Put a Fork In Me

Waking The Dead...(GREAT Movie for Cathartic Grieving)

2010-12-09T23:08:00.001-06:00

“You can shed tears that he is gone,
or you can smile because he has lived.

You can close your eyes and pray that he'll come back,
or you can open your eyes and see all he's left.

Your heart can be empty because you can't see him,
or you can be full of the love you shared.

You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,
or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.

You can remember him only that he is gone,
or you can cherish his memory and let it live on.

You can cry and close your mind,
be empty and turn your back.

Or you can do what he'd want:
smile, open your eyes, love and go on.”

~David Harkins, British Poet

That is an accurate summation of the inner dialogue I play tug-of-war with DAILY, following my dad's death in late July. It's safe to say: I'm no longer the life of the party.

I apologize to my readers for shutting you out as I continue grieving for the only man who has ever loved me unconditionally. It's been a dramatic six months. I'll repeat that statement, again, in case you missed it--It's been a DRAMATIC six months.

I've come to the conclusion that: Drama + Mary = Two Peas in a Pod. A pod that is crowding me and threatening to overshadow the real pain that MUST rear its head in order to find closure and heal properly).

Regardless if you join this ride of self-discovery, I hope you'll be able to find the humor and hope I am so desperately in need of at this particular junction in my life. Bottom Line: When you find yourself having a "bad day," tune in to my blog, grab a cup of joe-or vodka-and enjoy the stories.

I couldn't make this sh*t up.

Dad gives Sara the Terror his favorite side dish: Grilled Liver! Ewwww.

Even worse? Homegirl LOVED it!

Oral Fixations and Other Obsessions

2010-06-28T01:13:00.000-05:00

[Trying to get 4-year old Kenny to give up his security blanket]

Jack Butler: "I understand that you little guys start out with your woobies and you think they're great... and they are, they are terrific. But pretty soon, a woobie isn't enough. You're out on the street trying to score an electric blanket, or maybe a quilt. And the next thing you know, you're strung out on bedspreads Ken. That's serious."

I have an arsenal of movie lines I LOVE from this 1983 classic, "Mr. Mom" - but as I try and wean my girls of different security vices, including Josephine's blanket (a.k.a. her "D") made of soft, pink silk which she lovingly and sometimes obsessively demands as soon as I pick her up in the afternoon from school - I am beyond exhausted and don't want our remaining few hours before bedtime to be filled with misery and inconsistencies...mostly on my end...Mother of the Year, I know:(

But honestly, her eyes seem riddled with anxiety until she is able to clutch that soft material and hold it close to her cheek, fingering the soft edges in a zen-like fashion; exhaling slowly--her body visibly relaxing. Kind of scares mommy to see the dependency in her three-year-old daughter's eyes.

Dare I share my indifference towards other mothers whom, even as bystanders, seem comfortable offering unsolicited advice by drawing from their own successful ventures as mothers who weathered the storms of toddler-hood.

"My (insert child's name) got ride of her blanket at eight months!"..."We threatened to take away their toys for a month, worked like a charm!..."Just tell her she is a big girl. In fact, she is a big girl. Literally. What are you feeding her?"

All this unsolicited advice and I can't help thinking, "When you're a single mom, who is hands on and giving 110 percent of energy towards a career and then towards two adorable, and a bit manipulative, little girls while trying to squeeze in dinner, laundry and keeping up with bills and a tidy home...then explain how your were able to take away the one object your 3-year old holds dear to her heart and soul...I double-dog dare you...

Oh well, things could be worse. I could have gained 12 pounds in six weeks while partying with my boys, Ben and Jerry...Oh wait...I did gain 12 pounds by eating their array of pint sized heart-attack-waiting-to-happen pints of ice cream! Curses...A girls gotta live - right?

. Josie asleep with her "must-haves."

Introducing My New Feature: Random Movie Lines With Mary

2010-06-09T00:44:00.000-05:00

I've always felt that certain people can be gauged on a level from 0 to 12.52 based on both the movies they watch and the scenes they find as emotionally compelling - or comedic - as I do.

During my post film-school dating years, I wouldn't look twice at a guy who didn't appreciate the comical genius of the Cohen Brothers "Raising Arizona." In hindsight, my taste in movies proved to better than my taste in men.

I know many people will relate to some of these and MAYBE, just maybe, they will become enlightened and intrigued enough to check out some oldies, but goodies they weren't interested in BMB (before my blog). That sounded quite harsh and a bit superior, no? As if my blog could change people's lives. Muwahahahah.

If fitting, the movie lines I post will pose as some parallel reference I'm experiencing in my life - while sharing some of my most beloved dialogue created to emote feelings we sometimes never realized we had until seeing "that" movie...Ah, the power of good filmmaking. I'm sure glad I majored in it. It's done a world of good for my career *insert sarcasm.*

Movie: "Office Space" (Definitely ranks on the top ten list...)

Bob Slydell: What would you say ya do here?

Tom Smykowski: Well look, I already told you! I deal with the goddamn customers so the engineers don't have to! I have people skills! I am good at dealing with people! Can't you understand that? What the hell is wrong with you people?

HQ ~ SWAGGER WAGON ~ MINIVAN RAP ~

2010-06-08T23:45:00.000-05:00

It's The Hard Knock Life...For Us?

2010-05-20T21:06:00.000-05:00

On a recent trip to our local grocery store, girls-in-tow (of course!), the trip was filled with "the usual" chaos: Josie wanting to walk instead of ride complacently in the shopping cart, which usually is the beginning of the end of what could have been a journey of wonderment and surprise, discovering new sights and smells among the aisles of Wal-Tart.

Between the free-for-all grab fest on my end as I watch the girls tear thru the aisles, it becomes increasingly clear that I am losing control of the situation. How can I get these two angelic partners-in-crime to mind me? And as if God was showing me the answer I so desperately sought, I just happened to view a stepford wife in the check-out line, smiling peacefully as her pristine looking brood of four stood silently beside her.

Making sure Josie and Sara hadn't torn down the entire junior rack of clothing, I do what I do best: Ask questions w/o the fear of feeling ridiculed. "Wow. You're kids are SO well-behaved. How do you do it?"

As I took in a more detailed glance, each child was holding a small treasure in his/her hand. Chocolate bar, Barbie and the smallest two had dvd's, clutched tight to thir chests.

"Bribery." She answered, smiling knowlingly at me.

Hence, the movie "Annie" was purchased due to good behavuor. Sara mow wants a new dog called "Sandy" and sings "It's The Hard Knock Life" on que. I've begun to join in, although our choreography needs some work.

The Hills Are Alive....

2010-05-08T01:16:00.000-05:00

...With The Sound of Mary's Fresh Faaaaaccceee... That's right my friends, I was on the receiving end of what had to be one of the most AMAZING hours of my life. My First Facial. If I was 12 and texting, I would just use "OMG! MFF!!" The again, guess that could go either way:) All I know is that my skin is "dewy" - and "dewy agrees with my skin. Now, if I could just get rid of those triple D breasts, I'd have a perfect view from the top. (pun intended). In all honesty, my mom almost had to push me out the door to go to our local spa (www.thymedayspa.com)as I usually prohibit taking care of myself in such frivolous ways. There are many times I could kick myself for not arguing for a higher salary "grade." Not too mention when I argued my case for a higher salary grade after returning to the work force, had I known child support would not be part of my monthly income, different measures would have been taken:) Oh well, a day late and a dollar (more like $43K) short. At least I have my sweet, rambunctious beautiful little ladies. "Lady" might be a stretch for Sara - she was heard using the "s" word at her parochial school on Friday. I banned cable over six months ago. I am desperate for advice on how to handle this situation and look forward to replies. She KNOWS it's a bad word. Ive even washed her mouth out with soap (which Josie found partially goodtasting - a real shocker.) As most people know, I am very open and approachable, and I am certainly not one to turn a blind eye if my children are acting up. Have you ever had a night when you got home from a grueling week of work, the house is around 36% clean, yet you just remembered you need to buy diapers or your daughter's bed will be flooded by the yellow sea. It is at times like these, that I wish I had a "partner" to tag team. Or a nanny to pay to get something that seems small out of the way, but in my household, it would be a major production to drive up to the local grocer. Did I just use the word grocer? God, I'm getting old. Quote of the Day:

Every sweet has its sour; every evil its good. - Ralph Waldo Emerson, 1803-1882

What do Snakes, Staph and Turbo Tax Have in Common?

