The Mommy Wars

Before I became a mother, I had a vague idea of what parents did. Feed child, clothe child, try to keep child from beating up other children. It was one of those subjects that I was woefully but blissfully ignorant of - I really didn't have much use for information like which brand of diapers was best or how you need to move like a frickin ninja to escape infant projectile vomit.

I am still far from an expert, but after I had kids, I crossed over to the Other Side. No, not Narnia. The Other Side of the gap that separates parents from non-parents. The side filled with tiny onesies and 800 sets of plastic keys (seriously, do they even work in the plastic cars? Then WHAT IS THE POINT) and dogs that whisper "Hug meeee" at four in the morning when you're walking to the bathroom. You can look behind you and see the non-parent side for a little while. Then Dora the Explorer asks you to help her find her map and before you know it the non-parent side is nothing more than a distant memory.

The parent side has lots of surprises. You learn words like "Wubanub" and "cluster feeding" and, in our case, "hyerbilirubenimia." But one of the most unexpected surprises I encountered was the Mommy Wars. If you're not familiar, the Mommy Wars is an ongoing battle between mothers (and occasionally fathers) over various methods of parenting. For example: formula feeding vs. breastfeeding, strollers vs. babywearing, cloth diapers vs. disposables, velociraptor vs. t-rex, etc etc. I tend to bop through life in a cloud of glitter and Skittles and assume everyone does the same, so I was really surprised to see how often these issues popped up, not to mention the intensity of the arguments they caused. Articles are flung left and right; everyone from psychologists to school teachers to children's birthday clowns seems to have a scientific opinion on whether letting your baby sleep in your bed will scar him for life. Sometimes people start snapping their fingers and singing and that's when you know that it just got real.

As much as I love a good argument, I found myself avoiding these particular fights as I delved into research of my own (fine, as I copied every single thing my sister did). Not because I was offended. Not because I wanted to interview those birthday clowns for myself to see if their science was accurate. No, my avoidance was due to something much simpler. Something that I think has the potential to end these Mommy Wars forever. Are you ready for this incredible secret? Here you go:

Apathy.

Yes. Apathy. I do. not. care. I do not care if you feed your child formula. I do not care if you breastfeed your child. I do not care if your child only eats hot sauce. Not because I am a serene, peace-loving person who can rise above such petty conflicts as I practice yoga in my meditation garden. I am just too lazy to care. I am tired. I am busy. I am constantly losing one of my children. So at the end of the day, whether you strap your baby to your back in a pretty wrap or with several socks tied together, I'm cool with it. Just don't drop the kid because that's not cool. I mean, I probably wouldn't turn you in or anything. Actually, just writing about it has pretty much sapped my energy so go ahead and drop little Timmy; I won't tell.

This isn't a humble brag where I toot my own lazy horn and show you how I win all the Mommy Wars due to my lack of judging others and indifference to others' judgment of me. Despite the awkward, chaotic mess that is my daily interaction with people, I do care what other people think of me. I'm only human. But I am a lazy human, and while I have tried hard to get worked up over the fact that Sally Smith doesn't believe in disposable diapers...eh. What do I care? Is Sally at my house, throwing away my diapers and forcing me to use cloth ones? Has she hired Tonya Harding to bash me in the knee so I can say a lot of embarrassing things on national television that will follow me forever? No? Then...eh. Sally can have her cloth diapers and I can have my disposable ones and somehow I think the world will keep turning.

So, parents and people everywhere - join me on the Other Other Side. The side where you always feel accomplished because your kids are alive at the end of the day and that's really all you were going for. The side where all your decisions are right because no one was paying attention to them anyway. You don't even have to put on real pants. Take the plunge. Cross over. Drop your cares and worries at the gate - your toddler or dog will probably eat them and then you won't even have to step over them.

Apathy: The real future of parenting. I'd put that on a t-shirt, but...eh.

Clearly my parenting is superior to yours.

Babies are like dogs (but dogs aren't like babies)

I have now been a parent for almost 10 months (10 MONTHS WHY GOD WHYYYY), and while I am still relatively new to the child-raising game, I have garnered a lot of wisdom in my short tenure. For example, don't get attached to your baby's socks. The cuter they are, the faster they disappear in the Great Sock Void, where socks are drawn in by a guy selling candy and are never seen again. Another fun fact is that toots are deceptive. What you are smelling is probably just a toot, but since you have to make sure and unbutton those stupid PJs, look in the diaper, and stop your baby from wriggling out of his pajamas so he can finally be free like he's always wanted, it winds up being just as much work as if the smell was actually poop.

But the most startling discovery, the most shocking, wild, unexpected bit of information I have learned this year is this: Babies and dogs have a lot in common. 

Let me clarify: Owning a dog does not equal raising a baby. I know that your precious Fifi is a lot of work and the other night you had to stay up with her because she was sick and it was very sad and that you might think it's the same as having a baby. Stop that. Dogs are a lot of work, but at least they take their poop outside (most of the time). And dogs become self-entertaining - that tail is easy to chase pretty early on. But, in spite of the many difference, there are also a lot of similarities. Maybe the better way to say it is that I approach raising my child much like the way I approach owning a dog. Wait. That doesn't sound right. Just keep reading. 

This is my dog: 

Ignore the terrifying eyes. He isn't a robot. 

This is my baby:

Cute, right?? I know. 

