Potpourri

My brain is a hodge-podge spiral of everything lately.

I create posts in my head that never get written.

And, seriously, what else is new?

I want to talk about pre-natal testing (PNT). Whew, that's a biggie. I've been reading an article lately. In itself, it's not long. It's the 190 comments that are taking time to rifle through. And there are some doozies in there. Some make me gag because they're just so over-the-top syrupy and others make me fear for my life in this country and wonder if the author is my neighbor or co-worker. You can read for yourself here.

The article was published back in September, but I only just now learned about it for a reason that I will discuss sooner than later. I just need time to get my long list of thoughts together. I figure that people have wondered about my position on PNT, especially now that my pregnancy is common knowledge, but they're too polite to ask. Which is cool. So I'll just tell.

In a similar vein, I had an appointment with, as my friend likes to call it, my "nurse collective" last week. I am officially 3/5 of the way through my pregnancy and the baby appears to be doing well. He moves a lot and he has a great sounding heartbeat. I feel pretty good for the most part and if I could just get motivated to find a support group like "Pregnancy after Weight Loss" I might be able to wrap my brain around this whole upward motion of the scale thing. Trust me, I know it's a necessary part of the process, but I still sigh at every weigh-in. I need to get over it.

At my appointment, unfortunately, I also had to deal with a question about Playette that made me think. It brought up the whole "educate or get pissed or both?" feelings again. I swear, as more time goes by, this isn't as clear cut as it used to be. At least I'm not so quick to cry anymore.

There's also work stuff that is out of control. Like, really. They have gone straight nutty on me. I know I mentioned it briefly back in August/September, but because I wasn't ready to talk about the babe yet, I didn't get into details about why what happened really sucked as much as it did. Suffice it to say that coming back was not what I anticipated.

I've got reserve duty coming up (which caused more drama at work) and I am already thinking of how much I'm going to miss Playette and vice versa. My girl really tugs at my heartstrings lately and every choice I make seems to impact her to the core. I hope she doesn't hate me when I get back. The one good thing that will come of this is my getting to wear what I fondly refer to as "The Khaki Tent" again. Not only will I get more of my money's worth out of this rarely-worn gem, but it's super-comfy. So, yay for that.

Also, I want to touch on infertility. That's not something I've ever talked about openly. But it's real. And that makes me even more grateful for what's currently going on with my body.

I hope you're all enjoying a wonderful holiday season. If you have any specific questions, please either post here or email me and I'll add it to the lot.

We'll be celebrating in a unique way this year and I look forward to telling you more about that, too.

Soon...very soon.

Anything in particular that you want to hear about first? Majority rules.

Because I Promised

Here goes nothing.

I can't watch these or else I know that they'd never get posted because I'd pick them apart forever and end up writing myself a script instead and then that would take too long so I'd end up forgetting altogether and...yeah.

BTW, I did these on my phone. You may need to tweak the volume some. I was working my sexy sleepy voice.

Happy, Tears

I was just over at a friend's blog and read something that made me cry. But it was good!

I'm sure that I'm extra-emotional because I miss my kid, but still.

Who couldn't miss their little with BD sending me pics like this before I even got through airport security?!


Way to play dirty, dude. ;-)

I'm on reserve duty for the next week and a half, so BD is holding down the fort at home. We had a conversation this morning about the necessity of tiny, brown leggings and debated the pros and cons of cornrow removal.

Yup, we're parents.

Things have been pretty busy for us lately. I was fortunate to be able to participate in a long-awaited Girls' Weekend in Savannah, GA, which was followed by Spring Break, and then Playette and I road-tripped it to Philadelphia, returning home just in time for me to pack up and fly to DC.

So that's where I am.

Home. Ish.

Strange. I haven't been here in 3.5 years. So many things have changed. It has been great getting to see people and places that I've missed and I'm looking forward to the time I have remaining. The work I'm doing here is good and I'm not in harm's way. I really can't complain.

BD and Playette will be arriving on Friday so that we can spend some family time in the place where we all became a family.

=====

I'd like to thank all of you that helped us to win the photo session! I'm really excited to take pictures with Natalie in May.

