Slow down time!

He has graduated Preschool and next year will be in Pre-K and I suddenly feel like time is just moving faster and faster and faster… His school had a Circus theme this year and he proudly stood up and said his full name. It’s a good thing I was sitting down, because I would have swooned myself unconscious otherwise.

After graduation I took them to the playground and they ran themselves ragged then we all got pizza with our friends. An A+ day for sure!

#1 So, it may or may not be common knowledge that I am a bit of a beauty product whore. Okay, it’s known. Listen, I am fighting time for all that it is worth! Last week I went to a book launch party at Denise Sharpe hair salon for some yummy wine and Lost In Suburbia (which I am halfway through and it is hilarious and all too relate-able) Anyway, Theraderm was there and they had a massive gift basket for a giveaway. When it came time for the drawing I assured everyone I wouldn’t tackle them and steal it, I wanted this skin care system THAT BAD that it had indeed crossed my mind. I never win ANYTHING, but I won!
It’s been a little over a week and I am loving it so far. You guys? My sun damage spot is lighter! It’s incredible. It’s a little pricey, $150 for the starter kit. Would I just drop that much on a starter? I’m not sure, but will I reorder? It’s highly likely. My favorite is the peptide moisturizer. I want to bathe in it. I did a little research and it take 4-12 weeks for peptides to really work, but the fine lines around my eyes are shall we say, finer? I’ll update on the progress in a few weeks, but so far so good.

#2 my baby got a baby. A batter grip and I am in love.

#3 This picture of Huckleberry. I could stare at it all day. He turns two on the 4th and I feel like time is slipping right through my fingers. Everyday he is bigger and stronger and less a baby; more a kid. He points to the Beatles and says “Bee-ullz” and lest you wonder, he will walk up to you, eyes twinkling with glee and announce “I poo!” And he has.

Have a wonderful weekend! Enjoy Memorial Day, we are heading to the Capitol for the concert on the grass. Here’s hoping it doesn’t get rained out. Again.

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I pretty much die for his little happy dance. Happy Monday!

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So, while last week dragged on and on, this week seemed to fly! It was just Monday! This week was full of new sounds for Huck who is finally deciding that speaking might be a good plan. I was glad to have Heather evaluate him while were in LA, so I knew where we were just in case we needed speech therapy or any intervention. She gave him a thorough exam and declared that he understood everything, could follow all commands but he was just a boy with a hyper-verbal older brother and a bit of a lazy mouth. For example he is not really a big fan of chewing food, thank you very much. Unless it’s a cookie. This week he started saying ‘more’ when he signed it and busted out with keekee (cookie), peez (please), fen fie (french fry), and hysterically enough exackee (exactly). He is getting more and more confident and I am swooning over how happy he gets when he mimics a sounds and we all praise him.

Before you know it I’ll be thinking, does this kid ever shut up?

This week Boss’ teacher decided that kids with Summer Birthdays get a bum rap, so on Wednesday he celebrated with his  classmates. We served baseball cupcakes and gave out goodie bags. Boss was so happy he beamed all day long and wore his birthday crown until it was almost bedtime. I was so happy he was able to experience this, he felt so special. I am so grateful for his teachers. They are incredible.

I know…I know, this A Beautiful Mess app is like the JCrew bib necklace. Every blogger has it and all our pictures will look the same. And yet? Yet I do not care. This makes it so easy to make cute, quick pictures for the blog and face book. Totally worthy of a Friday Obsession. Go ahead and buy the extra backgrounds, fonts and borders. These women must have made a MINT on this app this week. I know I tossed a fiveski their way.

I want this bee statement necklace from Jeweliq hardcore. All their necklaces are 25 bones! I just can’t decide…mint? or mint and coral?

This article by Clever Title TK’s brother on the burying of the Boston Bomber is brilliant. He brings in Greek Tragedy and it’s breathtaking. I want him to write all the things from now on, thank you very much.

This? Is just plain old bad ass.  This woman says to heck with Barbie and Princesses and recreates incredible portraits of strong women with her daughter. Not Just A Girl is a series I could look at all day. Cool. (also, I want that hat.)

photo by Jaime Moore 

Hope your weekend is full of fun play dates and fancy mustard…that’s how Huck and his buddy do things.

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This morning I was feeling solid euphoria. I cleaned the entire house. I was in awe of the power and effectiveness of my Goddess body. I felt clear and relieved and okay. And I wanted to scream at myself “DO NOT BELIEVE THIS!! IT IS A LIE!” I remember this elation after my first child was born. I felt beautiful and sexy and strong. And then post partum kicked in and my life went into crazy land. I am getting ready for this loony ride. I know it is coming. But this time, there is no baby at the end. No sweet baby girl. For years I have meditated on the words “I will have a healthy, happy, smart, baby girl”. For weeks I believed it was time. I dreamed of my sweet girl. I had names. I couldn’t help it. I had names picked out for her. I know this was not the time. Ammar and I did not make a conscious decision to have this baby. We have not even yet made complete, conscious, decisions to be together. My engagement ring still sits in my bedside table. Waiting.

