister with tears streaming down her face. I looked to my right again and saw my wonderful sister-in-law who never stopped shooting once I delivered Cohen. Birth is a true miracle, and being able to experience it is one of the most beautiful, emotional moments one will ever have.

Dr. Vormbrock was so sweet and let me hold Cohen for what felt like hours (but I am sure it was just a minute) so I could just hold him, love him and finally meet him. It was time for the cord to be cut, after that, he was whisked over to the warming bed to be cleaned up, stamped with ink and to get his apgar done. Doug was by his side the entire time, while Kathy held my hand during the afterbirth process.

The nurses and Dr. kept talking about how perfect the delivery was and that I made natural child birth look easy.

*let me say, it wasn't easy by any stretch of the imagination.

The one thing I didn't expect was the shock my body was in afterward. I shook and shook and shook, it was very frightening that I didn't even want to hold Cohen for fear I'd drop him. Dr. V looked up while she was stitching me up and said, "Annie, if you hold him, I'm pretty sure you'll stop shaking." And sure enough, the moment I held on to him was the moment my body calmed down. It was almost as if my body knew that it needed to be with my son, that it was what was natural.

Once the commotion of the birth settled, my parents came into the room--what a beautiful moment. They blessed him and me and the tears came pouring down again. I felt so blessed that I was able to give them their 20th grandchild and that they were able to be apart of the birth. The greatest thing about my parents is that even after all those grand kids they still get excited, nervous and anxious about each one. They waited in the hallway like kids on Christmas to hear Cohen announce his arrival to the world.

Once the first round of visitors came and went it was time for us to just take it all in. Doug and I just kept looking at each other like, "did this really happen?!" We stared at Cohen thanking God for the blessing he gave us and we vowed that we'd do our absolute best to raise him, to love him unconditionally and be the best parents we could be for him. We didn't sleep much that night, I for one, was anticipating Deacon meeting his little brother, but also because how can you sleep after such an amazing event taking place?!

Before I knew it, morning came and so did the hustle and bustle of the hospital. The nurses weren't as quiet as they made their rounds, food was being rolled through the unit, visitors paraded down the hallways and a new day of deliveries began. The pediatrician came by to check Cohen out and gave him a clean bill of health (what I love to hear!) and as he was leaving, my first-born was sheepishly coming down the hallway to meet his brother.

I got out of bed and knelt of the floor so that I could grab on tight to him and hold him. I cried. I was just so happy that he was there, and that he was a big brother. He went over to the bassinet with his daddy and just peered in to check Cohen out. He got the cutest grin on his face and looked at me and I just said, "what do you think, Deacon?" He wasn't talkative or overly excited, he was just processing it all. He didn't like that I was in the hospital and he wanted to know what we couldn't come home right away, which broke my heart. But what Deacon didn't realize was when I saw him meet Cohen, was when my heart burst into the most pure, intense love a mother can experience. Here I was, a mother. Deacon and Cohen made me a "mother" how lucky am I?! Having kids is like having your soul go walking outside of your body--it is just a really amazing feeling.

I know I will never do that moment justice, that I'll never be able to fully explain what I feel in my heart, and that is okay, I almost am happy that a part of the story will be with me and only me forever. Giving birth is the most wonderful thing in the world and being able to feel it, all of it, even the pain was such a gift I'll cherish forever. Yes, I did just say that I'll cherish natural child birth forever. Why?! Well, It is one of the only moments that I think I will ever feel so connected to God. It was in the midst of my pain that I handed it all over to Him and said, "I trust You."

And that I believe sums up parenting. We may not always know what we are doing, nor think we'd ever be able to figure it out--and it is in those times where we have to just say, "I trust You."

I know I have many photos that I could put on here, but instead I'll post a slide show of images--it just makes it a heck of a lot easier--I hope you enjoy!

Some Bunny Loves you!

2011-04-17T18:41:00.000-04:00

Had a wonderful time photographing a dear friend/boss's newborn this weekend. We had such a fun time doing all things Easter--and the little one was so content the entire time. I was shocked that she didn't even make a peep--we moved her through several different baskets and other props and even managed to put bunny ears on her!

Take a look for yourself...

Doing our best at this whole parenting thing...

2011-03-04T08:59:00.000-05:00

There was supposed to be a gigantic post prior to this lovely little ditty, however--I had to share this story along with some thoughts that have been going through my head as a parent lately.

Our son is three. Scratch that--he is ALMOST 4. Last night I sat in my bed and I broke down. My sweet little baby is growing up before my eyes. I kept thinking--Have we spent enough time together? Have I been on Facebook longer than I should have? Did I take enough pictures of all of his milestones? Does he love me--I mean, really love me--the way a son loves his parent? Have we prepared him enough to continue on in life (i.e. kindergarten.

All sorts of thoughts came flooding in my brain and I just cried--it was an estuary of happiness and sadness--blending into one tear-soaked river. After I cried, I tip-toed into Deacon's room, knelt by his bed and just stared at him. I just gazed at his sweet little self--and how peacefully he looked while sleeping. That might seem stalker-like, but I think all parents do that (or at least I hope they do!) I was calmed and reassured that we are doing everything right for our family--the proof lies within Deacon--he is such a sweet, wonderful kid. I needed to have that cry and that silent moment with Deacon and as baby #2 gets closer to making his grand entrance--I know I'll have more of those moments--and I'll greet them with open arms and be ready to embrace them.

After that episode-I fell asleep and had a wonderful night sleep--I think it was because my head was clear.

Let me back pedal a little to try and explain why I may have started this emotional tailspin:

Deacon is in a preschool class of 24 kids--God bless the teachers! He is in Montessori--so the ages of kids vary from 3-5. Deacon is one of the younger ones in his class, so he has had a lot to prove to his classmates! The other dynamic about the class is that it is dominated by boys. Poor girls. These boys are wild--just as boys are. They are the toy gun-loving, super-hero acting, safari-adventurin' types. They do not have any toy guns at school (and neither do we at the house!) but I am telling you-it is boy code to just make a gun out of anything. The teachers do a wonderful job of keeping all this at bay--but I know it must stress them out to their core! The other thing about all the boys is how ENERGETIC they are and how "hands-on" they are. What I mean by this is that one minute they are lovey-dovey to one another--giving hugs, sharing, playing nicely--but within the next minute it can change to hitting, kicking, pinching, shoving etc.

Because of this--we often here of whether Deacon had a "good day" or a "bad day". If it is a bad day we get details. If it is a good day--we take it as that and just leave it be. They are so busy that they honestly don't have time to have a 5 minute conversation with each parent. However--only getting the bad stuff really made Doug and I wonder what we were doing wrong. He acted totally differet in school compared to at him. he rarely hits at home. He uses his words. It just isn't like that at school. I keep tring to remind myself that we also don't have 14 other boys in our house either!

Anyway--Doug and I went to pick him up yesterday and his teacher was leaving but stopped us. I held my breath. what now.

She said, "it's not bad." She continued to share a sweet story about my son caring for a little girl at snack time. She was crying and Deacon wrapped his arms around her and kept asking, "are you okay?" He told the teacher that his friend was hurting. The teacher said, "ask her if there is something you can do to make it better" Deacon said to the girl, "Can I give you a hug--will that make you happy?" I teared up right in the parking lot of his school. Teacher then said, "I just want you to know that there are MANY more tender moments that Deacon has in the classroom--and I apologize for not communicating those to you."

No apology was needed--I but it sure did brighten my day--and it really did hit me deep. Any parent would be proud of that moment. Doug and I practically ran to the playground--he saw us ran and screamed our names and gave us the biggest bear hug. We hugged him so tight. His other teacher confirmed his wonderful day by saying, "he used his words all day--no hitting" I take that as a wonderful lead in to a soon-to-be awesome weekend.

So we parents may not know or think we know "how to parent" by I assure you, you do. We instinctively "just know what to do".

13 weeks....

2010-12-11T07:59:00.000-05:00

Sunday will mark the 13 week mark of my pregnancy and the end of the first trimester--I can breathe a sigh of relief!

The dizziness is gone, the food aversions are pretty much over and I am in a comfortable state of feeling somewhat normal, other than the fact that I have a parasite feeding off me :)

Deacon is super excited for the arrival for "his" baby and I am in love with the way he already being an amazing big brother. He'll pat my belly and whisper "hi baby" or he'll bless my belly before bed--it melts my heart--God sure did know he was ready to be a big brother! He keeps telling me that he is going to have a baby sister...wish it worked that way! When Doug was taking my baby bump picture, Deacon ran up and insisted on his picture being taken with his baby....

I told him that we'd have to wait and find out--but he clearly didn't understand what "that" meant, so he is calling the baby Charlotte. I honestly think that if we have a boy like I suspect, Deacon is going to be heartbroken. Eventually he'll be excited to have a little bro running around causing trouble with him, but for now he is set on wanting a sister. I have my theory. Louis is his cousin (3 months younger than D) So they are practically brothers--they sure do fight like brothers so that part of his craving has been fulfilled! He saw his cousin Louis become a big brother to baby Darleen and I believe that he wants the same as what Louis has. He also sees how Louis cares for his baby sister and again, wants the same thing...

However, I am still set on the fact that we are having a boy--I just have a gut feeling (pardon the pun!) Also we already have a girl's name picked so that would just be to easy right! We'll have a no-named boy---and that is perfectly find with me. All I want at this point is a healthy baby!

Life will soon change--I will be a mother of two, Deacon will be a fantastic brother and we will somehow have to transition our life make it all work--we are certainly up for the challenge.

Karla

2010-12-01T09:20:00.000-05:00

A very long time ago I was in the sixth grade. My twin, of course, is very much apart of this story...so lets assume she is sitting right beside me in homeroom. We do the normal attendance, lunch count and girlie gossip before we are released into the wild halls of St. Agnes. It was a typical day. I believe it was English class, however, that changed my life on what would have been such an ordinary, boring school day. (Karla, if our first introduction wasn't in Mrs. Romendino's class, I apologize...but I am pretty sure I am correct!)

I was all ready. I studied my vocab words, I had my () gesture ready (Mrs. Romendino wanted was to make the () signal with our hands if she or anyone in the class used that weeks vocab work. Pretty genious on her part if I do say so myself), I actually read our assignment and did the homework--I was prepared. I shuffled my feet into the class, plopped down opened my books and waited for class roll call. Instead, in walked an awkward girl, tall with incredbily long, dark brown hair. He was shy, timid and if I had to guess, scared. Mrs. Romendino announced that there was a new student, Karla. Karla introduced herself and said she was from St. Joe's school. For that reason, I immediately didn't like her. St. Joe's and St. Agnes had a big rivelary in soccer--and since I was a soccer freak--I vowed not to like anyone from St. Joe's.

Fast forward to lunch--my group of friends quickly adopted her to our table and even though I was hesitant, I decided that I would be nice to her.

That got me in a heap of trouble becuase the next thing I know I was invited for an overnight at her house...the new girl. At a strange house, in a city I wasn't familiar with. I specifically remember telling my mom that I didn't want to go and she told me to, just to see how she is, and that I might be surprised at how much fun we'd have. So I went. That day is etched in my memory forever. We combed the aisles of Kroger picking out snacks and cookies and at the same time we both grabbed the Milano's--I knew we would be friends forever!

I won't get into the details of my first over night with Karla, but I'll say it was hysterical. From her mom screaming at her for watching a show with Ellen to dipping our delcious Milano cookies in coffee to eating the most amazing chocolate muffins for breakfast--that was the day I knew I had a friend for life.

Karla and I have been great friends--even with our ups and downs. There was a wierd moment in highschool where we didn't speak to eachother, but we weathered that storm too. College came quickly and it seems as I left for college, I left behind the frequent phone calls, hang outs and night outs. However, as true friendships always rekindle, Karla, Theresa and I are still as close as ever. Sure we don't talk all the time. Sure I don't call her like I should. We don't go out on the weekends but there is a certain bond, an understanding that we have for one another. When we do get together It is like only a day has past. No awkward moments, so silent lapses, and no shortage on laughter. I love Karla beyone words. She has grown out of timid, shy and awkward self into a strong, beautiful and infectious woman. I am blessed to have her as a friend--just as any person would likely say about her.

So why am I going on and on about this girl? Well, we had one of our girl nights in last night and it was wonderful. Since I am pregnant we didn't break out the wine or the beer, rather Karla broke out hot chocolate, marshmellows, fluff and chocolate syrup. The three of us huddled around the table, laughed, recalled silly memories and just soaked in the new memories being made. It was also a night that had a somber edge to it. It was the eve of her brother's death. Today is the 1 year anniversary that she lost her brother to a car accident. I couldn't help but thank God for putting me next to her last night--to lift her up in prayer, laughter and love to help her over a big hurdle and milestone in her life. It meant alot to me to be there for her. Instead of crying, she brought out a beautiful calendar that her family was featured in. You see, her brother was an organ donor, and because of that selfless gift, he was able to save many lives. Ever since her family has been speaking on Kyles behalf, urging people to become organ donors. Their picture was somber, yet hopeful and I once again saw Karla's beautiful, genuine smile. It was so good to see that.

Karla is a friend for life. She always is and always will be there for me and my "wombmate" and we the same for her. Karla--thanks for being you. Thanks for going to St. Agnes and thanks for being so persistent in wanting me to be your friend back in the 6th grade--I'll never forget you, ever.

poppy seed, lentil, kidney bean, grape.....

2010-11-29T19:19:00.000-05:00

All the above have one thing in common. I have carried them. Currently I am carrying a fig. Is this confusing? I'll just tell you then--I am pregnant. Deacon is going to be a big brother. Pretty soon, our family will be four.

11 weeks and counting. I am still in shock to know that I am actually pregnant again and that God is has given us such an amazing gift.

This pregnancy is slightly different than the last. I am getting nauseous, I feel dizzy, I have food aversions...never did I experience any of those symptoms with Deacon. Know that I know what "morning sickness" is, I don't think it should be coined morning sickness--because it is a big fat lie. It can happen at any time--Morning, Noon, Night. It gets me on my way to work, on my way to get Deacon, at my desk, in a meeting, while out to lunch. "Morning" sickness is a ninja who just karate chops its way into your life with out notice. Because of this I have become a convenience store. My desk is stocked with crackers, peanut butter, lemon packets, cereal bars and oatmeal. I have learned to "deal" and pray that every day gets a little better. I also tell myself that my sickness isn't nearly as bad as others...so I just need to get over :)

We waited a really really really long time to tell Deacon. I just felt like I needed to have a few more weeks with him as my "only" before we told him he was being promoted to Big Brother. I knew when we told him, the real planning would begin and I just wasn't ready to give up my only child yet. We also waited to be on the safe side. By 11 weeks, chances of anything devastating happening decreased and we felt comfortable telling him.

So on Thanksgiving morning, Deacon crawled into our bed and the three of us snuggled as we always do every morning. My throat tightened and my eyes began to water. Deacon looked at me and said, "What's wrong Mommy" to which I replied, "Oh Deacon I am just so happy, Daddy and I have something very important to tell you." I eased out of bed and grabbed the ultrasound pictures, gave one to him and said, "Do you know what that is Deacon?" He said, "Yes, Mommy. A Rock." Doug and I laughed and redirected our sweet 3-year-old back on track. I told him that the picture was looking at was a baby. I took his hand and put it on my belly and I said, "God blessed our family, Deacon and you are going to be a big brother!" He looked at me, then my belly, then me again and said, "A baby is in your belly?" I nodded my head and he said in that cute toddler voice, "OH Okay!" He reacted the way I expected, and quite honestly I don't know if he really understands, he just knows that his cousin is a big brother and we is now one too. I am sure the bigger I get, the more he will understand.

It was the most perfect way to start a day, and it was even more perfect because it was on Thanksgiving. My family has a lot to be grateful for.

So I am officially 11 weeks pregnant, and 29 weeks go--it seems so far away but I know it will be here before I know it! I am trying to not think about EVERYTHING we have to do, and rather focusing on Deacon. Speaking of Deacon, he just built an incredible space ship out of lego and my name is being called into the living room. My mommy hat gets straightened and I am off to play make believe with a future big brother!

long overdue!!!!

2010-10-30T22:02:00.000-04:00

October has been quite a month. There isn't a word to describe its awkwardness, other than the fact that it has been awkward. I've also, unfortunately, put my camera down unless it is for professional events (weddings/portraits/etc.) Deacon's life is at its busiest, yet I don't have pictures to prove it. His baby book is at a standstill and I just feel crummy about it.

To sum up the good things in October I'll write in my favorite form...lists.

1) Family Reunion. Every year the Wolking family reunites in October in Tipp City, Ohio. The day is quite simple. Its an hour-ish drive up there, you sit, eat, talk, walk, and play. It is always so nice to catch up with all the Wolkings, especially the ones I don't get to see that often. One the way up, Doug's mother quizzed me on the family members, their children and other important details. Being an "in-law" is tough work! Tipp City is striking. It reminds me a lot of Falmouth, Kentucky. Small, quaint and charming. There are tiny storefronts with unique gifts, furniture and other nick-knacks. The park in Tipp City is nestled in between some of the most beautiful mature trees I've seen. The trunks of the trees twisted up high meeting their branches to the beautiful amber colored leaves that would wrap us in their sun-kissed glory, bringing some warmth to an otherwise chilly day. The younger kids played, the older kids gossiped and the adults teased, drank, laughed and remembered the "good ole' days". It was a peaceful day and a good reminder of how lucky I am to be married into such a wonderful family.