At first glance, you might wonder what these two have in common, besides the fact that in each picture they are drooling on something. But while you're looking for the drool in both of these pictures, consider the following list of things I say to my dog and my child on a daily basis:

- "What is in your mouth??"

- "Don't lick that."

- "There is no need to make that noise."

- "Tell me what you want... you're looking toward the kitchen... food? Is it food? It's food!!!"

- "Is this dirt or poop?" (It's poop. It's always poop.)

- "This <insert gross thing> sounds like a job for Daddy... Oh, Daniel!!"

So you can see that the similarities are already building. Both my dog and child would like to chew on every electrical cord available. They enjoy rolling things into small, hard to reach places and then they enjoy crying until I find a way to reach it. They both want something that is totally, completely unreasonable all of the time: The dog would like to be a lap dog and curl up on us in spite of the fact that he is fifty pounds. The baby would like to both turn his head away from his bottle and drink from his bottle at the same time. They both have a knack for ignoring the safe, happy toys right in front of them and instead presenting me with random pieces of trash, in spite of the fact that I just vacuumed and picked up all trash in sight. 

And my baby can't even crawl yet. I have a feeling it's only going to get worse. 

So, other moms - tell me, am I right? Do my infant and my pooch bear a resemblance to each other? Or am I just a really terrible person who compares her sweet baby to her dog?

Save the Ta Tas

When I was in high school, my health teacher had all the girls separate into smaller groups. She told us to look around at each of our group members one by one. She then told us that according to current statistics, one person in each group would develop breast cancer in their lifetime. At the time I didn't think much of it. Bad things didn't happen to me or my family (note from the future: LOL) and I wasn't concerned.

Then, in 2009, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of 48. Suddenly breast cancer was all too real. It was threatening and dangerous. And I could no longer look at the pink ribbons or the ads for the Susan G. Komen race without understanding how short life really is.

October is Breast Cancer Awareness month. Over the last few years, it's been the theme to raise awareness for breast cancer by using a lot of pink and making silly shirts that say "Save the Ta Tas" or "Save Second Base." People run races with their bras on the outside of their shirt. Mysterious Facebook statuses go up that say "I like it on the stairs" as a secret message to supposedly raise awareness. And, to be honest, all of that stuff really annoys me. I understand what it's trying to do - make people understand how prevalent breast cancer is and how much research is needed to combat it.

But all it really does is make it funny. And breast cancer isn't funny.

It's my humble opinion that the main reason people try to make it funny is that it's a taboo subject and everyone thinks boobies are funny. It's uncomfortable to talk about so they go out of their way to make it comfortable. They giggle and laugh and come up with clever nicknames for breasts and then put it on a t-shirt so everyone can join in on the fun. And it makes people who don't know the statistics think that breast cancer is no big deal and could possibly be hilarious. I don't think that is the intention of the funny shirts at all. It just happens to be the result. I have had multiple people tell me they're tired of seeing pink ribbons everywhere and how it's annoying that breast cancer gets so much attention when other cancers don't.

Do you want to know the real reason that it gets more attention? It's because 1 in 8 women in the US alone will be diagnosed with invasive breast cancer in their lives. It's because it is the number two cause of death for women, after lung cancer. It's because if you get breast cancer, the odds are high that you will have to have part of your breast removed or, for some people, your breasts removed completely.

Is it funny now?

I don't want sit up here on my high horse and judge someone for raising awareness with a funny t-shirt. I get the idea. I think raising awareness is awesome. I know that other cancers are just as important and deadly as breast cancer is. But I also know that breast cancer is a serious thing. It deserves respect. Raising awareness isn't about saving ta tas or second base or boobies. It's about saving lives. So break out your pink shirts, get your mammograms, and understand that while breasts make us giggle, cancer never should.

Motherhood Haikus

As requested by my friend Heather McAwesome, I have compiled some deep haikus about motherhood and the lessons learned there. Enjoy.

Baby Joshua
Don't you want to go to sleep?
Mommy needs a drink
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Spit up everywhere
Is no place sacred to you?
You have a dark gift
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I hear you crying
I am pretty sure it's fake
Nice try, buddy boy
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Poop is in your hair
How can that be possible?
You are so crafty
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Beep beep beep beep beep
Beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
Beep beep beep beep beep
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Do I see a smile? 
What is that unearthly smell?
Oh, you got me good


Thank you.

Mother's Day

When I first heard that Joshua's due date was May 30th, I immediately ran through how old he would be for major holidays - seven months old at Christmas, six at Thanksgiving. He would probably even be in time for Father's Day if he wasn't very late. I had a gift for Daniel all planned. A small one, one that wouldn't take a lot of time, because we'd be so busy with the new baby.

Funny how things change.

When I starting seeing the commercials for Mother's Day gift ideas and saw all the special cards start to appear at the grocery store, I didn't think twice about it. I knew my siblings and I would get together to figure out a gift for our mom (and by "siblings" and "get together," I mean that my brother and I both assume our sister will take care of it and we'll pay her back. Don't worry; she likes it.) and we would have dinner together and probably play a game or something. It never occurred to me that I would be celebrating my first Mother's Day, too.

One of the NICU nurses asked what our plans were to celebrate. It took me a second to figure out what she meant and when I did, I just kind of shrugged and said we didn't have any plans for me. The nurse seemed surprised, but I was equally surprised that she would think we were celebrating. Technically, yes, I am a mother, but it's not like I really take care of my child. The nurses do that and always have.