A-ha!

I used to watch Oprah regularly and then I stopped for a while and kept missing good shows every now and again until I finally learned to set the TiVo and watch what sounded good when I had the time to do so.

Last night, as I was cuddling with The Sickest, I checked in to see what the deal was with "The Bravest Families in America."

Wow.

Talk about enlightening.

I mean, there's a lot I'm still adjusting to in regards to being a military family. This is after being in JROTC in high school, going to a service academy, being in the reserves, working as a civilian for two different armed forces, and being married for BD for nearly 5 years.

There's still so much I don't know.

Oprah's topic explored the need for increased awareness of the realities of our country's military families. Her guests were people that served and came home wounded, caregivers, parents who lost a child, the spouses that stayed behind, and those that believed that more should be known about and done for these people.

Again, I was brought to tears. (I cried at some point during every Australia episode. Don't judge me.)

I cried for the people who clearly have a tougher way to go than I do.

I cried for myself because I realized, most clearly for the first time, that I had a right to feel the way I felt when BD was deployed. For the most part, we were isolated. Most people do not get deployed from grad school. There were not supports in place for families like ours. I was fortunate to have friends and respite, but when it came to formal "Now how do I handle this?" stuff, there was nothing to be found.

I wasn't sure what to share with BD or what to keep to myself (Would he feel bad that he wasn't there to help in the bad times? Would he feel bad when he misseed something good?). I was lonely. I was tired. I was running myself ragged, not sleeping, trying to be everything I thought everyone else thought I should be. The perfect wife, mother, friend. I wanted to prove that I was like what I thought every other military wife was: strong in the face of adverse circumstances, never complaining, making it happen at all costs.

I still believe that those women are those things, but now I see that I was, too. I never gave myself that credit. Much like when we received Playette's diagnosis, a new normal was created and the clock didn't stop.

Sometimes you have to give yourself a pat of the back where it's due. This lifestyle may be chosen (BD did not knock me in the head and force me unknowingly into marrying him - he wore his uniform in our wedding. I can't say I didn't know he was in the Navy.), but it's not easy. This is not how most people live. No pity required. Just self-acknowledgement that it's ok to say that it's hard. Some times more than others. And not everyone can relate. The end.

I have to accept that I'll make friends and lose them. I have to suck it up that my career does not take priority. I have to get used to packing and unpacking and fighting battles with school districts any and everywhere as we move just as we start to get comfortable.

But I also realize that we have a good life. My husband is safe and he is well. He likes what he does and I support him fully. There are people I could be supporting better in our community and I will. It's the least I can do.

It was just so nice to see our reality acknowledged on the show.

I needed that.

Post Meridiem

PM.

That's the class Playette will be in.

In other words, afternoon preschool.

Hm. Not my first choice, but at the end middle of the day, she's going.

I hope she doesn't fall asleep.

And what's funny is, she's going to the EXACT SAME SCHOOL that we visited last week, where they told us that that there was no friggen' way (there I go paraphrasing again) that she'd end up there because we live a whopping two miles away and the only spot they had was being "reserved" for someone that left town months ago and maybe-might come back. @@@@ <-- That's my eyes rolling. Four times.

Whatever.

They're getting her today, baby!

I feel like it's my first trip to Disney and it's opening in 3 hours!

What am I going to do with myself?

Kidding. I have 9 million things to do. It looks like boxes exploded all over my house.

I am looking forward to spending some alone time with BD, that's for sure. Since he's been back from sea, we've been prepping to move, moving, schlepping, signing, figuring, organizing, and just plain working.

We hung pictures and drove around looking at Craigslist finds for his birthday yesterday. Not exactly wine trolly-ing it up this year.

So, today will be nice. For all of us.

Playette is absolutely missing the companionship of her peers. She wants to play. She needs to play. And learn, too.

She's been assigned to a 50-50 "reverse mainstreaming" (ick on that term) class. She'll be the 7th child with an IEP and there are six children that are Currently Undiagnosed. That's not what they call them. They call them "normal kids" but, uh, I don't like that. Shocked? So I'll use CU.