2) Cancun. Doug and I were fortunate enough to go to Cancun for 3 days/4 nights with my co-workers Jason and Vicki Crawford. This meant we had to leave Deacon. He was perfectly safe and sound with his Grandmas Wolking, but that still didn't make it any easier for me to get on a plane, fly out of the country and not see my little guy for what seemed to be an eternity. The first 2 days were fine, almost as if Deacon didn't even miss us, but by Saturday and especially Sunday, Deacon (accounted to us by Doug's mom) would cry and ask where we were. It was heartbreaking to hear that over the phone knowing there wasn't a whole lot we could do about it. The sad part is that I planned this trip to be easy for him. We had a letter for him every day we were gone with a picture to color and an activity that he could do with his grandma, but it just wasn't "us". By the time we landed in Atlanta airport on Sunday (while trying to kill 4 1/2 hrs before our flight home) Deacon refused to talk to us. tragic. I sat there in Fridays eating my overpriced burger in tears when I heard Doug sigh and say, "he is so upset that we aren't home he doesn't even want to talk to us." That 4 1/2 hour layover suddenly became 24 hours. Its endless--I never thought I would make it home, plus with a thunderstorm in the forecast I was also frightened that our flight could very well be canceled. Luckily it wasn't. We were home by midnight and it was heaven when I crawled into his room after I heard the little pitter-patter of his feet. I opened his gate only to see his huge smile--that moment is etched in my brain forever. Doug and I loved the opportunity to go to Cancun, but when it was all said and done, we were SO SO SO happy to be home.

I guess I should back track so you can hear about the trip, huh?! After a smooth 2-flight jaunt, we landed safetly in Cancun, hopped on a bus and rode 20 minutes to the RIU Palace Las Americas. It was stunning. You walk into the lobby, look out the sliding doors to see an infinity pool practically bumped up next to the ocean. Our rooms were nice, the shower was amazing (I have a thing for hotels and good showers, most of them are crappy!) and the fridge was stocked. This was an all-inclusive resort: food/drinks/non-motorized sports were all included. I looked at Doug on Friday and said, "I haven't been this bored in years...and I like it!" I read a book in three days (unheard of for me) and sat in the pool the other times I wasn't reading. The food was decent---not incredible or memorable, but definitely better than Ok. That should surprise anyone, especially if you have been to an all inclusive before. They are cooking for for THOUSANDS of people--can't expect it to be gourmet. There were certain food groups I stayed away from: Dairy being the biggest. The milk was made from powder, the cheese was different and the eggs had a really weird sheen to them! My diet consisted of Bread and fruit and pasta (aka assortment of carbs). There was a swim-up bar, lots of great music, amazing sea breeze and just enough wind to keep the heat off your skin. It was such a nice time, but again---glad to be home! We didn't bother with the excursions because of the cost, and well it is just smart to stay on the resort. We did manage to walk across the street to go to the mall (aka indoor market) which reminded me of the Gatlinburg strip! Walking out of the beautiful hotel and onto the real streets of Cancun made me realize how much they rely on tourism. Here we were in this palace, but right outside of those walls were shanties with tin roofs, locals begging for our business and a mall that is a joke (in American terms). It is a little depressing part of my trip. It must be such a hard life to stand on the streets begging to get innocent travelers to buy into time shares do fake excursions or try and sell random crap we'll never use. It's their way of life and if they don't ask or sell, they don't get to feed their family. Their just doing what they have to in order to survive--I just felt terrible, again--it did serve a reminder for me to be grateful for what I do have.

3) Mass. I've been trying to get back in the habit of going to daily Mass. I forgot how peaceful it was and how it fueled me for the day. I hope to carry my October "good habits" into November, because I like the way Mass makes me feel, and I want to continue to feel that way!

4) Deacon. He is a character. He is holding "real" conversations. He uses hand gestures and hysterical facial expressions. He is using bigger words and best of all, he is singing---all.the.time! My little boy has a sweet little voice on him and it is our favorite thing to sing on the way home from school. Sometimes he even tells me to turn off the music so we can see it by ourselves--precious. Having my own personal concert from my little rock star makes my heart so happy.

5) Work. It challenging, scary, questionable and rewarding all at once. I am not going to get into much here, but professionally I am being challenged more than I ever thought could be possible. I am happy that I am growing professionally (new department, new job role) but also have to admit to myself that it is an uncomfortable transition as well. I went from knowing what to do, to praying that I don't skrew something up! Not really that extreme but to say that my confidence has been stirred is an understatement. I am so lucky, however to have a boss that understands my situation, supports me immensely and motivates me to continue to do what I am doing. She is the difference and I'll be forever grateful!

So there you have it. That's the good that came from October. More good than bad, but plenty of awkward moments in between. But, I've come to the conclusion that if I didn't have any awkward moments, I'd not have any good moments--You have to have some awkward phases in you life in order to get great outcomes.

Hopefully I'll be a better blogger for November--I can already tell you I'll have lots to blog about!

special day!

2010-10-09T21:08:00.000-04:00

My sister went to Gatlinburg, TN today with some of her friends for a quick over night. Tre was working today, so I jumped on the chance to watch the kids! My other sister Kathy stole Darleen from me so I was only left with Louis. As much as I love Darleen, part of me is so happy that I was only responsible for Lou-bear. Darleen was in good hands with Kath, Bryn and little mother (Tegan) which allowed me to really have an interactive day with the grown boys!

First we got some pumpkins...and paint...and brushes. We took a pit stop at The doctors for Deacon's flu shot.

Tangent--As we walked in there was a swarm of parents and anxious little kiddos waiting for their shots. Parents filling out forms and being ushered back with their kids for "the shot". Deacon and I were in line with Louis of course and we were witness to kids slithering down the hallway in tears, grabbing their arms and parents walking in distress behind them. I got nervous--they called us back. Deacon asked, "Mom, why those kids crying" I said, "I don't know honey." UGH...I knew...so my distress came early, knowing that I just completely lied to him. Not a lie--it was a form of protection for my sanity. Anyway We hop up on the stool, the nurse rubs his arm, instructs me to hold his elbow to his side and viola---in goes the shot. Deacon turns and looks at me with utter disgust, then to the nurse with a puzzled look. THEN tiny tears of, "ok, ok, my arms feels funny". Those who have had the flu shot, know the medicine tingles a bit going in. I told him, "DEACON, YOU did it, you got your muscle shot--look at your big, strong muscles!" And with that the tears stopped. Nurse nodded her head in a congratulatory fashion and said, "good job, mom!" Deacon got a sticker as did Lou and he practically skipped down the hallway and out the door! I was so proud of my little man!

So after that almost-crisis...we headed back to the house and donned our fake artist aprons that Deacon and Louis were so proud to wear! We set up the colors, the pumpkins the brushes and the water. The pictures speak for themselves:

I was proud of myself. I am such a control freak---no mixing of colors, no smearing, no fun (I mean because when you are three, those things ARE FUN!)

I all of a sudden didn't care. Their smiles, their laughter and the amount of pride they had with painting their very own pumpkins, their very own way made me not worry about the way I would be painting pumpkins. (does that make sense?) Deacon kept looking at me like he knew I was wanting to give instructions or tell him how to do something...but I wouldn't and he would just smile and on the inside I know he was saying, "Thanks, mom, I told you I knew what I was doing!)

It seems so small and insignificant---but it this pumpkin painting madness was a big step for me. Doug and I had a conversation a couple days ago---he wasn't pointing fingers or blaming me, he was just observing and I appreciate the feedback. He told me that I try to control too much...and that I need to let go, I need to see what others do, their way, not mine. He also said that I need to involve Deacon more. I didn't believe what I was hearing. But as I replayed our conversation in my head today, I realized how much work I actually needed to do.

I need to let Deacon be his own person, his own way, and I need to involve him in the process. He is 3 now...capable of making decisions, choices (not like huge ones to you and me, but big ones to a 3-year-old!) I patted myself on the back today...I took a big step in motherhood and I know Deacon grew as a person today too!

After painting, I plunked the two in the bath, we ate lunch (not in the bath!) and then took a nap. Yes, I successfully got two kids down for a nap--I'd rather not talk about it because I'd rather not jinx it for the next time!

We did a nature walk. We were on the hunt for all sorts of things that were "Fall". As we were taking our walk and finding acorns, leavings and twigs we were stomping our way through leave piles and the crunch of each step we took was the Earth laying out a welcome mat and greeting us with such hospitality that we didn't want to go inside. We did end up going inside and took our beautiful crimson colored leaves and made leaf rubbings. Again the amazement Louis and Deacon had as they were rolling their crayons across the paper and seeing the result was breathtaking for me to watch. I just saw their brains flutter with excitement and their eyes lit up with joy and wonder. We proudly hung them on the fridge and each time we'd walk into the kitchen they'd say, "LOOK, we made dat!"

To cap of perfect day, I made one of my favorite fall/winter meals: Sauerkraut and Kielbasa, New potatoes (with parsley and butter!) and fresh steamed carrots. The kids loved the kraut (thumbs up!!) and ate the 'basa only because I called them hotdogs! It is true comfort food. The tang of the kraut with the juicy flavor of the Kielbasa--YUM. Heaven I'd say!

Tre came by picked up the kiddos (by this time I had Darleen, for Tre's ease of only going to one home to pick up). Although I am exhausted, I wouldn't trade the day in for the world. I survived the day, with two preschoolers--who were so incredibly well behaved it was semi-ridiculous! A simple day of babysitting turned into life lessons, happy kids and beautiful art. Thank you, God for giving me this opportunity to grow as a person, a mother, an aunt and a wife. Thank you for the smell, the crunch and the beauty of fall--it delivers joy in my life on so many levels!

Precious Life

2010-10-04T22:36:00.000-04:00

Life is not that complicated. I tend to forget the simplicities of life. I over analyze and pick apart each of life's details to create a solution or scenario perfect for me...or what I think perfect is.

I forget to just let life take me by the hand and spin me around like merry-go-round. I forget to realize that life, is a gift, given to me by God. I forget that life isn't about the plans I make, rather, living out the plan that God created for me.

Lately, I've been busy trying to discover "life" and what I want to make of it, that I've completely ignored the "take up your cross and follow me" aspect of life. centered on myself I have turned away from why I am really here. Wait. I'll rephrase. I am so centered on myself and "my way" that I have lost the ability to see where God wants me to go. I am so lost that I don't exactly remember why God put me on this earth.

Tangent--this isn't meant to be a depressing post, nor do I intend it to be, just trying to be honest with where my head is at currently.

I am sure that right before I was born God said, "my precious child, here is your purpose..." I seem to have misplaced my instructions. I've been questioning many aspects of my life. Why AM I here? what am I called to do? What treasure and talents is God wanting me to give? How can I spread love, peace, hope and salvation to others. Am I REALLY as good of a Christian as I think I am? Do I even know why we do half the things we do during Mass? Am I a good parent? Am I being a Figure of Christ to my child? Am I helping with Doug's journey to Heaven with my actions? Do I know how to pray? Do I have faith? Do I cultivate my faith.

The answers are more complicated than a simple yes or no, but to save time and explanation, I'd say that there is definitely both in there.

This started entering my brain a few weeks ago. I read an article in the paper about the dwindling attendance at Catholic Masses. That Sunday the Priest of my Parish mentioned the article and the importance of Mass and the difference between a Catholic Mass vs. a larger, non-denominational church service. He talked about ritual, concentrated prayer and the most important aspect of my faith, receiving the body and blood of Christ in the Eucharist. This is still such a hard concept for me to grasp onto---hence where my faith comes in.

After the homily, I decided to pay special attention to the Liturgy of the Eucharist. This was difficult with a 3-year-old, but I savored on each prayer like it was the last time I'd ever hear it again. Guess what? I cried. I didn't let my tears show on the outside, but my heart was melting on the inside. What was I missing all these years. Mass became a chore, prayers became monotonous and I was a talking head. Now, with a child--it was even more difficult--trying to listen to the priest AND control your child is tough. That day in particular, Deacon sat still, remained quiet and for the first time in a while I wasn't just listening to pretty words and a nice homily; I was listening to God. God was talking to me. I know he was because I had no distractions. He paused the world, slapped me in the face and said, LISTEN.

I hear him now, "Anne, I love you. I made you in my image and likeness. You did not lose your instructions for your life. They are here. They are spoken to you each week. Reminders are sent by way of complete strangers, a song on the radio, you husband and son, your family--your purpose is laid out before you--take out the speck in your eye and LOOK."

I've been looking ever since. This past Sunday I made a point to look and listen during the Mass. Again, Fr Sterling gave an amazing homily centered around faith. It was a children Mass so he gathered the children to the Alter and asked them to stand on one foot, and sitting down once they lost balance. While trying to complete the task, they were answering questions Fr. Sterling was asking. These were tough even for me to answer. What is faith? I don't know Father! That's why I am here. I can't see it, smell it, taste it---what the heck is it?! Father said that a person who doesn't have faith is like that person is standing on one leg---they wobble, shake and fall...there is nothing to support them.

He mentioned the Gospel, that all we needed was faith the size of a mustard seed. tiny. Sometimes I feel like that is all the faith I have--it is doesn't seem enough. As soon as I sarcastically said that in my head, God slapped me again. He slapped me through Father's words. Fr. Sterling said that we need to grow our faith. It can't remain small--it needs to be cultivated. Faith needs to be watered, sowed and spread. All this time I was holding onto my mustard seed of faith and hoping that a miracle happens. The fact is that the miracle happens when I choose to let it happen. I need to work at my faith. I need to pray, attend Mass, be kind to others, display patience to my family. Then, and only then will my faith grow. So my action plan-or the next chapter in my life's purpose? I need to grow my faith. This week I am going to read over the parts of Mass and really understand why the Mass is the way it is. I am going to focus on prayer. I am going to shut out the world and talk to God. All this time I feel like I have been, but I am pretty sure I was speaking to his reflection and not him! I am going to practice patience and humility and I am going to bite my tongue.

I am going to remind myself that God is all around me. He is in my son. I don't need to rush bedtime or get impatient. I need to enjoy the moment, and realize that God is teaching me something, giving me a life lesson through Deacon. God is in my husband. If I actually remembered this I'd certainly not loose my temper or treat him the way I do sometimes. I'd show my gratefulness for the selfless love he gives Deacon and me, and what he sacrifices in order to provide for his family. God is in my co-workers, my friends, complete strangers. God is in every experience in my life--serving little reminders--page by page of my purpose driven life.

Dar Baby!

2010-09-27T22:25:00.001-04:00

I can't seem to get enough of babies! My sweet little niece is already 3 months old! I've not taken any pictures of her in a long time, it I thought at the very least I could get a quick informal snapshot session with her.

Feast your eyes upon the cutest little girl on the planet:

That little smirk is going to get her out of a lot of trouble someday!

one of my favs...

She is a big fan of tummy time!

that smile is delicious!

The return of the BBL

2010-09-27T12:02:00.000-04:00

I went grocery Shopping this weekend. I HATE grocery shopping. Maybe I just loathe buying required things: gas, groceries, bills, etc. It's more fun to blow your money frivolously on clothes, shoes, housewares and other fun items. I get to choose frivolous items; do I want the brown jacket, the blue jacket or both? With required payments, you don't have the luxury of choice. I take that back. I do have a choice--I can choose not to pay my bills, by groceries or put gas in my car---but you see that would get me anywhere now would it.

So I hate buying the so-called required items because it limits the money I have left over for the more frivolous items--oh the drama-filled life I lead, huh?

So now that I've heard the tiny violins play to my woes, its time to embrace my grocery shopping adventure. Having an assortment of fresh groceries in my home allows me to, in the long run, save money. Today was the first day in almost 2 weeks that I've packed my lunch. Work to say the least has been hectic. 2 weeks ago was filled with co-worker birthday lunches, lunch meetings, etc--so no packing healthier items for me. Last week I just didn't take the time to pack (and the lack of groceries prevented me from doing so). SO I bought lunch (not good for my wallet). I told myself I was going to eat healthy--but no. French fries and hamburgers all week...I felt like I have 5 pounds of lead in my body. I was moving sluggish, I was tired and I just felt BLAH!

Today is different. Even though I was getting a late start this morning, I still packed--I forced myself. I had to give myself a pep talk, "Anne this is good for you and your budget..." repeating that mantra over and over allowed me to get through the intense desire to just buy my lunch again. Thank goodness I stayed strong---I do have a willpower!

SO without any further adieu here is what my breakfast/lunch consisted of:

breakfast: 1/2 cup oatmeal (old fashioned oats) with 1 small banana mixed in
                coffee with sugar free hazelnut cream

Lunch: 1 cup strawberries
           1 turkey wrap (60 cal/low carb wheat wrap with lettuce, tomato and peppered turkey breast
           light and fit yogurt
           water

Snack: edamane
           celery with a tiny taste of peanut butter
           water

Dinner: skyline. before you judge: Deacon and I go EVERY Monday. Why? Doug pulls doubles on Monday, so this gives Deacon the opportunity to see his daddy! I stayed healthy and got a classic chicken salad, no cheese with light italian dressing.

I just have to tell myself, I can do this, I can do this, I can do this!

He called me carrots!

