The Documents

Three and a half weeks after officially filing for divorce, the documents have arrived. They must all be signed before a Notary Public. Part of me wants to run and jump - "freedom at last!" But most of me feels like crying - releasing the pain of a difficult 6 1/2 year marriage. Mostly I think my sorrow is for our children. Our hope? That they are young enough that this will not affect them in the long run or cause trauma to their delicate little beings. We truly are doing this FOR the children. (And for us too, of course). We reached a point where 'staying together for the kids' was more harmful than separating. We want our children to have the chance to grow up seeing healthy examples of what marriage is and should be, as opposed to our 'house-mates putting up with each other' situation. We both hope to find love - true love, and that our kids will see that it can and does exist in this world. We want our homes to be full of peace and love, not tension and anger. Peter and I care about each other still. We love each other - enough to give the other the freedom to try their hand at finding 'the one' who is compatible with who we have each become, and hope to become. This is not easy for any of us. Tears have been shed and will yet be shed by all of us, I am sure. But we both believe and feel that this is what is right for all of us here and now. Our split is amicable. We realize this isn't common, but request that you accept it as such, and not try to turn things sour between us. We want our children to feel safe and happy with both of us whether we are separate or together. We don't want our kids to feel that they have to choose between us. We are still a family, no matter what. We will be a part of each others lives forever.

Six Years

The six year anniversary of my marriage came and went a few weeks ago... Talk about awkward. How do you acknowledge your wedding anniversary when you both know it's going to be your last one? The answer is, You don't. At least, that's how we handled it. All day long on April 30th I just kept thinking, "This is it. The last one. All the hard work, time and tears, and this is how it ends." It's sad to say goodbye to something we've invested so much in, and terrifying to think of having to proceed from this point as a single mother of three small children. However, I go forward with hope! It's times like these that make me remember just how truly blessed I am to have the gospel of Jesus Christ and his Priesthood in my life. We will make it through this and come out even stronger and better for it in the end.

THE BOMB

Another Mother's Day came and went. Just like most of the ones before I didn't get so much as a "Happy Mother's Day" from my husband, much less any flowers or cards. And, just like all the other's, it ended in my tears. His reasons for intentionally ignoring this holiday, (along with my birthday, and even, once or twice, Christmas), don't really matter. Anyone could come up with any excuse to be a prick if they try hard enough. No, what matters is that this cruel behavior has gone on, repeatedly, breaking my heart while also setting a terrible example for the children. Mother's day isn't about a marriage, it's about recognizing and showing appreciation for ALL of the COUNTLESS sacrifices we, as mothers, make every second of every day and night to ensure our babes grow up healthy, strong, confident, humble, kind, gracious, empathetic, loving, gentle, spiritual, modest, virtuous, respectful, trustworthy, and oh-so-much more. For me, Mother's day is even more sacred than my birthday, and to have both be repeatedly ignored with the sheer intent to hurt me has... well, hurt. Deeply. Though, at this point in my 'marriage', if you can even call it that, it has served as a reminder, and, perhaps, even a spring board, to move forward with our decision to divorce. We came to this decision 3 1/2 months ago. We'd discussed the topic countless times over the years, but, for the first time, we can both say that it feels right. This is what we are supposed to be doing, and now is the time to be doing it. Yes, it will come with many challenges, especially for me, a single mother of three children 4 and under, but we'll survive. In fact, we will thrive. Because this is what is required of us, and LIFE GOES ON. Annie will start kindergarten in the fall. She is so very intelligent that I worry kindergarten will bore her. She is only 4 years old and is already reading books. Mind you, this was my intent all along when I started teaching her letters, numbers, shapes, colors, etc., as a newborn. =) The time apart will be good for her and Callie. I plan to move 45 minutes east to Connecticut with the kids and our cat, Katie. Peter will remain nearby in NY with our other feline children. Everyone deserves a chance to be loved... I know what is is to be adored, and won't settle for anything less than that the next time around... for both me and my children.

