Best. Mail. Ever.

I truly did get the most exciting mail today!  Long ago (WAY too long ago), I started working on a printed version of the blog.  Well, you know, basically uploading it to a website, fixing anything that needed fixing, and then ordering it.  My plan at the time was have a hard-copy book of my pregnancy + Matthew's first year, ending at his first birthday.  THAT'S how long this project has sat untouched, unordered.  I finally ordered it last week and it arrived today!!  I am so excited to have this tangible book, that I will one day pass on to Matthew and I know he will just adore it.  (Or his wife will one day maybe.)  Now that I have it in my possession, I have plans for MORE.  I think perhaps 2 years in each book or something, since I didn't write as much after he reached a certain age. I love, love, love this special piece of Matthew's life.  And while, sure, I can log into the blog and see it anytime, oh geez is it awesome to hold it in my hands and flip the pages!

The best part is it really is the best baby book anyone could imagine.  When I started the blog, I was just chronicling my pregnancy.  That turned into updating friends and family far away about the birth, and then Matthew's life.  And while I've since added a tiny bit more of "my" life, it still remains, in large part- Matthew's story.  I distinctly remember a friend asking about Matthew's baby book when he was about 9 months old.  I had bought one, had written a couple of entries in it and then the book got left in a closet somewhere, never to be touched again.  I figured, eh, I've put all the big stuff on the blog, I'll just transfer it all to the baby book one day.  Then I realized I could print the blog into book format and said to heck with the baby book!  Anyway, the horrified look on her face when I said "no, I've given up on the baby book. I have so much more in my blog anyway" was one I will never forget.  I think I even doubted myself for a moment.  Well, I am here to tell you---I am in no way doubting myself anymore! There really *is* so much more here- not just the milestones, but the struggles, the happiness, the day-to-day life.  It's fabulous I tell you.



Hot date

Mike was out of town this week for work, so Valentine's Day was without romance, but not without LOVE.  I spent the day with a very special little man. 

He had school in the morning, and I went to help with the Valentine's Day party in his classroom.  (I was in charge of the craft.)  Matthew had fun and ate 3 pieces of pizza and a cupcake (this is a record amount of food for him!).  After we got home, he took a nap, then he opened his little Valentine's gift from me.

We spent a few hours playing outside, where we were joined by some neighbors.  He traded Valentine's with the little girls next door, and they had fun with sidewalk chalk and their little riding cars.

Then we came inside and had a very fancy dinner of grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup (ok, well, Matthew mostly just ate some mac & cheese).

Then my date had a bath and went to bed. 

It was quite the day!



Potty training update

Matthew decided he wasn't ready.  At first I was completely frustrated, as he had been doing so well.  I'm not sure if it was the novelty of it all, who knows.  He just stopped all together, and it was mess after mess after mess for me to clean up.  I didn't want to push him or frustrate him, so I just put him back in diapers and will try again in a few months.  No biggie.

Especially when it means I get to use the cute diapers some more!! hehe.

Since I've never put a "stash" picture on here...this is what our cloth diaper world looks like.

All his cute little diapers. 

Drawer of extra inserts, fleece liners and flushable liners.

How our mudroom looks on diaper laundry day.  The hanging bag is a wet bag and holds the dirties.

Sure beats having to buy pull-ups or disposables every week.



Epiphany

The other day I was looking at some pictures and I had a lightbulb moment.  My thyroid is looking better people.



Nevermind the crazy hair I got going on (can't seem to keep it a consistent color, can I??)  I'd say this picture shows it best.

Sidenote: I started looking at a bunch of older pics of myself.  My endocrinologist had mentioned based on other medical things, that it was entirely possible I've had Grave's for years without knowing it.  In hindsight, there are lots of pictures in my past with that crazy goiter in it.  Also, about 4 years ago, I did have a doctor notice it and send me for a thyroid ultrasound.  The ultrasound showed no problems, but she didn't run any additional testing antibody testing, so who knows.  It is also possible it was brought on post-partum.  A mystery we'll never know the answer to for sure.

Anyway, thought you all would love a pic of my thyroid. :-)

I am feeling exhausted and my legs feel like I'm walking in mud again.  Got latest lab tests back and my tsh is over 7.5 (my doc want it closer to 1.5), so at least there's an explanation for this crazy and intense tiredness I have all the time.  Looking forward to my appointment next Monday so I can get another nice dose increase of my hormone replacement. 

Closer and closer and closer to a normal state of health again.

My Funny Valentine.

Long before there was a Mike, or a Matthew, there was a Rose.