2010-09-24T10:13:00.000-04:00

What's a girl to do when trying to save money for a hypothetical second child but really wants to change her image?! Can I buy clothes. No. Two reasons: it's expensive (well, I choose for it to be!) and also--if I do get pregnant, I won't be wearing those clothes very long!

Can I get a hair cut? No. A $35.00 haircut just isn't practical, especially when deciding if that is more important than groceries. Do you know what I can buy for $35.00?! A LOT of freaking groceries.

Can I buy new accessories for the house. No. Doug and I pride ourselves on our minimalist ways. We are cheap or overly-frugal, we just don't want a lot of "stuff". Plus, that stuff is expensive. $20.00 for a throw pillow?! Get real.

I was out of options for adding spice to my image, and was dehydrating from all the BLAH! that I was feeling. A girl goes through this crisis every once in a while--moms especially. We are tired of wearing stained clothing from the food, milk, boogers and other unmentionables that go hand in hand with parenting. We are tired of looking like a "hot mess" with baggy shirts, frayed hair and jeans that might be a tad too tight. We get tired of looking in the mirror and saying, "for real, this is as good as it gets?!"

Doug sensed that I was in my rutt again. He can always tell when I start fishing for compliments on an incredibly way-to-frequent basis. He even offered to give me the money he was secretly saving up for Christmas (not a secret anymore) so I could have some retail therapy. As sweet as that was, I knew I couldn't possibly do that, so I reluctantly declined--but man that wad of cash would have been awesome to spend at Banana Republic and the LOFT!

So I was stuck. I felt yucky and couldn't much do anything about it. Ladies, I know you understand the predicament I was in. It's never good--not only does it affect us, but our family too! If I was preforming positive self talk, then how am I able to positively talk with my husband, remain patient with my child and hold back the urge to throw Remi out the window for once again chewing on the woodwork on our stairs.

PLEASE NOTE--I wouldn't actually throw Remi out the window!

SO I was at the grocery store spending the $35.00 shoulda-been-my-haircut-money on a cart full of groceries. I'll set the stage. flip flops with chipped toenail polish, baggy pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt. Folks--it was a site and I'm pretty sure if I was in Walmart someone would have snapped a picture of me and I would have been the covergirl for "peopleofwalmart.com". It was that bad.

As I'm driving my cart down the aisles, I feel myself going down the beauty aisle--almost like my body took control and said, "mind, get over yourself, it's time for a makeover." SO I bought new shampoo/conditioner and hair color.

what better way to change up your look than with a box of hair dye! You want to know what I chose?! Typically when the mop gets dipped in color I go for a rich brown or an auburn. But apparently I was channeling my inner "Anne Shirley" and went red. Not a "is she a red head?" but a "Holy carrots, red!"

Okay, okay, I wouldn't say it is carrot color, but it is definitely red. And I LOVE it. Red heads have a heck of a lot more fun! It's amazing what a box of color did for my self esteem--seriously! I came home from my twin's house (she does my coloring) and just pranced around like I just won the lottery. Doug immediately saw how happy I was. My sarcasm and wit and zest was back. I AM BACK! so with this new found love of red hair and confidence, I went into my closet and began to look for pieces of clothing I could reinvent into a different outfit. Who needs new clothes when it's all right there in the closest---you just need to be creative.

It was the spirit booster I needed. I LOVE being a red head!

As for the other efforts of saving money--not exactly getting a good grade. the past week, I've not packed my lunch. Monday I start again! I'm sure I'll be reporting on that later in the week. Until then, have a wonderful weekend. Do something fun, change up your look and be fearless!

OH Baby!

2010-09-20T21:15:00.000-04:00

You may remember an earlier post of my dear friend Witni and her husband. I had the joy and honor of documenting her pregnancy and just recently was overjoyed when they wanted me to come back and photograph their little one!

Emil is almost two weeks old and wasn't actually due until 9/17. Apparently Witni had a stern talking to her little man and told him it was time for him to come and greet the world!

She went into labor on 9/7 and didn't deliver the baby for another 33 hours. And for those keeping score, this chick labored naturally...no drugs. I can't decide if she is crazy or superwoman.

I had such a fun time photographing little Emil (named after Eric's grandfather!) and had an even more joy watching how my sweet, little friend just knew exactly what to do--she is for sure a mom and a life long member of mom hood---welcome to the club Wit--we are so glad to have you as one of us!

So without further adieu, here is Emil Regan (pronounced EM-UL REE-gan):

Love how is one eye is open...like he doesn't want to miss a second of this new world he just woke up to!

sweet little man!

There is something to be said for a mom and her son. I am so lucky to have Deacon in my life and I can only wish for Witni that she feels the same way about her little guy

A favorite!

baby in basket=super cute!

Emil is one lucky kid. Not only to have such wonderful parents, but because those parents own their very own baby blanket company. Blanketmybaby.com. The swaddler you see here is an Aden + Anais muslin swaddler and boy did it work wonders for Emil!

Every baby needs a ridiculous hat--not ridiculous in a bad way--in an "oh my Gosh, that's so adorable" way!

My favorite picture from the sesh!

I told Witni she wasn't going to be in that picture until I looked up and saw that sweet new mother gaze and I had to have her in the frame. Witni--this defines love and you define what a mother is through that peaceful, blessed grin that you have on your face. I love you so much and am so excited for your journey with your new family!

A baseball game, fall and grad school

2010-09-17T14:02:00.000-04:00

Thursday, September 23rd will be a day I cherish. It marks the first day of autumn, my favorite season. I have yet to step outside and "smell" fall, but my nose is searching it out!

I know its close--the wind lingers and combs through the trees a little longer. Crisp mornings require wind breakers and the autumn sun is coaxing each leaf to change from green to yellow and finally to bright hues of orange and deep reds. There isn't a season, I think, that compares to autumn. The amount of change that happens in such a small window of time is miraculous--every morning is a freshly painted canvas of the world and what is holds for the day. Pretty soon we'll be pumpkin pickin, apple cider sippin, and fritter eatin' our ways through the short days and long, cozy nights. Fall for me is about creating memories and just living in the moment!

The last hurrah of summer and first welcome to fall was a trip to the Red's game. The Executive Director of the company I work for sursprised me as I was walking out to my car. He was given some tickets from one of our consultants and was unable to attend the game--so since I was the first person he saw, I was the proud owner of some pretty amazing seats! Doug wasn't able to go unfortunately, however, his cousins Betsy and Jill were able to attend with Deacon and me. Those two are fanatics when it comes to the Reds, so it was only fitting that they came with us! It was so much fun to introduce Deacon to the exciting game of baseball and the memories that were sewn tight like the red stitching of a baseball! From the National Anthem and first pitch to eating peanuts and guiltlessly dropping the shells to the floor--it was wonderful. Deacon kept saying, "Mommy, I'm just so happy!" Well, that just makes me happy! Baseball games are important to me. Not for the game itself but more for the time spent with my son. It rehashed some awesome memories of my dad and me heading to ball park. It was our special time, a date perhaps. It would start on Riverside Drive in Covington with a picnic lunch/dinner. We'd walk across the "singing bridge" and we'd always and I mean ALWAYS stop smack dab in the middle of the bride to take a look at the mechanics of it. He'd always point out the expansion joints and quiz me each time asking, "do you know why they are there, Annie?" We would also get across the bridge and buy peanuts from outside of the park instead of paying full price in the ballpark. He'd always take me down early so I could try to get autographs from the ball players---and 9 times out of 10 I'd be successful--I attribute this to my once tiny, limber body and the fierce determination I had to make my dad proud. Although, he'd be proud even if I got a bat boys autograph, it just didn't matter! We always got seats in the club section--the padded, comfy seats situated high up in the ballpark with an amazing view of the entire field. When we got bored sitting, we'd just walk around the park, talk, stop, watch the game and walk and talk some more. We'd love to hear the artisic calls from the park workers yelling out, "Ice Cold BUD--WISE-ER" and "Get your cotton candy, Here, cotton candy". He taught me about courtesy and manners at the park too. Always, I mean ALWAYS tip the usher---its just the right thing to do. I'd replay those flashbacks of the fond memories I have with my dad at the park and then immediately look down at my son and smile. I am so excited to give him the same memories I had.

With the ever changing fall, comes a time of change in my life. Autumn gives me time to think about where I am in life, where I want to be and how to get there. Doug and I continue to discuss growing our family and have left it up to God and what he has planned for us. Another source of change I am considering is Graduate School. I loved college. NKU was the institution that taught me more about myself that I thought a college could. The professors, the students and atmosphere made me fall in love with the program I recieve my undergrad from. Since my graduation 4 years ago, I've longed to go back. Last night I found a paper that had my professor's handing writing exclaiming "APPLY TO GRAD SCHOOL". I know, I know--thanks for the reminder! I want to go--but there are several factors holding me back:

family--I know I could do it, I have such a supportive husband, but I just think raising a young family and putting myself through grad school could possibly be a recipe for disaster. The class load wouldn't bother me, however it would be the hours of studying that would get me. How does one choose between building forts with Deacon and studying for a midterm?!

Money--Its been said that you shouldn't wait to do something because of money--or else you'd be waiting forever. I understand that, but don't agree with it. Doug and I are in some debt (who isn't) and the last thing I want are student loans. Once I get a few plastic devils paid off, the dream of going to school may become a reality.

Time--What's time?!

Maybe these reasons are trivial, but I just can't rush into something without thinking it through completely. I will go through grad school--when, is the question. Hopefully within 5 years...I'll be back on NKU's campus educating myself for furture potential and self satisfaction!

As fall makes its way onto our earth and tugs on my heart strings, I'll continue to enjoy each moment, each day and give thanks for what I do have and the blessings my family has.

battered and torn

2010-09-10T14:16:00.000-04:00

I feel old. Not in an apocolypic, "oh my gosh I am so old I'm almost dead" old. My age indicates that I am young. A 26 year old should never feel old. period. But I do. I am not saying that my age is making me feel old, rather, my body.

I played 3 hours of soccer last night and I have another game this evening. I'm tired just thinking about it. This morning my body told me how unhappy it was that I destroyed it while playing soccer. My hip hurts, my IT band hurts. My shoulders feel non-existent and my back, I am almost for certain, is crafting a death note written specifically for me. Folks, I fell more times last night than I could count. I went head to head with big, tall, strong boys and hung with them to try and beat them to the ball. I was fouled and got slammed into a goalie who was sliding to save the ball and she swept my legs out from underneath me. By the end of my second game I was out of fuel. My speed dial went from rabbit to turtle.

On my drive home last night I just giggled. I can remember every instance that I have been injured because of sports in my life. The doctors and chiropractors always said, "take it easy. ice, heat, advil. stay off that ankle for a week. You're sesamoid bone is fractured (uhm, what the heck is that bone anyway?!) blah blah blah." Do you think I listened?! Absolutely not. I've always been fast paced--what can I do to get moving again type of attitude. I have beat my body up for quite some time, all because I couldn't bear the thought of not running in a race or playing a soccer game...I just kept going. The doctors would laugh when I'd visit again and say, "wow, anne you're a workhorse, you just don't stop do you?!" but they never once said, "you really need to listen to us and do as your told." I can't really expect them too either---They don't know how inured I really am if I am not giving them all the information.

After I had my laugh, I began to realize that for 26 years I have been wearing this invisible cape. Life can't touch me--I am unstoppable. As the years fly by, my cape has been getting caught, pulled and torn and now some of my invisibility is gone. my vulnerability is showing--my injuries are lasting longer, I'm not as fast as I was, my endurance is crap, and my foot can't kick the ball like it used to. Kids, I'm normal and human---I apparently just got that memo last night.

Maybe it was cockiness or self serving to think that I would just be untouchable forever. Heck maybe if I actually took care of my body and gave it time to heal after all those injuries I would feel like a 26 year old trapped in a 70 year olds body. But that isn't a fair comparision either--there are some 70 year olds that could run circles around me.

I don't like these realizations. Ok, I lied. Its apart of my life, it's apart my the growing process I suppose. I just don't like the fact that I indeed was wrong. If you know me, or met you, you know that I think I am right at all times.

Growing up is awesome--I have a great husband and amazing kid because of my ability to mature and age. However, the growing pains (literally, in this sense) sucks. So, what is a girl to do? Do I quit sports all together? Probably wouldn't be the wisest thing to do now would it? I guess I need to realize that my cape is shredding away from my body and my invisibility is no more. I need to actually listen to my body and rest when I need to rest. After all I plan on running and playing soccer until my feet fall off--I'd just rather they fall off 50 years from now instead of 15 years from now!

Happy Birthday Peggy!

2010-08-26T23:03:00.000-04:00

I feel it is only appropriate to end my night thinking about how blessed I am to have such an amazing family. With 7 brothers and sisters, my life is full of wonderful memories and stories that seriously can't be made up even if we tried.

Theresa (my twin) and I were number 7 and 8 in the line up. My mom and dad were shocked with the pregnancy. Why do you ask, well she was 43. The other shock? The doctor told her she was having a 10 pound baby boy. Instead? a tiny 4lb 14ounce girl (me) and then 8 minutes later? a 5lb 6ounce little girl (Theresa). My three brothers and three sisters were about to get the surprise of their lives! I'll always say that God blessed me with my twin so would not have to be an "only child" (Our other siblings were older---ranging from 22 to 10 years older than me and Theresa) But not only did God bless me with my twin, but with Peggy, the oldest/wisest/most amazing big sister anyone could ever have. Today on her birthday, I reflect on who she is, and why she is so very important to not only me but to my family.

It takes a special person to be the oldest, especially of 8. No one in my family is more perfect for taking the "oldest" sibling role than Peggy. God, I think, created Peggy, specifically for that responsibility. So what makes her the perfect big sister? It just so happens that I am in a list making kind of mood, so that is how I'll be organizing my thoughts.

1. She is a protector. Not in a "i'll beat you up" sort of way (unless there is another side to her I don't know about!) but a mother hen type of way.

2. Empathy. She is the most understanding individual I know. She may not always agree with you or doesn't exactly know what a person is feeling, and she never tries to fake that she does. That's what I love about her. Even though she may not fully understand what I might be facing, she is fully capable of giving me empathy and support.

3. Sleep overs. The memories I have (and I guess I'll speak for Theresa too) sleeping over at Peggy's houses (first in Latonia, then Falmouth and finally Covington) are unforgettable. These are the days that I felt the most love. The simple gesture of her giving up her weekend to host her baby sisters is the most kind thing she could have done for us. Peggy, you have no idea how much happiness those sleepovers gave me.

4. Vacations. Canada to florida, Vermont, Connecticut, New Hampshire, New York...the list goes on and on. Sure she had a camera shoved in our faces at every second (funny how the tables have turned) but she did that so we could remember our vacations through pictures. Thank you Peggy for allowing me and Theresa to always tag-along on your adventures with your family!

5. Selflessness. This is the most important roll of a big sister and Peggy's pciture, I think should be next to the definition in Merriam-Webster. She has always and will always put others before herself---period. I could call her up this very moment and tell her that the only way I could go to sleep is if she didn't and she would totally stay awake just to give me the opportunity to sleep.

6. Devotion to family. Everything my sister does encircles her family. Every movement, action, thought is all decided upon this one question, "How will this affect my family?" She is the one always coming up with great opportunities for our family to get together, to be together.

7. Compassion.

8. Hard working. My sister works her butt off. she always has and always will. As a little sib, being able to look up to a person with such a strong work ethic, without a doubt helped shape me into the person I am today.

9. Quirky. Ever oldest sibling needs to be quirkey. My sister has the "sexy walk" the "Peggy laugh" and many other quirks to her that just make her, her. I love that fact that she can take any situation and make it a memorable one. Like the time we were scrounging for pennies JUST to buy a roast beef sandwich while Dale was buying a car at the dealership--hysterical.

10. Ability to bond with each younger sibling. We smith kids are all crazy and we all love each other very much (that goes without saying). I think that is the case because we had such a beautiful foundation to build that on. Peggy has developed a special relationship with each sibling and appreciates each one of us for our differences--that means there is never a dull conversation with her and each time you see her, and interact with her is always genuine.

There are so many more things I could say about my amazing sister, but my tears are getting in the way of being able to see what I am typing. I'll end by saying this:

Peggy, I hope you had a wonderful birthday. My day was perfect just knowing that on this day you were brought into this world. We are so blessed--God designed you just for us, to be the anchor of our family. The phone calls, the "it'll be fun" outings, among many other precious memories I hold dear to my heart are all reminders of how amazing you are. I wish you nothing but a year full of love, happiness and most importantly family. I love you so much!

The Brown Bag Lunch Project

2010-08-26T19:20:00.000-04:00

In our quest to have another baby, Doug and I realized that if we thought we were broke now, adding another kid into the mix certainly will cause even less money to remain in our wallets.

Time and time again we've heard, "you'll never be financially stable to have kids...if you wait, you'll never have any more." I agree to an extent. I agree that having children just isn't kind on the wallet. However, one shouldn't just use that as an excuse. Doug and I are very much ready to have another baby, but he tends to over analyze our money, and our ability to provide for our family. It makes a perfect balance because I do at times use that excuse of, "we'll find a way."