My Journey into Motherhood

Being a mother is the greatest gift in the whole world. It's unbelievably rewarding, but also, insanely difficult. No one ever really talks about how hard it is, probably because we like everyone to think we each have it 'all together', or, perhaps, we're afraid everyone will judge us and think we're bad parents. (As if we don't judge and criticize ourselves enough!) But I'm not ashamed to admit that being a mother is tough work! I am a "stay at home mom", (I prefer the term Domestic Goddess, don't you?) of three beautiful, amazing children, who are four years, two years and six months old. The first of these three was planned. The other two were not, although, I 'felt' that they were waiting to be born, so I was happy, and at peace, when they arrived. I am 7 of 9 children. I have over 20 nieces/nephews, and was lucky enough to grow up with some of those little cuties near me, and was very involved with their lives. So when it came time to become a mother, myself, I wasn't worried, or nervous at all. I was simply thrilled! Fast forward through an unmedicated birth filled with unforeseen complications (thanks to a foolish/careless doctor), and almost having my bladder burst, and almost bleeding to death, to 20 hours post-partum, when I was told, VIA A PHONE CALL, that my baby had heart disease and would need open heart surgery(s) and could possibly die. Suddenly, I was a carefree, excited mother no more. I was simply a scared, depressed and overwhelmed mother, terrified that my precious new born baby girl would close her eyes and never wake up. Now, I was in such bad shape after delivering my beautiful child, that my sick little babe was actually released from the hospital before I was! And I was stuck in bed with a catheter, because I was unable to walk, and hardly even able to sit up. After five long days in the hospital without a shower, or so much as a sponge bath, I was released to go home. I was weak and pale from the extreme amount of blood loss, and remained so for months. I could hardly walk, or even stand up straight for two weeks after being released, so I sat, and laid down, with my baby, never letting her out of my sight or reach. If my precious little angel so much as made a peep, I was there for her in an instant, caring for her needs. She learned to not cry, which was good, because so doing could have stopped her beautiful, yet broken, heart. Four months went by like this, full of pediatric cardiology visits which included x-rays, EKG's, echo's and more. Finally, we were informed that her heart was struggling so much, that the surgery they were hoping to wait til 12 months to do, would need to be done quite soon. My heart dropped. Again, I was terrified. She was scheduled for her first open heart surgery at 5 months old. The night before her surgery I wasn't allowed to nurse her, or give her anything that wasn't a clear liquid, which, for her, meant only water. I couldn't bear her sobs of hunger, and her confused, teary eyes staring up at me. I handed her to her father, (a rare thing for me to do, as I felt that her survival rested entirely on my shoulders alone), and gave him a bottle of purified water to feed our babe. Unfortunately, she'd never taken a bottle before, and had no idea how to use it. Either that, or she just refused because she was holding out for the real thing). He finally had to give her water through a syringe, but, as you can imagine, this did not fill, nor satisfy, my precious little one. My heart ached. When it was still dark out, I strapped my baby girl into her car seat, and we all headed south to Riley Children's Hospital in Indianapolis. A world famous pediatric cardiology surgeon would be operating on her. I sobbed the whole way to the hospital. What if she doesn't make it through this? What if she never wakes up?? I held her tiny, dimpled hands and kissed them, praying for us all to make it through this. We were escorted to pre-op. I had to undress my baby and put her in a tiny little peach colored hospital gown. They brought tiny baby size hospital socks too, but she was too fat to fit into them. The next size up was too big, so we left her feet bare. They explained to us what was going to happen in in the operating room. I closed my eyes as I digested it all, and tried not to cry. Next, a nurse came in and gave my baby girl some Versed to make her calm and settled. It kicked in quickly. I hated seeing her like this. I held her closer. The nurse told me it was time for her to go back for surgery, as soon as I was ready to let go. I would never be ready to let her go. I kissed my child again, and told her everything would be okay. I told her not to be frightened, and that I would be right beside her as soon as she woke up. Then, I handed my little one over to a nurse, who took my baby away to a cold, sterile operating room to have open heart surgery. I sat back down in the little cubby of a prep room, and cried. Another nurse, (one whose daughter I became close friends with), came and held me as I wept. She told me to take my time, and that it was okay to cry. I broke down. After ten minutes or so, I pulled myself together enough for my husband, my mother and me to be escorted to the waiting area on another floor of the hospital. I silently prayed for my daughter, and was filled with a peace. I could feel the countless friends and family members praying for us and for our child, and, although the wait was still very long, and difficult, I felt assured that our Annibelle would be okay. She would make it through this surgery, and she would live. It took HOURS for the doctors and nurses just to get in the 'pick lines' near her groin and collar bone. Hours. Every 45 minutes or so, a nurse would come out and update us on their progress, and our baby's condition. After these updates, we would take turns using the restroom, getting food, and, for me, finding a private room to pump the milk my baby should have been drinking. The actual surgery took less time than getting the lines in. I found that strange. I was so relieved when the nurse finally came out and told us they were getting her settled in the NICU and that we could see her in a few minutes. We were told that her heart had had a little trouble starting back up, and they'd had to shock her once, so they were keeping the shock pads on her for now. Seeing my angel for the first time after the surgery in our rather large, corner room, was heart-wrenching. She was all swollen from the I.V. fluids. She was also on a ventilator, and had a giant tube in her mouth and down her throat. She was in an induced comatose state so that her body could heal without her wiggling and stressing. Stress really can be toxic and deadly. She had multiple tubes coming out of her chest and tummy. I hurt for her. I had brought c.d.'s of music she was used to listening to, like church primary songs and lullabies. I would stand beside her hospital crib and hold her hands in mine and sing to her softly, and talk to her, reminding her that I was with her, and that she would be ok. I told her how proud of her I was, and how brave she is. I whispered to her about all the many people praying for and thinking of her, and of the angels that surrounded her, and I felt at peace. My mother stayed and helped out by staying in the room with Annibelle so I could go to the restroom, and to kick me out at night when Peter and I were given a room to sleep in downstairs at the Ronald McDonald house. It was nearly impossible to get me to leave her side, but twice I was convinced it would be in everyone's best interest if I got some rest, so, around 3 or 4 am I would finally drag myself away from my little trooper, and sleep for a few brief hours in the deepest sleep I've ever known. It was a sweet relief to rest my mind for a few hours as well, for, even though I knew in my heart that my baby would make it through this, I ached deeply for the pain, fear and confusion she was experiencing. While in the NICU, the doctors refused to let me nurse my baby, and she didn't know how to take a bottle. These were four of the longest days of my life. After four long days, she was finally moved up to the cardiac ward. I thought this was good news, but really, it must made things unnecessarily harder. The doctors decided, for some foolish reason, to switch her meds from the I.V. (even though she still had it in), to taking it all orally. This did not go over well with my precious 5 month old. I would lay inside her crib with her and hold her and nurse her. I even slept there beside her. The final two days in the hospital were both good and awful. Annibelle was finally able to have most of her drainage tubes removed. The pick lines were removed as well. Now she had no choice but to take all meds orally. The other terrible down side was that they now had to take blood from a vein, rather than through her I.V. It's very difficult to find a vein to draw blood from, in a baby. This is why nurses often have to resort to drawing blood from a vein in the baby's head. This is exactly what had to happen; twice. A few nurses came in; they had me, her mommy, wrap her up TIGHT in a blanket so that her arms were pinned down and she couldn't move. They, they had Peter hold her head so she couldn't turn it. One nurse stood near, (who knows why), while the other stuck a needle in my babys beautiful head, collapsed the vein, then tried again on another vein. All the while, my precious child is screaming and staring into my eyes, begging to know why I am doing this to her. My face is almost touching hers. My tears fall on her cheeks and mix with her own. I think to myself, 'how will she ever trust me again after this?' We had to go through this again the next, final day, too. At last, the day came that we were given permission to take our precious little angel back home with us! I was terrified! More so than I was the very first time I ever brought her home from the hospital. I was afraid the buckle on her car seat would hurt her incisions. I was afraid it wouldn't heal properly; that it might get infected, or open up or something. She seemed so fragile to me, and yet, she appeared ready to get back to being a normal baby. (As if she ever could be). As Annibelle healed, I was still careful to not let her cry or get upset. Her heart would be busy healing from the surgery for six months, at least, and I didn't want to impair that in any way. It's a good thing, too, because little did anyone realize, that her body's natural pacemaker had been damaged during the surgery, and getting worked up at all could, and would, stop her heart. Fast forward a couple months to me and Peter getting our baby out of the bath and laying her on our bed to get lotioned and dressed. Suddenly, she started turning blue; her lips kept getting darker until they were purple. She was very still. I was FREAKING OUT. I remember shouting, "What's happening? Something's wrong!" This only lasted about a minute before she started regaining her natural pink color. We called Riley Children's Hospital and asked for Annie's cardiologist. The idiot woman on the other end of the line told us he was doing rounds and asked what the problem was. I explained to her what happened, and she rudely told me that my baby was just cold, and to put a sweater on her, and hung up. I was floored! Thank heaven our baby was ok for now. While at her next cardiology appointment we told her doctor what had happened and he seemed confused by Annie's body turning blue for 'no reason', and was shocked when we told him about the rude nurse we spoke to. We were told to bring Annie back in in 2 months. Shortly before the next doctors visit Annibelle had another 'spell', but this time much worse, and I was all alone with her. As I was preparing her lunch one day, she began to make a bit of noise; she never cried or fussed because I always got to her in time so I could settle her before she got worked