You see, Rose is my bff.  She is the kindest, funniest, most thoughtful, most generous, most like-me friend I have.  We met in 1999 as child life interns, and despite distance and life changes, we will always be friends.  I am quite confident that when we're old and grey, we will still be friends.  And more then likely, still be celebrating Valentine's Day together.

It all started in our single days- without any guys of our own, we went out for Valentine's day.  We remade it a day not of romance and love, but a day of friendship and fun!  Whether we were out drinking at a bar, or just watching movies and eating Taco Bell, we always made the best of the holiday.  A tradition was started, and although we certainly don't spend every single Valentine's day together now that I move all over the country- we have indeed spent a few (last year in Florida, one year in Dallas).  Quite honestly, especially now that we rarely see each other, I'd say a Valentine's Day when we get together just may be more special then a romantic Valentine's Day with my husband (oh yeah, I went there...hehe).  It's ok, not only does my sweetie Mike not mind, he actually said to me the other day "aww, you're going to be sad on Valentine's Day."  Me: "huh. why?"  Him: "because Rose isn't here."  True that.  I love that man for knowing this fact.

Anyway, the holiday is what you make of it, it doesn't have to be about candy hearts and sappy cards.  It can quite simply, just be another day to live it up.  Husbands, girlfriends, boyfriends, best friends, whatever.  There's always fun to be had on Valentine's Day!

Cheers!



Stay home mom-land

I'm going to go out on a limb and tell you something.  This motherhood thing?  I was born to do it.  No, really.  I know these days it's not necessarily as accepted to say you aspire to be a mom.  I mean, sure it's ok to want to be a mom, but so often we're also expected to have a career and all these other lofty aspirations.  Like somehow we're not good enough for making this choice instead of that choice. It gets even odder for me to say that I love, love my professional career that I exited to do this whole motherhood thing, and I in fact, can't wait to one day, when the time is right (hopefully) be back at it.  But when I was a kid, I'm not gonna lie, I really just wanted to be a mom (and a teacher and a nurse).  I wanted to be a mom like my mom was--those are some big shoes to fill!

Anyway, when you are in the working world, and make the decision to become a stay-at-home mom, phew- that transition is tough.  It's very surreal going from a world of dressing up, waking early, commuting, interacting with adults to the world of play dates, diaper changes, laundry, and keeping a kid alive and happy.  There is an adjustment period for sure.  I can't say there wasn't a time (think: sleep deprived, hormonal time), when I missed the working world and wondered if I made the right decision.  Ultimately, I knew I had though.  I was fairly firm in my belief that these short years of his life that he's not a full-time student, is a time period I will never get back again.  I cherish every moment I have with him.  I love watching him learn and figure things out.  I love teaching him.  I love loving him.  I consider myself lucky, and blessed, to be able to be a stay-at-home mom. 

 And no one reading this ought confuse it with a belief that anyone doing otherwise is in the wrong.  I am also a firm believer that the number one most important thing is that you are doing what is right for you and your family.  That will look different to everyone, and there's no need to compare yourself to what others are doing.  At the end of the day, just have no regrets about your choices.  I know I will never regret this time I've been given to do this job.

I only write this now, because I've been teasing myself lately with the fact that I'm starting to feel like your typical "soccer mom" (ha, well, without the soccer anyways).  In cliche fashion, I have joined a Bunco group with a bunch of other mom's I've met here; I've (gasp!) been looking at minivans; I volunteer to bring a craft project to my child's Valentine's day party; I've started knitting for pete's sake!  Last week, we were told to bring Valentine's for the kids at a playgroup party we were attending.  In my world this was translated to hand dipping and decorated chocolate covered pretzels and putting together 45 cutesy treat bags to attach the Valentine's to.  It's crazy what has become of me! :-)

This has also made me realize another thing (it's deep thoughts day here in livin' the dream land), yes, I have changed.  People always complain that parents have kids and they "lose themselves", become "different people".  You know what? Damn straight I'm different people!  My focus is entirely different then what it was 10 years ago.  My interests are entirely different.  The people around me are entirely different.  I fail to see how this is a bad thing.

So there it is.  My admission.  I am a stay-at-home mom and damn proud of it! 

And here's some pictures from our week:

The pretzels.
(thanks Chrissie for the drizzles!)

45 Valentine treat bags!

Craft for Matthew's school party tomorrow: 

(p.s. when I showed this to my husband, his reply was "wow. That turned out real nice. I didn't think you were creative."  Thanks dude.)

Sesame Street Live!!!
(I bought this Elmo toy, turned Daddy torture device for Matthew)

Waiting for show to start 

Hi cute stuff. 