Time to observe and see if this is the best sitch for our Littlest.

I can't wait until she sees the bus pull up, just for her. It won't be until next week, but she LOVES riding the bus. She points them out everywhere we go. BUS! BUS! BUUSSSS!

Clear as a bell.

Love that kid.

Hiding Out

I'm in the bathroom. It is the only safe place in a house full of men.

I paraphrase, poorly I may add, The Color Purple.

It's the first thing that came to mind.

The truck came this morning. It was maybe 8:20ish. The weather we were expecting didn't make much of an impact, so we avoided a ton of mud and crud being tracked all over the place. That made me happy.

We got started working pretty quickly. While it is wayyyy nicer to have movers that it is to do everything yourself, you can't just sit idly by while they haul and unpack.

I mean, every item/box has to be inventoried and damages noted. You have to direct and answer questions and hope that your desires are fulfilled. You also need to be appropriately grateful. Playette had that part covered for us as she thanked each gentleman for each box that was brought into the master bedroom where we were perched for the first couple of hours. I tried to tell her than a couple of thank yous would suffice, but my girl loves her manners.

Yeah. Speaking of, all of this is much more difficult when you add in a three-and-a-half year old. No matter how polite she is.

Then, when everything is in, you've got the unpack. Awesome, right?

But I must say...unpack does not mean put away. No siree. Totally different.

There is crap everywhere.

Plus, there are things that I would rather have kept private strewn all over the floor. Yeesh.

At least, though, when they unpack, they take two tons of paper used to wrap everything and the hundreds of boxes with them. It's a trade off.

I attempted to make a dent by hanging clothes and putting away some dishes, but it was a fruitless effort. They caught up to me and caught up to me fast.

So, we'll get it done. Slowly, but surely. I'm totally not complaining. I like having my stuff back. And now I can start getting rid of all the things I never want to move again.

I'd love to now call the coordinator I screeched at spoke with yesterday, so that my daughter can start school already, but I have no idea where my phone is. I pray it's not in one of those boxes.

Who left the gate open?!

Well, someone did.

'Cause I'm back.

*exhale*

No, really this time. I mean it.

And now I can finally tell you why I was gone.

See, BD's job is kinda awesome and then it's kinda not sometimes.

He was deployed for four months. And that kept me very busy.

Not a long time in the military world, I know, but I'm one of those spoiled newbie wives who never had her husband away for more than a few days. As a matter of fact, the longest we were ever apart previously was the 12 or so days when I was away. When we met, he had a desk job and then our first move together took us to a place where he could go to graduate school. So, in five years, most evenings he would beat me home.

That all changed on August 30, 2010.

Playette and I, along with a group of motivated friends who share our sense of humor, saw him off for a 6am flight, complete with amusing (to us) signage and hugs and overreacting fall on the floor craziness a little emotion.

The days went by slowly, the weeks passed, the months eventually added up.

We were able to talk by phone once or twice a week and email almost daily. Unfortunately, Skyping wasn't an option at sea, but we were able to do so before he got to the ship (Bahrain) and during the last port stop (Greece).

Playette and I heeded the advice of more experienced folks like Michelle and Renee and stayed busy. That's why we seemed to be moving around so much. We went to Sheree's and Michelle's and Andrea's and a total of three Buddy Walks and experienced many, many flights (yay for coupons that needed to be used!). We visited friends and family in Arizona and spent a mama-daughter few days in San Francisco over Thanksgiving and soooo many things in between.

I ran my second half-marathon and we even made it into a front page article of our small town paper. I lost my final 15 pounds over those 16 weeks and achieved Lifetime status with Weight Watchers. Grand total: 52 pounds.

And because I know I would want to know, it took me 20 months.

Since then I've fallen off the wagon a bit because...

Then BD came home! WOOHOO!

But the day before he was due, my herniated disk (occurred totally randomly and reared its head after I had finished the race, thank goodness) flared up on me and I ended up in the ER. They IV'd me (ACK!) and gave me bueno drogas (ahhh) and an epidural (WHOA) and kept me overnight. Luckily, I had a sitter over at the time everything was going down and she was able to help me before friends jumped in and took care of Playette while I couldn't.