up. Well, this time, as I turned to settle her down I said aloud, "Just give me 5 seconds and I'll have you plate for you, ok? No need to get upset." Then I mumbled to myself, "She's okay. Five seconds isn't going to kill her.", but oh, how wrong I was. Before I could even reach out for her plate, just 4 feet from where I stood, her fussing ended abruptly. I spun around in time to see her eyes roll back in her head and her body slump down in her high chair. I was at her side in an instant, shouting her name and begging her to wake up. She wasn't breathing. I grabbed the tray that held her in and ripped it off, catching my limp baby in my arms; she started to stir. I was sobbing now, and so was she. We were both completely freaked out. I held her tight. "I'm SO sorry!", I wept into her hair. "I'm so sorry! Mommy's got you. Mommy's here". She settled down, and I called Peter to tell him what had happened. He wasn't sure what to say, so I called her cardiologist, and he, too, acted as though what I was telling him wasn't even possible. I was irritated and confused. I wanted answers! I didn't understand why everyone was acting like I was lying, or like this was no big deal. Sadly, and quite to our surprise, the following appointment brought bad news; our baby's heart had a section of muscle fibers that were building up too quickly and would need to be cut out soon or she could go into cardiac arrest at any given moment, and there would be no way to bring her back. Oddly, we were told that this had nothing to do with her 'episodes'. I was force to schedule, yet another open heart surgery for my little baby, who was still not even a year old. "Only 2% of 'Tet. patients' ever need a second surgery", we were told. This made me feel even worse. Right there, in that sterile little doctors office, I cried. Could she make it through another open heart surgery and live, I wondered? My whole being ached with the knowledge of yet another impending life-threatening surgery, and the fear that would fill my precious babe when the time came to go through with it. How I wished I could explain to her what was going to happen, and comfort her with my words. Just days after turning 13 months, Annibelle went in for her second open-heart surgery in 9 months. I didn't feel nearly as calm this time around. I prayed and prayed the entire night leading up to this surgery, that she wouldn't be afraid; that she'd be comforted and have angels all around her. Typically she would get very upset if anyone tried to take her from me, but when that awful moment finally came to hand her over to the nurse who would take her back to surgery, my little angel didn't so much as make a peep. She was calm as a summers breeze. Again, I sat with my husband in a little cubby of a prep-room and sobbed. My friend's mother, a nurse in this triage area, came and held me while I wept. Again, I was told to take all the time I needed; there was no rush to leave. After 15 minutes or so, the nurse who had carried away my baby returned with good news; Annie had been completely calm and didn't cry once before being put under. My countless prayers had been answered, and, you guessed it, I wept again. The second time around was much like the first. It was comforting to know the basic drill, but that was about it. They got the lines in easier this time, and the surgery was performed rather quickly, as the 4 major repairs had been made in the first surgery. This time, when Annie came out of surgery, she didn't need a breathing tube or to be placed in a medicated coma. She was still sleeping when we entered the NICU room. I stood beside her and held her hands and pushed back her hair while waiting for her to awaken. "You are so brave!", I whispered to her. She finally woke up, and after 8 hours I was finally given the okay to feed her solid food. (The doctor doing rounds was a complete jerk and moron). She was doing great! She was smiling and being so amazingly charming considering what she's just been through. The only time she wasn't happy was when a nurse would come in and check her temperature and mess with her. I tried to get the various nurses to let me take her temp. and help out so she wouldn't be so frightened, but the nurses this time just weren't as compassionate as the ones before. Shortly after her first meal in over 24 hours, a nurse came in to check Annibelle's temperature; Annie started crying with fear. As she became more upset, her eyes rolled back in her head and she slumped down, not breathing, and turning blue. Again, I FREAKED OUT!!! The nurse wasn't even looking at her! She was looking at the stupid piece of paper coming out of some machine, completely ignoring the fact that my baby was, basically, DEAD! After 14 of the longest seconds of my life, Annibelle took a breath. Her heart had stopped for 14 seconds, and no one did a damn thing. No doctors even came in to check on her. The nurse just looked at her briefly and then left. What. The. Hell. In the meantime, the retard doctor doing rounds tells me I can't feed her any more food. HELLO! She's hardly eaten a thing in TWO DAYS! And she's a BABY!!! You'll be shocked to hear that this happened not once, but TWO more times! Same basic senario. Nurse ignores my plea, upsets my baby, Annie's heart stops, eyes roll back in head, nurse ignores my baby, 16-18 seconds later her heart starts back up, and everyone pretends it never happened. That is, until her heart surgeon comes along, at which point I told him EVERYTHING that had happened, from the 3 terrifying 'episodes', to the lousy Indian doctor who told me I couldn't feed my baby. Now, in a hospital/surgery setting, the surgeon is BOSS, and he chewed up and spit out the stupid Indian doctor for making such a decision that wasn't his to make, and for not informing him of my baby's episodes as soon as they'd happened. This chastisement happened right in front of me, and you can bet I stared that creep-doctor down as it happened. "Try and mess with my baby again!" I said with my slited eyes. Her surgeon came in and looked through all of the records Annie's machines had printed off. He was shocked by what had happened, and told us that Annibelle's natural pace maker must have been damaged during the first open-heart surgery, and this was why her heart kept stopping. He told us that these sort of 'episodes' had nothing to do with her type of heart disease, and that's why everyone had seemed so dumbfounded by them. Annie was scheduled to go back into surgery ASAP to have a pacemaker installed in her abdomen. It wouldn't be set to pace her heart all the time, but rather, to only kick in when/if her heart slowed below a certain number of beats per minute. Again, I was left crying and praying for my baby. Bless. Her. Heart. Two days after this final surgery we were released from the NICU and moved up to cardiology. This is where we spent the remainder of the 8 days, just as before. They had toys they would bring in for Annie to play with, and movies she could watch on the T.V., but when you're a 13 month old who just recently learned to walk all on your own, sitting still in a crib for 5 days isn't an easy thing to do! Not for her, and not for the mommy. Those felt like the longest 5 days of our lives! How do you entertain a 13 month old who has splints on her arms,hands and legs, tubes coming out of her all over the place, and is attached to a slew of machines? It was exhausting. Just as before, they decided to switch her to oral meds, even though she still had her lines in. One of the new meds the put her on made her throw up every time they gave it to her. The stupid nurse tried convincing me that she was vomiting because she was constipated, and used an enema on her. I wasn't too happy about this, as I felt certain this was not the problem, and, results from the enema proved me to be right. After another dose or two of the meds (she was always given more than one at a time), I asked to see a list of the side effects of each of the meds they were giving her. The nurse seemed annoyed, but complied. A couple hours later, the lists were in my hands. As I read through them, I noticed that one of them had listed 'vomiting' as a common side effect when given orally. I showed this to the nurse and told her that Annibelle was not to be given the oral form of this any more. She was irritated, and told me she doubted this was the problem, but again, complied. She spoke with Annie's surgeon and we were given the ok to stop that medicine completely. Annibelle didn't vomit any more. A big concern with open-heart surgery is the risk for infection, because infection near the heart could mean almost-instant death, and for this reason, Annie's blood had to be drawn, and tested, twice daily. The final two days were just as awful as the final two from the first surgery. Again, we were asked to wrap up and pin down our baby girl, while a couple nurses drew blood from the veins in her head. And, just as before, Annibelle sobbed, terrified and confused. And, just as before, my tears wet her cheeks. Her white blood cell count was dropping each time they checked her blood, but they wanted it a little lower still. They really wanted to keep her one more day, but we flat out refused to let them torture our daughter with needles to her head any more. With more than a little hesitation by the doctors and nurses, we were finally given the "GO" to take Annie home, with the condition that we would bring her back in immediately if she showed any signs of a fever, along with a list of other symptom. We agreed, and I packed up our things faster than a tornado in May! I wanted to grab my baby and run out of there before they changed their minds! Strapping Annibelle into her car seat made me so nervous, just as it had the first time around. I added a little extra gentle padding of a baby blanket between her chest and the buckle, and we drove home. Just as had always been the case, I didn't let her out of my reach. Two months later we were back at the cardiologist with our toddler, and this time, FINALLY, the results of the tests were positive; the surgeries had worked, and her heart was working as well as they'd hoped it would. The pace maker test showed that she wasn't using the pacer much, which is always a good thing. For once, I cried tears of joy. Maybe. JUST MAYBE, she was going to be okay! Fast forward 3 years, and 6 cardiology appointments later, and my beautiful Annibelle, and her heart, are still going strong! Tests show that she continues to use less than 1% of her pace maker's battery, which could also mean a possible 0%. Possibly. And, though she'll require a new pulmonary valve in 9 years or so, (and a replacement of that valve in another 30+ years), both her doctor, and we, are praying that these will be the only heart surgeries she'll need for the rest of her life. Annie is free to run and play, just like other children, though, she should avoid sports where her pacemaker could get hit and broken. (Special padding for the pacemaker could make certain sports acceptable). I am comforted, a bit, by the presence of the pacemaker. And even though I know her heart is doing well, I still wake up and check on my little Annibelle every single night, and watch her briefly as she sleeps, to remind myself that life is precious, and that, even though she can be a holy terror sometimes, we all fought and prayed for her to be a part of our lives today, and tomorrow, and, hopefully, for many decades still to come. We all have different trials in life, most, unseen and unknown to those passing through our lives. As women, and especially as mothers, we are so very hard on ourselves. Let's ease each other's burdens, if only a little, by not judging and criticizing our fellow mothers, but mourning with and comforting them, for we all have heartache in our lives, and we each carry a heavy burden on our shoulders. I am a woman, and this is the story of my journey into motherhood.