One evening as I used that cliche phrase, Doug retorted, "and what ways are those?" Well I wasn't prepared to answer that. I soon began to realize that he was absolutely correct. Two tuitions for 1 year and then Deacon will be ready for school, so that doesn't seem so scary. But then there is the age old question: public school or private school? I was a private school kid who banked on religion class everyday. Doug was a public school kid who attended CCD instead of a catholic school religion class. Even though Kindergarten seems so far off in the distance, it really is only 2 years away....yikes.

other cost spikes that I fail to see are clothing/groceries/toys/etc. These are all things that Doug is rightfully concerned about and as I really sat and thought about it, I began to realize the potential of me working JUST to send our kids to school or buy what we need as a family.

The anxiety mounted, yet two good things came out from that discussion 1. We are still wanting to get pregnant by the end of this year and 2. It opened my eyes to see what I can do NOW to prepare for this hypothetical baby that God has not yet blessed us with.

This leads me into the Brown Bag Lunch Product. There isn't really a huge equation or statistics or proof that this will save money, but I am thinking that it will....so...it will! I bought lunch almost EVERY DAY for work. Sometimes lunches were $5.00 while some were as high as $15.00. So in a given week I'd spend between $25.00 and $75.00 on lunch. WHOA! which then adds up between $100.00 and $300.00 a month. I'd bet that in a typical month I'd spend $150.00 in food, not even groceries. Here is the other kicker, we'd budget for groceries, but many of it would go to waste because I didn't pack. This I see as a waste. Also, all that junk food certainly wasn't doing me any favors by way of my waistline.

Last Monday, I decide enough was enough. I packed my lunch. Then the entire week I followed the same thing. mid-way through the week I realized why I bought my lunch so often...convenience. It is such a chore to pack a lunch...a healthy one at that. BUT I persevered and got through the entire week with out buying a single lunch.

I did decide that Friday would be my out to lunch day. Let's face it, besides the convenience factor, going out to eat is fun. You get to be out of the office, around your friends--it's more about the food at that point, its about the quality time friends get to spend with one another. So Friday is my day. Most of my colleagues even know that Friday will be the standing lunch day and to not even bother asking me any other day of the week. Last week was such a success that I began this week packing my lunch and so far so great! I've even been cooking more dinners knowing that leftovers can be transformed into lunches for me during the week. So yes, I am actually spending more money at the grocery but am getting a greater ROI because I am not only fueling my body with better foods, but also I get more bang for my buck.

Doug and I are in the midst of deciding what else we can do to still enjoy a comfortable life, yet in a way that helps us save money our our next baby, whenever that happens. Cable/phone/internet--what can we do to save money? I haven't figured it out all the way yet, but when I do, believe me, I will definitely share the secrets!

The day before a Manic Monday

2010-08-22T19:39:00.001-04:00

I am holding onto this day so tight and refuse to let it go until midnight creeps upon our alarm clocks. Even when I wake up tomorrow to start the week, I may still pretend that it is Sunday.

Monday has always had a bad rap. Poor weekday. But honestly, when Sundays are so good, the last thing that you want is a Monday to roll around. Mondays = deadlines, meetings, reminders of projects that just seem impossible. Sunday was a day to actually forget about work for once and so it just seems a little unfair (and slightly ironic) that Sunday was a true day of relaxation just one day prior to the start of the work week. Now, I'll manage. I'll wake up, shower, get dressed, throw on my face and lift my heavy, tired legs into my car and make myself drive into work. I'll survive. Once I get there it won't be so bad, but the thought of it just seems so depressing.

So what makes today so special? Nothing really. Today wasn't particularly spectacular, but it sure was one of those days that just will stick with me for a long time.

It started off with Deacon calling into our room "Moooooooooommy, Daaaaaaaaaaaaaddy The sun woke my eyes up". Hearing his sweet little voice almost makes the early morning routine tolerable.

The best part about Sunday's is that Deacon will crawl into our bed and snuggle up while he watches his morning shows. Then he'll get so uncomfortably close and say, "I think you want to read books with me mommy." The kid is so persuasive.

So after our somewhat normal routine, we pulled ourselves out of bed and got ready for Mass. Deacon always says, "is it time to go to Jesus' house?" SO cute. So away we went to Mass and even though Deacon had a hard time sitting still, there wasn't a significant outburst that required us to visit the baby room.

Insert tangent: Every Sunday, right before Mass, the Lectern states: "it is sometimes difficult for small children to remain seated and quiet throughout the Mass, for your convenience, there is a cry room, blah blah blah blah. I totally agree with the concept. But there has become a sort of expectation that if you have a small child that you MUST be in that cry room. This is where I disagree. First it looks like a zoo. Meaning, you are in a tiny room with windows that peer out into the congregation. So the "normal" church goers can just take a peek at the animals behind the glass. Frustrating. Here's the other beef I have with the cry room: for one reason over the other, kids just know it ain't the "real deal" and there fore they get more antsy in that room than they do at church. Also, parents seem to think that because they are in said cry room that their children can run around like cheetahs at the cat exhibit. So, what does that teach the children. Absolutely nothing. When will they ever sit still if they never have the opportunity to learn? end tangent.

SO Doug and I are the rebels of the church and we don't really care. Okay, we care, but we refuse to let Deacon think that church time is play time. SO we decided that since Deacon is three, he can totally hang with the normal church goers and begin to learn the concept behind our Mass, our faith, etc. The cry room has been renamed in our family to the "Baby" room and it is for babies, and if he acts like a baby then he has to go to that room. Maybe that's a little harsh, but it works. Sure the kid is three. He will say funny things during Mass and move around more than the average adult, but if he isn't screaming, crying or kicking, then we will sit as a family with the rest of our church family. It just makes more sense to us. Deacon is learning the expectations set forth for Mass, plus Doug and I actually get to listen to the Mass. It paid off today because the homily was, I think, written specifically for Doug and me. It was words that resonated deep within us and served as a wake up call. The priest brought us back to elementary school with the simple end line he used:

Who is God, God is love. If we have the ability to love, then we have the ability to have God in our hearts. simple, yet so often overlooked.

After my faith recharge, we set out to get some doughnuts. Deacon got chocolate with sprinkles, here is the aftermath:

Deacon ate only the icing, but really, that's that best part so you can't really blame him!

The funny thing is that I have been on a diet (meh) this past week, but for some reason I seem to believe that calories don't count on the weekends. This means that all my hard work during the week went down the tubes this weekend. This is something I definitely need to work on! Tomorrow will start a new week (yes, yes, I already stated that, so no you'll not have to read my soapbox again) and I'll pack each day, workout and lunch and try again. The main reason I am dieting is not to loose weight (although 10 pounds would be AWESOME) but just to eat better foods. I don't need all that fast food crap. I need real food, with real texture and taste. I couldn't tell you the last time I crunched down on celery--it.was.amazing. I am also calling it a diet because I am putting my spending on just that, a diet. I need to spend my money more wisely--and eating out everyday at work is not wise. This week I saved $60.00 on lunch by packing. multiply that by 4, then 12. You get the idea.

So after our doughnut/eggs/sausage fest came to a close we just played trains, puzzles and let the day ease on through our household. There was laundry to be done, dishes to be washed, grass to be mowed and floors to be mopped, but for once we didn't do ANY OF IT. Doug and I were so content just being parents today that we didn't even bother multitasking and it was AMAZING!

After our morning of play, we laid Deacon down for a nap (oh yay, you better believe the couch had my name written all over it!) and prepped ourselves for the zoo. It's been too hot to do much of anything in the Greater Cincinnati area this summer so our zoo passes were put to a hault by mid-June. Thankfully the weather today was tolerable because Deacon had a huge desire to see the "amiminals". Just as we were slinking into the park the other guests were leaving, so it was absolutely perfect. no lines. no crowds. just trickles of patrons here and there. We were able to go see all the exhibits that we wanted to and we didn't feel the need to rush. Deacon's favorite animal currently is the Lions, so that was a must see. We also went to see the Manatees, but they weren't out. I was bummed--they are by far, my favorite animal.

As the the clock struck 6, we headed for home, had dinner and then indulged in Hawaiian Ice. That's right, shaved ice covered in sugar. delicious. You can't go through a summer without visiting this shanty of a stand. Its a right of passage. I think Deacon was addicted to them since he was in the womb. I craved them uncontrollably and when I was on bed rest I had plenty of people stop by with the icy treat for me. Deacon ALWAYS gets orange, just like his daddy. The two of them were being absolutely adorable...luckily I brought my camera to share some of the cuteness:

capturing our shadows

getting some drawing in before dessert

My leading men...

They put so much joy in my heart

As the sun set, so did the festivities in our home. We washed away the day with soap and water, got bundled up in our PJs and ended the day just as we began it, in our bed all snuggled up reading books before bed. It has truly been a wonderful day.

Good night!

Found Treasure

2010-08-19T15:05:00.000-04:00

I mentioned a week or so ago about the sheer happiness I get when I find money in my pocket. Today, I didn't find money. Rather, I found something much more valuable. I was photographing one of the members of executive team for our company website and as I was downloading the pictures, I stumbled across some pictures of my little guy that I had completely forgotten that I had taken them! He is getting really good saying "cheese" everytime I get the camera out! I'd thought I'd share some utter cuteness with you:

no day is complete without a signature monster roar from Deacon:

When I see this picture I can't help but tear up. When did he get so big?

sadly enough, most of the time I have been so busy with "life" that it is just passing me by without any warning. It isn't until I "capture" the wild life that I actually "see" what is whirling around me. This picture is just that. I look at that precious face and feel so blessed Deacon picked me to be his mother--that for the past 3 years I have been responsible for this life, this one wild, beautiful life. It also is sobering too, because for a quick minute I felt like I didn't recognize him--that's how big and grown up he looks to me. I paused and thought, surely this isn't my son, what happened to the infant? My kid is a pre-schooler, what?! One look at this picture serves a perfect reminder that I need to stop what I am doing every once in a while and pay attention. Cleaning can wait, work can wait, little trivial things that I make a high priority can wait. Tonight I think I'll spend the evening building trains and piecing puzzles together with my little man.

OH and get a load of these precious little eyes:

are you kidding me?! Most girls I know ENVY for those long lashes. Myself included.

the final picture I would like to show you is my puppy:

Her name is Remi, and she thinks she is a cat. I have a love-hate relationship with that dog. she is the reason we can't keep nice furniture in the house. She is the reason I feel the need to clean EVERY DAY. She is the reason why I don't get a good night sleep (oh yes, she sleeps in my bed--dog owners---DO NOT allow that to happen in your home!) As much as I say "I can't stand that dog" I do love her so very much. Sure she chews on anything and everything and yes she still stinks after I give her a bath, but I can't help but love her. she really is a good girl, I just won't admit it to my husband!

This weekend is going to be filled with nothing spectacular--just the way I like it! I will be attending my sister's-in-law open house at her spankin' new photography studio on Saturday from 10-2pm and then Deacon and I might just find our way to the zoo. Sunday will be set aside for church and possibly a bike ride, or a nap, or a picnic lunch with the family...we shall see but it will be nice to live a weekend not following an itinerary. Maybe I'll find even more "treasure" hidden in the corners of my life--just what I need after a long week!

That's Me!!!

2010-08-18T22:28:00.000-04:00

My apologies for not writing in over a week...highly uncharacteristic of me. However, there have been attempts. Every night I'd begin to blog and as quick as I'd type, my finger would hit delete. I just don't think there has been anything note worthy that has happened the last few weeks. Honestly, my life isn't noteworthy--maybe that is why I find it to be so charming.

But enough is enough. Tonight, I promise to not delete a single thought. So I present to you a hodge podge or thoughts--just like the yummy leftovers mom would try and spruce up--a last ditch effort. This is my final attempt at capturing what I've been feeling the last few weeks (ok, ok, days--my memory is so sketchy that I'll only recall very little bits).

I'll start with the most recent and work my way back as far as I can remember (sorry, it's the way my brain works...so get ready for time warp!)

Tonight was a very special night for me. It started off as it typically does--Deacon got changed into his cute little shamrock boxers and "respect mother earth" tee-shirt for me. He is already loving the mismatched pajama look, rather than the set...yay for me because that means I save money! Ok so after PJ time, we watch a little TV, then books, then prayer books, then prayers, then bed. It's a long routine, but any parent (scratch that, most parents) will tell you that bedtime is sacred. Doug and I lucked out with a kid who is a great sleeper. He also knows how to fall asleep on his own--so for us, it's a pleasure to put him to bed (most nights). So we were in step 5 of the 6 step process. We were saying prayers while rocking back in forth in our comfy rocking chair, or "tumfee" rocking chair as Deacon pronounces so confidently. Anyway his sweet little body laid against mine with his head placed perfectly in my shoulder/neck area (I think God specially designed that nook for parents!) and just as we were saying "Thank you for taking care of us today , please take care of us tonight, goodnight my sweet Jesus." Deacon looks up, points to a picture of Jesus in his room (holding a child) and says, "MOMMY! THAT'S ME! That's Jesus hugging me." I looked closer and realized, that holy cow, the child in the drawing does resemble Deacon quite a bit, so I agreed and said, "you're right Deacon, he is hugging you." Then he preceded to saying the following, "He loves me A LOT...he is nice to me, he is not a monster!"

Thanks for laugh Deacon...not a monster--my silly little 3-year-old. But along with the humor my son unknowingly has, he also carries such wisdom. I think sometimes we all need a picture vividly painted for us with Jesus embracing us--the real us. Too often we forget that he is there, why he is there and that we need to take up our cross and follow him. My son reminded me of Jesus' presence tonight. He never strays and is always there, holding us tight.

If one moment of tears weren't enough, Deacon did a double whammy on me tonight. We were saying out "Goodnights" and he asked if I could sing him his song (there are two songs I sing, Let it Show by Jen Chapin and Godspeed by the Dixie Chicks) so because he asked so sweetly I sang both! Deacon knows the songs better than me, so he has begun singing along with me. I don't know what it was tonight, but watching his sweet little eyes lock into mine as we were singing our flawed, yet oh so perfect duet, I cried. I teared up so much when Deacon sang a line all by himself because my tears were impacting my ability to sing. He sang, "God bless mommy and matchbox cars, God bless dad and thanks for the stars, God hears amen where ever we are, and I love you..." WATER WORKS! in his solo and my moment of sheer joy and reconfirming moment that I said a prayer that I hope Deacon knows HOW much I love him.

He has no idea. I had NO idea how much my parents loved me until I had a child of my own--I am having a hard time articulating the amount of love I have for my son--mind boggling actually. This is probably why I get so giddy when my friends/family members are about to have their first child--because they honestly have NO IDEA what they are in for. It is also why my heart breaks when my friends/family are faced with infertility. It is in those moments that I pray that they may be able to feel and understand that love in their life. This is why I cry at every.single.wedding. since my own wedding---because you just know the journey that is about to be taken--and that too, is a love that is indescribable!

Which leads me perfectly into my next subject. My friend/co-worker is weeks away from having her first child. The name and the sex will be a complete surprise until the little one makes its entrance into the world. I had the privilege to photograph Witni and her husband and I can't help but share some of their hottness with you:

Doesn't she just ooze love?! She is going to be an amazing mother!

wanting a closeup of her adorable pregnant belly--check it out!

Here is one of my favorites of the two of them

I love Eric's expression in this shot...like he is just in total awe of his wife

favorite...

Witni's side of the family are big racing enthusiasts, and I don't mean race cars! She is a true Kentucky girl and had to wear her Derby hat--

I could not be happier and can't wait for them to meet their miracle in the next few weeks. These are two of the most wonderful people I have ever met and to know that they are going to finally be parents makes my heart so happy. Witni knows that I've been longing to be pregnant again so she has so selflessly let me almost live vicariously through her. We'll be sitting in our small team meeting and then all of a sudden she'll say "ANNE" and I know that the little one is kicking and twirling and I immediately place my hands on her belly. Feeling a baby move and kick is one of the most peaceful moments in life--almost like God saying, "see, I do exist."

I could go on and speak more about random happenings but I think I'll just let you stew about that quotations just as I have begun to do the same. "I do exist". How does God exist in my life and how so I show off that existence? How have I failed to show God's love to others and what can I do to make sure that my actions are reflections of love unto others? I ask that God pour into me his plan, and reveal it through instruments of grace.

a quick post

2010-08-11T18:53:00.001-04:00

just a quick post to say that I am working on a much longer post...stay tuned and so sorry for the delay!

4 years

2010-08-04T21:05:00.000-04:00

4--one less than half way to ten. There were several occasions today that I'd announce my anniversary, people would ask me how many years and I'd proudly say 4. Their response? "OHHHH, so new! You have NO idea what marriage is even like yet, you'll know in another 20 years."

shame on them.

Well, not shame on them, but quite sad that they make it seem as if the longer you are married, the more unhappy you will become. If I didn't know any better the remarks I have heard the last few days would make me believe that marriage is a big hoax. Luckily for Doug and I, we have had many many examples of good marriages, true love and how to make that love last. Also might I add that 4 years is still has that "new car smell" but certainly should not discount the experiences that have been gained over the four wonderful years.

I'll never forget our wedding day. I'll forever remember both of reactions the moment we saw each other in the park.

I'll never forget Doug whispering in my ear, "I am so lucky, I am so lucky, I am so in love."

I'll never forget the guests who attended and celebrated with us our beautiful Sacrament and commitment we made to one another.

I'll never forget the moment I walked down the aisle, with both my mother and my father, and joined hands with Doug in a journey that I could not even have imagined.