By the time BD walked in our front door after hours of traveling across the country and way too many delays, I was home and feeling a little better, yet heavily medicated. With the big guy back, we've been doing tons of eating out in the midst of happy, family-together-again time and then there's the whole "I can't exercise" thing, so, well, I'm not planning to step on a scale anytime soon. My pants are tight, yo.

And in case that wasn't enough, we thought we'd throw a cross-country move in there.

[INSERT STRESS HERE]

Now, the three of us are living in a hotel room, waiting for a place to call ours. Exotic, right? Darn tootin'.

In between moments I'm not entirely proud of, I am taking this all much better than I anticipated. Alone with the kiddo while my typically very active partner was away? Scared me. A lot. But I did it.

I've wanted to write so many times, but my words kept reaching into "I'm overwhelmed because my husband isn't here" territory and I just didn't want to allude to us being alone in the house. I couldn't do it.

I'll tell you more about how Playette did during that time in my next post.

Thanks for sticking around.

Nothing Better

I got home from NY at about 11:30pm Friday. Playette was at home, long asleep and under the care of the babysitter when BD picked me up from the airport.

The first thing I did when I got upstairs was rush to catch a glimpse of my baby girl. In the light from the hallway, I was able to make out the shape of her body, on her belly, in the position that is so familiar to me.

I touched her hand and her fingers grazed my own. Careful not to wake her, I stepped lightly out of the room and softly shut the door.

In the morning, I heard her stir. I asked BD if he wouldn't mind going to get her. I wanted to see her walk into the room. I wanted to see if she would react at all to seeing me there.

She didn't let me down.

As she crossed the threshold, she looked up, checking to see if I was there, as I'm sure she did every morning for the previous two weeks.

This time, though, her face lit up. It brings tears to my eyes to think about it. It was like she was hoping that one day her view would be different and this time her wish came true.

She ran to my side of the bed as fast as her tiny feet would carry her. She smiled, she clapped, she reached her arms up to me.

I lifted her.

She put her head on my shoulder, looked at me, put her head on my chest, taking it all in and enjoying the moment.

She clapped some more, signed mama, danced. She framed my face in her little hands and stared.

There was no denying her happiness.

She stuck by my side as much as possible for the rest of the weekend. I tried to reassure her that I was back and wasn't going anywhere.

She missed me.

And I missed her right back.

SacTown

We're just wrapping up a pretty nice weekend over here, but before I can talk about that, I must take the time to acknowledge last weekend.

Last fall, Sheree and her family came to visit us. We had a great time chatting and going to the aquarium together. It was so nice that we promised to get together again.

And then life happened.

Next thing you know, it was May. I was bummed that we'd have to miss Gabby's birthday party since I was going to be away for reserve duty. When Sheree and I spoke, we made tentative plans to just pick a weekend in June and make it happen. And make it happen we did.

Early on Saturday morning, BD, Playette, and I piled into the car and began our trek.

When we got there, we were met by some of the most hospitable people ever. They immediately made us comfortable, told us to make ourselves at home, and meant it.

After playing with the kids for a while, we drove into Sacramento for our first activity of the day. I was very excited to meet Lisa and Monica, moms to Sheridan and John Michael, respectively. Monica also brought her lovely and helpful daughters, Anna and Greta.

The kids were so adorable, the day was beautiful, and the company was great. All moms of little ones with Ds (from 9-23 months), we shared ideas, answered questions, talked about the upcoming conference, and more. It was a great experience for me and I look forward to seeing them again soon.



After leaving the park where we had the playdate, the fun continued. Can you say "ice cream sundaes"? Mmmmm.



We weren't back at the house long before we were joined by Sonia and her family. None of us had ever met before, but Sonia and I have the Navy wife thing in common (plus, her husband is a Submariner, something BD can relate to).

So, now we've got a house full. 6 adults, 6 kids. The littlest ones were our three princesses, all at different stages, yet still a year old. It was so amazing and they were so sweet.