But as went through the week, it seemed that God was sending me sign after to sign to show me that I am, in fact, a mother, even if my baby isn't at home with me. When Josh screams as loud as he can, he usually wants his pacifier. I know that by the sound of the cry. I also know that I can only let him have the pacifier until he falls asleep, because he'll forget to breathe if he falls asleep with it in his mouth. I know that in a few more minutes he'll wake up again, search for the pacifier, and cry again until I give it to him and he falls asleep. Every afternoon from 4:00 to 5:00, that's what happens. He's really cute so I don't mind.

When he doesn't want his pacifier, he probably needs a diaper change. Or sometimes his little hands get stuck inside his sleeves and he can't get them out. Sometimes he hears Daniel's voice and wants desperately to see his daddy, but he's facing the wrong way and can't turn over. Sometimes he just wants attention, like a finger to hold or a little kiss on the cheek. But I always figure it out.

I know that he wants to lay flat on his back when I hold him but he isn't supposed to because of his acid reflux, so until he falls asleep I move him around every couple of minutes so he won't get upset. I know that once he falls asleep, I cannot. move. a muscle. or he will immediately open his eyes and we'll have to start all over again. I know that he doesn't like his hands to be under his blanket, and if someone does cover his hands with his blanket, he will wiggle them free in about two seconds. I know that he doesn't want you to touch his feet or ears under any circumstances whatsoever. Seriously. He'll cut you.

I know all of these things because I am his mother. I have always been his mother. No one knows him like I do. Even if he lives at the hospital. Even if I'm not the one changing his diapers. Even if I don't get to see him for a whole day. I am his mother and he is my baby.

So for the mothers who have big, healthy kids,

For the mothers who are waiting to meet their little one,

For the mothers whose children have moved away,

For the mothers who wish their kids would move away,

For the mothers whose babies are growing faster and faster each year,

For the mothers who have never lost hope for their child,

For the mothers who have seven kids and for the mothers who have one,

For the mothers who know what it is to fear for your baby,

For the mothers who don't understand what to do next,

For the mothers whose greatest joy comes from watching your baby accomplish a goal,

For the mothers who only want the best lives for their children,

For the mothers who pray for their children each day,

For the mothers who are celebrating their first Mother's Day and for the mothers who are celebrating their fortieth,

This is for you.

And to my fellow NICU moms - Julia, Mari, Dawn, Erica, Erica, Rosalie, Malika, Meredith, and Tanya - this is especially for you:

Happy Mother's Day.

The Long Haul

This week has been a good one overall. I'm getting used to life in the NICU, which is both weird and good at the same time. One of the rocking chairs now has my buttprint on it permanently and that's nice because now no one else will use that chair. I don't like sharing.

We had our awesome nurse Jennifer back this week! We love her. She works so hard to go the extra mile to help us. She is the one who started dressing Joshua up in little outfits - and she color-coordinates them with his bedding. And she helped Josh make a nice card for Daniel's birthday and got Daniel some Mountain Dew! She's been really great and I can't wait to have her back next week. Don't get me wrong - all of the Northside nurses have been phenomenal. We just like Jennifer a lot. We might be in love with her a little.

Daniel got a card from Josh!

We still haven't been able to hold him. We might get to soon. I'm not as sad as I thought I would be. It's only been two weeks but I'm already getting used to not riding the ups and downs. It's hard not to get so excited at every success or really disappointed at every setback but we're learning. Josh did go back to the regular ventilator and that was awesome! He is doing pretty well, all things considered. He is getting milk and he is off his bp meds. And his brain bleed is no longer a cause for concern because he has hit the two week mark. He has been here for two weeks!!! Well, the nurses count today as two weeks. Technically I guess it's tomorrow. Whatever. I'm just pretending it's today AND tomorrow. Anything to get more celebration cake.

The next few weeks are, oddly, what I have been dreading the most: the long haul. The part where Josh isn't so sick anymore, praise the Lord, but where he isn't better enough to leave the hospital. So we wait. And make more buttprints in more rocking chairs. Soon I will own them ALL. But this part is where I think we'll be the most weary. That sounds weird but I think it's started to hit me just how long the next 12 weeks will be. We're blessed to have so much family and so many friends around to support us and that has helped a lot. It's just one of those things that requires a lot of patience. I am not known for my patience. Daniel is so patient that I'm concerned he might have inhaled marijuana by mistake sometimes. Maybe I am supposed to learn patience... meh. Why start now, right? At any rate, the time will pass. Eventually. I'll just buy a lot of books to read between now and then.

This blog used to be fun and hilarious (if I do say so myself). Now it's kind of lame and medical. I blame Josh. That rassa-frassin' baby just isn't funny. But BFF Jen and I were discussing another awesome adventure of ours recently so I'll write about that next. Maybe. I might take a nap instead.

"I enjoy the darkness."

Ten days

I really need to come up with more creative titles for these posts. Pretend this one is called Octopus Socks or something. It's a good thing octopi (right?) don't wear socks because it would get expensive to buy so many. Plus octopi live in the ocean and I hate it when my socks get wet. This post is taking us in all sorts of deep and philosophical directions.

So, onto the good stuff - my fantastically cute baby. Josh is doing well today! He's actually had a great couple of days. He's just chillaxing in baby prison while people fawn over him. I see why he wants to stay until June. Overall he's improving. The big goals for him this week are to continue the feedings, lose some of his excess fluid, and stay steady on his super-special ventilator.

