27 November 2008


Today is the last day that Kevin, Rory and I will call the house on Lois Lane "home". We are so excited about the new house we're moving to, but as I sit looking around our empty home, I'm struck with so many memories...and I find I'm a little sad.

There is so much about this house that I love: it's where we shared our first kiss; where we planted the maple tree that's grown taller than both of us now; where we brought our newborn son home to. We've enjoyed Christmases, birthdays and nothing special about them days. We've argued. We've laughed. We've changed. We've learned how to be a husband and a wife, a father and a mother. We've crammed a lot of life into the walls of this house.

And we'll do all this and more in our new home. We'll raise our children, figure out how to survive in a kitchen with no drawers, and continue to live everyday to its fullest. We will make new memories and cherish the old ones. And we'll always have a special place in our hearts for the house on Lois Lane.

04 October 2008


You can probably guess by the title what time I'm writing this blog. It's midnight again. I know I should be sleeping right now, resting up for the day ahead of me, but I'm powerless against midnight's charm. Midnight has become my solace from the noise and craziness of each day. My husband's asleep and I can finally turn his sports show off. My son is asleep and I no longer have to chase him through the house trying to keep him from serious harm. A peace settles over our home and over my heart. I can think again. I can get a load of laundry done. In one hour I can accomplish projects that would take me an entire day to finish. I can read blogs and sometimes write them. Answer that e-mail. Balance my checkbook. Pay the bills. Read a book. It's a magical hour. I tell myself I'm crazy for staying up so late...I have a baby to take care of...I should go to bed when he does. But I just can't do it. I can hear midnight calling to me with promises of freedom and solitude and I give in again. My step-dad once asked me what I was doing up so late when I sent him an e-mail after midnight. The answer? Whatever I want! Midnight is my new best friend!

21 September 2008


David and Leah were the first kids born to the next generation of our family. Both kids were born while I was still in high school...and after Michelle and Erik moved back to Washington, I adopted both of them as my buddies and sidekicks. I used to take David to youth group with me...the three of us have had countless lunches at McDonalds...bowling trips...movies...over-nighters. Some of my best memories have been spent with them.

And then came Rory...suddenly it became difficult to take David and Leah to the movies...or an impromptu lunch...and for a while, over-nighters were non-existent. Until tonight. I had the pleasure of taking David and Leah to game night at my friends' house. We've moved away from our usual Cranium adventures and have joined the multitudes rocking out to "Rock Band". I knew that David and Leah had been wanting to play the game, so I asked them if they wanted to come along.

The evening started out with pizza, Dr Pepper, Cheddar and Sour Cream potato chips and OF COURSE peanut butter M&M's...and ended with another terrific memory. We all rocked out with our wicked guitar moves, drum playing and even some almost on key singing (okay I was the only one who braved the dreaded microphone). Then when it was late and I should have been getting the kids home, we all sat down for a couple rounds of Apples to Apples. It was a great night. The kids had a blast...I had a blast...and we even coined a new phrase: "French flies?!" Now we're back at my house enjoying another over-nighter...tucked in...looking forward to a lazy morning and the "incredible" breakfast Kevin promised us. What a good night!

19 September 2008


I woke up this morning to baby kisses and hugs and giggles because according to my husband "Rory wanted to see Mommy". I tickled him and kissed him and indulged in the perfection of the moment knowing that those moments are precious and pass by all too quickly. My son is 8 months old and if you asked me I'd swear I gave birth to him last week. Already I feel that my time with him is going by too fast.

So life recently gave me a reason to appreciate every instance of his life. Last week I was diagnosed with a condition called Polycystic Ovary Syndrome. There are many things that I do not know or understand about my diagnosis, but what is very clear to me is that without treatment this disease makes me infertile. And even though there is a good chance the treatment will enable me to have more children, there is a chance that it won't. That Rory will be my only child.

I always imagined I would be the mother of at least two children if not more, even though my husband would be perfectly happy with just one! :) But...I've also always wondered why Kevin and I were blessed with such an amazing son. Rory started sleeping through the night when he was a week old. He would only cry if he was hungry or tired. He's a happy baby...always quick to smile and giggle. A true joy to have around. At times it seemed he was too good to be true.

So now I cannot help but wonder if God gave us such a sweet baby knowing that this disease was in my future. That God took all the best parts of Kevin and I and he put them together in one beautiful boy who has his Mommy's nose and his Daddy's eyes...his Mommy's love for music and his Daddy's athletic ability...his Mommy's sense of humor and his Daddy's subtle charm. I look at Rory and know without a doubt that he is my greatest accomplishment, the best part of everyday and the sweetest thing in my life.