New Experience

Those of you who know me know that I love to bake. Well I found a new recipe for an apple tart and I REALLY wanted to make it! There was one ingredient that I didn't have yet, though; brandy. Now, I will cook with cooking wines sometimes, such as marsala, white, red, etc, but brandy is a hard liquor, and I hadn't realized until now, that the stores in NY don't carry anything besides cooking wines and beer. After figuring this out I realized I was going to have to bite the bullet and do something I'd never done before; enter a liquor store.

I tried going one evening, but realized they close pretty early. Dang it. I really want this tart! So the next day I get in the car with my girls and head over to the shopping center where the local liquor store is located. I felt SO out of place! In I walk with a babe in arms and a toddler holding my hand. The two customers look up with amusement on their faces. The man at the register looks at me with question. "I need some brandy to flambé some apples for a tart", I tell him. I'm pretty sure I hear the two other customers chuckle under their breath. I'd hoped to ask the cashier/owner if they carried items like orange liqueur, but once inside the store I had one thought: get in, get brandy, get out.

The employee asks me how much I need. I tell him the recipe calls for 1/4 cup, but that I'd like to be able to make it more than once. He suggests this TINY little flask of brandy. I opt for the larger one so I don't have to return to the liquor store ever again.
He hands me the flask. Annibelle says, "I want to hold it, mommy". I laugh and tell her that I don't think that's a good idea. The employee laughs and offers the girls a dum-dum sucker from his halloween candy bowl. This distracts them perfectly. I decide to pay with cash, as I don't want this purchase on my bank statement. Then the cashier hands me my flask of brandy in a brown paper bag. I feel like a homeless drunk just holding it. I decide to put it in my purse so I won't draw attention to myself. It's surprisingly heavy, but I feel better with it out of sight.

I finally get to make this amazing apple tart, and it really is delicious! It's very mild, as the recipe doesn't call for much sugar and very little spices. I may alter that a bit... A scoop of vanilla ice cream on the side completes this scrumptious dish! The recipe is soon to come on my food blog, goodbuysgreatbites.com

The Chronicles of Moving

I realize I haven't written a post here in a very long time. Life has been CRAZY.

We found out that our landlord hadn't paid the mortgage since 2010, just after we'd move in, and that the house we'd been renting was now in foreclosure. Since our lease was ending, we decided to go ahead and move out. Since it had been unplanned and we'd given ourselves very little notice, finding a new house to lease was quite a challenge, as was/is moving out on time. Because of the sudden decision to move out, our landlord became quite angry with us and is threatening to keep our $6000 deposit. She tried to scare us with a few emails and such, but I've been in a similar situation before, and so I stayed up quite late for many nights researching the laws/right involved with renting in this state. As I'd guessed, the law is on OUR side. After one more annoying email from the crazy landlord, I wrote back and gave her a piece of my mind, not to mention a few legal threats of our own. Not surprisingly, she backed down. (Though I'm sure she's still planning on keeping our money, which means I"m going to have to sue her).

The house hunting was nothing short of discouraging. Many houses we looked at were shockingly gross and disgusting. The ones we liked that seemed perfect were either rented to someone else, or denied us because of poor credit. I had many sleepless nights because of this, and cried quite a few desperate tears. We have to be out by October 15th, and still had no place to move to. Finally our realtor calls us and says we have a 'call back'. The owners of 47 Widmer Road want to meet us. This is good news. This isn't my favorite house we've looked at, but we're desperate. I remind Peter that this house has no A/C, was built in the 1800's and may have a lot of issues. It has oil heating, which we know nothing about, and the basement smells moldy. Other than that I don't recall much about the house, as we've seen so many since looking at this one.

The evening arrives and we all go to meet the owners of this house. They're Chinese. They live next door. I worry that having them right there to see all that we do might be stressful. If they're anything like the previous landlord there is NO way this could work. We meet them. They're lovely. Danny Lam doesn't speak a lot of English, but he gets by alright. He's a hard worker. He built their house next door and the play set in the yard. SoYing works for IBM. She doesn't cook at all, unless there's a party, and then she makes jello. (hahahaha!) Danny speaks to his wife in Chinese and has her warn us that the wood stove gets hot and to not use it so the girls will be safe. He tells us that he will mow the lawn and, as long as he's in town, will plow the snow for us. (It just keeps getting better!) All of their concerns are for us, not their house. These are good signs! We talk and agree to rent the house and meet back in 2 days to sign the papers and pay the first months rent and deposit. (Those were two very long days!) Finally, on October 3rd, we make it legal, and for the next two years, this house is ours. =)

We immediately load up the rented Uhaul van and take a load of stuff over to our new house. We do this each evening the entire week. The house had been vacant for 2 years so there was a LOT of cleaning to do! We were out past 1am every night. The poor girls are exhausted! So are we.

Friday night we rent a 26 foot Uhaul truck and a few guys from church help load it and unload it at the new house while I pack and take care of the girls. The next day the actual movers come. They were terrible. Lazy. Slow. Incompetent. They broke two of our couches, the vanity my father gave me, and countless other items. They held some of our items hostage on the truck in an attempt to get more money out of us, so I started moving stuff myself. One of the 3 guys sat on the truck all day and did nothing to help us move. All items were just thrown into the main level of the house. The couches weren't put together and were tipped over and one was left on end! Boxes weren't in the designated rooms. You could hardly walk through the house. I cried. Today was also Annibelle's birthday. She was now 3 and the entire day had been nothing but a nightmare. We decided to dry our eyes and celebrate anyway and took our little ones to Chuckey-Cheese. We ate pizza, ordered a cake with candles and played silly arcade games until they closed. It was nice. We decided to spend the night at the old house on the recliners that were left there. Not a great night of sleeping, but we survived.

Over a week later we are still moving out/in! We're almost done. Tonight the young men and their parents are coming over to help move the rest of the stuff to the new house. I admit I'm a little stressed out thinking of immature boys running around my houses and handling my stuff. Hopefully this evening will go smoothly.

We've been blessed to have some friends from church help us in the attempt to make some sense of all this mess. If not for them we would not be able to see past or walk around the boxes.

Yesterday was a beautiful day and I just couldn't handle being inside with all the boxes any more, so after laying Callie down for a nap, Annie and I went outside to clean up the front flower beds. There was a lot of old dead debris from the plants which I pulled out with a rake. Annibelle put on her Dora gloves and helped me put all the mess into piles. We ended up with 5 big piles of weeds and such. Now what? I didn't want to handle the messes because of the possibility of spiders! Yuck!!!! I decided to leave the piles there for Peter to help me with when he got home from work. HOWEVER.... when he returned home from work the piles were no longer there and had been cleaned up! By who, you ask? By Danny! Our landlord and neighbor. He had cleaned up my gardening mess for me after mowing the lawn. I felt like my dad was here with me, as this was always how we did things. I'd prune and make the mess, and he'd clean it up.

I feel so blessed to have such great neighbors/landlords/friends. I've missed my father more than I can express, and though he's still gone, I sort of feel like he's here helping me out right now.

We now live on 3.5 acres with plenty of trees for the cats to climb and play in. We have a big open yard and a swing set for the girls to play on. We have privacy without seclusion, just as we'd wanted. We don't have an HOA telling us what we can and can't do. WE have landlords who don't care a bit that we have cats, which is wonderful, because that means they won't care if I end up getting another pet at some point. =) And, we're paying $500 less/month on rent, no longer have a water bill (we're on a well now), we don't have to pay for lawn mowing or snow plowing, the electric bill is lower since we don't have a/c, and the heat is oil! I feel truly blessed. Someone must be looking out for me.