I finally spoke to God. It was weird because it was really hard. It's never been so hard before. It came out kind of disjointed and confusing but I think He got the message. It was actually a relief. I'm still angry and I still hate all of this. But it felt good to pray.

My perspective on prayer has changed throughout this. When I tell someone I will pray for them I really do mean it. But I don't feel the urgency that I should. Sometimes I just add it into my daily prayers and don't spend time really considering who or what I am praying for. But after seeing the many prayers being lifted up on Joshua's behalf, I've realized that if I'm really going to pray for someone, I can't do it casually. Prayer isn't casual. It isn't a way to pass the time or fulfill my Christian duty. It is a powerful way of connecting with God and it's important. I'm glad I've learned that. I hate how I learned it but it's an invaluable lesson.

Another thing I've learned through this is how incredibly blessed Daniel and I are with friends and family. People are praying for my baby boy worldwide. Even more amazing is that strangers are praying for him. People who have never met us and never will are going before the Lord to ask for strength and healing for Josh. That's unbelievably amazing to me. It's so encouraging. When I read that a friend is praying, when I get a card in the mail, when a family member travels thousands of miles to be with us - those times are when I feel the best. When I know that while the road ahead won't be easy, it can at least be traveled. When I realize that no matter how lonely I feel, God has not abandoned me. Or any of us.

So thank you for praying. Please keep praying. And to those who have sent hats and cards and notes and messages, thank you so much. Everyone has been so selfless and generous and I cannot tell you how grateful Daniel and I are for you.

We can do it. Well, God can do it :) Grow, Joshua, grow!!

For Joshua

This week has been a sad one. I know a lot of people who are hurting.

Ever since I found out I was going to be a mom, I've looked at things with a new perspective. I know that perspective will change even more when I get to meet my little guy. I'm looking forward to that because I think this new perspective is for the better. I think it's good to remember what's really important in life. And I think it's good to teach our children what's important in life. So I decided to write a letter to Joshua, the littlest Eleveld-to-be. I will read it to him and print it out and put it in his room. He will get sick of looking at it but it's important and I want him to remember it.

Dear Joshua:

As you grow up and go out into this big world, I want you to remember some things. These things won't guarantee you a perfect life or keep you from feeling sad or angry. I wish that they could but that isn't how it works. Sorry, kid. But these things will - hopefully - help you keep the right perspective, focus, and priorities as you grow up and become your own person.

1) Remember that your dad and I love you. A lot. We might get mad at you and we might ground you and we might not buy you every single thing you want. But we love you. We will love you forever. Grammy and Grandpa and Papa and Nana love you, too. Your aunts and uncles and cousins and great-aunts and great-uncles and great-grandparents and your great-GREAT-grandmother love you with all of their hearts.

2) More importantly, remember that God loves you. He created you for a specific purpose. You may feel like you don't have any talents or gifts when you grow up. But that isn't true. Grammy used to tell me that I could be ANYTHING - and she believed it. I believe you, Joshua, can be ANYTHING. I really do. Just keep Christ as the center of your life and He will lead you to great and wonderful things.

3) Nothing is as bad as it seems. I know it's hard when you're sad or confused. I know people will betray you and I already want to beat those people up (and you're not even born yet... oh, dear). I know no one's life is perfect all the time. But listen to me when I tell you this: I have been there. I get it. I know it's hard. But, as the saying goes, this, too, shall pass. It might take an hour or a day or a month or a year or a decade. But everything will work out.

4) Don't start fights for yourself. It isn't worth it. It won't solve anything. But if you're fighting for someone else, stand up and be brave. Defend the little guy and the boy who seems weird and the girl who gets teased for her looks. Speak the truth and don't be afraid to do the right thing. If you're anything like your dad, I know you will learn this and take it to heart very quickly :) It's scary to stand alone. But I believe that if you stand up for what's right, you won't be standing alone for long.

5) Love with your whole heart. Trust the people who love you. Make fewer friends if it means they are that much closer to you. Sometimes that can open you up to heartbreak. But it also opens you up to love and friendship and joy.

6) Don't beat yourself up over mistakes. What's done is done. But don't forget them - learn from them. Use them to shape the person you want to be.

7) Be respectful. Offer to help a busy mom who has three kids and seven bags of groceries. If someone tells you a story that you think is boring, listen anyway. And really listen - don't just pretend. If you're over 18 and visiting someone's house, their rules still apply. And thank the soldiers you see in the airport. They are fighting especially for you.

8) When you say you'll do something, do it. When you say you'll be somewhere, be there. I guarantee that as soon as you agree to seeing a movie with a friend over the weekend, a party will come up for the same time and you'll really want to go to that instead. You're better than that. Go to the movie. And if you offer to pray for someone, pray for them. Don't forget. It's important.

9) Volunteer a lot. It's good to remember that there are people around you suffering. It's even better to do something about it. Donate your clothes, toys, time and prayers to those less fortunate. Serve lunch at a homeless shelter. Help build a house for a family in need. You can make a huge difference in someone's life in just a few hours.