So this baby girl, perhaps knew this was not the time. She jumped in, an eager soul to be with this lovely family. And we are a lovely family. We love each other, we play together and Isaiah is the happiest, sweetest boy I could ever have dreamed up. But perhaps my smart, baby girl realized this was not the time. We were scared of money. We were scared of being able to provide for a family with two children at this time. We were scared of losing each other, caring for a baby before we were ready to care for ourselves. This perfect soul decided to give us some more time. I knew something was wrong. I felt a burning for weeks. The doctor said it all looked good, but I felt the difference. So I stopped having morning sickness. My breasts stopped swelling as they did last time when they gave me a brief moment of Barbie doll status. My last pregnancy I felt like a rock star. I knew this one was different. At nearly 10 weeks, I went into work. I did not feel like moving, so I was working at my desk. Coloring an activity for a future lesson plan. Meditative work. Then I started bleeding. Just a little bit but I knew something was wrong.

I showed up at the OBGYN. Could have been just a normal check-up where she told me I was being over anxious and that everything was just fine. They set me up with an ultrasound. Laying there, I saw it. I saw her. I knew. I knew before my  doctor  said a word. My clinical but gentle Dr. stated, “ I am not seeing movement…like I should… and… I don’t feel a heartbeat.” This took a life-time to say. Slowly it sunk in. No sweet baby girl. No more dreaming and planning for a future baby to snuggle and love, with all of my mommy heart. I love being a mommy. Nothing has made me happier. I feel so perfectly right as a mommy. Of course I make mistakes and feel at a loss much of the time. But I am supposed to be doing this. Before Isaiah, I had never felt so overcome with love. Every cell in my body loves… no worships this boy of mine. I dote on his smell, his words, his laugh, his very being. I can watch him for hours and I miss him when he goes to sleep. I am meant to be a mommy.

I also always pictured myself with a baby girl. Don’t get me wrong, I love having a boy. There is nothing like the feeling of being the sun and the moon and the stars to a little boy. We are connected like no one else. We make perfect sense. He grabs my hand, and checks if it is cold or warm, and I swoon. He tells me I smell like glitter and he always wants me to put him to bed at night. I love my boy. But I also have an image of my girl. We will probably fight. She will probably think I have bad taste in everything and I will never be cool enough for her. But she will be my legacy. She will be the one who pours over who I was after I am gone. She is the one I will have tea parties with and then years later, glasses of wine and chats at midnight. She will get my diamond ring and my special “sweet 16” necklace given to me by my mommy. To me, she will be the most beautiful person who has ever walked the earth. She will be more than anything I can presently imagine. Some day I might tell her about my miscarriage. The baby who was not meant to be. I will hold her and hug her through her downs and tell her how powerful she can be. The power of a woman’s body. How we can create life. How we can take care of ourselves through all kinds of trauma. How we are survivors. Maybe I will help her shop for a prom dress or hold her hand when puts the tiara on her head as a final touch before she walks down the isle. Or maybe not. Maybe I will support her decision to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro or fight fires. Who knows, but I will always be my children’s mommy and love them. No matter what.

But for now, I will live through this miscarriage. I will bleed and bleed and bleed. I will live through this cramping, through this extreme pain. This broken heart. Thank you for showing me a strength I never thought possible. Good-bye for now, my baby dream. Until we meet again.

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All the words to the Humpty Dance, my brain has em. Where I put not just one but two of my treasured possesions? Nada.

Why do brains work like this? And will one of those Train Your Brain dvds help? Shall I see a hypnotist? Definitely prayers to St. Anthony who came through the last time I put my engagement ring somewhere. I know…I KNOW. Have you ever left your ring somewhere silly? And sweet jebus I promise I will never take it off again when I find it. I miss it. It’s pretty. I can remember the first time I saw my ring in a magazine and I said “real people don’t get rings like that.” But I did. And now I can’t find it. In the immortal words of Liz Lemon BLURG!

In other news I cut my own bangs yesterday and it’s great. Less Zooey more crazy first grader wields dull scissors. I exagerrate, but I am just batting a thousand over here. As my husband says, “Oh, Stearns. When will you learn?”

I guess the answer is, not yet.

Prayers for my ring, okay?

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I don’t get out much.

In addition to star rewards, you also get free downloads. And this has been my demise. I realize that my days of uber coolness have passed; if they ever existed at all, but I am reminded on a daily basis that I am no longer the target demographic…even if I am the demographic that probably spends the most dough at ‘Bucks.  These free downloads are song downloads. Songs by artists I have never heard of. Hossenpfeffer Ironic and Edith’s Ennui (I made up those names with a nod to Downton Abbey. I’m not even cool enough to muster brain cells to remember the bands I don’t know) I simply delete these, annoyed at the little red 1 that appears next to my app.

The worst (or best) part of this is that I can’t even be bothered to look them up to see if they are any good. Maybe I might like them. But then Imagination Movers is on and Mover Rich is looking good these days.