I got all mushy at one point when I looked at them. These girls are beautiful. Really. And I was overcome with the thought that people are afraid to have babies just like them. And then I thought of how wonderful it was to just be.

I mean, a lot of times when I'm out with people whose kids don't have T21, I wonder what they're thinking. Are they silently thankful that they're kid isn't like mine? Are they wondering why she isn't talking? Why is she so small? And if I haven't told them about her diagnosis, are they nervous about asking me?

You know, that kinda stuff.

Well, in this group, I didn't have to worry about that. Not one bit. I was relaxed. I was enjoying the moment. And it was great.

So I cried.

Sorry, y'all.

When I pulled myself together, I couldn't help but notice how grown up my little girl is becoming. She was enamored with the older kids and kept wanting to hang out with them.

Where's my baby?!

Oh, wait. There she is. Dunking.



I've been sitting here trying to figure out where all my pictures went and then *bam* it hit me. I was so busy coveting Sheree's camera, that I hardly picked up mine at all. Ha! Lucky, Sheree. Now she has a SD card full of artistic photos of things like Chick-fil-A nuggets.

For some different perspectives on that day, check here:

Lisa's post

Monica's post

Sonia's post

On Sunday, we woke up to the smell of this stuff called "breakfast." Have you heard of it? Apparently, it doesn't just come from a drive-through.

Sheree made us breakfast, y'all. You know I didn't want to leave, right? And she helped me make the Pumpkin Pound Cake I've been dreaming about since December.

*swoon*

Then we went shopping at a discount store.

*be still my heart*

We are so going back.

If they'll have us.

Choices

I knew this time would come, I just didn't know it would be so soon.

When I got married almost three years ago, it was pretty obvious that I was marrying into the military. I mean, seriously, the man standing next to me was wearing a uniform. Was there any doubt that during the 13 years to follow that there would be at least several moves?

No, not really.

We still have about one and a half years left here, but already we have to start thinking about where to go next.

So far, it looks like the choices are between the Seattle, San Diego, and Norfolk areas.

If it were all about me, I'd choose San Diego. Great weather, beaches, friends nearby, not too far of a move from where we are now, etc.

But it's not about me. It's about Playette and what's best for her. We have to think about the fact that she'll be three years old, into IEP-land, and needing some good preparation for starting school.

Basically, we just need to research these three places and rank them for the detailer (person who decides BD's next duty station).

I'm coming to you all for feedback. What do you know? What have you heard? What would you do?

Any info on any of these areas would be extremely helpful. The blogosphere reaches far and wide. Maybe you know someone who knows someone?

For my military peeps...

When we were still living in the DC area after Playette was born (President's Hospital, represent!*), I did a lot of research about available services and programs. It was at that time that I first heard the word "respite." We're fortunate here in CA that we can access great child care via the Regional Centers, but in DC? As great as everything else was? Not so much with the respite.

I read one day that the military was offering up to 40 hours per month, but when I called to follow up, I learned that it was Army and Marine Corps only. It was odd to me that we couldn't join in because usually, especially in DC, what is available to one service is available to all.

I was happy to find out today that the Navy has stepped up their game in this department.

Maybe one day, we'll be able to take advantage of this wonderful benefit. I'm sure it will be especially helpful when BD is deployed in a couple of years.

If you know of anyone eligible, please do share this info with them.


*Something to note:

When I was pregnant, I was really looking forward to getting Playette's newborn photo taken. When we toured the hospital, it was mentioned that we'd have the option of receiving these pictures for free and the novelty of having something different and free than the typical newborn pic, I thought was kinda cool.

But then she was born and Ds entered our lives. I never went to get the photos taken before she was discharged.

It's making me sad just to think about it. I've honestly never revisited this before just now.

Anyway, so because she wasn't gaining weight and I was struggling with breastfeeding my sleepy baby, I made many trips to see the lactation consultant. She was great. Besides giving us as much time and materials as we could ever ask for, she had an adult daughter that had cognitive delays and, as a result, this woman was the most understanding, compassionate person I could have asked for during that time.

One day, while at the hospital for an appointment, I decided that it was time to take the photos. I think Playette was close to two weeks old by then. As you can see, she had on baggy unisex pajamas, not a cute little outfit. I hadn't even started putting bows in her hair yet.