10) Forgive completely. It's hard to forgive; I know that. But it's harder not to. We forgive because God forgave us, and if your dad and I have done our jobs, you'll know where to find that verse in the Bible :) People will mess up. Dad, me, your friends, your teachers - all of us. Forgive them, even if they don't say they're sorry. And ask for forgiveness, even when it's hard. Even when it's not your fault. We all need to be forgiven, and thanks to Jesus, we can be forgiven forever. Remember that when you're angry with someone.

11) Remember that you never know what someone else going through. Grammy and Grandpa used to tell me that all the time, and it drove. me. insane. But now that I'm older, I'm starting to get it. Sometimes people are mean. But sometimes they're mean because they're hurting. The bully on the playground might be bullied at home. Stand your ground, but always do so in love. It may be you one day who is hurting and who needs a friend like you to help.

12) Above everything else, love the Lord your God with all your heart and all your soul and all your strength. I put this last not because it's the least important, but because if you remember nothing else, I want you to remember this. Love God. Serve God. Read your Bible and pray every day. I know that getting up early to do your quiet time is hard. I know that the Bible can be confusing, especially when you're young. You're lucky because your dad is a walking Bible encyclopedia, thanks to Papa and Nana. So ask him questions. Ask your pastor questions. Ask your friends questions. Make it your goal to walk with God as closely as you can.

That's all the wisdom I have for now. I love you a million times over. I can't wait to see your little face.

Love,

Mom

Thanksgiving

Turkey Day was yesterday. Did you enjoy it? Did you have fun? Did you wave your hands in the air like you just didn't care?

BFF Jen gets so excited about Thanksgiving that I always sniff her drink to make sure that is the only reason she's excited. I, on the other hand, have never been one to get excited about Thanksgiving. Not that I don't look forward to it - I love getting together with everyone. It's just not something I get YAY YAY YAY IS IT THANKSGIVING YET excited about.

Except for this year. This year, I was so excited about Thanksgiving that I was literally counting down until the end of the day on Wednesday. I couldn't decide why I was so excited. Maybe it was because I didn't get to see my side of the family as much for Thanksgiving last year. Maybe it was because I hadn't been to my grandparents' in a while. Maybe it was because I knew my aunt would make brownies again - and that woman knows how to bake a brownie, let me tell you. 

But otherwise, Thanksgiving was the same as it had been every year. And then it hit me - maybe that was why I was so excited. Maybe I was just looking forward to relaxing and laughing with my family in the same way I have done since I was a baby. And because my family is awesome and I have never fully appreciated them before. 

I've said before (and stand by it) that my grandparents are better than yours.  It's still true. My grandparents open their home to us every year. They are so excited about their two great-grandchildren and that is so fun to see. Just picture my Papaw leaning over 3-month-old Peyton and making kissy noises. Best visual ever and even better to see in real life.

And I love seeing my aunt and uncle and cousins. My cousin Allen wasn't able to come this year, so we poured some cider out in his honor. But I did get to see my other two cousins, who I hadn't seen in ages, and get to know my newest two cousins, Ashleigh and Tenley! Ashleigh is a grown-up; Tenley is a baby. That will assist in future confusion in this post. It was wonderful to catch up and see them and ask about their lives. And, of course, to totally abuse my friendship with Ashleigh to ask her pregnancy and baby tips.

Seeing my aunt Shonda is an experience in itself :) since she always brings the fun and crazy to the party. But it's a good crazy, the kind your children can witness, so don't be alarmed. She's funny and goes with the flow. And I already told you about the brownies. You want to be her friend. My uncle Stan, who is the quietest one (or used to be; we broke him in), always wholeheartedly participates in our crazy, and doesn't even complain when we change our plans 16 times in a row. He needs a medal.

I get to see my immediate family a lot, but it's still fun when we get to see each other at Thanksgiving. It's like when you see a movie you love on TV and you have to watch it, even though you own it and can watch it whenever you want. I am eternally grateful for my parents and siblings. They are weird and funny and ridiculous and I know I am blessed to have my whole family around all the time. When my sister got married, I worried it would be hard to adapt to a new member of the family. But Andy jumped right in and became one of us so fast it was like he was always there. That is partly due to the fact that my entire extended family has the attitude that after we meet you once, you are now related to us and may come to all events. Please bring a dessert to share.

Then, of course, my great-grandmother and great-aunt made the trip to come see everyone like they do every year. They live a little ways away but they came anyway. And it was so fun to see them meet Peyton and Tenley. That made 5 generations of us in one room! Can you imagine that? My great-grandmother was born in 1918 (I think. If that's wrong, someone tell me, quick!!). Peyton and Tenley were born in 2012. Almost 100 years of family, together for Thanksgiving. 100 years of Thanksgivings and Christmases and birthdays and being together as often as possible.

And then there's Daniel. Oh, Daniel. Who sits quietly while my family complains about Yankees and people from "up there." Who not only engages himself in conversation with everyone from my great-grandmother to the babies, but spends his time fixing people's guns and showing them how to make all sorts of dangerous things. He got to know everyone and is genuinely glad to be part of my family. I am so grateful that my family welcomed him right away.

Even though I didn't see them at Thanksgiving this year, I have to give a shout-out to my in-laws. They have welcomed me into their family and have made a sincere and loving effort to get to know me and be my friend. I now have more parents, more sisters, more brothers, more aunts, more uncles, and more cousins to call family. Not to mention all of my cute nieces and nephews.