Now you all just have to come visit us and see for yourselves this cool, old house we live in! It has a lot of character! I didn't think I"l like living in an old house but I do. I even think it's funny that the floors are so unleveled that the bed rolls across the floor! There are closets inside of closets in this house. The girls have such fun hiding in the closets and cabinets; it's so funny to watch them play. We also have a huge front porch, which will soon be sporting a porch swing!

There's still a LOT to do before this house can be called a home, (I still haven't found our drinking glasses!), but I'm excited to live her and make this place our own.

Child Again

Do you ever wish you could have just 5 minutes where you didn't have to be the mom, cook, housekeeper, nurse, maid, landscaper, chauffeur, lunch lady, psychologist, mechanic, jungle gym, spouse....? Sometimes I wish I had a few moments just to be me. And in those moments, I often wish I could just be a child again. Just for a few minutes. I'd like to be wrapped up safe in my father's arms, and just be held. I miss that feeling of security. (Husbands don't really ever feel this way because they have us taking care of their every need... Seems a bit backwards if you ask me).

Since starting my own business, (slow going, but getting up in the saddle!) I finally feel like I have an individual identity again, and I LOVE IT!!! Sure, I get tired of measuring and cutting tulle and ribbon sometimes, but when that happens I just focus on what matters most, and that's my two little girls! They always provided me with the necessary relieve from a hard day of work, and know how to make me laugh. I've never known two more hilarious kids in my life! If you haven't had a chance to be around them recently, you're really missing out. They're both growing like weeds!

Callie turned 1 year old last week, and what a cutie! She's loved destroying her birthday cake, and Annibelle felt a sisterly need to help her out in that endeavor. =) Callie is now 1 going on 5. She is so bright and advanced! We call her our little mountain goat because she tries to climb everything, and is fearless! (Not always a great quality in a baby). She has NO idea she is just a baby.

Annibelle will soon be turning 3 years old! She has grown up SO much since her baby sister was born a year ago, and even more since we moved here to NY. In the past few months she has really had a growth spurt and went from wearing 2T to barely squeezing into her 3T clothes! She still has her adorable baby chubs too. (I'm praying that's not due to her heart...) She loves to play with her little sister and sing and dance. She says the funniest things! I can hardly wait until our trip to Hershey so some of you will get to see my cuties!

I've stayed very busy this summer with my business, www.TangerineTutus.etsy.com. (AdornableFlowers.etsy.com still exists, but I"m working on combining it with the afore mentioned shop). I also have a public blog, www.goodbuysgreatbites.com. I'm not great at updating it, but I'm trying! I'm trying to do better about posting pictures too. My computer is about to die, any day now, and has been giving me a lot of trouble. Once we get a new one I hope to really get things cleaned up with that yummy blog of mine!

I also flew out west with Callie last week for my brother's wedding. (The last of us kids to marry!) It was BEAUTIFUL!!! Callie actually fell asleep just as I was going in for the sealing so I was able to attend the whole ceremony. I hadn't been able to go to the Temple in over 3 years, and being in there at Twin Falls, ID was so special. I'd missed feeling the Spirit so strong. I hadn't realized how accustom I'd become to the tension here in my home/family, and realized that I have to do something to clear it up so that my children grow up familiar with the presence of 'The Comforter' in their daily lives.

Well, I suppose I should get up and get a few things done while the others are all napping. (This is a rare phenomenon). Just so you know, I have a special discount code for all of my family to use at TangerineTutus.com. If you're interested, here it is! GOOD2BFAMILY20OFF Let me know what you think of my new woven headbands!

It's official

Today at church I was informed that Peter's name has officially be removed from the church and that I am now considered the 'head of the household', as far as church matters are concerned. I already knew that his name would be officially removed by the beginning of the month because I was there when he turned in his letter/request to have his name removed, and there when he/we read the letter from the first presidency saying it would become official in 30 days.
At this point I don't have any real strong feelings about all this... It's been a process. I worry about him not having the gift of the Holy Ghost to guide him and direct him all the time and worry about him being misguided off the path even more quickly now. I miss having the Priesthood in my home, but when I really felt the impact of it leaving was when Peter took off his garments for the last time, showered, then put on an undershirt and boxer-briefs. I may have shed a few tears.
My mom's been through something similar, many years ago when her first marriage failed due to her husband cheating on her and leaving the church. She's warned me all along that once their name is removed they really change... for the worst. I'm trying to be optimistic, but maybe that's just my Zoloft doing it's job. (tee hee). Or maybe it's just that I made my little tutu and hair clip businesses legal last week and I feel happy about that... or just happy that I have something that makes me feel happy and inspired. (Seriously, i LOVE it!) Whatever it is, all I can do is do my best and pray for all the help, guidance and peace possible, because we're going to need it.
I know this news is going to really be painful for those nearest and dearest to digest, but just be grateful that you're not in my shoes. As Peter's parents, you did your part to teach him right from wrong. As siblings you can pray for him and love him and let him know that he is still loved. Who knows where things will go from here? I just hope that no matter what we all remain family and friends. We'll get through all this somehow.

Nephi's Enemies

I was reading 2nd Nephi chapter 4 the other day; it's one of my favorites! I always enjoyed reading Nephi's plea to God, but this time around I got a LOT more out of it.
Nephi prays for his 'enemies' (aka, his BROTHERS!) He prays that he won't be angry at them and for God to 'hedge up their way' rather than his. In the following chapter he prays for them to not be angry at him, but instead they became MORE angry! (Talk about an unanswered prayer!) But then the Lord prepares a way for him to take the righteous of his family and escape from the 'enemies'. (It's my belief that this happened as a sign to Nephi that it wasn't going to improve and to help him accept the need to move on w/out his siblings).
As I read this I couldn't help but thing of my own family. A few of you may know that I've had trouble with just about all of them at one point or another, the worst of it happening about a year and a half ago when a certain brother-in-law, (and the support of a few other family members), drove me to the brink of suicide. (No, I'm not crazy, it was just THAT bad of a situation). I was lucky enough that Peter was still willing, and worthy, to give me a blessing. He offered and I accepted and I am VERY grateful; it was a terrifying situation and time. (That happened to be the last priesthood blessing he ever gave). It was enough to pull me out of the hole I was in JUST ENOUGH to save me from death.
A lot of tears have been shed and prayers have been offered because of my family. I've been the recipient of a lot of verbal and emotional abuse 'within the home', and that is the hardest of all because those are the people you are supposed to be able to trust no matter what.
It's taken me a REALLY long time to understand fully that forgiving someone and letting them continue to abuse you are not the same thing. My mother doesn't seem to get it as she keeps telling me "We all just need to love and forgive each other", as if I'm the only one who isn't. Which is ironic, really, since I'm probably the ONLY one who actually has/does.
Not quite a year after that life changing incident Peter was offered a job in NYC and I said, "Let's GO!!!!!!" (And I haven't looked back!) I knew that if there would ever be a time where I'd feel like I could leave Indiana and my family there it would be while my mom was on her mission. (So I wouldn't feel like I had to stay and take care of her).
I'm really grateful that the Lord prepared a way for me to escape from my 'enemies', and from the hurt and abuse they were throwing at me. From here in NY it doesn't hurt my feelings that they don't invite me to family dinners or birthday parties and such things. I couldn't care less! It's wonderful! (Plust I've made some good friends here, something I didn't really have back in Indy).
I've put a lot of thought into if I'd ever go back... if Peter and I ever split or something. At first I thought, "Of course I'd run back to my mother!", but than as I thought about it more, I realized I'd be better off here trying to make it on my own than to be there trying to make it almost on my own with a lot of emotional, verbal and psychological abuse. I don't need that and my beautiful daughters will NEVER, EVER be allowed to be treated that way by my family. (Please note that I do have a couple siblings who are alright, and I am so VERY grateful for them).
Anyway, long story a little shorter, my eyes were opened a bit as I read these chapters and I realized that I have been blessed in getting to move away from a lot of the drama and pain. It also helped me to feel better about following what I feel I must do in my life, (despite my mothers belief that we can all live together w/out grief), and to really lean on the Lord in guiding me in this most difficult situation.
I'm really, truly grateful and blessed to have the gospel in my life. I'm grateful for the scriptures, and to have the Spirit to guide and teach me.