2010-05-02T23:17:00.000-05:00

They have caused Mommy to panic. Bigtime. The snake inflicted fear in my three-year old (Josie tinkled on herself as we came face to face with it...in our hallway!) She stood paralyzed, literally shaking with fear. This fight or flight syndrome and crippling fear of anything that depicts a reptile, insect amongst other things, has been passed down from many generations on my mother's side. Not to mention the girls and I have NEVER seen a snake in our lives, aside from those that seem relatively complacent behind the glass wall at the zoo. Staph has caused misery for my babies...and me. Dispensing meds to a screaming, back-arching kick-inducing three year old hasn't been a picnic. The sweet little pumkin head finally had to have the doctors "lance" (cut it open). I won't go into the gory details, but let me put it this way. Even our seasoned pediatrician was taken aback when he saw what was hiding under that red, hard skin...It was a blood bath that I wouldn't wish on anyone. But it had to be done... And then there is the $59.95 I paid to Turbo Tax (like I have time to calculate my deductions and everything else financially above my head). Turbo Tax assured me I would receive close to $6200 back...finally, good news! I merrily planned how I could use this "bonus" from the government; school registration fees ($1300!!!), new tires on my minivan and the rest towards medical bills. A blessing indeed... Cut to April 23, date of alledged direct deposit. $1569. WTH? Are you kidding me? Apparently IRS call centers are not the most jovial folks to deal with (before, during and after tax season). In the end, it was faulted by Turbo Tax, and I would receive the $1300. At least day care registration will be paid for. Whoo-Hoo! Living the dream baby!

That's Just How We Roll...

2010-04-18T19:34:00.000-05:00

If it's not one hospital visit for a stressed-out tummy belonging to one, 35-year-old single mother of two - it's another hospital (literally) visit for what we thought was an "ant-bite-gone-terribly-wrong" on my sweet, newly anointed "six-year old" during what was to be her "birthday weekend." Poor little bugger.

Turns out that "bite" is really an abcess (a.k.a staph infection; a.k.a my WORST nightmare) that is so swollen and red, she could no longer walk w/o pain upon waking up this morning.

I feel like my house was the one referenced by Mercutio in "Romeo and Juliet" when he vehemently cried "A plague on both your houses!" Is it wrong to hope that plague leaves us and finds her father's house, where-ever that may "currently" be?)

I apologize. I know that's tacky, and NOT a very Christan thought to put into the written word. I am a firm believer in making Sara's beloved "papa" stay a Saint in her eyes. For her to think he left b/c he didn't love her is criminal.

How about an abscess for an abscess? Or $25,000 in back child-support for...I'll stop there. It's been a looooong....decade?

Which Kids Are Most Vulnerable to Bullying?

2010-04-12T19:47:00.000-05:00

Came across a study that peaked my post-workday interest; as so rarely do I engage in "leisurely" web reading. Which Kids Are Most Vulnerable to Bullying? Obviously, it's important to look at the "source;" who is supplying the statistics and research conclusions. With "Time" posting it, my trust mode is based on my own BS system. (Some acronyms are better left un-spelled). Muwahahaha. Code Green: Believable after Seen. Demographics have always fascinated me. Hard to imagine the masses can be "lumped" together based on external and internal factors, sometimes beyond their control. I can see 1.5 million moms reviewing this article and either: 1.) Hanging their head in shame, knowing their offspring fits the demo for "bullier." 2.) Nodding in agreement; emphatic in their non-verbal consensus that the authors hit the nail on the coffin (bad analogy - I know.) And then there's the old-school folks like my dad, who would scoff at the touchy-feely connotations. Always a firm believer in corporal punishment, when my dad become enraged ALL my siblings and I tried to run for the hills vs. feel his wrath. And for those parents whose children fall into what the study's author is considering "Most Vulnerable to Bullying," at least the study was done solely in Quebec, a.k.a "Mama Boy Capital of the World." Hope everyone learned something new today:) I know I did! Get Josie into Tae Qwon Do. Stat.

"And For Our Next Attempt...

2010-04-10T22:10:00.000-05:00

...At seeing who mama will praise more while singing and twirling"...And thus, sibling rivalry begins. Is it not enough that these beautiful little girls have startling blue eyes, blond hair or, what's left of it after Sara's hacket-job on her AND her sister. The ONE time I try and do something for myself - If you call what any woman does to clean themselves in the bathroom as "me" time (somebodies gotta clean me!). And while I love to bathe with my girls, let's be honest. It's like being at the "kiddie pool" during summwe time at the public-pool growing up. That warm water patch you're sitting in next to your snickering three year is good for one thing: a jellyfish sting! Hope my readers were avid "Friends" devotees and can use my analogy for watercoolor fodder. Alas, I digress. Caught the girls, trying to out-sing (if that is what you can call it) the other day. BLOG Worthy. I hope you all have a blessed weekend and are enjoying your children as much as I do mine...most of the time...:)

When Is a Single Mom's Job Done?

2010-03-09T20:09:00.000-06:00

Never! Or, for those potty-mouth readers, how about "eff-ing never!" IT NEVER ends. I have two adorable,but OMNI-present little women who shadow me like Punxsutawney Phil on a winter-laden year. While I have subliminally known this for some time, it is at very odd and unique moments when it hits me like a ton of bricks. I'll hear a co-worker complain about the $20K she's throwing down for her daughter's approaching nuptials after just paying off her college tuition: that's 56,000 clams in one year. I immediately reached for the tums. If I knew their father would be helping out...someday...I wouldn't be so perplexed. I'm looking into every financial product available for future expenses such as college (remember folks: EDUCATION is everything! And the one paper of ownership that can't be repossessed or taken away). But anyone with a grain of common sense can look at this current living situation and agree it's not exactly a "win-win" for all parties involved - or lack there-of:) I apologize for my absence and somewhat inconsistent rants. I won't lie: my day job can be a bit stressful. Ironically, I used to be known as the girl-with-a-great-sense-of-humor-who-dances-like-no-ones-watching. That sounds very "Dances With Wolves," but me in a nutshell! While I can still break it down like it's nobodies bizness, there is a weight on my shoulders that feels oppressive in force. And while I put on a happy face for my girls (at least 80 percent of the time), who wouldn't be "Bitter: Party of One!" every so often. At least I have my girlish sensuality. Actually, that was meant to be a question. At least I have my girlish sensuality?

The Best Way to Make Children Good is to Make Them Happy.

2010-02-21T11:56:00.000-06:00

The best way to make children good is to make them happy. (Oscar Wilde)

I'm sure Mr. Wilde had good intentions when he authored this quote during the 19th century. That being said, he probably lacked the foresight that 21st century children would most likely be "made happy" by video games laden with violence, television shows with little moral value and the most recent role model to little girls all over the world: Hannah-the-Hussy Montana.

But then again, Wilde wasn't exactly the "ideal" family man. He was arrested for being a homosexual, which was "outlawed" in England at the time. Another pearl of wisdom from Wilde that didn't exactly endear him to the ladies: "Men can be analyzed, women ... merely adored." I'm sure he would change his tune if he saw how many women were serving their country through the various military branches; not too mention politically active alongside their male counterparts. And for the record, I think even a "Wilde" card like Oscar wouldn't find Nancy Pelosi the least bit adored - by men or women.

Every parent wants to make their child "happy" and "good." But when I look around at the current generations; from toddlers, tweens through teens; I can't help but ask myself, "What is happy?" Is it the look in your child's eyes after receiving a barbie for not misbehaving while Mommy shops for necessities at Walmart? Guilty: Party of one! Fleeting, instant-gratification driven happiness doesn't teach our kids anything, although the five minutes of happiness spent experimenting with a new toy gives mommy just enough time to relax and get through five pages of a mindless magazine before chaos rears their heads again. At this point, I'll take what I can get. I never realized what a commodity solitude would become for me. Speaking of solitude, sounds like Josie is waking up with a night terror. Ya'll know what that's like. At least my readers who aren't male and over 55 (you know who you are...:) Mary...Out.

What's Smaller than a Pencil Point, LOVES Blondes and Has Kept my Child Out of School Five Days?

2010-02-13T20:43:00.000-06:00

A little parasite by the name of louse, although she prefers to be called Mrs. Lice, and she makes it very difficult for mommies to abort her offspring that seem to populate at the drop of a hat in my daughter's hair.

You know you've hit rock bottom when you find yourself at a crowded HEB grocery store on a Saturday night, frantically searching on different aisles for the fittingly-named product, RID.

As discreetly as possible, I asked a diminutive-looking HEB employee "Kerry" if she could help me find where they keep the *insert whisper* "lice medication"

. Like a bad "B" movie, Kerry proceeded to scream two aisles over to her friend, Leslie; "Hey Leslie? Where do we keep the lice treatment medications?"

And thus began the walk of shame we would repeat for the next six days, whereever we went...

Absence Makes The Heart...Beat Faster

2010-01-20T21:32:00.000-06:00

Back with a vengeance from my company's annual conference. SO exciting seeing my ladies upon my long-awaited, cry-inducing return.