The music, the readings, the homily, the vows--all things that vividly play back in my mind. Doug and I took great care in choosing the right music and readings and being as involved as we could be with the details of the ceremony. We wanted readings that weren't "typical" yet still spoke of the commitment we were making to each other.

I walked down the aisle to "Canticle of the Sun"
http://www.ilike.com/artist/Marty+Haugen/track/Canticle+of+the+Sun

Our First Reading was Jeremiah 31: 31-34--

“Behold, the days are coming, declares the Lord, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah, 32 not like the covenant that I made with their fathers on the day when I took them by the hand to bring them out of the land of Egypt, my covenant that they broke, though I was their husband, declares the Lord. 33 But this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, declares the Lord: I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts. And I will be their God, and they shall be my people. 34 And no longer shall each one teach his neighbor and each his brother, saying, ‘Know the Lord,’ for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, declares the Lord. For I will forgive their iniquity, and I will remember their sin no more.”

The second reading was Romans 8:31-35, 37-39

31 What then are we to say about these things? If God is for us, who is against us? 32 He who did not withhold his own Son, but gave him up for all of us, will he not with him also give us everything else? 33 Who will bring any charge against God's elect? It is God who justifies. 34 Who is to condemn? It is Christ Jesus, who died, yes, who was raised, who is at the right hand of God, who indeed intercedes for us. 35 Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? 37 No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. 38 For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, 39 nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

The Gospel was Matthew 5: 13-16

13"You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled by men.

14"You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. 15Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. 16In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven.

The homily still plays back in my mind. Father Wigger combined each of our readings and packaged it up into a perfect reminder of why Doug and I were getting married. First he presented Doug and I with a candle that had three flames. He explained that each flame holds significant, equal importance to the candle. If one flame burns out, the light becomes dim and it does not shine as bright as it could. He compared that to marriage. He said it takes three flames to keep a marriage strong: Me, Doug and God. Each of us hold significant importance to the success of our marriage. He also said that it is my sole job to get Doug to heaven, as it is Doug's job to get me to Heaven--how beautiful.

fast forward 4 years. The road hasn't been perfect. But there was never a promise that it would be. What I can say is that we are stronger and more in love than ever. There is no other person that I would rather share my life with than Doug--he is it for me. period.

There is an elderly couple that lives down the street from us. It is not uncommon to see them walking down the street just holding hands--it is pretty adorable. Today, driving home I saw the two of them, sitting side by side in lawn chairs in the driveway sipping iced tea. Hands held and the wife had her head placed perfectly on her husbands shoulders. I cried. I want that. 40 years from now, I hope that Doug and I will still be crazy in love with each other and that once our children our grown, our jobs our done and the only thing left is our marriage--I hope that we will be as blissfully happy as that couple I saw today.

pockets: a post full of lint, tangents and gummy snacks

2010-08-01T11:34:00.001-04:00

I think the contents of your pockets evolve as we age. As a toddler I can guess what I stuffed in my pockets: candy, grass, pebbles or other secret trinkets I wanted to safely guard--I basically had a tiny treasure chest at my disposal.

I grew up slightly and began to stuff my pockets with lip gloss, change for the ice cream cart at school and pogs for recess (yes, pogs...who remembers those?!) I'd also find in my pockets little "I love yous that my mom would tuck in my lunch box and baseball ticket stubs from my date with my dad. In my pockets you'd see notes that had been passed back and forth with my friends.

As a teenager I would slink my hands into my pockets to find violations, uniform warnings and homework reminders for the next day. My pockets in my teen years weren't all bad--I would have quotations, sayings or thoughts that I had to write down on paper. It was during this time that I discovered my passion for poetry and that I could, actually, believe-it-or-not, string words together to flow into a poem that sounded pretty good. I don't know if I ever really wanted to write poetry, I always loved my father's poems, and how his words dripped onto paper with emotion and provoked thought. We'd be sitting in a restaurant and all of a sudden, my father would begin to find a pen, or ask the waitress for one, grab a napkin and begin to pen his thoughts. he'd gently tuck it away in his suit jacket or pants pocket and I'd eagerly wait for the next poem. He'd call me in, print off his newest masterpiece and while the paper, still warm from the printer, I'd gaze at the words, the meaning and just take it in and be in complete awe of my dad. I also loved knowing, that the secret words he put on napkins, receipts or pamphlets in front of me, might have ended up in that very poem. That's why I began to write, that's why I love poetry; my dad's ability to let life percolate in his mind and pour those ideas into a coffee cup of words blew me away and I wanted to know how the world worked in that way. So I let my mind wander--I'd let it float away, I'd turn on my poetry ears and listen for the world to speak to me, for God to speak to me and I'd write. I'd share my poems with my dad, and the greatest part was that he was just as eager as I was to read my poems as I was his. I hope and prayer that he knows my love of writing is solely from him. The sad part is that my pockets are empty--no words, no thoughts--my grown up life stepped in and has strung an iron curtain over my pockets--I can't stuff them with rambling ideas. As soon as I begin to write, my adult brain says, "that sounds silly, stupid, childish--you can't write anymore." I need to somehow get past that and just write--maybe a lunch date with my father would do me well.

The best contents in anyone's pocket is money. Not money that we knowingly put there, but money we forgot about. Each season Theresa and I would pack up our clothes and we would switch them out for the upcoming season. There was never a doubt that late in the season, I'd slip on my favorite pair of jeans, put my hands in my pocket and viola, money. Most times it was only a few dollars, but once in a while there would be a 10 or 20 dollar bill---JACKPOT! I really came to appreciate that surprise money when Theresa and I were driving. Money meant that we were able to fill up our gas tank--and a full gas tank is a must when you are a hot-to-trot teen wanting to drive where ever your heart desired. I can't really describe that feeling of finding money when you don't think you have any--maybe some of you can appreciate that, maybe I don't need words to describe it because hopefully you all understand what I am trying to say!

In my pockets through college I could find quick notes for a test I was cramming for, phone numbers of new college friends, indoor soccer game times, and a number from one boy in particular, Doug Wolking. Now, I'll save you the love story but I met Doug just as I graduating from high school and transitioning into my college life at Western Kentucky University. I was smitten, but he didn't feel the same way. Friends, sure, but that was the end of it. He liked another girl, but through a series of events I am sure you truly don't want to invest your time in, Doug and I began to date. July 2nd, 2002 was the day that God laid out the next chapter of my life--I am so glad that chapter involved (and still involves Doug). From July of 2002 to present day my pockets have contents of dates: movie tickets, putt-putt score cards, love notes, etc all things that mean more to me than a surprise $20.00 bill! Doug and I were married on August 4th, 2006. This week will mark our fourth wedding anniversary and it has been the most amazing four years of my life. Four years have been filled with a child, arguments, joy, tears and laughter--all things that don't necessarily fill my pockets but they sure enrich my life, who needs pockets then!?

Present day, my pockets are filled with to-do lists; both for home and work, drawings from my son, grocery receipts, lint, uv lenses for my camera and just this morning I put my hands in my pockets only to find a washed up gummy snack which when washed and dried in your pants pocket, creates a nice, sticky binding agent that is almost impossible to get rid of. I have so many "mom" relics in my pockets i could open up a museum. It was while in church today I found that nice sticky gummy snack in my pocket that i realized you can really find out a lot about a person through the contents of their pockets. My pockets are the hiding spots or cover ups or the, "I don't have time to throw this away because I am playing cars with my son, so I'll stick it in my pocket until later". On the outside of my life it looks like I am so well put together--that I clean all the time, laundry and dishes done (with the tremendous help of Doug), toys always put away and counted for--yes, I am a control freak. So it is quite surprising to see that my pockets are far from my OCD list of "neat and orderly". I've decided that's ok--because I am sure people think that I am stiff or too uptight about things...but I ask you to check my pockets the next time you think that--you'll discover a lot more about me. You'll find a whole life of memories and secrets that I have tucked away from the world. That gummy snack was on the kitchen floor--minutes before company arrived, so I quickly shoved it in my pocket because even though I wanted the place to look nice--I wasn't about to stop play time with my son to walk two-feet to throw that dang piece of candy away! So to me it's not just a gummy snack that will be stuck to my pocket for eternity--it is a memory--I still remember Deacon transforming himself from a three old into a monster, then into a race car that preceded to chase me around the house. The way he shook his body as if he were starting his engine and gliding his shoe as one would rev their engine right before the gun goes off. That day Deacon was lightening McQueen and I was Doc, well then I was The King, or maybe I was that other car--who knows, but what what I do know is that I hope that piece of candy never washes out of my pocket, because it is now my $20.00 bill--it is my sweet memory I'll cherish forever.

So I'll leave you with a simple question--What's in your pocket, right now? What does it say about you? What memories do you have of the contents of your pockets? Enjoy life, love and cherish your memories.

lackluster post

2010-07-31T11:42:00.000-04:00

wow, that really makes you want to read a post, eh?

This week for me has been completely lackluster. Maybe it is something I should have anticipated since it was our first week back from vacation.

I still have the cool sea breeze in my mind, some left over sand on the soles of my shoes and my swimsuit still smells like salt water. Combine those sweet memories with deadlines, e-mails, voice mails, newsletters and meetings--it really drags out the week and half of my brain is still in Hilton Head.

So I am in transition. Hardly is it the worst thing that has ever happened to me and clearly my life isn't so bad if the things I worry about are adjusting into reality from a dreamy vacation. I guess for a week, we as a family were able to get away and not think about life. We were able to get up, watch cartoons, make breakfast and decide to either beach it or pool it--not difficult. Now our minds are back from their break and we have been thrown back into the complexity of our thoughts.

I've been thinking a lot about Jessie Russo and her family. Jessie is a fellow panda who was involved in a car accident with 7 other girls on their way home from spring back. The class of 2010 lost a dear person, and left Jessie with a brain injury. She has been in the hospital since April, and today, is her second day back from Georgia. I am proud of her accomplishments, but ache because I know the journey of recovery is still a long road.

I've been thinking about another college classmate and her son. Her son had end-stage renal disease and just received his mother's kidney--I've been praying for a successful recovery and just imagine how different my life would be if my son were sick.

I've been thinking about a dear friend who has been through a divorce and her trying to find her way back into society as a strong, single mother.

I've been thinking of my best friend who is fighting her way through school--with a year down and almost 2 years to go--the determination she has to finish (and finish well) is amazing, but when I talk to her on her "bad" days I feel awful because there isn't much I can do other than listen, pray and be a good friend.

I am thinking of my sister who on her way to their family vacation had a scary thing happen--their tire completely busted open all over the roadway. I am praying for their safe trip home.

I've also done a lot of thinking about me, my family and wanting so badly, a baby. I went to the doctor (that doctor...) on Thursday and he asked how my baby was. I sad, "he's not a baby anymore--he is three" and he said, "well, it's time to have another one". I wanted to cry. I know it's time, it's been time---for a very long time. Money, stress, our jobs have just prevented us from having another baby. My twin has been blessed with a healthy baby girl and to see her son interact with his baby sister is a magical thing to witness, yet it pierces me in the heart because I want for my son to be a big brother--I want to give him that gift and I don't know when that gift will arrive. Deacon has seen his baby cousin several times and each time he says, "mommy, I kiss her on her foot?" I say, yes. Then he says, "Mommy, I kiss her on her cheek?" i say, yes. Then he says, "Mommy, I gentle with my baby cousin?" I say, "Yes, Deacon, you are so gentle." Then he says, "Mommy, I want a baby sister...no no, I want a baby brother." UGH! I know sweet child. I wish I could call the stork but they are on back order.

I know people mean well when they ask when Doug and I plan to have another baby--but it is almost like a slap in the face each time that question is posed--one more reminder that I am not pregnant. I don't get upset, because I know their intentions weren't malicious--but I do cry when I am alone--and I pray that God bless our family with another baby. Actually I pray that God delivers me acceptance. Acceptance that this life is not mine. This life is His--I have ask Him to steer it for me and I am to do His will. I am to follow His plan and when He is ready to bless us with a baby, He will. But sometimes I just want to say, ENOUGH already. God, don't you see---WE are ready?!

I am ready for a baby. I am ready to give a great gift to my son--to be a brother...because what a wonderful brother he will be.

My apologies for a "depressing" post, just needed to get these thoughts off my chest I guess.

I hope to post a more cheerful story soon...

Letting Go

2010-07-25T11:11:00.000-04:00

I like to take the lead in many aspects of my life. Doug and I tried to take a dance lesson for our wedding (almost 4 years ago!!!!) and the instructor told me I was a helpless cause--I was trying to lead, rather than letting Doug lead me.

I was always the kid in school who would rather do an entire group project herself than let the group "ruin" it.

I very rarely ask for help and when I do, it is usually more of a hassle than actual help.

I dominate conversations.

I ALWAYS, and I mean ALWAYS have to have the last word.

I don't know exactly why I am this way...I won't say it's a bad thing, but control is so powerful it can be a little over whelming when it is overused.

I need to let go. I envy those who can have control when it's needed but also let loose when its appropriate.

Today, I ask that God free me from the chains of control, that I can learn to trust others to make sound decisions and for once, let others lead and I follow.

Palmetto Bugs and Stomach Bugs and Vomit OH MY!

2010-07-20T19:46:00.000-04:00

Not actually a picture perfect title you all were probably expecting to read as I detail you with our vacation adventures.

Now don't get me wrong, we are having a fabulous time--the beach is beautiful, our condo is nice and Deacon is like a fish. The beer is cold and and food is good---BUT to say that we have run into a few snags is an understatement!

Let me first start with the Palmetto Bugs. Apparently, if you give cockroaches that name in the south, they just don't sound as terrifying. However, it is still the same damn bug that we have in Kentucky--and I still get freaked out when I see one. Palmetto Bugs are quite common in the southern states and the natives, I feel, have learned to deal with them. My family was expecting to run into 1 or 2 while in our condo (which by the way, the cleaning company failed to properly clean the place...that's a completely different post) But I am pretty sure we have killed 7 and have seen 7-10 dead ones. It doesn't help that the front door has a gaping hole the size of california--it is like a welcome mat for our nice little critters. These nice little bugs aren't so little either--as my Brother-in-law stated--'little' would be appropriate if you were comparing them to a Volkswagon Jetta. As you can tell, we were a little freaked out by the little guys finding their ways into our childrens' room and randomly finding them on the ceiling above my bed! We called the owner of the home and he promptly called the exterminator--lets just hope that makes a difference! After he left, we killed two more that night, one of the exterminators commented on that amount of wolf spiders located centrally on the fireplace. Apparently we had enough to cause some sort of alarm, even though they never told us to be concerned.

Next, my son has a NASTY stomach bug. At first we thought it was because of all the traveling we've done, but last night when he threw up all over me, we decided it was time to accept the fact that he was sick!

Poor buddy was lethargic, unattentive and just looked sick. I know you know what I am talking about--we've all been there--where you've really felt like death. Currently, it is 7:30pm and I believe Deacon is making headway over the battle of gasteroenteritis--hoping tomorrow he feels much better and I am hoping that none of us catch it!

With Deacon being sick I am going to totally skip over the fact that we've had to totally up root the living arrangements, quarentine our family, do loads of laundry, sleep, sleep, sleep, and miss out on some of the most beautiful beaches!

Even with all that had been going on, I have not forgotten to bask in the beauty of this world and the total blessing it has been to actually go on a family vacation.

Here is what we HAVE enjoyed thus far:

Watching Deacon take to the water like a fish--he has a love for the ocean!

I tanned (not really 'tan' to most people's expectations, but I am a shade darker than transparent--huge success)

Running on the beach with my sister--magic

Watching star fish pop out of the sand--what a cool thing to witness

Eating pizza with my husband while quarentined with our son

snuggling with Deacon

hanging out in harbor town and listening to Greg Russell sing and make fun of the yuppies

going to the top of the H-Town light house

Enjoying mint chocolate chip ice cream from scoops.

having a Blue Moon Margarita

Watching Deacon bop his head to the music while eating a nice dinner at the Quarter deck.

Finally mustering the courage to wear a bikini

Watching Deacon and Tegan (She is one year older) fight, love, hug, hit, use words and whine

Drinking beer with my hubby/sister/Brother-in-law after the kiddos go to bed

Hunting the Palmetto Bugs and putting words to what we think they would be saying.

speaking as if we were true southerners

wave jumping and actually swimming in the water--this is a huge feat!

Whether this vacation wasn't what Doug and I expected--we certainly are having a great time and maybe having us stuck in a small room with our sick son was a blessing from God (minus the vomit in my hair) because we were soley focused on our family rahter than material goods/money/what we were going to do that day, etc etc.

Once I edit our pictures and when I get back from vacation, I'll be sure post some of our awesome adventures!

Eat Pray Love

2010-07-14T22:20:00.000-04:00

It's sad that a movie preview drove me to want to read a dang book. No matter how it happened though, I am glad I decided to introduce reading back into my life. The first book I am reading is Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert and I am sure everyone has read it already, except me.

I am not a good reader. I don't comprehend well. I fall asleep when I read. And I don't really have the patience to read. Top that with the horrible memories of having to read a book for school, write a report and take a test in a months time was hard for me, so reading is not my favorite thing to do in life.

However, I was talking with a friend--who happens to be an English teacher and she said, "Anne, you aren't in school anymore. It doesn't matter how long it takes you to finish a book and the best part is, you don't have to take a test." She also commented that I can actually choose to read books that strike a chord with me...Good point friend!