Sacrifice

In relief society today we were talking about sacrifice. The woman teaching, along with a few others, mentioned how they often feel bad for, 'not wanting to go to church, do a calling, pick up people for church, etc.', and how doing the right thing is often so hard for them. They were beating themselves up for feeling a certain way.
A sister near me started talking about the sacrifice the Savior made for us and a thought came to me, which I actually shared! I said that the Savior was without sin and that even when he was in 'the garden' He asked God to remove the weight from him if there was any other way to atone for us. He himself didn't want to go through with it, but did anyway, for us.
Like the Savior, we are not sinning by not wanting to get up and go to church, serve in our callings, etc. It's only when we choose to act upon those feeling that we have need to repent. The feelings themselves are not the sin, so we needn't be so hard on ourselves.
Personally, I thought this was pretty insightful, the woman teaching, however, just stared at me blankly in silence. (I imagined a cricket in the room... "chirp, chirp...." After a few very long, uncomfortable moments, she moved on as if I'd said nothing. Strange.
"It makes sense, doesn't it?", I asked the girl beside me. She assured me it made perfect sense.
I just figure, that as women, we beat ourselves up A LOT. Well, isn't it nice to know here's one less reason to do so? I sure think so!

New Hobbies

Today was a MUCH better day. Probably because it started with scripture study. I've been terrible about reading my scriptures for quite a while, especially since Callie was born.
I got a call from my brother a few days ago and he filled in as my dad/patriarch and listened to my woes while giving me some good fatherly/brotherly advice. His suggestion to read my scriptures on LDS.org was a terrific idea! I'm on this computer a lot and it's so easy to read a bit and study any topic I like with the click of a button, sans turning pages and getting paper cuts! It really is wonderful, and since I begin most days by sitting down at this lovely machine, LDS.org is literally an answer to my prayers. (As is my brother and his loving advice).
So today was 60 degrees and sunny! Once I got the girls fed and dressed and worked on a couple projects around the house, I packed up Callie in the SleepyWrap, and Annibelle in the stroller and off we went on a walk around the neighborhood! We ended up at the clubhouse and spent the next 45 minutes or so swinging gently on a porch swing until I met a new neighbor and both the girls fell asleep on the swing! (Super cute!!) After that I packed them back up and headed home for lunch and naps. I didn't get one, but I didn't mind since I was working on a new project.
Speaking of new projects... I am FINALLY coming up with hobbies as a mother, ones that I hope will make me some money. The first one is making flower clips for hair or clothes. It's hard to find good, quality ones and I'm hoping to get a lot made and sold. My newest craft I hope to make a little dough off of is making tutus; simple and elaborate. If I can handle the sewing, I might even try making diaper covers aka, bloomers. I LOVE having something to do for ME, and something that I enjoy so much.
I'm pretty sure I'll be on my own one of these days and will need a way to keep myself afloat; hopefully these 'hobbies' will assist me in that. Until then, I'm just stocking up and enjoying having something to keep me busy and happy. (besides my girls). =)

Sometimes I feel like God is against me. Like the world is against me. Like my kids are against me. (I already know that my husband is).
I'm having a rough day. I didn't start out reading my scriptures as I'd meant to, and it just got harder from there.
I wake up most mornings SUPER tired, but push through it so that I can try to be super mom and actually get the house picked up, the dishes washed, the kitchen clean and the laundry done and put away. I don't know about you, but i don't think I've ever accomplished that since becoming a mother of two. Between changing diapers for two, feeding/preparing food for two, and all the countless chores that await me, I rarely get a chance to eat before 3pm. I suppose that might be how I dropped that most recent 5 pounds so quickly. It might also be part of why I get so tired and moody when it comes time for the little ones to take a nap... and then refuse to sleep!
I was trying to put my exhausted baby down for a nap late this morning. She just wouldn't sleep even though I'd changed her diaper, fed her and was lying beside her as she sucked her pacifier. I was STARVING; to the point of my blood sugar dropping. I needed food. I had some delicious left overs waiting to be warmed up so I left her there in the bed, surrounded by body pillows, and ran downstairs to heat up the food, intending to run back up with it a minute later. Unfortunately, as I was dishing up the grub, I heard a loud THUD! I shouted and ran upstairs, worried that I wasn't hearing any crying. Callie had fallen from the bed, luckily, with a pillow. She didn't seem to be hurt, just really frightened. She was screaming, and it took quite a while to get her to stop crying. Hours, actually. Unless I held her. Of course, being a mother of two, I had another child to care for as well, and still needed to feed myself. I also decided to try moving the unused crib into our room in hopes of either using it as a sidecar or as an actual crib beside the bed. This required moving the two side tables, the twin bed, and the freakishly heavy king bed, taking apart the crib, finding clean sheets to put on it, and putting everything back together. It took longer than I'd hoped, and all the while Callie was wailing, and Annibelle seemed to keep tripping on things and crying off an on herself. I wanted to scream too. In fact, I might have a few times. (It's one of those days where I feel like I have to repent constantly!) Luckily, I have very forgiving daughters, and each time I turn to Annie with tears in my eyes and tell her I'm sorry for not being a better mommy, she touches my hand or face and says, "It' okay, mommy. You'll be fine. It's okay".
I feel so blessed to be entrusted with these little ones. At the same time I feel terrified that it's up to me, and, sort of, me alone, to raise them right and well. I usually feel like a failure. Being that i'm the only one worried about Annibelle understanding what it means to be reverent, she still doesn't seem to quite get it. Yes, she's not even two and a half yet, but she doesn't even stay quiet for the shortest prayer... I can't help but think I'm doing something wrong.
It's really tough facing all of this and feeling like I'm doing it alone. The truth is, every day I'm faced with the fear that someday soon I really WILL be facing it all alone. By myself. Each day I look around me at everything we've accumulated and all the little things that make the house ours, and I wonder, "How much longer will it last? At what point will I have to say goodbye to this comfort and space and stand alone with my girls?"
People on the outside like to say,"I still think he might come around". He won't. Trust me. It's not an IF it will crumble, but WHEN. How much longer can we stand to live with each other and our different beliefs? You see, the problem isn't that my husband is atheist, but rather that he's anti-Christ. No different from Corihor. (Can you imagine being married to Corihor???) When he isn't talking about religious and scientific things I think, "Maybe we can make this work!" But then he'll tell me how he can't go to primary with me and the girls anymore because it's 'brainwashing'. And he's constantly posting anti-mormon literature on his online accounts. His mission in life isn't to be a good husband or father, but, rather, to announce to all the world that God isn't real! The scriptures are just stories! That he has all the answers and we should follow him!
At what point do we have to get out and get away from all this? Only God can tell me. And even though I know He's got my back, I still have to admit that I'm scared half to death knowing that at some point it's just going to be me and my girls... And that is something that weighs me down each and every day. How will I afford to raise and care for these little angels? And how on earth could i possibly find someone else worthy to be their step-father?
It just isn't fair.