My sweet mom, who along with my weakened, but getting-stronger-day-by-liver-growing-day-until-chemo-starts-back father, helped watch the girls while I was away enjoying fine wine, great food and a bevy of single men who ran around, catering to my every need...NOT!

Although I missed the girls, and my heart would race as I heard them start to cry during our one-sided telephone calls, I did enjoy sleeping solo in the large, soft bed and watching old movies late at night w/o fearing I'd wake the under five crowd.

Absence made both me AND my daughters realize how much we love and need one another. Or at least that's what my parents told me as they happily returned the little rascals Tuesday afternoon. Thanks Mom and Dad-I'd e lost without you. And my little women:)

My Big Break...Back Included.

2010-01-16T00:09:00.000-06:00

Apologies for my absence. I wish I could say I was off doing something meaningful and giving back to the world in some significant manner. Does throwing out my back before my company's annual conference count? It should. If this conference doesn't kill me, the pain from my 35-going-on-65 back, will.

Ironically, as much as I beat myself up about my one-woman parenting gig--and the lack of life I lead because of it; I am absolutely devastated and terrified to leave my girls. But let's not kid ourselves: A room, a bed AND remote control from the comfort of my hotel room...sheer paradise.

And if I get loneley, I can always log on to my blog and watch this...

When It Rains...It Snows.

2010-01-02T22:48:00.000-06:00

Metaphorically speaking, "the rain" is the dizzying array of household chores I spend entirely too much time on in order to have a "clean, organized" home for my two, toe-headed girls to live in. After the house is somewhat livable, I then spend every second trying to engage my children in "mess-free" play; an oxymoron that has yet to "play" out the way I envision it.:(

As it so happens, I have kept a bottle of Johnson & Johnson Baby Powder on hand for the occasional diaper rash. By rule of thumb, it's a good idea in my household to "hide" any products that can cause asphyxiation, or fires.

Wednesday evening, exhausted after a short, content-heavy week of work, I started to pack for our New Year's Eve trip. Granted, we were only going 90 miles and staying for two days (any overnight trip with two kids under five and no partner to "help" is like packing for a small army or preparing for a single-mom pilgramige). The checklist,the diapers/wipes, nebulizer on the off-chance an asthma attack occurs and so on and so forth - and don't forget about the sippy cups with their last names in Sharpie (at $4.99 a cup, you'd plaster your name on it too).

Leaving the girls in the living room, a mere 10 feet away, while I tried to "pack" for our small, family unit to finally venture out and have some FUN was beginning to sink in and even excite me a bit. Until I smelled something...dense...sneak in my nostrils and sit heavily in my chest. That, coupled with the girls being suspiciously quiet set off alarm bells in my Scattered-Single-Mon brain: Two factors of what I already concluded would be bad news.

Briskly walking the ten feet, I stopped short at five...intuitively knowing the scene that would befall my eyes. Sara the Terror had FOUND the damn powder and decided to make it "snow" in my living room, 30 minutes after I had it in tip-top shape, which in itself is a rare sight to behold.

Both girls would have received "callbacks" had a studio held open casting calls for "Casper." And the lamp, (all 20 pencil-thin ridges) in addition to all surrounding home decor were completely white. Albino white. Tacky after Labor Day white.

With their bedtime looming and another three hours of organizing at hand, I debating cancelling the trip. As my mom likes to say, "It's too much sugar for a dime." But looking at my daughters, whose eyes were ablaze with both excitement and while less discreet, but duly noted, a sense of one-upmanship, made it impossible to stay angry...Until Sara tried to make a "snow-bunny" lying in the powder...The fork was in for the night, and stayed submerged until we arrived at our destination 16 hours later. Nothing like New Years Eve with the kiddos.

AstroSLAMMED! And Lovin' Every Prophecy Revealed...

2009-12-22T21:03:00.000-06:00

In a universe that becomes more and more isolated, I have looked above and beyond for inspiration. BK (Before Kids) I would be inspired by a movie, a book or any other outlet that required my undivided attention for hours at a time… Enter: Children. Exit: Free Time. Where's a girl to look for guidance from an unbiased third party? Enter: Astrology.com

Before you pigeon-hole me as a flake (I know my dad would), let's get a couple of things straight. YES, I read the disclaimer that reiterates this is for entertainment purposes and should not be taken literally. And while generic foreshadowing based on a person's birthdate seems too general for an "accurate reading," provide the date, EXACT time and place you were born and voila: a no-holds barred prediction straight from the astrologers mouth OR mathematical conclusions of the stars based on their latitude and longitude alignment at the exact time and location of your birth.

I thought it would be fun to post these and decipher their relativity as it relates to "My So Called Life." (LOVED that show; circa 1994. All 19 episodes of it.)

A.S.= AstroSlam M=Mary's Reflection A.S.: Your inability to form relationships with other people chips away at your soul.

M: You ain't whistlin' dixie...Another way to phrase it with a more positive spin: My constraints as a single mom make maintaining and forging new relationships close to impossible.

A.S.There has to be a better way to spend your energy!
M: Really? Tell me how, AstroSlam. Be my guide…Is this the part when you ask me to pay $9.99?

A.S: Waiting for others to contact you is dreadful, because your phone is ever silent and your inbox is always empty.

M: More like, your mobile phone plan is maxed out and at .40 cents a minute, are you worth the call? My inbox currently has over 1700 unopened e-mails, mostly from would-be friends who also call themselves "SPAM." The fools…

SO Ready for 2010

2009-12-21T19:13:00.000-06:00

Even by my "Bad JuJu" standards, 2009 has been a pain in all our asses. I use the word "our" loosely, as I refer to the rectal cancer that joined our family officially in November of 2008, only to surgically part in early 2009. My dad's cancer has seemed like a group diagnosis as we live our lives so tightly entwined. Through the chemo, the surgeries, the questions my daughters keep asking, the prayers they repeat each night "Please make PoPo good," my two-year old says. My five-year-old is all about herself: "Please make PoPo better so he can play 'the claw' with me." While I am forever grateful for all the blessings in my life, I can't seem to shake this feeling of bah-humbiness, which is TERRIBLE to admit, but I'm not one to say what people usually like to hear. Not on my blog, ESPECIALLY. My one cathartic outlet. Hell, my only outlet. Looks like I need some new resolutions for 2010. Be A Better Mommy is always at the top of my list, but this year, as kindergarten foreshadows the coming years of studying and preparedness that always seemed to be put off to the last minute when I was in school, I pray that God helps me help Sara see that schedule and routine are good things. Who are we kidding? Should I just embrace my faults now and work with them the best to my ability? The funny thing is that up until I had children, I thought I was SO cool and if I do say so myself, the life of the party. Talk about a 180. I'm lucky to get out twice a year, and even then, those girls are constantly on my mind - health, well-being, education. That is most likely the single most fearful aspect of being a "true" single parent (a.k.a. no back-up) - I am 110 percent responsible for their livelihood and well-being...and the women they will become. It's an awesome responsibility that weighs on me from time to time. Not like "weighing" in my thoughts, but more like "weighing" on my chest, sending pain down my left arm and causing me to have shortness of breath. You can see why I haven't blogged much this month. Talk about Debbie Downer. I'm depressing my own self. But I attached two of my favorite pics from this summer. If you look closely, Josie is about to cry b/c her ice cream is almost finished. Did I mention she weighs almost as much as her 3 + years in age older sibling? There's a reason...

Why I Still Need My Father: Reason #136:

2009-12-06T12:58:00.000-06:00

There are many things I have "taught" myself or have figured out how to do without a male counterpart by my side. Assembling toys...Using a Phillips screwdriver...Changing diapers...But when it comes to anything "plumbing or pipe-related" I am in the dark.

And like everything else in my life, bad timing seems to seek me out. The girls surgeries went as well as could be. Josie was herself within 30 minutes post-op, dutifully drinking her sippy cup and ready for "ickin-uggets." What can I say? The girl has a healthy appetite. Sara, on the other hand...

She went in all smiles and talking the nurses' ears off. She came back incoherent, crying, moaning and looking at me with panic in here eyes. Trustworthy mama told her there would be "no shots" - I was under the assumption laughing gas would be administered. In Sara's case, they had to give her an IV, which stayed on in post-op...Oy, the tears and drama it invoked. Not to mention the copy-cat antics Josie employed once she saw her idol/sister in bad condition...One word: DRAMA!

But at least they arrived home healthy and able to hear better:)

I am happy to say my dad finally returned home from what was intended to be a 7 day stay at MD Anderson, but ended up at 14 days. All I can say is I am blessed to have him home even though he is still not up to par, and probably won't be for quite some time. But he's home. Let the liver growing begin!!