15 July 2008


I don't know what it is about a gold star that spurs me on to good works, but that's all I need to want to accomplish greatness. I think my current quest for the elusive gold star began in high school in Mr. Cleaves' English class. Mr. Cleaves would give gold stars to any student who came up with a particularly brilliant response in class. These gold stars were not given out very often and were highly sought after. It took me two years, but at the end of my senior year, I received the gold star. I can't for the life of me remember what brilliant observation I made, but I remember the sense of satisfaction I felt when he handed that star to me. Come to think of it, I may still have it stuck to an old paper in my special box.

As an adult, there aren't that many opportunities for gold star rewards. Gold stars tend to be reserved for Sunday School and chores lists. But the other day I was timidly sharing a thought I had about a project at work and viola! It was such a brilliant thought that I was given the "bright idea award". Certainly on the same level as a gold star. I was elated that my idea was received with such enthusiasm. The idea became protocol and the protocol became a memo that got passed out to all my co-workers sporting my "bright idea". Today one of my co-workers asked me what prize I got as my "bright idea award" ... no prize ... just the cartoon of a lightbulb with a smiley face next to my name on a memo ... what more do I need?! For some reason, she was not impressed.

I guess gold stars do not excite everyone. For me, the gold star is still elusive and something to strive for. As I entered my current weight today on Weight Watchers.com and reached my first 5 pound goal, I was rewarded with a bright red cyber star on my progress chart. It may not be gold, but it's just as good! :)

06 July 2008


Those of you who know my husband know that he is a competitor by nature. He can turn ordinary, mundane tasks like walking back to my mom's house after the parade into a competition. We've made bets on everything from whether or not he could find a Kenny Rogers baseball card in 20 seconds to how successful it will be to grow corn in our backyard garden (the jury's still out on that one).

Kevin is an athelete...and I try to be one. Since we started dating, we've played many sports and games together that almost always end up in disaster. The problem is: he's good at everything and almost always wins and I am a VERY poor loser. Our relationship nearly ended over a bad round of golf...and playing any card game with him makes me scream. So you'll understand my hesitation when he asked me to play tennis with him.

I'm not a tennis player...I've never understood how to keep score. I cannot serve the ball overhand or keep the ball in the court. So it was with great reluctance that I went with him to the tennis court today. He said he wasn't very good and he just wanted to hit the ball back and forth...he was right! For the first time we met on an even playing field...we spent 45 minutes running and laughing and cheering each other on...and we had the best time ever! No winner. No loser. No tantrums! :) Just Kevin and I enjoying some time together. We completely sucked, but other than that, tennis is definitely our sport!

22 May 2008

Hi Ho! Hi Ho! It's Off To Seaside We Go!

It's hard to believe that another year has gone by and we're heading off to Seaside once again. I know that some people think we're crazy for loading up 2 vehicles, 5 kids, 4 high maintenance women and driving more than 5 hrs to sit on a beach. But it's more than tradition now...it is the glue that holds us together. And every year that goes by brings new challenges and sweet memories.

Some of my favorite Seaside moments: Convincing my sisters to eat at Norma's the first night we were there and loving it so much, we eat there every year! The "don't worry about your diet" pass that we use while indulging in our favorite snacks...which contributed to the year my jeans stopped fitting half-way through the weekend! (whoops). Buying salt-water taffy from the Candyman. Watching Amy and the kids enjoy the Tilt-A-Whirl. Being the only brave souls to stay on the beach during one particularly nasty rain storm...and the lifeguards driving by and waving to us...probably not because we're super hot women...but because we looked hilarious wrapped up in beach towels still reading our books determined to enjoy every moment of beach time we could.

Going from being the unmarried Aunt to the engaged Aunt to the just married and pregnant Aunt to the bringing my sweet baby boy for the first time Aunt! We've learned important lessons from each trip: Amy is not allowed to swim in the deep end. Jack will fall down when a wave hits him. Always bring loose pants. Buy your water when you get there. Some restaurants are not baby friendly. Take the third Kelso exit...or was it the second?! Be thankful for every minute we have together! We leave tomorrow for another great adventure...ready or not, Seaside here we come!!!

20 April 2008


I've been a mom for three months now and I feel like I've gotten into my groove. But this morning I hit a speed bump...I woke up with a sore throat and stuffed nose. I told myself it would go away, but by the time we got back from church, I could tell I was in for it. As Kevin was fixing breakfast for us before he had to go to work for the day, I asked him a question: "Who takes care of the Mommy when she's sick?" He didn't have an answer for me, but I was pretty sure the answer was nobody...the Mommy just has to suck it up. So I did.

I went to work today to get some stuff done. Then I took Rory to the Boys and Girls Club and got dinner for myself and Kevin. Rory and I got home at 6:30 and I fed him and changed him and played with him all the while ignoring the sinus headache and congestion that was trying to take over! Then my husband came home...and transformed into "Superdad" (his words, not mine). He completely took over caring for Rory so I could take care of myself...he even did Rory's bathtime by himself and let me rest and drink some tea! It was awesome! So Kevin did answer my question from this morning...as long as the Mommy has an amazing husband to depend on, the only thing she has to suck up is snot! :)

21 March 2008


I'm a complainer by nature. I try not to be, but genetics dictate that I find something wrong with everything. This fact makes me perfect for the position I hold at work (finding mistakes other people have made and fixing them)...but I also have a low tolerance for stupidity. So when I have to correct the same mistake made by the same person for the tenth time, I hate my job.