Rock and a Hard Place

Since making this blog private almost 18 months ago, I don't have to worry about the wrong eyes seeing it. Plus, since I took such a long break from writing here, pretty much no one reads these anyhow, so I have a free journal here to write in.
Today's topic: My broken heart.
Christmas and New years were wonderful. Christmas was spent at 'home' in NY, and the following weekend we drove 3 hours to Boston, MA to ring in the new year with my mother, who is on a church mission there. I hadn't seen her in almost a year and a half, so it was really a treat for me! Plus, she got to meet her newest grand-baby, Callie! (Who is intent on growing up way to fast!) Over all the trip was wonderful, until it came to the drive home, that is. Not only did we leave much too late last evening so that our girls were way too tired and they both pretty much screamed the entire way, (which involved multiple stops to try to calm them down, missing a few exits, turning around a few times, and raising everyone's blood pressure), but my so-called-husband attacked me and my beliefs the entire way as well. The 3 hours turned into 5, and the conversations ranged from the horrible God of the old Testament, to, "What if we get divorced/separated", all the while being told I belong to a cult and that my church isn't true, and how I'm a bad mom, etc, etc........ it went on forever. It was depressing. I did my best to contain the tears so i could see clearly to drive.
The prince charming I searched so long for is still MIA. The only difference from 4 years ago to now is that now I have two delicate daughters to care for and protect as well. My eternal marriage: out the window. My hope: dashed to pieces. My courage: lacking. My heart: broken.
Sure I could leave the guy and struggle to support my two little angels, but where would I go? I have no home. I don't want to take my children's daddy from them, but is it fair for me to suffer for their sake? And is it really in their best interest to remain in such a situation? I deserve to be loved.... but I doubt I ever will be. I know I'm difficult. From birth I've had to defend myself, and now, more than ever, I have my gloves up, ready to defend myself and my girls. I feel abandoned. Lost. Alone. Hopeless. If I'd known this was coming I don't think I would have brought these beautiful girls into the world. It just isn't fair. They deserve to have two parents who love each other.
Everyone likes to tell me, "Maybe some day he'll come around". Well, folks, I hate to break it to you, but that'll happen when hell freezes over. This man thinks he has it all figured out and he's intent on letting us know that.
I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place. There's no easy way out of this one, short of cutting off my own arm, figuratively speaking. God help me and my girls. And God have mercy on Peter; he's going to need it.

New Blog

Yesterday was Christmas, and it was a wonderful one at that! Opening presents with Annibelle was such a treat! She took her time playing with each one, so unwrapping took a while, but I wouldn't have wanted it any other way.
After we finished with our gifts, we went over to a friends house for dinner and games. The turkey and rolls were amazing! YUM!
Around 7pm we got a text from my brother saying they were almost to our house. (They were driving through to Boston to see my mom and celebrate their baby's first birthday with her). We hurried home and arrived there just after they did.
During our short, but sweet, visit I introduced my sister in law to some of my favorite baby items, and her mother, Gwen, suggested that I start a blog where I share my insight on the many wonderful products I have discovered. I thought this was a great idea, and so I've asked Peter to help me get this new blog up and running and looking hott!
I'll be sure to invite you all once it's ready. And PLEASE, at that point, pass it along! =)

Merry Christmas!

The First Gift of Christmas

I decided that it's silly to give a 2 year old all of her Christmas gifts at once... of course, I decided that a little late, and only managed to 'wrap' up one the eve of Christmas eve for her to open. (I think in coming years I'll do a more Hanukkah-themed idea, and give a gift a day for a few days leading up to Christmas so that each toy will be truly appreciated).

I'd been busy baking all day, preparing for our big Christmas eve dinner with our friends here at our house. (Tomorrow will be full of more baking and a LOT of cleaning, and, hopefully, a shower). In the evening we ran to the store for a few last minute items, and our nap-less toddler had a huge meltdown at the store, which made it take even longer to get through with what we were doing and back out to the car. By the time we got home she was so over-tired that our attempt to get her into bed and asleep was useless, and before long she was back downstairs, claiming to be hungry, while only feeding her food to her stuffed monkey who sat in the chair beside her. (Remind me to wash that monkey).

As I finished up the dishes so my kitchen would be ready for baking first thing in the morning, I had Peter take Annibelle into the front room by the Christmas tree so I could pull her new Christmas jammies out of the dryer and put them in a gift bag for her to open.

I ran up the stairs with the pj's in a ball, hoping she wouldn't notice, found the nearest gift bag and stuffed them inside and piled tissue paper on top. Then, I ran down the stairs and placed it under the tree. "Annibelle, look! You're first Christmas preset!" She wasn't sure if it was ok to open it yet, so we assured her it was. Then, she noticed she'd seen this gift bag before and said, "Taybo heads!" (huh?) Oh, that's right; I'd given her her birthday potato heads in this bag. Geez she's bright!

Well, she was still too wired to be too excited about anything more than throwing the tissue paper all over the room and running around like a crazy child. And, I may have had to pin her down to get her clothes off of her and put her new monkey PJ's on, all the while trying to convince her that they're SO SPECIAL and CUTE! (Ooooh... Ahhhh!!) Normally she would have been truly thrilled; tonight she was just slap happy. And even though she was too hyper to care much about christmas pajamas, she was super happy to get to open a present, and that made my day! =)

Merry Christmas!

Toddlers are Parrots

Toddlers are parrots; you REALLY have to watch what you say around them because they pick up on everything! Some of my favorites of Annibelle's are:
When I walked into the kitchen to find that she had thrown her oatmeal all over the floor I sighed and said, "Oh, Annibelle", to which she responded, "Don't worry, Mommy. It's OK. I'm sorry".
The other night while singing her to sleep, Annibelle was joining me in singing her favorite song, "Jesus Once Was a Little Child". I was singing it at a whisper so as not to wake the baby who was 5 feet away. Following my lead, Annibelle started singing along at a whisper, but as she did it sounded creepy and almost haunted, which made me laugh. As I tried to surpress my laughter Annibelle thought it was a sob and wrapped her arms around my neck and said, "Don't cry, Mommy. Don't cry! It's OK Mommy. Don't cry."
Just after getting her dressed I noticed that Annibelle had pulled off her socks and I could only find one. I asked her where her other sock was and to go find it to which she responded, "No problem!"
Peter works a LOT, and spends 4 hours a day commuting, so the majority of each week I live as a single mom and get burnt out pretty easily. The other day I heard Annibelle mimic me under her breath saying, "I'm going crazy!" LOL
And, as a loving big sister, when Callie cries, Annibelle can often be heard copying mommy by saying, "It's OK, Callie. I'm coming!" Following which she often runs to her side and shoves a pacifier into her baby sisters mouth.

They may exhaust me, her messes may overwhelm me, and her whining may get on my nerves, but when my girls smile, the sun shines brighter, and when my girls laugh, I can't help but laugh too, and when my girls snuggle up to or wrap their arms around me in a big hug, my heart melts. Being a mommy is super hard work, but it's worth it. <3

Out of work again

Well, we got really close to getting ourselves out of debt, unfortunately, Peter's been informed that he only has 10 billable hours left of work for Zondervan. That certainly won't be enough to cover the costs of having this baby, not to mention a million other things we owe on. Luckily Peter's boss gave him a couple weeks heads up and Peter has already started the job search all over again. In fact, he's already had an interview. (The first of 3 for Bloomberg). We REALLY hope he'll get this position, even though it would mean relocating, and him leaving for NY right after the baby's born. I just hope and pray that whatever job he's supposed to have next will fall into place VERY quickly. (I don't need any additional stress right now; I'm already neck deep in it).