So here I am, about 5 pages into my new book and I am scared. Is that normal?! I am thinking to myself all the other things I could be doing (facebook, cleaning, working out, watching tv, sleeping) but I have to remind myself that it is good to get lost in a book.

I already know I am going to love the book and my goal is to finish it before the film comes out (by the way, it looks AMAZING!!!)

The Spin Cycle...

2010-07-12T20:17:00.001-04:00

I hate laundry. The entire process is so silly. My house doesn't have the luxury of having a first floor laundry. Instead we lug our laundry from the second floor to the basement. Usually it looks like a circus because of the amount of laundry one tries to gather in her arms as she dangerously tip toes down the steps praying not a drop of dirty clothes drop to the floor.

Then you have to sort. Darks, colors, whites. I am OCD and do Deacon's laundry separate (I'll be darned if his clothes/socks get swallowed in our clothes/socks!) After that you have to use detergent select the cycle and kiss our budget goodbye, because in three months you'll regret the 1 and done philosophy you had on clothes with the exorbitant water bill you receive in the mail. So THEN you think, "hmmm, do I really need to separate laundry" and you do that until a dark red blouse turns a white blouse into a pretty shade of pink. So then you turn to your next idea..."what does 'super plus' mean anyway?!" Super plus means 15 bath towels or 10 pairs of jeans in my definition of the word. However, the Maytag company probably equates 'super plus' to 5 washcloths. Lesson learned once I saw the washing machine dancing the tango across my basement floor.

And then there is the dryer. THE LINT. The process of grabbing soaking wet clothes and throwing them into a dryer, putting a fabric sheet in, ALWAYS removing the lint, turning the dial in agony because 45 minutes later you'll be doing worst thing there is: folding the laundry.

Now let me back up a second because I almost missed the most disgusting part. When the water needs to come out of the machine, where does it go? The sanitary tub. Yes yes...You all are smart, I realize. BUT lots of other junk comes out too--like lint. If you don't have something to catch the junk, the tub clogs,overfills, spills to the floor and backs ups into the washing machine. ewwww. problem is, I had something there...now where did it go. I'll tell you, it slipped off the pipe and sunk to the bottom of the gooey, watery mess and the only way my drain would unclog is if I went in after it. Enough said. I know you've all been there and I will admit my face, my sporadic twitches and high squeal is the most girlie I get over house chores.

So on goes another pair of knee highs, cross my fingers and hope for the best.

There is also the predicament of deciding what to do in the following situation:
mildewy clothes. I hope I am not the only one faced with that horrible task. You know how it goes, the husband throws in a load of laundry (very helpful) but forgets to tell you that he did that (not so helpful) then 3 days later you check the laundry...you open the washer and you are pretty sure mold spores are attacking your lungs. It smells terrible. What does one do? Rewash and back up your laundry another day OR throw it in the dryer and hope for the best.

I like many throw it in the dryer, put an extra dryer sheet in, cross my fingers and wait. Sometimes it works, sometimes not. Then you are stuck wearing stinky cloths or doing what you never wanted to do in the first place-re wash them

Fast forward. BRRRRWWAAHHH. that annoying buzzer created by satan to remind me that my effin' clothes are dry. SON OF A BATCH OF COOKIES! I try to ignore the fact that my laundry is done, until I go to get dressed the next day and find that I have no undergarmets---GRRRREEAAAATTT!

So I stomp downstairs, throwing a fit equivalent to my 3-year-old, grab the laundry out of the dryer and bring it upstairs. Most of the time there are 3 other loads of laundry that are either in separate baskets or you smash all the dry cloths together to save a trip. Either way, a person is determined to carry the laundry up in one trip--never a good idea.

It is also during this time that you discover your "dry clean only" and "dry flat" clothes in the dryer--pretty much would have made more sense to just throw money in a garbage can.

The laundry then sits downstairs for a good day or so. I just don't want to do it...you can't make me. Then I finally give in. I fold, and fold, and fold and fold until my hands are numb. The actual process of putting the laundry away isn't bad unless it involves hangers---then I just get down right grumpy.

Notice I never mentioned an iron. I will never iron clothes--ever. I am a lefty which is a good enough excuse for me say i'll never learn to iron things properly. My mom actually laughed at me when she saw that I registered for an iron for my wedding. I've used it once.

Back to folding...There are certain things I just can't tolerate. socks and towels. I loathe folding socks. Ack. The worst part is the end, because you know that there will always be loaners...this frustrates me to no end. Also sifting through the whites you see the socks that were folded together then thrown in the hamper, washed/dried that way and when you put your hands on them they are still wet--so back in the hamper they go. The second thing I can't tolerate are towels. Actually, I love folding towels, but I am the only one who knows how to do it correctly. I think it is a girl thing. My mother taught me, her mother taught her. There is a correct and incorrect way to fold towels...and my husband doesn't get it. God love him, he tries, but to no avail. If the towels aren't folded or rolled right, then they don't fit properly into the closet, which then space in your tiny bathroom closet is lost. Doug saves all the towels for me to fold and I do them gladly.

People who know me know that I am psycho about cleaning, organizing and making sure my house isn't yuck. I did not receive the laundry gene which kind of bothers me--I wish I didn't hate it so much--but I do. Laundry and I will never get along, we'll never understand each other--but I try to tolerate!

OH on the positive, there is ONE good thing about doing laundry--in the winter time when you are FREEZING but hear the dryer buzzer sound, you race downstairs faster than sound and practically hop in the dryer to be surrounded by warm, freshly clean clothes--now that's a good thing in my book!

Love in Action

2010-07-10T19:53:00.000-04:00

It's easy to say I love you. It's easy to hug a person tight and hope that they know you love them. It's really easy to express the love you have for friends/family/loved ones. The challenging part is loving strangers or enemies. Why? Society says we don't have to love them. Society says we can ignore them and pretend they don't exist in your life. But what if they do exist in your life, what if 20 years later a person who you completely ignored came waltzing back in--what you do?

I have a million rambling thoughts but a lot of them have to do with love. It's a universal term and there is a major spectrum on the different types of love--but I have come to the conclusion that everyone deserves to be loved. I thought to myself, "ok self, who have I loved today?" The depressing answer is not many. Don't get me wrong, I love a lot of people--but I fail to show my love in action--the simple day to day happenings that makes love a verb.

It's like this--I can talk about running--how I want to run a full marathon or do an iron man or run for 9 days straight, but if all I do is talk about it, it's nothing. Same with love--I can talk about love--how I love my husband, my son, my parents/in-laws, relatives, close friends or even talk about how I give each person respect--but if I don't put it in action, it's nothing.

It's not easy to admit that your love sucks. Often times I suck at loving others because I hardly love myself at times. I suck at loving others because I can be selfish--and that my friends will keep you far far away from showing love as a word.

How do I turn Love from an arbitrary symbol to something that others can define? It's something I'll die trying to discover--and the only way I'll be the best at loving is to practice practice practice.

I need to be love. I am worthy of giving love just as I am worthy to receive it.

ramblings...

2010-07-07T22:18:00.000-04:00

I have nothing too significant to post today...other than a few tangents that I'll discuss now.

1) I hate flies. They are gross, their "buzz" annoys me and I don't think they belong in my house at all. When the summer heat starts sizzling on the blacktop, I know that anytime I open my door, a fly will somehow find it's way into my air conditioned haven. Our old dog Chai was amazing at catching flies--it was gross to witness, but at least the fly problem was taken care of. Our current dog Remi is scared of flies...thus a fly problem. Let me state that when I say "problem" I don't mean plague-like amount of flies, I just mean 1 or 2 (enough to drive me crazy.) I just got down killing one--I've become very good at it and can swat a fly dead in one swift movement. BUT just as I sat down to check my Facebook, play a little solitaire and think about working out, another fly made his presence known. This fly must not be to smart because he keeps smashing into my computer screen--maybe he'll die on his own...

2) I love sno-cones. There is a shaved ice stand 5 minutes from my house and my family frequents it almost weekly. Deacon always gets green and I am just now learning to branch out and try new flavors.

3) I quipped my dog's nail. I hate that. I really do. Remi and I have a track record of not liking each other, but I certainly don't dislike her that much to actually inflict pain on her. It was her back, right paw, middle claw. Poor thing didn't bite, yelp or try and run--she just lifted her paw in a way that I knew...I just knew I quipped it. Next thing I know I am holding her paw with a tiny pool of blood in the palm of my hand. I immediately plan out a way for me to get the quip stop...but wait--it's gone. I was at a loss. My dog was bleeding every where! I have never EVER quipped a dog that badly--I felt so terrible. Knowing that I had to stop the bleeding I raced to the cabinet pulled out baking soda and made a paste and pressed her paw in an old dish I had. This made a mess, but eventually stopped the bleeding. I have a feeling she'll never let me trim her nails again :(

4) Deacon spilled milk today...all over our couch, the floor and the rug. I couldn't get mad at him because, well, he immediately ran into the kitchen, told me he needed a paper towel and said, "I spilled da milk moooommmyy...but I'se a gonna cwean it up." Seriously?! too cute.

5) I thought I'd preface a later event before I went into the Christmas Tree Shoppe trauma. First I'd like to announce that I am a fan of the Christmas Tree Shoppe, even though it has nothing to do with Christmas Trees! It is like a Bed Bath and Beyond, but so cheap! I bought $9.00 sunscreens for $4.00!!! Anyway, Deacon was a bear in the store. So much so that the Toy Story 3 cup he was clinging too got taken away and we immediately went through the checkout to buy the things that I actually needed. Deacon screamed...blood curdling scream. I was embarrassed. I was ashamed, I thought, "what kind of mother am I that my son is reacting this way." The line seemed like it was taking an eternity...my luck, eh? Until a kind woman said, "you go, I've been there, I understand--you go ahead of me..." with the conflicted parent face I just looked at her with gratitude and I sharply said thank you. Finally, a stranger who understood. Continuing his quest on making my ears bleed, the clerk ringing me out said, "You're doing great, Mom. I've been there, I know..." Two people who understand--this was uplifting! Thank you to those two nameless women--you helped my confidence more than you know!

5) Deacon swallowed Dial Hand soap. YUP. You read that right. Somewhere in between the quipping incident and the spilled milk Deacon had to go potty and then he wanted to brush his teeth. I walk in the bathroom and put toothpaste on his brush. Proceeded to walk into the kitchen to check on the dog, came back to the bathroom only to find handsoap EVERYWHERE, including his toothbrush. He then said, "I brush my teeth wif dis?" I asked if he ate the soap and he just stared...I knew. I asked him again and he only nodded (as if that would change my reaction.) Calmly, I gave him a glass of water and had him do the swish and spit as I called poison control. Julie, the woman who helped me got a big laugh and calmed me down saying that hand soap won't severely hurt him (whew). she said that the steps I took were perfect and that if he actually swallowed or tasted any that he would spit, cough or even vomit. I told her that I doubted he got enough to cause him to get sick, but didn't want to take any chances. She said, "oh no, you always call, its better that you call to double check than not call and have something horrible happen." For those who would like the poison control number is is 1-800-222-1222.

6) Prayer request. An acquaintance from college and her family are about to embark on a life changing event tomorrow. Her son, who is two, has end-stage renal disease and is in need of a kidney. His mother is a match and will be going into surgery tomorrow to save her son's life. Please Please, pray for the family, the doctors and pray for strength, courage and healing. To read more about his story check out www.maxlivingston.blogspot.com

7) I am tired. zonked may be the appropriate word. But I am seriously ready to go to bed!

8) I can't believe tomorrow is Thursday! I am happy I am a day closer to the weekend, but totally stressing because of all the work I have to get done in order to enjoy the weekend. My boss actually used a phrase I saw to her all the time, "Don't worry, the work will be here tomorrow...you need to enjoy the evening" True. It will be there, and I will get it done...

I think that's all I care to share for now...more posts as I think of what I can write that won't absolutely bore you to death...

5 minute nap

2010-07-05T16:52:00.001-04:00

oh I should have known that Monday would be relentless, regardless if I was at work or not.

We had an amazing day at Coney Island but I couldn't help but get excited that I'd be able to take a nap once we got home. As predicted, Deacon fell asleep on the drive home. I calmly, carefully and ever so routinely carried him upstairs to our room for a nap. The minute I put his head on the pillow, he woke up. I need to be ok with that, I need to get over the fact that I can't go to bed until 10--people do that all the time...I'll survive.

Quick Saturday Post

2010-07-03T10:40:00.000-04:00

Deacon and I typically meet my twin and her family at a local coffee shop every saturday morning. It gives us time to catch up and for the boys to play. This saturday was different. Theresa has a new baby, Tre is at work and the thought of darleen being subjected to thousands of hands was a little unsettling--so i decided to bring Reality Tuesday's to the Lucas Household.

Deacon saw his baby cousin for the first time and it was so incredibly sweet--he was so gentle and so kind and just said, "I love my baby darleen" I got to give her my lovins' too. holding a tiny little miracle is almost like pushing pause on the great big world remote. Life stood still and peace overcame me.

I handed little darleen back to my twin...pressed play on the world remote and am now deciding what to do for the day with Deacon. Do we go to the zoo, the pool, do I shop for vacation or do we just hang out at home?! Either way I know it will be a fantastic day.

saying goodbye

2010-07-02T17:42:00.000-04:00

I never knew that choosing to put my son in daycare would affect my life the way it has. I always just assumed that we would drop Deacon off at school and pick him up after work and I never thought past that. Fortunately and Unfortunately I have developed very sincere relationships with most of his teachers. Every time we transition Deacon into an older room I cry. It's mixed emotions of me can't believing that he is getting so big, but also knowing that I have to leave a room and the teachers that mean so much to me. Sure we continue to see each other down the hall or facebook, but it just isn't the same.

A couple weeks ago I found out that one of Deacon's teachers was leaving the center. I can't blame her. She had the wonderful opportunity to teach in a Montessori school close to her home and it was Montessori that she had worked so hard for. Today was Ms. Kecia's last day and all day I kept my composure--I didn't let it bother me, until I pulled into the parking lot. It hit me like a ton of bricks: the lump in my throat, the eyes welling like little pools and my heart shattered...today I had to say goodbye.

I got Deacon from his new classroom and every so cautiously walked down the hallway trying to find Ms. Kecia. I rounded the corner and there she was. In my head, I said, "don't cry, don't cry" I even told her I wasn't going to cry today. But then I said it, I said, "I love you, Kecia and I want to thank you for everything..." boom. Waterworks. game over.

Doug and I have a very special relationship with all of Deacon's teachers. The truth of the matter is we feel as though it is our obligation to. That school, those teachers see Deacon more than I do throughout the week--so it is vital to Doug and I to cultivate those relationships. Kecia had Deacon very early on...in the Infant room as a matter of fact. Ms. Kecia moved from the 3 room down to Infant 1 shortly after Deacon started Treasure House. Ms. Kecia and Ms. Becky were my lifelines and I don't know if they actually know how much of a blessing they were/are to my family.

Kecia endured the pesty notes a new mother sends...apparently I didn't think they knew how to make cereal for him :) But never did she or Becky laugh at me for being too cautious or overly concerned or down right crazy--but rather they cradled me and my family with love and care. They empathized with me and helped me through a very difficult first year of learning how to be a mom! They helped me find the confidence I knew I had in me to be a mom. It was in that first year I realized that daycare was more than just watching children--it was creating a bond with families--it takes a village you know.

I am so happy for my dear friend, but Treasure House won't be the same--sure we have such great teachers and staff and I am sure someone will be able to take her place--but it will never replace who Kecia was and what she means to my family.

Kecia--You are an amazing person. Your patience, kindness and down right selfless giving has been an instrument of grace to my family. We wish you nothing but the best and this is not goodbye--I totally plan on seeing you again soon (maybe a Girls night out, ok? AND I still need to photograph your beautiful daughter!!) The new school you are going to is so lucky to have you and I hope that they know that! Love you so much!

saying goodbye is so hard, but I'd rather say goodbye than not have ever met you. You have impacted my life, doug's life and for sure Deacon's life for the better.

New Life

2010-07-01T20:58:00.001-04:00

This has been quite a week. Actually, June has been difficult altogether. Work has been unusually challenging and I have been particularly hard on myself. I felt ready to throw my white flag and surrender my sanity to this sometimes cruel world of self-inflicting hatred that I do not deserve to put on myself. But even with the stresses of my life (which, in worldly terms is far from stressful) there were glimmers of love peering through my tired soul.

Sunday, June 27th my niece finally decided to make her grand entrance into this crazy, fantastic world. She put my twin through the ringer the night before so Theresa was walking on eggshells all day deciding whether to go to the hospital or not. You see, Theresa was sent home saturday night because she was only 4 cm. My sister never once "complained" of extreme pain, so she was hesitant to go since the nurses told her the contractions would make her labor so hard she'd not be able to talk.

Finally at around 4 (ish) she called to her husband and said, "we are going, this is it." Off they went--a family of three was soon going to be a family of four. They checked in at the hospital and the nursing staff honestly didn't have a clue how far my sister had actually progressed. The triage was full so they made a makeshift room for her thinking all the while that she'd be sent home. They thought wrong! The nurse exclaimed...oh, oh, you're 7 cm--your going straight to a room.

The rest, as they say, is history. My sister got to her room at 4:30 began pushing at 5:32 and had her baby at 5:36. Yes, you read that right. She pushed for 4 minutes (it's ok, I'm jealous too!)

