When I have an epiphany, I kind of mean it.

You may remember my recent epiphany regarding a serious lack of variety in my reading last year. I read a grand total of five different authors. I said this year I was going to branch out. I said this year I would not turn up my nose at book suggestions. I just wanted to update my reading community. Today I officially started reading a book written by author number six for 2010. That is excluding children's books, of course. When I have an epiphany, I kind of mean it. I take it seriously and try to follow through and improve upon what I may have learned. I have not been compelled to purchase any jewelry in honor of my reading just yet, but I am enjoying the assortment of books I have read thus far. And I have only been scared once or twice.

One of the hardest things...

Megan is on her very first antibiotics. She has been coughing for several days (and nights). She has been unable to sleep very long even if I held her upright in the recliner or propped her up a little on her Boppy pillow. I finally took her to the doctor when she stopped trying get into everything. She lost her voice. It was so sad to see her try to cry and nothing could come out. I could not cuddle her enough.

One of the hardest things about being a mom is knowing your child is suffering. Somehow, whatever your child may be going through is amplified within yourself as a mother. When they laugh, your joy is amplified. When they cry, your sadness is amplified. When they are nervous, proud, thankful...you get the idea. As women we have our own kaleidoscope of emotion but somehow we can feel the emotions of our kids as well. Sometimes we are talking about minor discomforts and sometimes we are talking about heart wrenching tragedies, with a lot of stuff in between, and I realize that. I know there are mothers whose children are hungry and they are unable to feed them. I know there are mothers whose children are sick and they are unable to treat them. I know there are mothers facing chronic health conditions who rise to various challenges every day to reduce their child's struggles. What I am saying is that I believe all mothers hurt when their children hurt. And my poor baby has had a sad week this week. Tonsillitis and an ear infection all at once. That is a lot going on in a little eighteen pound body!

I know I should be naming blessings above all else. I feel guilty in my little corner for worrying about a 101 degree fever when I look around at the devastation faced all over the world. But somebody told me once that whatever mountain I am facing is the mountain I am facing and I don't have to compare it to other people's. It will still mean something when I get through it. So maybe it is okay that it makes me sad when some kids at school made fun of the way I fixed Madison's hair one day and it made her cry. Maybe it's okay when I ache for Jaron when I know he has something to say to someone and I watch him struggle because he is too scared to speak up. And maybe it's okay that I blog about my sad little baby with no voice or energy for anything but patting me on the shoulder as I rock her.

I know how old my kids are.

Nobody keeps track of a child's age like her mother. Who could remember more vividly the months of planning and anticipation and the hours of labor than the mom? I know how old my kids are. I know that as the school year starts winding down we will be planning Madison's eighth birthday cake. I know she prefers iCarly to princesses now and she reads chapter books and she loves her little friends and she rolls her eyes at her brother. So why do I look at her like I am seeing her for the first time when she says things like, "Things sure have gotten a lot harder around here with this baby in the house, haven't they, Mom? But she makes us happier too!" Why do I hover when she decides to make brownies all by herself when I know she is perfectly capable of reading and measuring? And why do I have to put the brakes on my evening multitasking excitement to take a moment to sit and scrutinize the contents of her book bag when I realize...are you ready for this? She is learning to write in cursive. Not just letters, but words. Didn't she just learn to write the regular way? And didn't we learn to write in cursive in third grade which is...only months away for Madison, really. Babies grow fast in all the obvious ways. These big kids are more sneaky about it. They catch you by surprise when you try to put your hand on their shoulder and realize you need to start reaching a little bit higher all of a sudden. I remember reading that there is something about summer that makes weeds and kids shoot up unexpectedly. If you ask me, they grow fast enough in the winter as well!

As it turns out, I am a snob

I have always thought myself an open minded person. A person who goes with the flow. Unbiased and tolerant. Multidimensional. I remember ripping the wrapping paper off of my first cassette player/radio when I was a kid and then flying into the packages I knew held my first cassette tapes. One of them was Whitney Houston's debut album. The other one was Dolly Parton's album, "Coat of Many Colors." I loved them both and I don't mind telling you that I can still sing any song from either album in its entirety today. In high school I had CD's by the Dixie Chicks and Destiny's Child. I saw Alabama in concert. My musical tastes have always been diverse. My iPod includes music from Daughtry, Nickelback, Taylor Swift, the Twilight and New Moon soundtracks, Grey's Anatomy soundtracks, and some hip-hop and heavy stuff for walking to a beat. So I have always thought myself a person who approaches life in that way. Looking for variety. I thought this diversity component of myself carried over into my reading as well. I don't know how a person can live within the same skin for 31 years and be so wrong about themselves! As it turns out, I am a snob when it comes to my books. I am a judgemental snob. The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem.