I realized today I count on my dad for too many things. Things I can do on my own if pushed. Take for instance my current plumbing situation. All of a sudden, my washer stopped working mid-load. My kitchen sink emits a drizzle of water and both bathtubs spurted out what looks like poo-poo highway. What in God's name causes that color? I'm sure it is doing wonders for the air quality of my home. Maybe there is a rhyme and reason to my low immune system? All I know is that this plumbing issue is too much for me. I've attached a picture to engage your sympathy. I've got six loads of laundry to finish...and baths to take. I think God knew what he was doing when he made the home next to my parents available for rent. He also has quite the sense of humor. And while I could throw my hands up in there and cry crocodile tears, enjoying my own self-pity party...I shall march on; bold and confident in my steps. I shan't let poo-poo highway stop me and my girls from living our lives. Maybe we'll live at my parent's house the next few days...Clean, cozy and...clean.

Adenoids and Ear Tubes and Ice, Oh My!

2009-12-03T18:17:00.000-06:00

I think this is the one time in the past three years I have wanted the girls' father at my side. As my mom sits at dad's bedside at MD Anderson, I have a 6:00 a.m. appointment at the hospital for both girls to have tubes and adenoids taken out. What's the deal with these tunes anyway? This will be their second set! Adenoids I understand. It's a family thing. I had a doctor tell me when I was 21 that I had the largest set of adenoids he'd ever seen. Gee, how…charming. Way to boost a girl's self confidence. Anywho. I have always had my mom next to my side when it came to anything medically-related to the girls. Sara's doctor told us she should be fine and ready to play by the afternoon when her first set of tubes were put in. Really? I should have called him the next day to report her three hours of vomiting following the surgery and she cried off and on for two days. Josie handled her first set better, but the ride home…by God, the ride home…a NIGHTMARE. They say after surgery your ears are very sensitive to sound. Our drive from the hospital to the house is 67 miles. And should there be ice on the roads less travelled; our driving time could stretch out considerably. They will both expect equal amounts of TLC…can I give that to them? We'll certainly see. I haven't had this level of anxiety since…since…I filed for divorce. I take that back. The highest level of anxiety I've experienced was taking Josie to daycare when she was 16 months-old. I didn't sleep the entire night and cried for three days straight. She did too. Okay, my blog reading friends. Pray for us. Please. Did I mention I wish I had a tranquilizer?

Beyond Thankful

2009-11-28T14:16:00.000-06:00

Wow. Although we didn't celebrate with a "traditional" sit down Thanksgiving Day bonanza, we were elated by dad's progress as he continues to fight the good fight from his hospital bed in ICU.

Having been sick the entire week preceding dad's surgery (daughters included) I literally did not have anymore "time" to take off. Although upsetting to me that I couldn't be by my mom's side during his surgery and the days that followed; we had a myriad of visitors there to provide support to mom during her time of need. And for the record, my mom NEVER asks for "help" or "moral support" - she feels it to be an intrusion on someone elses' time (the silly lady!).

That being said, you can imagine my shock when walking into work Tuesday morning, I had four voicemails from my mom. Dad had major setbacks...moving him to ICU...having brain scans to rule out stroke...getting intobated...and then the worst - "I need you to be with me..."

I didn't hesitate. I told my boss the situation, finished as much work as I could within the next hour and made it to the hospital in 62 minutes (usually takes 90 minutes). The same schedule was repeated the next day. Two days without pay: Not Good. Two days by mom and daddy's side: Priceless.

Seeing the man who has been your protector, disciplanarian and loved you unconditionally through your bumpy journey from child to woman in a bed with more than 12 tubes stemming out in various directions, and whose eyes don't recognize you as you stare lovingly into his, is humbling at best. Add his hands having to be restrained, a large tube in his throat preventing him to utter any sounds - and you've got a position you never imagined you'd see your father in.

I stroked his head (something I'd never repeat in real life due to the "awkward factor") prayed like I've never prayed before and left in time to make it to my daughters school - a mere two-hour trek with traffic. I even got pulled over the Wednesday preceding Thanksgiving. I have to say, "genuine" tears do work wonders on a state troopers empathetic side:) But as of today, 11/28, dad is breathing on his own but still in ICU - suffering from pneumonia, e-coli and various other ailments, but at least he has regained consciousness and seems to be improving every day. Even w/o the traditional weight-inducing temptations or the ever-so-desirable leftover turkey sandwiches - I will say that this has been the best Thanksgiving ever. I learned at the ripe old age of 34 what it truly means to be thankful.

White Girls Can't Dance

2009-11-23T06:53:00.000-06:00

Josie tries to break it down in her own special way. These were videos we made before dad went to the hospital. Precious...

Decorating The Christmas Tree Before Dad Went to the Hospital

2009-11-23T06:43:00.000-06:00

Classic Dad.

Homeward Bound...

2009-11-22T14:17:00.000-06:00

What a week. I wish I had better news to report. Aside from each of my children suffering from a virus, followed by me, causing us to miss 4 days of school/work, I think my eardrum burst last night. I can't hear and it hurts to burp. How's that for a silver lining?

My dad suffered a major setback Friday night. He made it through his surgery well; they removed the cancer from his liver - which Doc Curley says was the size of an egg (although it was the size of a thumbnail on the MRI scan!).

My dad was lucid, and had even sat up twice - but was having some MAJOR pain in his rib cage/shoulder area, so someone added some narcotics to his epidural - NOT GOOD as over half of his liver was just removed and the liver is the organ that filters the narcotics out of your body.

The best way for my mom to describe his current state is vegetable-like. He can't sit up. He can't drink on his own. It's a major step backwards - it would be a major step backwards for anyone this happened to while being sedated.

My sweet mom, who won't leave his side, has to try and wake him when a beeping noise goes off, indicating he needs more oxygen. She feeds him ice. She treats him so warmly and lovingly as I listen helplessly on the other side of the phone, crying for them both.

The girls and I just watched an animal flick a co-worker recommended called "Homeward Bound" about a trio of animals who fight thru thick and thin to return home to the love they knew with their family. Talk about bad timing. I cried through the entire damn movie - scaring Sara half to death and causing Josephine to pat me over and over saying "Dats Ok, Mama. Dats Okay."

We have to go to my parents home and collect mail, etc, and Josephine cries, because her "popo" isn't there. I've been so sick, my house could be condemned. How can a virus last this long? How did my dad get too much medicine? Who the hell wrote "Homeward Bound?" They deserve an emmy at best.

Keep my parents (and my ear) in your prayers. Much Love.

Last Minute Prayers...

2009-11-18T20:55:00.000-06:00

I can't beleive I just googled "Bible verses to give you strength when loved ones are sick"...A more devout Christrian would probably cite something from memory, but I'll be the first to say, while I consider my relationship with God a private one, I still need to study and draw strength from others' sayings and experiences throughout this great book.

I just spoke to my dad, who seems to have all the confidence in the world everything will work out. My sweet, consistently over-worried mom (who in this case, I can give her some well deserved slack - reality vs. "what might happen" is a definite occurrence tomorrow while dad goes under the knife) is pretty much all my dad seems concerned with, which I think is a beautiful sentiment on his part.

When a marriage becomes a partnership as it so often does following the arrival of children; romance can go out the door. My dad was not a big on "PDA" - but it was the little things - like making sure my three brothers and I were "quiet" when she was taking a nap or that I not move too far away from home after college so my mom would be happy. Her needs always came first, even if it was a subliminal undertaking orchestrated by my dad.

But most importantly, my dad put the financial welfare of our family before anything else. Everything was intended for our happiness. They say most women end up marrying prototypes of their father, which obviously wasn't the case concerning who I chose. Although I will say, after my dad met "T," he told my mom that "T" was probably the smartest person he'd ever met. Alas, brains will only get you so far...

I'll end this blog with a prayer request and also share a timely passage I though fitting for the occaision... "...if you can do anything,...help us." "If you can?" said Jesus. "Everything is possible for HIM who believes." Mark 9:23

Waiting For The Locusts To Come

2009-11-18T13:46:00.000-06:00

"When it rains it pours."
"Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong."

I wish these popular adages didn't apply to my life on such a constant basis, but I'd be a fool not to believe I must have done something truly AWFUL in my past to have the "bad juju" follow me like a wistful puppy dog yearning for companionship and attention from its owner.

I don't mention my "work" as I believe it is not "proper business etiquette" to discuss my 40(+/-) hours away from my children. I will say that I am a writer and editor, but for a completely different genre, albeit one I take seriously.

I have always considered my job as a "career" - which means you have passion and take credibility for all the good and all the bad. A day away from my office usually results in something going wrong and guilt on my end for not being there to "fix" it.