Darleen Marie is a beautiful 7 lb 6 ounce miracle. Don't believe me?! see for yourself:

born with a full head of raven black hair:

Her poppa is already smitten:

I raced to the hospital, got there in time for the birth. My mom and dad waited with me as they were cleaning up the room. We aren't knew to nieces, nephews and grandchildren--Darleen makes 19! but with each new birth, we relive that same excitement as it was the very first! We crept in and just awed over the beautiful little baby--ah, Hello World, we were waiting for you!

My twin looked stunning (seriously, stunning) and I asked how she felt. Labor wise, she felt better than she did after delivering Louis she I remember seeing some worry in her face. Long story short she was concerned how raising two kids would go. She kept saying , "I love Darleen, I do, I honestly do, but I feel like I just need Louis' approval. I think anyone who has more than one child can totally empathize with my twin. The fact that she has another healthy, amazing child is such a blessing, but at the same time the entire family routine has been jumbled up and you just pray that you make it out alive.

for nine months my twin and her husband would talk to Lou about his baby sister and how tiny and precious she'd be, and he really seemed like he understood. No one, however was prepared for how truly beautiful that first meeting would be:

Family of Four:

He was so gentle, loving and concerned about his baby sister. He would not let anyone get near her and he just loved her the minute he saw her. Louis, the day you became a big brother was the day we saw heaven on earth:

Darleen's arrival was a reminder to me about how simple it is to love. It all came from my tiny little nephew who with mearly walking in the room showed us more about what love is and how strong it is than I believe I might ever witness.

amazing day!

2010-06-26T22:28:00.000-04:00

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!

My twin...

2010-06-24T18:28:00.000-04:00

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!

reflections on fathers

2010-06-21T18:47:00.000-04:00

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!

8 minutes

2010-06-18T15:00:00.000-04:00

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?

it rained for 40 days...

2010-06-17T14:24:00.000-04:00

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.

"Imma B"

2010-06-14T14:21:00.000-04:00

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.

mixin and cleaning

2010-06-12T11:44:00.000-04:00

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...

Feeling a little "Groggy"

2010-06-08T08:49:00.000-04:00

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!

I want you to want me

2010-06-06T16:20:00.000-04:00

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.

Hair Cut!

2010-06-05T11:13:00.000-04:00

Deacon got his wig busted today---that kids hair grows SO fast...

width="100px" height="100px" />

Love defined

2010-06-05T00:38:00.000-04:00

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.

An ice cream cone kind of day

2010-06-02T08:34:00.000-04:00

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.

Portrait time!

2010-05-30T17:05:00.000-04:00

It is few and far between that I get a chance to be in front of a camera instead of behind it. I am always taking pictures of something, mostly Deacon and very rarely to I pop my head and take a picture of myself with Deacon.

So when the opportunity arose to get a family picture along with Deacon's 3-year-old portrait in my sister's-in-law studio I jumped on the chance! Call me crazy but even photographers like other photographers documenting your life, rather than you solely documenting your own. Maybe that is just me--but I like to see what other people can capture too!

So Covington-bound we were! The studio is such a sweet surprise because you walk into a building of stuffy business blah and a few flights of stairs. One thinks to to one self, "How in God's name can a photography studio be in here." But then you open the studio door and oh.my.gosh. amazing. You are greeted by a saucy red leather couch and hip, black and white chairs. well hello there beautiful studio! But that's not the best part...take a left and there begins your long walk to magic--candy land if you will. There is a closet full of lush, beautiful fabrics and THEN the prop room. This is mostly filled with what normal people call "junk" and what photographers find as the "perfect picture prop". Once you pass the closet and the prop room you walk yourself into the most unique studio I've seen. There is natural light flooding from the windows and a beautiful, dark cherry floor that can be covered with a background cloth if you choose.

There I was, my breath taken away and I forgot, for a moment that I was a photographer..I let myself be a wife and a mom and I was having so much fun letting Deacon pick out stuff for his portraits. I wasn't worried about the lighting, or the camera or the lens or my flash--it was so freeing. Maybe I was able to do this because my sister-in-law has my complete trust and also is one heckofa photographer too! I actually want to be like her when I grow up ;)

So anyway, Deacon, the shy-boy-when-he-wants-to-be, Wolking hid his head like an Ostrich and was playing the "Oh Please don't take my picture" face and I thought, "Oh great, my photo session is doomed!" In Deacon's defense, he constantly has a camera in his face so the idea of once again sitting in front of one, but instead being in a weird place, probably wasn't his idea of fun on a Sunday morning. Doug and I, along with Coleman decided to ignore him.

tangent: for those who don't have kids and want to how to get them to like you--ignore them. They will flock to you for attention. IF you get in their faces and invade their space (yes, they too, have personal space, you will be forever exiled to the 'I don't like you' portion of their brain). End tangent.

Coleman set up the main background and just started taking pictures of Doug and me, and sure enough, little d-man wanted to see what the fuss was about. So he peered through the door, still playing the shy card and just stared. Doug and I then sat on the floor and by the time Coleman pressed button in zoomed Deacon right on my lap. He had a tape measure and was wanting to show us how it worked. Doug and I ever so sly got ourselves out of the shot and tired to capture the essence of Deacon, our 3-year-old.

Deacon ran out of the room, but this time brought back some items:

5 balloons
an orange moose
a guitar
3 pairs of giant clown sunglasses

I thought, "hmmm, not a good combo for pictures...but I'm ok with it" I want to remember that day, I want to remember how it organically unfolded from a not-so-great beginning to an oh-so-happy ending.

The end of our studio session, I could tell that Coleman captured every part of Deacon's mood that day and once we felt that she got what she could we zoomed down to riverside drive, hoping that Deacon would tolerate a few more pictures...and wow did he! Once he realized that riverside drive meant, being steps from the Ohio River, he was hook line and sinker!

Tangent: If you've not ever been to riverside drive--please go. If your a NKY or Cincinnati native this needs to be on your list of places you've been to--it's a cardinal sin if you haven't. For those who may be traveling to this area--please come down here and take a look at history at its finest. There are several notable sites including Daniel Carter Beard's childhood home (founder of boy scouts), the underground railroad and several bronze statues strategically placed along the road. Also, if you plan to attend a reds game, I highly suggest parking your car in Covington and eating a picnic lunch or dinner on the drive and then walk the suspension bridge to the game. Speaking from someone who has incredible memories of this as a child--every father/daughter needs to do that. End Tangent.

There was so many wonderful opportunities for pictures, my photographer beast came out and I got as giddy as a kid on the last day of school! The architecture along the drive is amazing and you really feel for a moment that you are in the 19th century. We walked up a cobble stone path and took pictures by this rockin' "mini door" that you will see soon once the pictures are up. We then showed Deacon the cobblestone road and told him that's how the boats used to get down to the river. We sat our little patooties on the stone and, viola, it happened--a family picture. I wanted to cry. I knew it was magic, I knew that I will be buying a HUGE print to put somewhere in our home! Since we were on riverside drive, we HAD to take pictures by the river--again a cardinal sin if you don't. We also walked past riverside and snapped some pictures from a really cool set of steps (think sesame street) but were interrupted by two pesky squirrels!

Tangent: These squirrels were ridiculous! They were jumping from a wrought iron gate to a tree and were bouncing about like crazy. We wondered what the heck was going on and did our best to ignore it. We called it quits when we all thought they were going to crash land on us and I don't know about you but I am not a fan of rabies! As we were walking away we realized that the squirrels were badgering a bird and her nest and the momma bird was kicking their you know whats! Cole, Doug and me stood there in amazement as this momma bird was pushing the squirrels out of the tree and giving them the "what for" in her sing-song tweets. Cole and I shouted, "you go momma!" And we were so happy to see her back in the tree with her baby birds without interruption. stupid squirrels. End tangent.

So in the end, our photo session was amazing and I can't wait to see the finished product. I have a feeling I'll be selling a kidney to afford the amount of images I will be purchasing, but I want to always remember that day--what an awesome day. Coleman, thank you for sharing your gift with us--thank you for taking time away from your own family on a gorgeous Sunday to capture the life of my family--I love you so much!

For those who want to check out my sister's-in-law amazing work, check out redphotofusion.com There you will find amazing work from her, along with her business partner/friend/awesome person, Brooke!

A very long week

2010-05-29T18:51:00.000-04:00

I never understood that term..."it was a long week." or "It was a short week." I mean a week is a week right? 7 days is exactly the same no matter if it felt long or short...so is there any sense to try and blame our week for the way we feel?

It is easier to blame other things that my own thoughts and feelings, so heck yes I'm blaming the week on my mood--it truly was a LONG week. It was a week where I never felt like anything on my list of "important" tasks were even close to being tackled because I was so busy putting out little, trivial fires.

After a long day of photographing a wedding, I am actually ready to sit down and start my weekend. I am ready play with my son and be with my family. I am ready to lather up our sunscreen and hopefully head to the pool, watch a parade and grill out...oh yes--my favorite part of summer!

So for now, I am going to relax, enjoy the long weekend and savor the smiles, the laughs and the cute animals my son can magically morph into at the drop of a hat....

Have a wonderful Memorial day everyone!

"I love you more"

2010-05-24T21:43:00.000-04:00

A very long time ago...14 years almost, my Godson was not a fan of his aunt Anne. He would cry when I'd get near, he'd cry when I'd hold him and almost always he would say he wanted his other Godmother, my twin. As you can sense, I was far from happy. I was 12 at the time, so a kid not wanting to be around me was summing up what I thought failure was. My oldest sister, his mother game some excuses of "he's just tired" or "he is colicky", or "he is hungry", etc. I soon caught on and realized she was trying to save face.

Anyway, I invented a game I knew he'd love to play, because you know how boys are...they try and one up each other on a daily basis. The game was simple, "I love you more." and the other would say, "No I LOVE YOU MORE." so on and so forth. So I had this false sense of comfort knowing that my sweet little Godson would say he loved me, when in all truth, he probably didn't know he even had the capacity to love.

I did realize that there are those who love us more than we love them, parents. I'd every so often play that game with my Mom and I'd actually yell saying, "Mom, you really don't understand--I love you more, way more than you'll ever love me." And my mom, my sweet, beautiful most patient mother just chuckled, grasped me tight and said, "Think what you will my Annie-girl but when you have a child of your own, you will understand that there is no amount of love a child can have for their parent that would outweigh the love that parent has for their child."

Fast forward 3 years, three beautiful years. Rocking my son and reading his book, we get into the back and forth of the "I love you more" tradition that was started by yours truly 14 years ago. Deacon and I rant back and forth of who loves who more. And it hit me...my mother was right. I know Deacon is beginning to understand love and what he receives from Doug and me and the love he gives to us, and I'm telling ya--I totally win this game. I am for certain that I love him more than he loves me and I am ok with this. I mean, isn't that is how it is supposed to be anyway? We torture ourselves to keep our kids safe, happy and healthy. My life is Deacon--my world, my sheer existence revolves around him, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Parents love their children more---plain and simple. It is our job--the best job I will ever have was becoming a parent--through the 9 months of carrying Deacon, to nursing and late night feedings, projectile spit-up and hissy fits, from the coos and the goos to the snuggles and the hugs--I do have the best job in the world--Deacon makes life perfection.

make believe and remembering your birth

2010-05-22T13:37:00.000-04:00

"thomas, where ya goin' thomas? Thomas wait for me, I go to the zoo wit you." I tip toed into the living room so that Deacon would not see me peeking in on his conversation with his Thomas the train. I watched, starred and continued to be mesmerized by the way he was totally submerged in his make believe play. I was amazed at watching him grow in front of me--and I saw such a smart, beautiful little boy.

I saw a boy whose eyes are as bright as the sun and accompanied with eye lashes longer than the train tracks by our house. I was a boy with fast growing hair and and the cutest button nose a day-away-from-being-3-year-old can be. I saw imagination and excitement and love coming from this boys body. It was almost as if I was having an out of body experience.

I forgot for a moment that he was mine--that God gave him to Doug and me--that we have actually raised him for the last three years.

In that moment of wonder I kept flashing back to the day of his birth. The excitement, the nerves, the fear and the many prayers that encircled us with every push, with every tear and finally, with the miracle of his tiny body being put on my chest and the doctor saying, "he's perfect, he's beautiful." I kept thinking about my wonderful husband and the look of total love and support his eyes gave me. I remembered his tears of joy as he said, "He's ours, he's here, I am so in love..." I remembered my parents and Doug's mom in the room hugging them and being so happy that they were there with Doug and me. Most of all, I remember holding Deacon and kissing him over and over thinking how I longed to kiss him and finally meet him. I remember my dad, his smile and his prayer he said after the business of the delivery room faded. I remember celebrating and feeling slightly overwhelmed and wondering "How will I be able to do this?"

Well guess what, fast forward three years...I did it baby boy. Daddy did it. Doug and I never expected to start a family so soon after we got married, but everyday God's plan is revealed to us as to why he blessed us with you so soon. Thank you, Deacon for your zest, your love and you teethy smile. I love you so much it hurts.

I am a mom, I am your mom, and wow I am so happy.

a quick reflection

2010-05-20T21:14:00.000-04:00

Thank you, God for the gift of life
Thank you for creating me in your image and likeness
Thank you for sending your son to save us from our sins
Thank you for having mercy on us
Thank you, God for loving me, my family and my friends
Thank you for revealing your way, truth and life through little miracles that continue to widen my heart with your love.
Thank you for putting the right people in my life to teach me so many wonderful things about the world around me.
Thank you for filling that missing piece of my heart with my soul mate, Doug.
Thank you for bettering my life with the gift of our son.

I know I stumble, Lord. I know that sometimes I stray, I doubt, I sin. I fail to live your word, I fail to show your love through my hurtful words, judgments, and attitude, I fail at being Figure of Christ to the strangers I meet and the people I love the most.

Today, I turn my life to you, again. I strive to act, speak and live with a reflection of your presence so that others may feel the love you have given to me and that they know that your love is theirs for the taking. Today, Lord, I pray that I may walk by your side and that my actions show your love to others, I pray that I can be a little miracle in someones life.

Assembly Line

2010-05-19T18:26:00.000-04:00

I miss the days of make believe and dirty knees. I miss the days of playing at Miller's pond and finding the perfect swinging vine in the deep wooded area in my childhood home. I miss the back yard plays, trying to fly and swinging past the sky at trolley park. I find it to be so funny that when we are young we want to badly to be a grown up and when we finally reach that pivotal point in our life, we just want to be a kid again. Call it one of life's unfair irony's but I do wonder why I wanted to grow up so quickly. I still feel young, heck I am young, but there are just so many responsibilities to manage as an adult that one begins to feel that their life is a mere assembly line.

6:00 wake up
6:02 Dog out and fed
6:05 shower
6:25 makeup
6:35 brush teeth
6:40 pick out an outfit for work
6:50 sneak in Deacons room and give one last kiss
6:55 kiss Doug on forehead and say "I love you"
6:58 walk downstairs, change out laundry
7:05 leave for work
7:20 arrive at work
7:30 work work work work
4:30 leave work
4:45 arrive at daycare and head for home
5:15 let out dog, feed again
5:18 check mail
5:20 have Deacon sit on potty
5:25 get changed
5:30 start dinner
5:45 check facebook and email
6:00 straighten up house
6:30 eat dinner
7:00 clean up and play time with deacon
8:00 bathtime
8:30 read 2 books, say prayers, rock and say "night night, sleep tight, I love you...MORE"
9:00 come downstairs and watch tv
11:00 go to bed

REPEAT

What a boring life! My life is a giant schedule--and when you break it down like that, it makes it even more depressing. Oh to be a kid again.

One great remedy is having a child. I forget all the day-to-day with the funny sayings, the Eskimo kisses and the bear hugs. Marriage also breaks up the monotony. One glance at Doug and my day disappears and I see calm, serenity and peace. I may not always be the most loving to my husband, but I certainly know that my life is complete because of him.

I love the moments in life that break up my assembly line. kissing boo-boos, watching a film while tucked in the crook of my husband's arm, making spaghetti (random I know), running, playing soccer, singing, praying. All those things keep me centered and grounded and I am thankful that my life isn't as monotonous and I perceive it to be.

Deacon's Photo Book

2010-05-17T18:43:00.001-04:00

So, one would think that a photographer would just automatically know what to do with her photos after she is finished photographing them, right? One would also assume that pictures of a photographers child would be all over the home....wrong. I am sure I am unlike most photographers, but I honestly feel I don't have enough of Deacon, or my family hanging in my home.
It goes back to my anxiety--I just get so confused over what to buy and where to hang my photos that I just freeze and don't do it at all. It also has to do with the fact that Doug and I are minimalists---the less "stuff" we have in our tiny cape cod the better. One day when we are loaded (yeah, right) I'll hang lots of pretty decorations and TONS of pictures.
The other thing that really bothers me is that my son, my sweet, precious almost-3-year-old does not have a baby book, or any album for that matter. I'll take the mom-of-the-year award for that one. It is amazing how much little time I have in between work, soccer and photography that what little time I have I want to be with my family instead of plastered to a scrapbook cutting, pasting, organizing. I also don't want to be stuck at my computer editing and picking out what ones should be in an electronic book. BUT I have decided that it is time. I have been following kelle hampton and you should check her out at kellehampton.com. She is an amazing photographer and amazing mother--I want to be her someday. Anyway, she creates photo books every year for her children...so I decided it is time I do the same thing. Deacon's book will be the first three years of life and the plan is to have one book for each year there after...hope I can keep up with it. I wanted to have book 1 done by his birthday...but considering I am only on month 5, I doubt this will happen. My new goal is to have the book printed by the end of June. Here is a sneak peek of what I've done so far:
I am using a program called picnik...and it is working quite well. It is free service or you can buy the premium for $25.00 a year--not shabby!