I looked back over the history of my library account online. I read somewhere around thirty books last year. You know what stood out? There were only five different authors. I only joined the library in 2007. Until then, I had given up reading for fun for over 10 years. College, babies...you know the things that can make you feel too busy. I think that because I was out of the loop for so long, I kind of like to read all the books from one author before moving on to the next. In order of copyright date. I say, "kind of like," but that is the only way I have been reading for two years. The only exception comes when an author I have already "finished" publishes a new book. I read it, and continue on with my pattern. And all but four of those thirty books were written by authors inside of my little comfort bubble. Nicholas Sparks. Jodi Picoult. Karen Kingsbury. Nora Roberts. That seems like the exact opposite of diversity to me. I get involved with my books. Nicholas Sparks makes me want to move to the ocean and take daily barefoot walks on the beach and eat shrimp. From 2007 reading, Janette Oke books made me want to drink coffee and have babies. And wear a dress. Beverly Lewis' books made me want to can vegetables and bake bread. I think the reason I typically stay in my little box is I am a little bit afraid to visit the scary, unknown places random authors may be writing about. I like the familiar. I want to tell you what happened to inspire me to branch out and learn from adding diversity to my reading.

My mom, the one who appreciates literary works in almost any form, bought and read the Twilight series as it came out. Occasionally she would mention that I should read them. I said no. I don't read fantasy. It's weird. And the way people were going completely crazy about the whole thing seemed kind of crazy and cult like and it freaked me out a little bit. She told me it was a romance. I told her it was about vampires, and it was for young people, like her students. I saw Stephenie Meyer on the Ellen show one day talking about her dream that led to these books. She seemed like a nice enough girl and they were discussing this love story and I thought maybe it would be interesting to read the series...but then again it was fantasy and it was weird. Snob much?

So just before Megan was born, I grew too weary to do much but read, and I was just as tired of reading the same old thing...so I finally decided to take the plunge. I read Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse, and Breaking Dawn. Within a week. I had two of the books with me in the hospital and read well into the night more than once. Following major surgery and great drugs. I could not put them down. And then I did something I have never done before. I read them again. I could enjoy them so much more the second time because I knew what was coming and I could slow down and enjoy them! And just let me tell you about the third time I read those books...it was like visiting an old friend. For months after reading the Twilight series I did not read any other books. I just knew anything else I read would be a letdown. I had nowhere to go from there. Those books are romantic. And they are my favorite books I have ever read. Not because they are about vampires or wolves. Because they are about loving someone else more than yourself. They are about love overcoming all obstacles when two people are committed to it. They are about making the best of your circumstance in life. They are about chivalry and morality. They are about watching a girl who thinks she is barely average transform into someone who feels beautiful and powerful. Good stuff. So that picture of the Italian charm bracelet above? That's mine. With four book covers of books I was too much of a snob to read. And this is my necklace hanging around my neck. You can get anything under a glass tile with a sterling slide attached on eBay these days! It is my reminder to branch out and try new things, and to love the people I love as hard as I can for as long as I can.

So this year I am going to go crazy and branch out with my reading as much as possible. Any suggestions will be considered without my turning my nose up. This last picture is my mom and I waiting for the New Moon movie to start in the theatre on opening weekend. We were the first ones there, and we were so early they had to run us out to mop the floor after we had already found the best seats in the house. Luckily, we were able to locate those seats again upon re-entry. So, there you have it. I own the books. The third time I read them, they were my very own books. I have the jewelry. I will have all the movies on DVD as they are released. And I will not confirm nor deny the purchase of a collector's edition People magazine showcasing the last movie and exclusive behind the scenes interviews and photos of the actors. So while I may not be a reading snob anymore, it may be that I have developed a whole new set of problems to address!

Exclamation Point!

My baby has become 10 months old. You know all of those worn out phrases people say every day to describe the unnaturally swift passage of time? Those phrases fill my head every time I take a moment to look at what is going on around me. I feel those phrases to the tips of my toes. It seems like only yesterday that I met my little 6-pound bundle of joy. I don't know where the time has gone. She is growing so fast.

The first nine months have passed without much ado, but as the calendar convinced me Megan is 10 months old, my breath seemed to catch in my throat a little bit as I realized how dangerously close that is to a year! Do you know what that means? It is time to think about her very first birthday cake. It is time to plan a party. (It is time to drop these extra pounds, too, but we don't have to talk about that.) As I was thinking about what a big girl she is becoming, I noticed how we might be able to pull off an actual hairdo to commemorate the event. So, here it is. I had to share Megan's first pony tail. I took her to her babysitter sporting the new 'do and Barb laughed and laughed. She said, "She is a little exclamation point!"