Maybe someday their theme song will be the free download. That’s a song I know. Maybe someday Mover Scott will rethink that chin hair.

Also? GET OFF MY LAWN!

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Fact: I did one thing to this picture of the Boss. One Pretty Baby Lightroom Preset. The skin and eyes are all his. I’d hate him if I didn’t love him so much I want to squeeze him till his head pops off.

I hope you all had a wonderful Mother’s Day, I did! My husband, sons, cat and dog all sent me beautiful flowers and then we headed off to Starbucks then the National Cathedral and Cactus Cantina. My hand to God I could drink their salsa. While we were headed to the Cathedral we saw a terrible accident on the freeway so we pulled over and Zach ran out to help while I called 911, we stayed on the scene until help arrived. I was so moved by how many people stopped to help. A junior officer ran to the car to make sure it was turned off since it was smoking. An off duty fire fighter, and ER Doctor, a nurse and just regular people stopped to help direct traffic, hold the driver’s neck steady, comfort him and make sure that no one else was injured. It was quite incredible. Almost makes up for the woman in the prius who cut him off making him spin into the wall THREE times, apparently she got out of her car said “I’m fine”and then drove off. So some people suck, but more people rock. Stitch that on a sampler y’all. Mama is profound.

I was well and truly spoiled but my very favorite gift was this:

 

nothing and I mean nothing beats a home made card by your kid. At least not in my book.

Did you kids make you cry on mother’s day? Mine did.

While the focus is off in this picture I think the way Huck is looking at Boss makes up for it. I love it.

 
P.S. Gatsby…good. Some directorial choices did not work for me AT ALL, but it was a good time and totally worth seeing it on the big screen. For nothing else but the costumes, sets and jewelry! It made me want to cut my hair and talk Skinnerian. But I won’t.

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Things I loved this week:

Listen To Your Mother is having a motherhood link up…some seriously good writing over there.  Especially this by my LTYM show Producer Kate.

This is CRAZY disturbing and then disturbing/hilarious…what if gender roles were reversed in advertising. Because what are we teaching our girls? And boys, for that matter!

This little Kate Spade ring. It’s calling to me…It wants to be mine.

What are you guys up to this weekend? Here is hoping you are all spoiled rotten for Mother’s day. Or at least allowed to pee by yourself, because that? is a serious luxury, isn’t it?

Of course, these two are the greatest gift ever. Even if I myself have not been allowed to use the loo in a solitary fashion for nearly five years. Still, love em like whoa.

HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!!!

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I love him.

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Every once in a while we as parents get to watch our child’s dream come true. Little League (T-ball actually, but don’t tell Boss that) has been all we’ve talked about in this house for almost two years while Boss waited not-so-patiently to be old enough to play. While he waited he studied Bryce Harper, watched games on TV, went to the batting cage with Daddy, and practiced, practiced, practiced. Asking me almost every day “is it time for my Little League?”

Finally this Spring I was able to say yes, baby, it’s Little League time. He took to the field like a champ and didn’t suffer anyone on his team not taking it seriously. The second game of the season I caught him talking smack to the kid who was on base while he was playing 3rd. “Max!” I snapped. “It’s okay” said the other teams coach “Smack talk is totally allowed.” Apparently so is spitting. Thanks Coach. We now have on ON FIELD RULE in play for spitting, scratching and smack talk.

He loves baseball, he loves Little League. Every morning he asks “Is today my game?” and I love nothing more than being able to say “It’s game day!” Last week it rained all week cancelling Monday and Wednesdays games. Boss was heartbroken. Daddy made it up to him by letting him play pitcher in the first inning of Saturdays slightly muddy game. Pitcher is where the action is, even in T-ball. Especially if you wind up and pretend pitch when someone is up to bat. Never miss a chance to practice your form is the motto of the Boss.

The batter hit the ball straight to him, it bounced up and slammed into his mouth. I am not sure how I got on the field. I think I actually may have blacked out. One moment I was behind the fence and the next my feet were crunching the dirt of pitcher’s mound. Coach Daddy and Assistant Coach Kris had already gotten to him, his face red, eyes welling with tears. His baseball glove covering his mouth as I reached for him, expecting sun warmed chubby arms to wrap around me, letting me carry him to the dugout. He was nodding to the Coaches “I’m okay. I’m okay.” Fighting tears still. Then he saw me. He gave me a look. A look that clearly said What. the. fuck. are you doing here? Then he said with utter disdain GET OFF THE FIELD!

So I did. All the parents worriedly asking me what he said and then laughing when I told them. Boss meanwhile went right back to playing ball, playing his heart out. I could tell he was hurting, he protected his mouth the rest of the game but he kept on playing. I was so proud of him. The other teams Coach and team cheered for him, Coach telling me after the game “He is a baller!”, and he is. Later, he let me snuggle him and make sure he was alright. But like spitting is forbidden at home; snuggling is forbidden on the field.

Yup. Sometimes they want just want their mommy. And sometimes they just want you to get the hell off the field.

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