So this year, I am thankful for my family. I never realized how blessed I was until this year. I grew up with grandparents and great-grandparents and this year it really hit me that a lot of people do not have that opportunity. I get to not only meet but have a relationship with so many people in my family. And while so many people do not get along with their in-laws, I can't wait until Christmas so I can see all of mine again. I am blessed beyond anything I have ever deserved.

I hope you had a wonderful Thanksgiving and have a Merry Christmas. And if you don't have any family to see this year, or just want to borrow a grandparent, give me a call. You can join us any time. 

But stay away from the brownies. I call dibs.

5 generations of awesome. 

That's my dad

I was going through old pictures the other day to make some room on my phone so I could take more pictures of my cutie wutie schmoopie face nephew, Peyton.

LOOK AT HIS CUTENESS AND COMMENT ON IT:

Aaaaanyway, while going through my old photos I found a screen shot of a conversation I had with my dad over text messaging after I called him, not knowing he was at a work lunch. It was too good not to share:

So, in a nutshell, that's my dad. Was he really a stripper? I'll leave it to you to decide.

Sorry, Dad :)

Family Reunion

I’ve got three eyes; my mom has nine.
People tease her all the time.
Although I guess that’s not as bad
As the awkward five arms on my dad.

Uncle Jim has one eye straight,
The other’s looking at the lake.
Aunt Marie was his nice wife,
Before she became Uncle Mike.

Then we have my cousin Paul,
Who somehow is his own grandpa.
That’s not as bad as cousin Joe—
He’s still counting all his toes.

Grandma Cat is worse off, too.
She has a hard time finding shoes.
It might be hard for me as well
If I had to wear a men’s size twelve.

Mick and Rick get no respect
Since they’re joined up at the neck.
One leg each, it seems unfair
When each one wants to go somewhere.

And of course let’s not forget
My favorite cousin Margaret.
Her hair glows bright, it is so nice
Since the treatment for the lice.

It is so convenient, too
To be related six ways to Great-Aunt Ruth.
It doesn’t bother me too much;
I think it adds a special touch.

So now you know; it’s not a trick.
For a joke, it’d be quite sick.
But, see, it doesn’t bother me;
This is just my family.

People think that it’s too bad
That our family looks so sad.
But if you haven’t heard by word of mouth
That’s how we do it in the South.

1979

Have you ever seen the "new" Brady Bunch movies, the ones that make fun of the show? They're fabulous and you should totally watch them. One of my favorite parts is that even though the movie is set in present day (or the 90s; same difference), the Bradys are still living in the 70s - same clothes, same home decor, same phrases. And I can relate, because while the rest of the world was living in the 80s, 90s, and 2000s, my family and I were living in 1979.

See, my parents met in the 70s, got engaged in the 70s, and just liked the 70s so much they never left. It was more common to hear the Beatles playing in my house than the Black-Eyed Peas. I didn't even know who Fergie was until she had already rejoined the Black-Eyed Peas. And if you have no idea who I am talking about, don't try to find out - your brain cells are way too valuable to waste them on this.

ANYway, I didn't think much of this until I got to college and had virtually no idea who or what anyone was talking to when it came to music. I've never been a music fanatic or anything (don't tell my dad) so at first I thought I was just a little behind. But when I was literally the only person on my dorm room hallway who had no idea if The Real Housewives of Orange County was the same thing as Desperate Housewives, I realized I had missed more than I thought.

Looking back on it, it all makes sense. My parents raised us on their favorite music and shows - subsequently, I've seen every episode of Happy Days but have still never watched a full season of The Bachelor. And it was so much fun that I just never left my happy little hamlet of grooviness and loving each other, man. This is why I get along with all adults but can't have more than a 6-word conversation with people my own age. This is why Daniel, a self-admitted old man trapped in a young man's body, is perfect for me. And this is why, when in a conversation that I know nothing about, I have developed what I call the Nod And Smile - it appears that I am just as excited as you are about Snooki but inside I am wondering what season of The Waltons is playing on Hallmark this week.

This week on the Waltons: A problem arises that turns out to not be that big of a deal. Stay  tuned. 

But I'm okay with living in the 70s. It was a pretty far-out time, and gas was a lot cheaper. So if you ever have any questions about Journey, Little House on the Prairie, or the war, just give me a call - I do, at least, have a cell phone.



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rg56gRJwZOc

Happy Mother's Day!

When I was in middle and high school, my schools sent home progress reports halfway been the semester. The progress reports detailed every single grade you had received in your classes since the beginning of time. Every. Single. Grade. So this was the day where a few kids started sweating bullets because the "A" they told their parents they'd gotten on their math test was really "A few more grades like this and Johnny will never leave school ever."

I particularly hated progress report day, because while I tried not to didn't lie to my parents about my grades, I knew that my mother would take each progress report, sit with me on the couch, and go over every item on that sheet of paper. Every. Single. Grade. It drove me nuts. Then I would go to school the next day and heard about kids whose parents had just signed the report after barely glancing at it, and I wished that my mom would do the same thing.

Fast forward to the end of high school, college, and jobs. All of which I was able to achieve with a reasonable degree of accomplishment. Not because I am a genius, but because without even realizing it, I was learning the value of working hard and wanting to be proud of anything that had my name on it.

It took me a long time to realize that every time my mom went over my progress report with me, she was doing me a great service. And she was showing me how much she loved me. Did the kids whose moms didn't go over their reports still graduate, get jobs, and know they were loved? Definitely. But looking back on it now, I realize that my siblings and I were some of the luckiest kids in the school, because my mom not only asked us to try our best, but she truly believed (and still does) that if we just tried hard we could accomplish anything.