I thought about that as I finished my drive to work. My little exclamation point. I considered how exclamation points indicate strong feelings, high volume, and excitement. And it occurred to me that Barb had described my Megan perfectly. She has strong feelings about her favorite people, her bottle, her blankie, and flavored whole grain puffs. She gets excited about any food I have given her at this point except broccoli. She says, "Dada" most of the time. She says "Baba" for bye-bye, and she says "Mama" when she is sleepy. She waves bye-bye, to herself, and she claps her hands for patty cake. She likes to turn the pages of books. She gets excited when she pushes the buttons on her toys and lights go on and sounds go crazy. The higher the volume, the better. She is on the verge of walking and she thinks that is hilarious. She actually cracks herself up on a regular basis. She laughs along with anyone...I guess she always gets the joke. Pictures can say more than I can. She is such a happy baby when she is around people, and if you take a look you will notice that those people--well, I think they have some strong feelings about her, too!

Big Plans for 2010

I have had a few ideas worth blogging about lately, but I keep putting it off because I feel obligated to ensure that my first post of 2010 has something to do with the fact that it is 2010. Happy New Year and here are my resolutions and hopes and dreams and fears and all that. I am not a huge New Year's resolution kind of girl. I resolve to do many things many times throughout the year. I need to make it more of an ongoing process instead of an annual event or I will never keep up with it! I get the symbolism and significance of the event, but it typically does not occupy a whole lot of my time and energy, especially this year. I made some festive dip. We stayed home with the kids. We tried to fight off a stomach bug that had plagued our home for over a week. There was a lot of lounging and TV. It was not a big deal for us.

But in the interest of moving on to new thoughts on books and life and my baby turning 10 WHOLE MONTHS OLD, I will tell you that I have big plans for this year. I have plans to spend more time enjoying the people I love. I have plans to make more birthday cakes. I have big plans to love more, laugh more, snuggle more, praise more, exercise more, read more, blog more, and play more. I also have plans to worry less, sleep less(my dad calls that "extending your day"), spend less, eat less, and complain less. 2009 was a big year for me. I am not sure I was ready for it to be over. I had a pretty big hello and some significant good-byes and lots of life in between. Ready or not, 2010 is here. So here is the toast I read online that kind of sums it up for me.
"Here's to the bright New Year
And a fond farewell to the old;
Here's to the things that are yet to come
And to the memories that we hold."

no offense if you are one of THOSE people

The first Christmas after I was married I sent out one of those holiday letters. You know, the glorious list of newsworthy occurrences of our lives. In a nutshell, it said, "We remodelled a house. We got married. We have jobs." I felt like I had moved on to the next level of grownupness. I thought about getting back into yearly newsletters as our family began to grow. My husband, in one of his more insightful moments, changed my mind when he asked me, "Valerie, if a person doesn't know where we work or how many kids we have, why are we sending them a Christmas card?"

No offense if you are one of those people. A person who sends that letter. I actually enjoy reading those letters. The thing is, if I wrote one today, it would not really let you know what is going on in my life. So I sometimes try to read between the lines to try to see what's really going on in the lives of my friends and family. I mean, if I sent a letter out this year, I would rave about Jaron's love of "big school" and marvel about Madison reading the family favorite Little House books. I would describe Megan, born on Granny's birthday, and her siblings' devotion to her in excruciating detail. I would talk about Kevin and I celebrating our tenth anniversary. I might mention the dogs, cats, cattle...maybe sprinkle in a little vacation, fishing, and gardening. I would talk about little smiles that light up the county and little arms that fit perfectly around my neck.

I probably wouldn't mention that my kindergartener went to the Principal's office for neglecting to keep his hands to himself. I would not begin to get into the battle with worker's compensation we have been dealing with for the last 6 months with Kevin's back injury. I would not tell you that while having enough love for 3 kids comes more easily than I could have imagined, sometimes I think I am not as impressive as a mother of 3 as I hoped I would be. That my house has not been clean for at least 9 months or that I fell asleep feeding the baby in the early days and Madison told her teacher I did not have time to kiss her good night. I would not tell you about the time I cried when I realized Megan had outgrown her first outfit. And at the end of the first day I went without nursing her. I probably would not want to talk about the hard goodbyes that came this year. Grandad. Iris June. Scott.

I am not trying to dwell on difficult times. This is the time of year that I get painfully reflective. I have to tell you that for everything I mentioned that challenged me this year there were ten times more blessings. I have to tell you that I could not ask for a stronger network of family and friends that never hesitate to support me in all situations. This year has flown by faster than people warned me it would. So I am not writing one of those newsletters. Bloggers keep people updated on a regular basis anyway. But if I did, ten years later, it would go something like this: "I still like my husband of ten years and unto us three children have been born. We share our lives with many loving and loyal people. May God bless you and yours during this holiday season and always!"