But when your children are seriously sick - what can you do? My loving, stable parents are usually around to babysit in situations like this, but unfortunately they have been at MD Anderson Hospital since Monday, as my dad prepares to have over half his liver removed in a four hour surgery tomorrow.

I am literally wiping down vomit off couches while praying continuously that my dad makes it through his surgery and my mom doesn't have a nervous breakdown during the process. Keep in mind, they are the sole reason we moved to this town - to have the stability and 'constant' love and support from my parents so my daughters don't grow up to be reprobates. Semi-kidding.=

But this is real life, and God has a plan for us all. I've put all my eggs in his basket and if I'm thrown some duds - I'll deal with that stink the best way I know how. Wipe it off, hug my girls tight and reassure them everything is going to be okay.

God MUST Have A Sense of Humor

2009-11-16T20:19:00.000-06:00

As my parents prepared to leave for the 12 day stay at MD Anderson, I stayed behind helpless, lost in prayers and questioning everything about life and its purpose as my youngest bundle of joy, Josie Eats Mostly, suddenly stopped eating and caught a cough, cold and fever, which she unknowingly spread to her mother thru extraneous fluids...who am I to deny kisses and hugs when she needs them most?

So, here I sit, with a low grade fever, feeling MISERABLE, listening to my smallest daughter cough up a lung and trying to tend to her every need while her oldest sister pouts in jealous outrage at how unfair life can be...when the attention isn't all on her.

It is during times like these I "miss" having a partner. My parents have been my backbone and support for the past three years and when my mom needs me the most (during dad's surgery) this Thursday, I'll be at work. I will already be behind from missing 2 days and next week the girls are set for surgery - more days off and more work piling up. All of this while the two people who've loved me thru thick and thin face their greatest battle.

*Cue Violin* - Is it too much to ask for some good news? OK, fever starting to climb...getting a bit too lucid:)

November: The Month From Hell

2009-11-14T21:41:00.000-06:00

Lot's going on this month, the most exciting and bone-chillingly scary is my dad's "liver" operation on 11/19. To give you some background, my dad, affectionately known as "Bill" or "Nazi" depending on you talk to (or who he talks too).

After retiring several times through out his very fortunate career(s), he made it official in 2007. It's not easy for my dad to "relax" - he's project-oriented and if he's not "fixing" something...you can see where I am going with this.

I won't make a long story too short, but after symptoms that a local doctor missed, he was sent into "the city" for a colonoscopy, which would lead to the diagnosis of a large tumor and subsequent "rectal cancer" that has been a literal pain in all our asses, especially his. After chemo and radiation shrunk the tumor, he had surgery to remove it. Unexpected complications kept him bed ridden and in severe pain for the two months and when he was "well enough" he began an intensive chemo program.

Thought we were out of the woods, but spot has appeared on his liver and he has been assigned an AMAZING liver specialist at MD ANDERSON who, on November 19, will remove a large part of dad's liver and we hope and pray it kills the cancer and the liver regenerates itself within 2 months.

While every daughter/father relationship is unique, I never realized how much I loved my dad until he was diagnosed and a future w/o him became somewhat of a reality posed in my head. Not to mention w/o my daughter's "baby daddy" (ghetto terminology for "biological father") currently playing an active role in their lives, the girls look at my dad as their dad. And that makes this situation all the more touching, poignant and devastating...

My girls will be having their own surgeries on 11/23 - tubes in (again)and adenoids out. My dad will be at MD Anderson hopefully re-cooperating for the scheduled week they think it will take, my mom by his side. I hate to ask her to come home one night so she can accompany me on the trip to the girls hospital, but I know what I'm capable of - and two children with back to back surgeries isn't on that list.

I have a lot of pride and don't like asking people for help. But I do know that my family needs prayers. Lots of prayers. So if you have read this far, I am grateful for the few words you can say in hopes of helping my dad recover quickly and healthily.

Thank You!!

Oxymorons

2009-11-14T18:19:00.000-06:00

For some reason, I tend to notice what others don't as I also tend to NOT notice what most observe. For instance, if my mom gets her hair colored, I can't usually tell unless she points it out. If my dad mows my lawn (LOVE you dad), I don't notice until my mom mentions it.

I DO notice things that to me, seem funny or ironic. While Sara and I were at Walgreen's today, I noticed the diapers, bottles and "all things baby" were located directly across the aisle from condoms, spermicides and all things that prohibit babies from being born.

Is that poor merchandising or sheer genius? By looking at the expensive baby items and the parents whose eyes seem glazed and their appearance disheveled - the unsuspecting male or female who is buying shaving cream eight products over might momentarily pause, think about their Saturday night date and stock up on some prophylactics.

This is my Saturday night. Put a fork in me.

Prologue: My Parents and The Big "C" - Part 1.

2009-11-08T16:54:00.000-06:00

My current living situation could be seen from the perspective as "half-empty" or "half-crazy" - either one fits. Without a "partner" I can lean on for both moral and physical support - my options are not exactly abundannt. Hence, I live next door to my parents. On purpose. My parents chose to retire in a quaint, small town - *cue* "Cheers" opening song "Where Everybody Knows Your Name..." (and you're always glad you came?). It's like high-school, but all the students are driving suburbans and keeping talley on those within their social circle. I won't lie - it's weird. I miss the anonyminity of the city desperatly; probably because I am a non-conformist and stick out like a sore thumb. But in a healthy, take-stock-of-what-life-is-all-about, kinda-way. It is definitely small-town America - but when you're completely alone and responsible for the welfare and stability of two small children, mom and dad don't sound too bad. When comparing the pros and cons of my current, god-willing "temporary" living situation, I am always amazed at where I am in life - cuz' it sure ain't where I thought I'd be when I left their home at the tender age of 18, hope and optimism clouding my eyes. The Pros: They love my girls unconditionally; it doesn't get much better than that. My mom is an AMAZING cook (I burn toast) and invites us over to eat during the week. Convenient, as they are only 200 feet away. My dad does my lawn work. God love him. He just finished his last round of chemo and has managed to maintain my yard. Superdad. If the girls get sick, they help watch them during the day so I won't lose my ever-so-precious "Personal Time" at work. You're allotted a certain number of hours each year; let's just say I am always cutting it close come December. My mom is a "worrier" - she is constantly on CODE RED in case an emergency strikes - the key phrase being "in case." These emergencies encompass anything; from the girls climbing the stairs "They could fall and break their necks!" (I am reminded EVERY time we go over there) - to the mundane, "Are the girls in the restroom? What if they find a chair to climb on and get into something?" And so on and so forth. Kinda takes the enjoyment out of my rare opportunity for adult conversations. She would have made an amazing safety inspector. For real. My dad, Bill, is a time nazi and watches me leave for work each morning as he sips coffee and reads the paper. His window shade is rolled up as he watches me try and get two unwilling participants into a car, backpaks thrown around my neck, all while I try and keep our dog from racing out the front door. He'll then bitch to my mom about me being late. I refer to this as "Living in a Fishbowl." I wouldn't trade this time I have with them and their stable influence they have had on my children for all the tea in China. While I miss the familiar and open floorplan Target used to offer in the city, Super Walmart isn't that bad. As long as you have anti-bacterial wipes and the patience of Ghandi.

The X Factor

2009-11-04T20:04:00.000-06:00

I have received several e-mails this week asking about the "status" and "role" my ex-husband plays in our lives. While I have no doubt my ex has sincere love for his children, he has been out of their lives, aside from a random phone call, since last December. "Out of their lives" applies to both his physical presence and his monetary presence, as well. He currently owes close to $19,000 in back child support, and that is excluding his share of medical payments we were supposed to "split." It is a terrible shame that he is missing out on what are precious, irreplaceable moments his daughters exhibit on a daily basis. Obviously, I am extremely worried about the repercussions his lack of contact and financial contributions will have on my children's future. Being a "single mom" is hard enough, but to be a full-time, single mom with no "weekend help from dad" is even more difficult. But at the same time, I would never want to leave my children in someone else's care overnight. While they drive me crazy, they are my babies and I am the only "constant" they have, aside from my WONDERFUL parents, who live next door to me. On purpose. I hope that answers your questions:) And sure, there are times when I want to pull my hair out and call a voo-doo shop in New Orleans that would place a hex on his spineless, soulless, no-paying, good-for-nothing, dead-beat-dad way of evading the children he helped create… Instead, I choose to turn the other cheek, pray that God will forgive him for what he has done to his family and hope he can live with himself. But most importantly, I pray that my daughters grow up strong and proud, with a keen sense-of-self. And above all, PLEASE don't let them have "daddy issues" that play out in the form of some high-drama, high-school relationship that turns into a bad, Lifetime "movie of the week." Amen.