My sister is a elementary school teacher with a masters degree in her field. She can organize like the wind, never forgets a birthday or anniversary, and has a genuine love for people that draws others to her. My brother is one of the best drummers I have ever seen, is willing to help a sister out (see what I did there) whenever he is needed, and worries about getting to work on time because he wants to make sure he doesn't slack on his job. I am not trying to brag; really, I'm not. I am now able to look at these accomplishments and know that none of them would be possible without parents like ours who never accepted less than our best because they knew we could be anything.

What's funny is that my last two years of high school, they stopped sending progress reports home - and I was disappointed. I wanted to show them to my mom so she could see my hard work.

I got blessed with a good mom. One who sings weird songs to me on my birthday, who constantly invites my friends over and treats them like family, and who tells me at least twice a day that she loves me. And if you would like her to be your mom, just give her a call - she'll adopt you :)

Happy Mother's Day, Mom!!

Why SafeSearch is always a good idea

The other day I was searching for something on the Google. I got as far as "How to get" and these were the results that popped up, based on what people search for the most:

Result # 1: How to get married in Skyrim. For those of you lucky enough not to know, Skyrim is a video game that I am way too familiar with, courtesy of my husband. I have lots of questions about this. Why would you want to get married in Skyrim? Do you get bonus points? Is there an extra level where you have to balance your checkbook together and figure out how to file joint taxes?

Result #2: How to get Facebook timeline ...really? Barring the fact that Facebook timeline is the 21st century's version of being crushed to death slowly with lots of heavy rocks, Facebook asks to you to change to timeline every single time you log in. Every. Single. Time. Just log on and start clicking random buttons; you'll get there eventually.

Result #3: How to get rid of hickeys. My mom reads this and my Mamaw just got an iPad, so all I am going to say about this is that Googling it will probably get you some weird results, especially in the images section. And shame on you, Google - little kids could have access to this. Although hopefully not without their parents, but you've still created thousands of awkward conversations across the country.

And, yes, for those of you wondering, that is Bumblebee the Transformer on my browser background. I'm just that awesome.

Cake Cake Cake I Love Cake

Once, many moons ago, my sister got married. Okay, it wasn't that many moons ago but that doesn't sound as dramatic. ANYway, my sister got married, and you know what that means... no, not true love. No, not a beautiful dress. Think about it... YES - CAKE. Weddings mean cake. So my sister, Mandy, like many brides before her, went on a search for the perfect cake situation. Based on the recommendation of our friend Kristina, my sister contacted Elaine at Sweet Stuff LLC. At that moment, she had no idea how her life would change forever.

See, Elaine doesn't just make cakes. She creates goodness and awesomeness and bright sparkly unicorns in cake form. When we tasted Elaine's cake, it was like Jesus gave us each a high-five. It took every single piece of cake we'd ever tasted, combined it, sold it to a grocery store, and then had everyone laugh at that sad cake while we all ate some of Elaine's white almond goodness. And so a love story was born.

Don't get me wrong, we know the cake isn't actually sent from heaven. Sure, we tend to call Elaine - often - and ask her if she ever thinks of us. And maybe we hang around her trash cans, just to see if she's thrown any cake away. And, yes, we call her "The Cake Lady," (she's literally Elaine the Cake Lady in my phone) but that's just being respectful - it is her title, after all.

Besides, we started a revolution: Everyone we know uses Elaine now. Because she is awesome. You can enjoy the goodness, too. Not getting married any time soon? That's okay - you can just pretend and have some cake. Worried because your birthday isn't until the fall? No problem - just celebrate your half-birthday. Diabetic? This is a totally awesome way to go.

In conclusion, cake.

CAAAAAAKE
http://www.sweetstuffcakes.com/

A few simple traffic rules

Most of you know that I have issues with traffic. However, this post is not about what to do to circumvent the horror that is a traffic jam, or how to right an injustice on the highway. This time, I have decided to share some wisdom with you that comes from my experience this evening:

1) Before you honk angrily at someone who cuts you off, make sure they don't have a license plate that denotes they are a war veteran or physically handicapped.

2) Once you realize this, do not tailgate them even longer - they might live in your parents' neighborhood.

3) Always, always resist the urge to give the finger - seriously, that person might live in your parents' neighborhood.

4) As soon as you realize they do live in your parents' neighborhood neighborhood, look for another neighborhood to turn into in case the other driver might recognize you. Try to do this inconspicuously. Which is hard to do in a bright orange car.

5) Do not think you are safe until you see them turn on another street - they might take a sloooooooow riiiiiiiiide dooooooown theeeee streeeeeeeeet and it will look bad if you come zooming up behind them. Again.

6) Finally, when you are safe, never, ever, ever venture into your parents' neighborhood again. At least not until your fake mustache and dark sunglasses arrive.

Sorry, Mom. This is why I don't have a Jesus sticker on my car.

Spot the Savior

My family is not big on traditions (unless you count avoiding Monopoly like the plague), except at Christmas. We have a very specific way of doing things at Christmastime. One such tradition has forever remained a special place in my heart, glowing like a little cartoon flame and filling me with untold joy. That tradition is the one where we sing a song together read the Christmas story tell each other how much we love each other mercilessly mock other people's Christmas lights. 