BREECH

Just 6 1/2 weeks left to go and this baby is upside-down! And by that I mean head up. Breech. I wasn't worried until the doctor was worried. I've looked up all sort of info on line on how to help your baby flip; I've even emailed my doula about it. I don't dare try ANYTHING yet though, no matter how non-invasive, because there's a huge chance that she could be completely tangled up in the cord, which wouldn't surprise me one bit since I know how much she used to flip around, and how feisty she is. So I must wait until the 6th of July when I'm scheduled for another ultra sound and check up. I desperately want a normal labor/delivery and a perfectly healthy baby this time, but about a month or two ago I had this feeling that I needed to look into epidurals (which I'm terrified of), and learn about how they work, how they're done, and how they could affect me, since I have a pretty awful case of scoliosis. As I did my homework and became more comfortable with the idea, I hoped it would just mean that I would finally be allowed to have a mostly pain free labor/delivery, and get to have the sort of labor/delivery I'd hoped for last time, but as I draw closer to the end of this adventure I'm beginning to realize that I probably had that prompting to learn about epidurals NOT because I might choose to get one, but because I'm probably going to NEED to get one.
When I was pregnant with Annibelle, I KNEW she'd have a heart problem (I was born with one too), and I KNEW she'd be a red-head. I'm grateful I had the good news to go with the bad. I just had no idea how bad her heart condition would be. I've learned that it's SO important to listen to, and follow these promptings; doing so could save a life.
I dread the idea of having to have a c-section, especially with an epidural/while awake. Mentally, I'm not sure I can handle the idea of what they'll be doing WHILE they're doing it! AAAGGGHHHHHH!!!! Plus, I know quite a few people whose epidurals didn't take completely and they felt the scalpel cutting them!!!! (NIGHTMARE!!!) But I know that it's better than being knocked out completely, for me and the baby, and would make it so I could have Peter, or someone in there with me, and I could see, hold and nurse my baby right away, assuming she's healthy. I hate to think of what they'd try to do to her without me awake and thinking clearly for hours! (Bottles... formula...pacifier...shots....). Nope. She's going to need her mommy.
On the bright side, IF I do end up having to schedule a c-section, I won't have to be in labor away from Annibelle for um-teen hours. I'll be able to plan around the time/date. I DON'T want to spend 4 days instead of 1 or 2 two in that TINY broom closet of a room, but if this could mean saving mine and my baby's life, then I guess I'll just have to make the most of it.
I'm still praying for her to flip, though.

I haven't been on here in some time. I'd apologize, but there are so few who follow this blog, that I doubt you care much; this is mostly for me.
I've meant to get on here many times in the past few months, but I confess that so often lately my thoughts and feelings have been negative ones, and I figured it's probably best that I keep those to myself. I've been just as awful at writing in my journal.

I can hardly believe this pregnancy is almost through. I have 7 1/2 weeks to go until my due date, and am hoping this little girl might arrive a few days before that, as I don't physically handle the 3rd trimester very well, thanks mostly to my scoliosis. It causes problems from head to toe. Despite the added pain and problems from that, I feel I have been truly blessed this pregnancy. I have felt better this time around than I did last, with the exception of the restless legs every night, and worse heartburn. (First trimester was pretty rough too, but I was able to medicate away most of the problems near the end of that). I'm not nearly as big as I was with Annibelle and people have just recently begun asking me when I'm due, as opposed to last time when they would assume I was ready to deliver any moment, and I was still just in my second trimester. I've been able to take good care of my little Annibelle still and for that I am very grateful.
As for cravings, well... i had about a month where I craved ice cream; our freezer is still full from that episode. LOL I eat cold cereal most every day, which I almost never do when I'm not pregnant. I've made Peter take me out for Italian a few times, but other than that things have been pretty normal. I have not, however, enjoyed meat. I don't want to eat it, see it, or smell it. Occasionally I've been able to eat fish. I have REALLY enjoyed my fruit! Our refrigerator is almost always full of it.

I've been trying for many months now to help Annibelle understand that "there's a baby in my tummy". I'm pretty sure she thinks I'm crazy, but occasionally she'll try to lift my shirt and will say, "Tummy. Baby." We'll tell her the baby's name, (which you all will have to wait to find out), and explain that this is her baby sister. I want her to be somewhat familiar with the idea of this little person so she won't be freaked out when she finally meets her. Naturally I'm a little nervous about how she'll respond to the new baby, and how I will handle having both, night and day. I still nurse Annibelle to sleep at night and we will all be in the same room together, so I'm hoping they won't wake each other up. (fingers crossed!)
We recently put up a twin bed for Annibelle right next to ours. She loves her new bed, pillow, sheets and blanket. During the night, at some point, she always manages to wiggle off of her bed and onto mine to snuggle back to sleep beside me. I suppose that as long as I'm always between the two wee ones, everything should be okay.

The thing that most weighs on my mind right now is fear of labor/delivery. After what I suffered last time, I am a bit freaked out, and can honestly say that I would rather die than go through that again. It was that horrific. That said, I have done my research on epidurals and have decided that they are less terrifying than what I went through last time. Yes, I still plan on laboring at home for as long as I can before heading to the hospital, but once I get there, it all depends on the pain.

I've hired a doula again to assist me in labor... partly because I plan to labor at home for a while and will at least start off drug free, (unless for some reason I have to be induced), and partly because there's a big chance that Peter will be with Annibelle, as I don't dare leave her alone with someone she's unfamiliar with, and I don't want to have this baby all alone with some random nurse and an on-call doctor. All of these things add to my anxiety. And, of course, the final 'what if'... will this baby be healthy??? After what we've been through with Annibelle, and still have yet to go through with her, I am pleading with God to give us a perfectly healthy baby girl. That said, I do see the blessings in having Annibelle with her condition; I feel I know how to be a better mother to all of my future children/babies because I was forced to do things differently with Annibelle. I'm grateful know the benefits of being a co-sleeping family. I'm grateful to know the importance of nursing on demand, and nursing for comfort. The emotional benefits of each of these are both short term and long term. I'm grateful to know better than to let my baby just 'cry it out', and how harmful that can be both physically and emotionally, short term and long term. I'm grateful that all this and more made me want to do as much research as I could, and that it's made me want to continue my research as often as I've had time to. I've discovered that so much of what our nation does/accepts as 'the proper way to raise a baby/child' is mostly based on tradition, not research. (i.e. formula, cribs, allowing baby to cry to sleep, thinking baby should sleep all night like an adult, introducing solids as early as 4 months old....). I'm so grateful for all I've learned thus far and for all I continue to learn. If not for this unique intro to parenthood, I'd probably be making most of the same choices I've seen my sisters make with their wee ones, which aren't terrible, but when you know there's a better way, and that way is already familiar to you, it makes it so much easier to follow.
My heartfelt love and thanks to all the dear moms who have swapped stories with me, lifted me when I've been down, laughed with me when I felt I could cry, and who have encouraged and supported me in doing the things I know are best for me and my family; I know sometimes it's been tough. I especially thank you for your love and compassion, thoughts and prayers through the many tough times we've been through, and for the ones we are currently going through. Thank you for remembering us. Thank you for thinking of me.

Baby Genius

I was just sitting here coloring with Annibelle. She wanted me to draw her a triangle, circle, star and heart, so I did. Then, she proceeded to say, "Circle", and drew a circle! And it didn't end there!!! Next she said, "Triangle", and drew a triangle! Can I just say my jaw was on the floor! I couldn't be more proud of my little girl. <3