Warning: Flu Shots May Cause Your Toddler To Exhibit Bi-Polar Symptoms

2009-11-03T21:01:00.000-06:00

A bit extreme, but you'll see what I mean after watching Josie's video blog, taken three hours post flu shot. I have to give props to our extraordinary ENT team who came to our small town that has one, I repeat ONE clinic that contains doctors from all walks of life; the same can be said about 70 percent of the patients. That being said, it is the ONLY office that houses pediatricians in a town of 16,000. And while I LOVE those pedis, I LOATHE their surroundings. It's like walking into a holding tank of germs and disease. By principle, I'm not a type "A" person. Who has time to be anal retentive when you're a single mom to two messy children? But I definitely fall into the "germa-phobe" category. I look like a drill Sargent gone awry when I take the girls to the clinic, literally following them around with anti-bacterial wipes, barking orders like "DON'T touch that!" and "Don't put that in your mouth!" And without fail, after each visit one of us will catch something the other showed no signs or symptoms before "visiting" the clinic. I'll stop before my soap box shoves me off the edge. I was over the moon that our ENT met us at a different locale, clean, breezy - the walls adorned with Renaissance-era paintings. The down side was the hour and a half wait. My girls don't do well in small, contained places. Sure, they have a ball, at the expense of other guests who will leave there wondering if they'll ever be able to hear again. Not to mention the magazines that got dumped over twice, the door Josie tried to escape out of three times in a row and the hysterical screams of two little girls as they finally got their flu shot. Put a big, fat fork in me.

The Dreaded Call from Sara’s Principal…

2009-10-28T22:55:00.001-05:00

The Dreaded Call from Sara’s Principal…

While caller ID has afforded us so many luxuries over the past ten years (or so), in the realm of parenting and what equates to immediate heart palpitations is when you (and if you work in a cube environment – your co-workers, too ) see their children’s school identified on the opposite end of the line. I believe that no news is usually good news…Except in my case. 100 percent of the time.

As I answered my office phone in a chipper and professional manner, I dreaded the news awaiting me on the other end of the line. Especially when the opening sentence is, "Now don't be worried, no one was hurt." I immediately reached for my Excedrin and said a prayer to Jesus all in the span of five seconds. Warm greetings were exchanged before the bombshell dropped.

“Sara has had an accident involving a pair of scissors,” she explained calmly – as I immediately felt my blood pressure climb.

Visions of a scissor-wielding five-year-old instantly came to my mind, perhaps a little boy she had pushed to the edge? This thought was overshadowed by my growing concern for my own daughter's safety - could she have been "cut" on accident? Again, racing thoughts and proposed hypothesis in less than five seconds.

Thankfully, my mind was put to ease fairly quickly. During "arts and crafts" she managed to cut her pant legs to shreds. Nice. That's my girl!

I sheepishly explained she was learning to sew at home, with my mom's assistance. By now I was sweating - both from the call itself and the fact that my co-workers in cubes surrounding me could hear the conversation clear as a bell.

I made the walk of shame out to my company's parking lot, followed by the drive of shame to her school. Being the burgeoning blogger that I am, I wanted to capture something on film. Sad, but yet something we can look back on in 25 years and laugh about. Maybe.

P.S. In an attempt to rush back to the office, I clipped a co-workers car which will cost me over $1,000 to fix - out of my own pocket - I had traded cars with mom that day. Even Better! The cherry on top of my day.

The Bad JuJu - Part Four: And Baby Makes Three...

2009-10-22T15:00:00.000-05:00

And Baby Makes ~~Three...~~ Two

Watching my daughter's birth was surreal. "T" spent most of his time on the ~~blackberry~~ crackberry, while my mom held my hand and answered my every need. She is the most giving, selfless woman I know. Her whole life was her children, which is another reason why I yearned to be a stay-at-home-mom - if T was bringing in close to six figures - why not? It wasn't like we would starve or have our utilities cut off because someone forgot to pay them and didn't give his wife access to his bank account after leaving on a business trip halfway around the world. Wrong again.

When my daughter was ready to poke her head out, the doctor asked if I wanted a mirror positioned so I could "see." I was facinated and embarrassed at the same time. I asked Thomas not to look, as there are some things between a man and woman that should be upheld as sacred. But it was like passing a car accident on the highway - you couldn't help but look. Til' this day, her arrival through my birth canal has been the best 5 seconds of vision my eyes could ask for.

While not the most attractive scene, it was amazing. T later told me he could go his whole life without seeing that again. I KNEW he would be disgusted, which is why I told him to LOOK AWAY! Suffice it to say, our sex life would take a plunge into dormancy following Sara's birth.

So, there I was, in the suburbs...with a husband who didn't communicate and a baby who cried...alot. T had sold his truck and was using my car as our single mode of transportation. I could use it if I wanted to get up at the but crack of dawn, wake and feed a baby, change a diaper and screw up her morning nap time - which was my only time to myself. It was sacred, that time...

You could call it "stuck"..."isolated"..."alone" - whatever it was, it didn't agree with me. The "free spirit" began to get her wings clipped. I would look through photo albums of trips I'd taken with friends, ex-boyfriends, business...I'd spend time staring at my "skinny jeans" - wondering if I'd ever wear them again. And then I'd hear the distant cry of my daghter, and all selfish thoughts went out the window.

Looking down at this little human with large round eyes that seemed wise beyond her years made me that more determined to start shutting down the person I used to be - fun, outrageous, carefree and adapt to whatever this baby would need me to be.

I remember telling my friends who were appalled at my situation, "When you have a baby, you give up the right to be frivilous." I think that fell on deaf ears, especially for my generation whom I deem the "instant gratification nation"

Stranger Danger Warning and the Repercussions of Letting Your Bored, Mischievous Five-Year-Old Know About 911

2009-10-18T17:13:00.000-05:00

Along with a divorce comes the sale of what a husband and wife once called "home." "T" and I lived in a nice home in the suburbs of Dallas, complete with a corner lot and dive-friendly swimming pool.

The swimming pool was a "luxury" item I tacked on to our home search while shopping for our family's nest. Mind you, I was seven months pregnant with my first child, and oddly enough didn't take into consideration all the dangers a swimming pool held for a stay-at-home-mom and her baby/toddler...The Optimistic vs. Realistic Conundrum I would soon face on a daily basis...

Getting back to my main point...We now rent a "home"...and Dallas-suburban it is not. It lies on a street that begins out above-middle class and ends up ghetto-fabulous by the end of the block. Suffice it to say, there are many men I find "sketchy" roaming our street - both during the day and evening hours.

Fortunately, we have a dog who barks his ~~balls~~ head off anytime the hint of a footstep is heard by his superieor canine hearing. Of course, at 2:00 a.m. his barking will awaken me, and I will forgo sleeping and lay with my cell phone, ready to dial 911 if I hear a doorknob rattle. This lack of sleep tends to make me quite the charmer the following day.

As my five-year-old blossoms into a young lady, I want her to be in the "loop" of what to do if a stranger approaches her-whether she is at home, school or any location in the continental United States.

We had a family member abducted last year, getting off a school bus in a very affluent neighborhood. She is a sharp little cookie, but at the innocent age of six believed the man in the car when he said "her mommy asked him to pick her up"...An Amber alert was issued and fortunately the man had dropped her off in a parking lot, but not before inflicting damage.

I remember staying up the entire night in shock, crying and praying for not only my young cousin, but especially her parents. To imagine your child violated in any way is something I can't begin to fathom. Sara was four at the time, and as "street smart" as she appeared, I couldn't bring myself to "discuss" what lay beyond her innocent little world.

I decided to give the "911" talk last month as my purse was literally stolen out of my car (the bad juju) in addition to my dad's truck being stolen in broad daylight. These are the acts of people with little remorse and who feel above the law. Not an ideal demographic.

So I sat my sweet, first-born daughter down to talk about how "there are some individuals who aren't very nice. They could look nice-"

"But they could look sketchy too, huh Mama?" she asked - as if she were already "schooled" on the subject.

Aside from regaining my posture as quickly as possible while suppressing a laugh (Couldn't be helped. To hear her say "sketchy" threw me for a loop). She seemed so...adult-like, all of a sudden...My baby is becoming a big girl. Both bittersweet and touching was this conversation of ours.

I agreed with her about appearances, but also carefully skipped around labeling someone because of their looks. For all anyone knows, a "bad man" could like like Mr. Rogers and still be a person with bad intentions. "Who's Mr. Rogers?" she asked me. Oy veh...

Anywho, I explained dialing "911" was for emergencies ONLY!! If she found herself in the trunk of a car and happened to see a cell phone, grab it and dial 911!

She liked this exchange of worse-case scenarios and began throwing out other scenarios where "911" might need to be called. "When Josephine finally goes number #2 on the big girl potty?" Not exactly...