There are only a few rules:

1) No blue lights. They are ugly. If you have blue lights and you are reading this... sorry. But heed my words.

2) No big lights and small lights mixed in on the same bush/tree/door. Pick a side, people.

3) All bush lights must cover the visible part of the bush - not just the top, one side, or the bottom.

4) Symmetry is key. If you have one half of the porch lit up but the other half is drooping into the yard because your dog enjoys the thrill of being shocked by Christmas lights, that is major points off.

5) Don't put too many blow-up creatures in your yard. Especially if they have nothing to do with Christmas. That is my mom's favorite rule.

The final element of the evening is counting how many Saviors/nativity scenes we can spot. Our record is around 8, I think, and that was after 10 neighborhoods and several crying sessions from everyone.

So last night Daniel and I continued the tradition. The results are below.

We'll start with the good ones*:

*Some of the good ones may break one of the rules above. This is because Daniel is new to the game and liked some things that I would have burned down. He'll learn soon.

Okay, enough of that. On to the good stuff:

SANTA IS DOWN! REPEAT, SANTA IS DOWN!

That is a flamingo. Stuffed with lights.

Even with no neck, Rudolph was determined to shine brightly for the kiddies.

Spongebob. Apparently we weren't the only ones who didn't care for him.

AHHHH MY EYES

"Gee, Carol, you wanna put all the lights up this year?"
"No, Jim - let's just shine a big one on the house. That'll look just as good."

These people even have blow-up items on their porch. They are very dedicated... to the crap in their yard.

These next few are from the same house. A house that had so many Christmas lights I thought I might spontaneously develop epilepsy and have a seizure if nothing more than for the sake of doing anything but staring at the yard with my mouth open.

And, so, friends, that brings us to the real event of the evening: Spotting the Savior. We spotted two real ones and one Woodstock one from Peanuts, so we're calling it 2.5.

Woodstock Jesus is a little washed out.

So there you have it. The good, the bad, and the holy. I do hope you enjoyed the tour of Christmas lights this year, and be sure to join us after the new year for a special edition of Christmas Lights: The Post-Christmas Droop.

Merry Christmas!!

Why my grandparents are better than yours

Grandparents are great, aren't they? They are nice and fun and awesome. And here's a secret about grandparents:

Mine are better than yours.

That's right. I went there. Mine. Are. Better. What's that? You want me to prove it? And you want me to use pictures as a visual aid? Fine, but this is the last time today. I present to you the following evidence that my grandparents are better than yours.

These are my grandparents:

Hello

Cute, right?? I call them Mamaw and Papaw. Which leads me to the first reason my grandparents put all other grandparents to shame: You can totally call them Mamaw and Papaw, too. My grandparents will instantly adopt any of my friends (a trait my mother inherited) and extend their grandparent-ness to you. They will pretend you are theirs and ask you all sorts of questions, and then you get cookies. I know they have real names, but I think they would consider a legal change to Mamaw and Papaw - that is how dedicated they are to being your fake grandparents. Try them out - you'll like them. Oh, sorry, what's that? You hate awesome jokes and the Game Show Network? Then you have NO SOUL and my grandparents are not for you. The rest of you, look for a message from me with their address - GROUP VISIT!!!

Reason #2 my grandparents kick grandparenting booty is Mamaw's crocheting. She is the quickest crocheter this side of the Mississippi. She can crochet anything. I'm pretty sure she crocheted the Mona Lisa once. Okay, fine - but she could. She makes doilies and blankets and sometimes she makes a super-complicated thing that has no name, shows it to you, and then unravels the entire thing. That is how awesome of a crocheter she is: she doesn't even care about the awesomeness - she is beyond it. She takes your compliments and crochets them into a blanket, gives that blanket to a cute puppy and then after he snuggles up in it she makes another one and unravels it in front of that puppy, but it's okay because he has the first one. You've just been Mamawed.

"COME AT ME, KNITTERS."

The next reason my grandparents are this best can be summed up like this:

That, my friends, is a digital picture frame. They have a digital camera. However, my grandparents don't like to take the little card out of the camera and put it in the frame, but they want to use the frame. So all day long, the frame flips between the time, the West, flowers, and the weather. All day long. Tell me that isn't fabulous. And if you ask them about it, they will very patiently explain to you that the pictures that come with the frame are better than the ones they took anyway. That's what we call a win-win.

The next reason is Christmas. Every year, Mamaw decorates their house like they are in an indoor Christmas competition. And if there were such a thing they would totally win every year because Mamaw is not kidding around about Christmas. Every year, Papaw says he wont put up any more decorations for her. Every year, he puts up more decorations for her. He secretly loves it. They have plates, tablecloths, magnets, statues, villages, singing toys, clocks - they even have a toilet seat cover with Santa's face. A toilet. Seat. Cover.

Don't mind me. I'm just here to make you comfortable.

The next reason they are awesome:

My grandparents tell each other they love each other all the time.  And they mean it. They have been married for 51 years, and my Papaw still writes cute love notes to my Mamaw :) How can it get better than that?

So there you have it. Irrefutable evidence that my grandparents put all other grandparents to shame. They are not just grandparents, but super-duper, are you even for real or is this a dream, have some free gum grandparents. I love them and I am so glad I get to be their granddaughter! Don't forget - YOU CAN BE THEIR GRANDKID, TOO!!!