Any way, I am off to play "pleee-doooo" with Deacon!

3, Three, III--can't even believe it

2010-05-17T10:13:00.000-04:00

Our son will be three...in a matter of days, Deacon will be three. This week is full of reflection and preparation. We keep birthdays low key, but in no way does that mean we don't "celebrate" his life. Doug and I have his Godparents and Grandparents over for dinner and it is just a time of celebration. It is also a time for thanksgiving. It honestly does take a village to raise our son, and we are so blessed to have such a happy, loving village! Doug and I each have large families and each one knows how crucial they are in the raising of Deacon and we are thankful for each one of them. This dinner, however is just a special thanks to our parents and Deacon's Godparents.

Our parents have done more for us than what we can even describe. We are the parents we are because of the unconditonal love they gave us from birth on. Seeing our parents dote on their grandchild is almost like seeing the face of God--it is simply amazing.

Deacon's Godparents are also pretty special to and they deserve the recognition. the kind heart that are helping build a strong foundation for Deacon to grow into a Christ-filled life is awesome. Mike (Mother) and my twin, Theresa have done nothing but love our child and we are eternally grateful for that.

More reflection/pictures to follow--just know I'll be a sobby mess the next few days as I think about this little miracle that changed my life 3 years ago.

and just when we thought it was easy...

2010-05-16T15:53:00.000-04:00

Doug and I should NEVER assume that simple painting at our house would be easy. My anxiety reached a high today and I literally had to remove myself before I bit off doug's head. I am so happy that i have a husband that is willing to cope with my bad habits of losing control and externalizing my feelings through smalls snip-its of rage (seriously).

Doug had done nothing wrong, but unfortunately realized that a 2-day job was turning into a week job...problem. Deacon's birthday dinner is in a week. I have to clean, cook, shop (have yet to get birthday presents). Not to mention I am rearranging his room. With all that in my mind, my anxiety gets the best of me and I start worrying about EVERYTHING in my house. The basement that is disorganized, laundry, dishes, crap that is just strewn everywhere...I create irrational thoughts out of something that can be accomplished on step at a time.

Even now, as I am typing what my thoughts were my heart is starting to pump and I feel my body tense up...so I need to stop or I might just cry....too late.

Deacon is sleeping upstairs and I might just take a much deserved nap myself.

Pictures of our awesome bathroom will follow, just need to get through the pain in the butt part first!

The signs of summer

2010-05-14T14:28:00.000-04:00

Call me weird but I associate season change with certain smells.

Fall, my favorite season has a smell of dry, crisp leaves and fire wood smoke. The day I walk out of my home and smell those sweet scents traveling the wind hand in hand, my heart sings the earth's praises!

The scents of winter is the rich burning of fire wood, and crisp air. It fills my senses with a solemn and reflective state of mind that I enjoy so much.

Spring's scent is new, fresh, life. It's that one day after a good rain when you walk outside and just smell "spring". The smell of dew introducing itself to the newly budding trees, fresh uncut grass, tulips and lavendar. The smell of spring fills my heart with joy, wonderment and it gets me revved up for the all opportunities that will quickly spring forward.

And then, there's Summer. Maybe I have given summer a bad rap, but who could blame me?! The summer I know translates into unpleasant smells: burning flesh, stinky sunscreen and aloe. I am transparent, I am so pale I make porcelain dolls look good. I burn in the shade. Even the mere thought of "sun" causes me to burn, so I have chosen not to associate good smells with summer. That is until I had a child. I finally decided to look at summer in a different light and appreciate the hot and hazy climate, because it brings my son so much joy and so many memories have been made over the long dog days of summer.

I know summer is approaching when the sun stays out longer than my son's bedtime. Summer is here when Deacon begins to "glisten" and the tips of his hair are wet from his hard play of kicking the soccer ball and swinging his baseball bat. "Summer knees" is also a tell tale sign of my new found appreciation of the season. The knees that remain slightly dirty and scraped, no matter how long you scrub in the tub or prevent future scrapes with band-aids--it is the mark of fun and fancy-free.

Here is random list of other things Deacon has taught me to appreciate about summer: Bubbles. Lemonade. Strawberries and whip cream. Firing up the grill and having cookouts on a weekly basis. the garden hose.

The way the mulch, dirt and grass clippings stick to your feet after watering our plants.

long, late walks to the park.

sun-kissed cheeks.

kid sun-glasses.

Oddly, I have also learned to LOVE the smell of sun screen--it just smells better on Deacon than on me!

Stained teeth with the flavor-ice we had at dinner.

Summer is a new found friend, and I look forward to creating new memories with my family this year!

Cousins!

2010-05-13T17:26:00.001-04:00

the past two days have been filled with cousins! Deacon is fortunate enough (well I guess it is however you look at it) to be blessed with SO many cousins. One of the benefits of having a gazillion cousins is that they always gets to see each other!

Two days ago, my twin came over with her son Louis to have dinner. Theresa and I are single parents for the majority of the week due to our husbands' hectic work schedules, so we try to get together as much as we can to split up dinner duty.

Louis and Deacon are pretty much like twins...three months apart. Having them both around is like herding cats--a train wreck of sorts, but oh so awesome to be apart of. It is almost like Theresa and I have a constant front row seat to the coolest circus on the planet--ringling brothers--you better watch out! The two boys copy each other constantly, if one does something, the other one follows suit. If Louis falls to the ground, Deacon does the same thing. If Deacon jumps off the steps, Louis jumps too. I love this copy cat age--just watching them figure out the awkward social interaction phase they are in and testing the boundaries of what is and what is not "cool".

Don't let me fool you, though, as these two can FIGHT...boy oh boy do they fight. Theresa and I always just laugh it up and use it as learning experiences. We laugh because of the reason behind their fighting. For example, They got into a huge fight over the color of a backpack. Deacon was exclaiming it was red, Louis was exclaiming that it was Blue. They screamed over top each other, cried for their respective mommy and said, "He said the backpack was blue/red". Problem was Deacon was talking about Louis's backpack and Louis was talking about Deacon's. I laughed and laughed!

Another great cousin moment is unfolding as I type. Deacon is playing with his Cousin Tegan. I picked up them both from school today and headed back to my sister's house so the two could play. Tegan is a year older than Deacon and is into "making conversation" while Deacon isn't really grasping onto what "conversation" means...because he only communicates his wants and needs or his communication is totally "me" centered.

Listening to the two of them talk was almost like watching someone trying to put the opposite ends of magnents together! Nevertheless, they get a long so well and it is adorable to watch Tegan adapting to Deacon's level of understanding! For example, Tegan knew that Deacon LOVES Mr. David (A singer at their school) and so she said, "Aunt Anne, I think it would be a good idea if you played Mr. David right now. I think that would be good because we both like Mr. David." Deacon replied, "oh danks, Tegan." Once I began to play the music Deacon turned to Tegan and said, "I love you Tegan." He then continued to say, "oh man oh man, this is great, Mr. David is Awesome.!!!" Tegan just smiled so wide because she knew she was apart of creating a fun memory for Deacon. The entire ride home the two of them sang in unison all of the Mr. David songs I knew. I looked back and saw that they were holding hands! My heart melted! If it wasn't totally dangerous I would have snapped a picture but I didn't think doing that while drive 65mph was a good idea!

All in all, I am so grateful for my nieces and nephews--Deacon's cousins. They light his life with love and joy and I am so proud to be a witness to the wonderful relationships they are building with one another!

boo boo kisser

2010-05-10T20:12:00.000-04:00

Today I was in the kitchen cleaning and Deacon was zooming through out the house with his three favorite trucks.

Apparently one of the trucks took a nasty spill and Deacon was comforting the truck saying, "it's ok baby truck...it's ok." I started to giggle knowing that my son was making conversation with a truck but then continued to eavesdrop. The truck apparently was complaining of a bad boo-boo, so Deacon being the good friend he is said, "it's ok truck, Mommy kiss your boo-boo and you be better ok?!" So in runs Deacon with his damaged piece of metal and said, "here mommy, here, here. Kiss my truck and say he be ok." So I kissed the imaginary boo-boo and and sent them on their way. I was still in the kitchen and Deacon was back in the living room conversing with his best friend, Tonka. Deacon after saying uh huh 5 times said, "Yay, I know, I know I love my mommy too."

My heart melted.

I always have an internal battle with myself as I try to decide what my favorite milestone is with Deacon. I have come to the conclusion, however that I love every single minute of Deacon's life. I especially love this age--he has such an inquisitive mind and a determination to figure things out himself. He is also a caring and loving soul and I swear he gives the best hugs. ever. period.

Why do I love being a mom? The above states it clearly, I kiss boo-boos. How simple of a job is that?! I am loved because I take care of my son and love him unconditionally. I am a mom because I am needed, and in return I have been given such a beautiful gift to be able to see Deacon grow into such a wonderful kid--he is the best part of my life!

Deacon brings so much life into this home--I hope he knows how much he means to me, how much I work to keep him happy, healthy and safe...but until he discovers that, I'll continue to get much joy and satisfaction with being a boo-boo kisser.

Zoo Photos!

2010-05-10T19:55:00.001-04:00

as you can tell we had a blast at the zoo on Sunday!

Mother's Day

2010-05-09T21:08:00.000-04:00

Mass...breakfast...zoo...LONG nap...dinner

Mother's day was absolute perfection. Before I go into the details, I'll preface it with some opening remarks.

In the day's following up to "the big day" people would ask, "so what are your plans for Mother's day?" I'd say, "Oh, I don't know--we'll probably just be a family as we always are." Some mom's would give me the ole, "deer in the headlights" look and then follow up with this silly question, "You aren't going to have some alone time away from your husband and kid?!" I would awkwardly laugh and then walk away.

I am away from my son and family more than I want to be. I work 40 hours each week. If I am photographing a wedding add 9-10 hours onto that schedule. I also play in two indoor soccer leagues instead of paying for gym membership. Deacon's child care providers see more of him during the week than I do. This means that milestones, snuggle time and funny toddler sayings are missed...and it hurts to know that. The more I have to be with my family, I take it.

I don't know when it became popular to get away from your family on such a beautiful day that celebrates the essence of being a mother. To me, mother's day is more about being a mom. Mother's day is about celebrating the wonderful vocation that God blessed me with as well as celebrate with the people that have helped me become a mom. It makes sense to be surrounded by the love and support that I have--to be around those who make me a better mother everyday.

I was reminded of how beautiful parenthood is, last night at the wedding I photographed. It was the perfect beginning to a day of reflection that followed. I saw how this mother just oozed love for her daughter, and the beautiful person she had become because of the direct influence her mom had on her. I looked at that mother and prayed that I too, can be that for Deacon.

After a long day of shooting, I came home and passed out from exhaustion only to be awakened at a time too obscene for me to say. It was like any other weekend morning. My son came to the gate and shook it while saying, "moooommmmmy.....daaaadddddyyyy.....I wunna watch b-dtv" I have no idea where the b and d came from, but regardless it is the cutest way to say "TV". I slowly walked to his room, picked him up and brought him into our bed. As he fidgeted and tousled around the bed, I let the perfect amount of sun warm face and welcome me into a beautiful day. Doug wrapped his arm around me and simply stated, "Happy Mother's Day" and I was happy.

We slowly untangled ourselves from the blankets that hugged us tight and got ready for Mass. Church was a blur as my mom duties were put into over drive with trying to quiet a toddler, potty train and extinguish mini melt downs, but it was enjoyable to be at our church celebrating the Eucharist with our faith family. After that, we had breakfast with our favorite
"Big Boy" at Frish's with Doug's family.

After a quick jaunt home he headed for the zoo. We got lost in Over-the-Rhine but navigated our way back to the zoo. Apparently the zoo is a hot spot on Mother's day...a memo would have been nice! We parked what seemed to be a different continent and trusted our car with a teen who wore reflective aviator sunglasses. I wanted to call him Goose but knew he would have no idea that I wasn't referencing an animal...so I left the Top Gun quote in my brain for a rainy day!

The zoo was full of families and just as it was fun to look at all the animals it was even more fun to people watch. This is probably not the best habit to have, but it sure is a guilty pleasure of mine. Aside from the comic relief, I do learn a lot from people watching--there have been moments where complete strangers have taught me more about life than I think they could they understand. Whether I spot a fellow mom kissing a boo-boo or a father playing airplane with his kids, I am reminded about the simple pleasures in life and to not take them for granted. Those moments remind me to smile a little longer, a bit brighter and to always be thankful for the life God has blessed me with.

After the zoo, we crawled back to the parking lot and spotted Goose, the parking attendant, sitting on our car's bumper. I giggled. I knew that in mere seconds he would realize that his butt was on OUR car and was wondering what type of sinking feeling he would feel as we approached our car. I don't know why I found that funny--maybe because I have been embarrassed by small things like that before too, maybe I was just glad that I am not the only one who does silly things. The truth is, Goose probably didn't care. He is a 16 year old who gets paid enough to fill his gas tank up--I am sure the motivation to represent his employer isn't on his priority list. But still I pretended that he felt slightly awkward about the situation.

After the zoo we took a LONG nap. Deacon fell asleep in our bed and I tip-toed down stairs to land in my napping spot. Doug covered me up with my fleece blanket and that's all she wrote. I woke up 2 hours later and felt so refreshed! I love naps. I thrive on naps. I wish I could take a nap everyday, but since I can't, I make sure I nap when Deacon naps. Could I have cleaned the house, yes. Could I have edited a photo job, yes. Could I have worked in the yard, yes. But all those things (even cleaning!) come secondary to my nap schedule! I am in big trouble when Deacon out grows naps--I am hoping for a miracle at this point!

The day wrapped up with yummy Mexican food and blue ice cream. Blue ice cream is a must for all kids. life is a little more sweeter when you get to see blue tongue and blue stained teeth smiling so bright and you realize how lucky you are!

I celebrate my "momness" everyday but it was nice having a day dedicated to me! It was a day of almost perfection. The only thing missing was my mom. For the first time in my 26 years of life I have NOT seen her on mother's day. She and my father were in Florida vacationing and seeing her would have made my day absolute perfection. I settled for a phone call and plenty of I Love yous. My own mother taught me how to as good of a mom I can be. My mom emulates love and I am so grateful to have her in my life. She is such a blessing to me. There is a song that reminds me of her. It's called "Love Never Fails" by Brandon Heath.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=geVbSntnOd8

My mom has given me and my 7 siblings nothing but pure love--she is a figure of Christ in my life and I think that song sums it up perfectly for me!

Happy day to all mothers, moms-to-be and mother figures--you are what makes the world goes round!

My first post...

2010-05-07T00:01:00.000-04:00

I am super excited to be giving this "blogging" venture a go. I have lost the time to write, and in the years that have escaped my hand, I realize I have lost touch with my whimsical self who could pen a world so bright that I would get lost in the maze of ink. I have missed being able to write and not worry about what is being said, how it's said or why it's said, so this is my platform to write what I am feeling.
When did I lose my pen? When did I lose the passion to write? Unfortunately, life happened. My career happened. My family happened. All the while, I should have been writing about my wonderful adventures with my family, my beautiful son--but now it's up to my memory to recount the past three years of the whirlwind of my life.
So today, I start fresh. Today, I begin to challenge my hand to pull out my thoughts from the nooks and crannies of my brain--to write and to imagine once more.
I'll start with who I am.
I am Anne Wolking. I am married to Doug Wolking, the most wonderful person in the entire planet. I look at him and see Heaven. I have no doubt that Doug is my soul mate and that we were meant to be together. I'll not sugar coat our marriage as it has had its ups and downs, but I wouldn't want to share the ride with anyone else.One of the greatest ups of our lives was when we added a little member to our family. Deacon is our crazy 2-almost-3-year old. There is no word to describe Deacon. Any word I begin to use, seems like a major understatement. I have never loved anyone the way I love Deacon. My mom would say that when I was a little girl and I always rolled my eyes questioning what that meant. Then I gave birth. The doctor placed my 7 pound-6-ounce miracle in my arms and WOW--there it was...I understood what my mother had said--It is the most intense love I have ever felt for another human being...it takes my breath away thinking about it.
Even as we begin potty-training, as well as getting into the nitty gritty of parenting, I still love every second of it. I sneak up to his room each night and just stare. I just look into his eyes and can't believe that I am so lucky to have him in my life:

Tip toe
tip toe
tip, tip, tip toe
Pause
Heaven is in this room
Deep breath in
Chest rise and fall
Heaven is in this room
Chestnut hair
big, innocent brown eyes
long eyelashes
Heaven is in this room
Tiny hands and ten little piggies
a belly b, so round, cute and funny
Heaven is in this room
Deep breath in
Chest rise and fall
Heaven is in this room
Rest my sweet heaven-sent son
You are the light of my life
You are heaven in this room

Deacon is wonderful--he is love.

I know the beginning of the post made it seem that I would be writing more, but my yawns our interrupting my ability think. I will be back soon to journal more of my crazy life.