I decided to let that knowledge rest in her head, hoping she would never have to utilize it.

Well, she utilized it all right. Three times in a row, no less.

I typically find places to hide my cell phone, as Sara is extremely chatty and loves to dial random numbers and talk. Before you silently accuse me of being a hands-off mommy, keep in mind I have a two-year-old who likes to "get into things" and between keeping a diligient eye on both girls, somethings go under the radar.

Like the ONE time I take a shower by myself (I kid you not, I can't take my eyes off of them for a minute. It is non-stop. 24/7), believing both girls to be watching a movie on mommy's bed. It wasn't a luxurious shower by any means. Straight nozzle action and to the point. Out in five minutes.

I walk into my bedroom and the bed was missing a child. Shocker. I hear my phone ringing and run through the house, intent on finding Sara - and all-knowing she had found my phone.

She was under the dining room table (I had placed the cell in the dining room centerpiece...) I saw her arm extended with my phone in her hand "It's for you Mama," was all she said.

"Mam, this is 911 - is there any emergency you are experiencing right now?" ~~Damn~~ Darn it.

I explained to the very patient - and kind - emergency operater that I had "the talk" with my daughter the night before. She knowingly laughed, and said that Sara had called three times to say "hello" and "talk" within a seven minute period. She said it happens all the time, and I might want to "hide my cell phone" in the future.

Put a fork in me....

The Cat is Out of the Bag!

2009-10-15T20:58:00.000-05:00

Holy Majolie - my worst nightmare has become a reality. As I've mentioned before, my second pregnancy was like the "immaculate conception" - and while I would have been happy with whichever sex God had in mind for me to give life to, I secretly prayed for a girl.

From Loving...

To Catty

I had fantasies of my two little ladies, brushing each others' hair, giggling together over funny cartoons and growing closer as they became young women, and ultimately - relying on one another when they become mothers and wives...

Reality is a funny thing. I'm the type of person who "lives in the moment" - savoring each experience that life throws my way. As Josephine hits the very real "terrible twos" - those savory moments have become more like a melting pot of raw, uncensored emotional outbursts. And while that is part of the growing game, having to endure her older sister's taunting wasn't in my brochure. Enjoyable? Not so much.

While common sense (and my ever present parents next door) tells me to intervene; I sought "real" advice from a child psychologist as I was finding myself constantly aggravated with the shrill screams and tears that turn on faster than a leaky faucet. The psychologist thought I should turn a deaf ear and eye, allowing the two children under five to work out their conflicts "on their own."

So I decided to give it a try. Without fail, the girls began arguing over a toy - typical. I stood my ground firmly in the adjacent living room - where I could hear but couldn't "see." I could hear Sara antagonizing the sweet little two year old with Shirley temple curls. Halfway into "Na-na-na-booo-boo; you can't ca......" I heard a "thunk" and piercing screams erupt from my five year old.

As I rounded the corner in a panic, I thought my eyes were deceiving me. Sara lay crumpled on the ground, screaming incoherently about her eye. Next to Sara was a small, miniature (metal) can of orange juice. As she raised her head up, I could already see the bruise beginning to swell on her cheek.

I turned around and looked at what has always been my sweet, soft spoken little toddler. Here eyes belied her age. I was staring at an angry two year old who'd had it with her tormenting older sister. She then mumbled something like, "Don't do it again Ra-ra!" (she can't enunciate her S's just yet)...So much for my fantasy; not to mention the new age crap the psychologist fed me. The claws are out. It's getting catty.

Put a fork in me...I'm done.

The Bad JuJu: Part Three - Baby on Board and Lack of Interpersonal Skills Go Duly Noticed

2009-10-09T21:38:00.000-05:00

I knew I was pregnant both times it happened. I was as fertile as a Washington County hill. When you cognitively realize you are more than likely with the "wrong person" - it usually happens on your way to the "middle" after exhausting every form of "third-party assistance" and "self-help books." While the first few books were about fixing "me" - from three chapters into Dr. Laura's "The Proper Care and Feeding of Husbands" I found myself ready to throw the book against the wall into subtle, hormone-induced hostility.

Then came, "There's No Place Like Home: Steps to Becoming a Stay-At-Home Mom" - which reaffirmed my sense of who I was becoming whether I liked it or not - a mommy. I remeber T seeing the book lying on the floor and taking it all in. It was like the rose colored glasses had finally slipped down his nose (in a descent that would continue for the next 5 +years). It was obvious he had different intentions of what my role would be.

My first plan: Get back to Texas and family. Fast. I began searching for jobs that fit his field, finding him a headhunter. My attempts to "sway him in a positive way" were met with resistance. Even when he landed a job making $20K more in Dallas than he was in Califiornia - not to mention our move would be paid for completely. He was full of bitterness.

I'll never forget our move back from San Diego to Dallas. We left as a married couple in love and returned strangers; our only common thread the unborn child that grew larger and was like a soccor play in my ever-expanding belly (I put on a girlish 80 pounds during that first go round.)

I was exstatic and he became resentful. For this realization to come so shortly after marriage and to have a child growing in my belly - I made a promise to myself. Divorce wasn't an option. We didn't plan on starting a family right away, but why not look at it as a blessing instead of a burden? Hormonal influxes be damned!

I would be a dutiful wife, like my mother was - and be the best mom ever to my unborn daughter, Sara. Although T and I never had a long-term range in plan when it came to how we each viewed our role in the journey that is "parenthood" - surely we'd be on the same page eventually and things would just "flow" naturally. I couldn't have been more wrong.

The Bad JuJu - Part Two: A Sign From God...or I'm Just a REALLY Bad Driver

2009-10-08T22:18:00.000-05:00

While I had regrets leaving behind my glamorous life in Dallas to join my soon-to-be-husband in San Diego, California (where his company had just transferred him - hence the wedding in under a year scenario) - I was also excited at the possibilities. Close, intimate dinners at a beachside cafe. Long walks along the beach after work, taking Homer Dog to the "official dog park" on the beach, going to concerts or up the coast for the weekend...After all, while courting me, he spent money like it was water - as did I. Funny thing money: when you are both gainfully employed and "separate" yourselves as individuals through your own checking accounts; life is your own. The night before my wedding, following my rehearsal dinner - I was driving my bridesmaids to the hotel. By the grace of God, my one pregnant bridesmaid decided to follow behind us. Good thing, as when we were turning onto a busy Houston intersection, and believing the light to be green, ran through the intersection and was hit by on-coming traffic. While no one was hurt, the front end of my car was an eye-sore. My superstitious best friend looked at me ominously "after the dust had settled" and asked "Do you think this is God trying to tell you something?" I promptly answered her with, "If he is, maybe he should tell my parents who just spent a small fortune to bring over 150 of our closest family members together." Failure was not an option at that point. "T"(as I refer to my now ex-husband/dead-beat-dad) and I had "fun" together. But as I would soon realize, when the "fun" runs out and real life enters unexpectedly in the form of a pea-in-the pod, that's when you take a step back, look at your growing belly and begin to see what one another is truly made of. In our case, on a partner and friendship level - we were about as shallow as a puddle.

The Bad JuJu - Part One

2009-10-06T22:12:00.000-05:00

As my closest friends and closest co-workers know (my co-workers can't help it - the cubical world can hide from no one...which is why I rarely, if ever, take personal calls at work. That and the entire world will know your business by morning break time.) I lovingly refer to my company on a social scale as a large sewing circle - with break rooms:)

Alas, I drift away from my story. That happens quite often to an ADD -inflicted single mom. I might have problems focusing on details, but I am GREAT as seeing "the BIG picture" - It's a weapon that allows me insight and foresight that astrology.com believes will lead to great things...even speculating if I can combine idealism with realism - there is no stopping me! I paid a mere $9.95 for those pearls of wisdom.

Anywho - I have lived a charmed life up until the night before my wedding. I did a study abroad in France while in college (and am still paying back the student loan), I completed internships with CNN and The Beach Boys, taught English in Japan...I could keep bragging but that would get old. Did I mention I was one of the youngest "Brand Managers" ever hired by ABC Radio Network's corporate office in Dallas?

In a nutshell, I was living the dream. Travelling at the drop of a hat, competing in triathlons, hitting happy hour with my girls in Dallas - not thinking twice about dropping $300 on a pair of shoes (I could shoot myself...and if my German-bred father ever reads this, he'll do it for me). Life wasn't only good until the night before my wedding, it was great! *insert Tony the Tiger voice*

I met my husband on match.com. I have no regrets and would recommend their services to anyone. Mary's 411: Try and date for more than a year before getting hitched. And the old adage our parents and teachers employed to scare us in to abstinence "it only takes one time to get pregnant!" - it's freaking true! More on that in The Bad JuJu - Part Two.