Still trying to be entertained by the toy 

Attempting a mommy and Matthew picture. 

Never did get one where he was looking at the camera. 

Yay! Here they are! 

His chair-dance moves 

Cuddling up to Daddy in the backpack carrier 

Loving some nice weather again!

It's bike time!! 

That's right ladies...

He's mine.

ALL mine.

It's ok to be jealous.

I'm fully aware I have the most handsome Valentine there is.

Music moves me.

Literally and figuratively.

Most people don't know I was a music major in college, and actually have a bachelors in music therapy.  It's easy to be confused- if you've ever had the misfortune of hearing me sing or seeing me dance, you'd know that I pretty much lack the fundamentals (i.e. musicality and rhythm).  I changed my mind my junior year, but was so close to graduating, decided to get the degree then go onto graduate school for something I *really* wanted to do.  Other then being really, really stupid (well, not stupid per se, I did afterall get a 4.0 in grad school...brag over) and racking up student loans, I am glad I went that route.  But anyway, my whole point is, I don't know if it's because music was once such a huge part of my life, or if it's just normal, but music really, really has the ability to move me. 

Music is also tied so closely to my memory.  Like, if I hear "I can only imagine" by Mercy Me, I am suddenly sitting on the hospital bed of a 15 year old girl.  I've just spent a long amount of time talking with her about how there is nothing more the doctors can do, and that she is going to die.  She requested this song be sung specifically.  No, not by me...by the *actual* music therapist.  The entire room was transfixed--and I was blown away that this was the one song she thought of. (sidenote: despite all odds, she did not, in fact, die.  That is a whole other story, full of unexplained "miracles", that stumped even the medical staff).

Or, if I hear "Tainted Love" I am suddenly in the Ivory Tusk, beer in hand, my friend Kelley by my side, guns ablazing (yes, only Kelley will understand that reference).

Or, if I hear "Feels Like Home", I am standing with my best friend in all the world, promising my life to him, while all our family watches us get married.

Music moves me.  Which is what you have to understand when I tell you that I cried in spin class. Oh yes, I did.

My favorite spin instructor, Beth, well she just has a way with choosing music that motivates.  Usually because it gets the room excited, she "choreographs" the workout to fit the music, and really, it becomes a party.  It is quite simply the best way to spend an hour of my time, and I really wish she taught more than one spin class a week.  The music tends to be current and motivating.  But one day last week, in the middle of the workout (I'd say we were about 1/2-3/4 way through class), she did something different.  She told us to add resistance to our bikes, reach our hands out, backs flattened.  She says "put your head down. Close your eyes.  This is YOUR time.  This is YOUR workout.  You are here for you and no one else.  Just pedal, don't stop, don't change pace, for one whole song."  So there I was, head down, eyes closed, legs sore and shaking, feeling the power of my body- the one that has done nothing but fail me the last 8 months of my life.  Feeling myself stronger then I've been in a long time.  The song?  Pink.  F'ing perfect.

Sounds funny, right?
But the words just got to me.

"mistaken, always second guessing, underestimated, look I'm still around"

"Pretty pretty please

Don't you ever ever feel

Like you're less than

F'ing perfect

Pretty pretty please

If you ever ever feel

Like you're nothing

You're f'ing perfect to me."

And sure, maybe the song is about something different, I don't know.  But there is a message of accepting yourself in there.  I heard it....I realized how much I fight accepting myself.  Hell, someone gives me a compliment in my blog telling me I look great and I counter with "eh, must be the angle of the camera, because, I do not in fact, look great".  I did force myself to delete that because I realize I cannot take a compliment, and I also can't seem to accept myself the way I am.  Anyway, in my head, while pedaling away, that song spoke to me.  Telling myself, hey, stop beating yourself up.  So you don't have a perfect, skinny body. So you doubt yourself all the time.  So you lack confidence.  Stop it.  You're perfect.  You are here.  You are working hard.  You are perfect. 

And yes, I had tears (well, tears and sweat) in my eyes.

And THAT is how I managed to cry in spin class.

I blame the music.

Our week

Going to a car show downtown on Saturday:

Matthew at naptime (a picture of the video monitor).  He was just chilling on the floor reading books instead of in the bed sleeping:

How I got Matthew to drink spinach:

(fruit/veggie smoothie in a cool cup= "mmm, mama soothie! Tank you!")

Typical potty training atire around here.

Shirt, baby legs (leg warmers), underwear (or comando...obviously I wouldn't post a pic of that one):

Cozy fire for our cold  Texas night (no really, it's cold here today!):

P.S. potty training is not going well.  Lots of accidents (him), lots of tears (me).  Still working on it.