Last night I went with my family to my niece's choir concert. I loved it. I had so much fun listening to the children singing...and I found myself regretting that I never became a music teacher. I love to teach music to children! I watched the faces of the choir teachers and they looked like they love what they do...even when one of the kids puked in the middle of a song! :)

Later that night as I was trying to fall asleep, I was dreaming of how great it would be to quit my job, go back to school, and eventually be one of the music teachers in Arlington. Then reality hit. If I were a teacher, I would have to leave my son everyday and go to work. Whereas, the job I have now gives me the flexibility of working from home. And it occurred to me that no matter how tedious my job may be, I have to be thankful for the fact that I can support my family AND stay home with my son. Not to mention the satisfaction I have of knowing I excel at what I do since I am such an accomplished fault finder. :)

27 February 2008


I am the baby of my family. 28 years old, and I'm still considered the baby. Adding to my baby complex is the fact that I married a man 13 years my senior. So for the past several years, I've been longing for the glorious day when I would turn 30. Certainly, I won't be considered a baby once I become a thirty-something.

My desire to be older is what caused me to leap for joy when I recently noticed my first strands of gray hair. I walked through my daily routine wearing my gray hair with pride and showing it to anyone who would look...gray hair being a sign of age and wisdom.

This attitude toward my gray hair continued for about a month until they became unruly. The gray strands would not do what they were told. No matter how much I brushed them, moussed them, sprayed them and cursed them, they stood straight up! Eventually I had to pluck my gray hair for vanity's sake. It was a sad day for me to see this link to maturity destroyed.

But then I started to think about what it means to be 28. To be the twenty-something trophy wife in a room full of forty-somethings. It's freaking fantastic! Why would I want to rush the inevitable and hope for old age to come sooner? Why go quietly into the night? I won't! I will rejoice in my youthfulness and encourage the baby comments I used to dread! I will pluck and color my hair to hide any sign of advancing age and hold on to 28 as long as I can! I will delight in today's miracles and forget about tomorrow's troubles...30 can wait!

"So go away cobwebs, dust go to sleep. I'm rocking my baby, and babies don't keep."

25 February 2008


I should begin my first blog by saying, "I hate to be wrong." Most people would agree with that statement, but I hate to be wrong to an extreme. I will go to any length to prove how right I am...even if it turns out I prove myself to be wrong. At least I'll be right about how wrong I am.

That said, I recently had a baby. A beautiful, perfect baby boy. A baby boy who is the source of exceptional joy and contentment...and a whole lotta pain.

My journey to motherhood began 10 months ago with a plastic stick covered in pee...not the most dignified beginning, but my pee soaked bathroom was immediately forgotten when that wonderful stick read "pregnant". I was overjoyed. That which I had hoped for and dreamed of for so long was finally coming true. I was going to have a baby!

It took about a week for the realization of that statement to hit home. What had I gotten myself into?! I was going to have a baby?! Pregnancy involves puking and blood draws and people becoming way too familiar with my midsection and all this leads to a 14cm head pushing through a 10cm opening!! What if I couldn't hack it? What if I failed? What if ...?

Adding to my fear of the unknown was my overwhelming fear of needles. I hate needles. I cringe at the thought of a blood draw or a shot. I close my eyes when t.v. shows have junkies shooting up. And the greatest source of pain relief during labor involves somebody sticking a freaking needle into my spine! Right! How could I ever agree to an epidural? How could I get through labor without one?

Since I hate to be wrong, I never said I WOULDN'T get an epidural, I just said I would wait to make my decision until I felt the pain of labor. (But I was pretty sure I could handle the pain without it). Fast forward nine months. I've been in labor all day. The pain has increased to what I told the nurse was a nine on a scale to ten. No big deal...I'm okay...just give me some pain killer in my IV please. Perfect.

7:30 am. Big problem. Pain so intense I will certainly die from it is tearing through my body. Can't breathe. Can't think. Nurse comes to check on me. First word from my mouth: epidural. That's right: my labor pain trumped my fear of needles! At that point, I would have been happy if they had stuck 100 needles up and down my back if they would only make the pain go away.

The doctor came to administer the epidural and 30 minutes later I was in paradise! I managed to give birth without screaming obscenities at my husband like you see in every movie involving childbirth. The birth of my son was not a pain-free experience, but after the epidural, it became a beautiful one. A life changing experience that will forever be one of my favorite moments.

I never thought I'd get an epidural, but thankfully I never said I wouldn't.

After all, I hate to be wrong.