They'll Be Coming Around the ENT Too Soon...

2009-10-05T22:15:00.000-05:00

Mary's 411: Allergins from all different types of grass call cause children's' allergies to wreak havoc on the ear. Stock up on some benedryal!

I had the melody, "She'll Be Coming Around the Mountain When She Comes" when I wrote this post's title. What a wretched song, lyrics and all, to have swimming in your head for 24 hours. I need my Coldplay...

The title of my post speaks volumes - unless you're childless or your offspring haven't experienced over five ear infections in a seven month period. Ah, the joys of daycare.

So, anywho, with less than 16 hours of "personal-time" remaining on my "time card" for the rest of the year, I was OVERJOYED to learn that both of my daughters will need new sets of tubes for their "unfortunately shaped" heads (which unbeknownst to me is the root of most ear-infection evils).

Did something go wrong during their delivery? How can both girls have "unfortunately shaped" heads? To top it off, Sara will need her tonsils AND adenoids out and I was told that my TMJ is caused from my "extremely large tongue" which "barely fits in my mouth." Now there's something you don't hear everyday. If I ever decide to date again, maybe I'll put that in my profile:

Single mother of two angelic handfuls whom occasionally soil the mattress I'm sleeping on looking for man who can help with homework and housework while making sure my daughters feel as equally loved as their mother. P.S. If changing dirty diapers, or as I refer to when in public; "We've got a Code Brown. I repeat, a Code Brown." disgusts you, then I'm probably not your girl. Also, my ENT believes my tongue is freakishly large for my mouth. Call me!"

REALLY looking forward to informing my boss that not only will I be out for both girls’ surgeries, but as the doctor weans me off my best-friend, a.k.a Lunesta, I will be required to attend a "sleep study" to determine if I have sleep apnea.

When the doctor told me this, my first thought which I verbalized ever so articulately was - "Sleep apnea? But I'm not old and fat!" And wearing what resembles to be a darth-vador mask at night should have the men lining up outside my door...I swear on everything holy, I couldn't make this sh*t up.

Morning Time Guilt...The Worst.

2009-10-03T19:03:00.000-05:00

Putting my children through the morning time rush of preparing them (and myself) for school brings out the worst in all of us. Domino effect of pressure. It's like I am the anti-thesis of my unique self. Pushy, berating my five year old as she slowly meanders around like she doesn't have a care in the world (which she shouldn't - that's part of childhood). So as we rush around, trying to get them fed, making sure teeth get brushed (I'll admit, some days it doesn't happen for them - they inevitably get toothpaste on their outfit and I look like the mom who sends her slovenly children to school in dirty clothes. I have to choose the lesser of two evils.) By the time I get them in the car, strapped in and racing to work, I am amiss in sweat and not exactly corporate-material. Unfortunately my department keeps track of our comings and goings, to a fault as some of the Type-A's thrillingly yell other Type-A's about "insert my name here" being late...or disheveled...or looking oh-not-too-fresh... Some days I am overly thankful for the 17 piles of papers on my desk that keep me busy from 8 to 5 as I won't have the time to sit and feel guilty that my daughters spend 40 hours a week with women I barely know, albeit 'nice' women, but still...These are the women that are getting to watch my daughters unique nuances that I have to strive and be cognitive of when they are in my care from 5:15 p.m. thru 7:45 a.m. I get mixed reviews about sharing a "family bed" (where a mother -and if dad's in the picture - share their mattress with their children) - but I wouldn't trade it for the world.Even though I am rushing around like a frantic woman to make sure they are dressed, fed and appropriately groomed (not an everyday occurrence), snuggling together in bed and seeing them wake up happy and refreshed is usually the best part of my day - unless the dog jumps on the bed and his hair sticks to their clothes as well as we are beset with the shedding of dander-driven allergies on their clothes - which means I have to bust out the lint roller and spend an extra five minutes making sure they are free of Homer Hair. Damn dog - but SO lovable and needy, just like my offspring. Although I have had death threats from neighbors, I can't seem to part with him. Story for another time...

The Grocery Store: Through the Eyes of a Single Mom

2009-10-03T18:50:00.000-05:00

Oh sweet Jesus, how I dread those trips. I plan it accordingly - like I would a special meeting invite with co-workers I know will lead to a disorganized meeting and it is up to me to "bring them back" to our original talking point. In this case, we have Sara-the-Terror (a well deserved, lovingly coined phrase befitting to her personality) and Josie-Eats-Mostly (she is 2 and sports a 4/5 T. Mind you, I forget to realize how special and uniqe these trips are for my girls - the child-like thrill of aisles full of over-priced toys (40% probably containing lead from China), the token "free cookie" our bakery hands out begrudgingly and the assortment of all walks of life passing us by as Sara argues her case for why pop-tarts are better for you than fruits and vegetables. I'll be painfully honest, sometimes she raises good points. But between Sara lecturing me on what she wants and why; Josie trying to scramble out of her locked-down position in the shopping cart before the screaming begins - I try to objectively look at this weekly trip from hell with humor and remind myself that in five years, they won't want to accompany me to the store. They'll just dictate a laundry list of wants and desires I will be asked to fulfill all the while denying myself frivilous wants and desires while stowing money away for their future educational pursuits...Ah, the future looks bright!

17 Things About Me.

2009-10-03T18:41:00.000-05:00

For non-family members and my growing number of "peeps" who have sent me very kind e-mails inquiring about my life, I created "17 Things About Me" because, let's face it, "25 Things" would be narcissistic.

My name is Mary. I’m also called “Mama,” "eccentric," "talented,” “giving (to a fault),” “selfish” and above all “entertaining.” I have a flair for speaking my mind in a warm, lucid manner and thrive upon doing so.
Favorite Quote: “I could not at any age be content to take my place in the corner by the fireside and simply look on.” – Eleanor Roosevelt.

Seventeen Random Things About Me:

1. I have lived in two countries – France (still paying off my student loans for that doozy of a study abroad trip while in college) and Japan (where I briefly taught English).

2. I never in a million years thought I would be a single mom – as the odds are piled against “us” – I look forward to proving those statistics wrong.

3. Education is sacred to me – your house and car can be repossessed, but no one can take away your college degree. Knowledge is power!

4. I live next door to my parents. On purpose.

5. I am a job snob and believe I am truly gifted with insight that is unappreciated as well as unknown to my superiors.

6. I used to be materialistic – and now I'm realistic. Wandering what stage comes next?

7. Sometimes I feel like a total failure. And then I look at my daughters and know I have done something right.

8. I was one of four students picked to intern with CNN at NASA when John Glenn went back to space.

9. I have no interest in ever falling in love again. Ever.

10. I used to compete in tri-athlons.

11. I have a hard time relating to my friends who don’t have children – they just don’t “get it”. Plus, I hate that their mobility is not encroached upon. To go to the grocery store unattended…a pipe dream for me, reality for them. Boo!!!!!

12. My dog has destroyed over $6000 worth of material items. But I still love him.

13. My dad has cancer. I cry at the drop of a hat. I never realized how much I loved - and needed him - until very recently.

14. I LOVE hip-hop music – especially old-school 90’s. “Ice Ice Baby” never gets old. I can dance like it’s nobody’s business.

15. I am actively seeking a church where I can relate to the minister – and my girls get their proper dose of religious zeal. Keep in mind they attend a parochial school which I am counting on to help send the message home.

16. I am a card-carrying republican, but have an open mind. Too open, sometimes.

17. I am a terrible cook. I burn toast.

Choosing the Pill (No, not that pill)

2009-10-03T18:23:00.000-05:00

My Matrix Analogy: While I CHOSE the hard path (the blue pill) vs. the less hard path (the red pill) - I sometimes wish there was a green pill that would not only send you back in time to a point where you made a terrible decision, but would allow you cognitive insight as to why you made that terrible decision - and like a chalkboard - erase it and start from scratch. If anyone knows of such a pill, enquiring minds want to know. Not one for understanding "adult" metaphors, there is one I keep finding myself thinking about - "Life's a bitch, and then you die." When I was younger and life was all about “me” I used to think “Who on God's green earth would come up with something so crass, so anti-life?” Now I know. It was a single mom, who was constantly under the gun at work, and then must rush to pick up two demanding children under the age of five, force them to eat something of substance as they protest in stereo while taking great joy in seeing their mother run around like a crazy woman to get it all done. Some nights I think - "There's gotta be another way..." It is usually between 3 and 6 a.m. when both girls are draped over me and unconsciously resting their cheek on my face and I feel their little bodies next to me that I realize how every exasperated breath I intake and exhale is worth all that and more. So - good-bye blue pill. Bring on more life - dish out what you can b/c no matter how bad things seem, I've got two beautiful human beings looking to me for love, support and guidance.