So, anyway, that's the story behind that photo.

We've come such a long way since then.

SITREP

So I've been slacking. You know that and I know that. I've just been so busy.

I'd like to take a moment to bring you up to speed on a few things I've talked about here:

Your Baby Can Read - I TiVo'd the show, but I haven't had the opportunity to sit down and watch it yet. Hopefully I'll be able to in the next day or two. I really appreciate the feedback Michelle provided on her experience with the program. That lets me know up-front that if we invest in YBCR, we need to make sure to take the time to follow the program to the letter. Geesh. Sometimes that's the hardest part! (Exhibit 1: Exercise DVDs)

The Dilemma - We got to go to the shindig! Yup, my very sweet co-worker came through in the clutch. She's met and spent time with Playette before and they really enjoyed one another. It was a really good match. I hated to have to ask, and really was prepared to just stay home, but she was glad to do it so WOOHOO! It was only two hours and, sure, the students/spouses may have been the youngest people in the room by about 67 years, but it was still cool to get dressed up since we don't get to do that very often.

Cookie Party - I ate until I was sick. Like, I literally came home with a booming headache that I attribute to the embarrassing glutinous show I put on at work. Even though I got some really good ideas from you all regarding how to show up the rest of the office with my mad cookie baking skillz, I folded. For one, I am what some call cheap frugal. I had purchased some cookie mix not too long ago when I had a coupon and it was on sale at the commissary. Since I had water and eggs on-hand, here was my opportunity to actually use what I purchased instead of having it packed up in two years when we move again and then getting "that look" from BD when it was unpacked on the other side because we just made way too much effort to move expired cookie mix.

So, yeah, that's what I did. I made bagged oatmeal and oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. Blah. I just learned last night that the reason they didn't even come out that great, despite the fact that I put no additional effort into them whatsoever, is because I didn't let them cool long enough, thus creating some weird looking aeration thing where it looked like the cookie was a shell of its former self.

One day soon, I'm gonna make a carrot cake so that I can redeem myself. I make a really good carrot cake. Or maybe I should say, "I have a really good carrot cake recipe and when I make it, I tend to actually follow the directions most of the time."

Work - Work is work. It's been very interesting lately. Suffice it to say that I'm glad to be taking a few days off very soon. More about that later.

Key Grip

Have you ever just sat there at the end of the movie and watched the credits roll? I'm guessing that you have at least once.

For me, there are always roles that stick out like Key Grip and Best Boy and then I wonder what that truly entails. I mean, I know that I could Google it, but that's not the point. I figure that those unheralded positions are essential or else why would they be listed for every movie? But they're obviously behind the scenes. Not the director, or the producer, or the headlining star. They have a part to play and they do it. They make enough of a difference that their absence would be felt, but there are no awards that I know of for even those that do the very best at their given tasks.

That's how I feel sometimes. Like the Key Grip, or at least what I perceive what being one is like.

I make the phone calls, I write the blog, I do the research, I make the food for the potluck, I invite people over, I meet people in other cities, I write the emails, I drive to the far appointments, I maintain the schedule, I worry enough for the both of us. The emotional stuff.

But I can't relax or feel that is enough.

I envy that in my husband. He does a fantastic job with Playette and she absolutely adores him. He wakes her up most mornings, changes her diaper, takes her downstairs and patiently sits with her while she drinks her milk, making sure that she doesn't drink too much at one time or throw it on the floor when she's done. He'll give her the nebulizer treatment and then dress her most days and even make an attempt to do her hair every once in a while. On Mondays, every other Wednesday, and Fridays, he takes her to daycare. He picks her up on Tuesday for Speech Therapy and Thursday for Physical Therapy. He takes her to see the Pediatrician more often. He makes dinner more often. He gives baths more often.

He is the headliner.

I wish I felt better about that. Because someone has to do it, right? And since he's a student and also in the military, now is a good time for that, right? Because he'll be deployed at some point and that will all be me, right?

I know we each do our part, but...

Yesterday, I was asked by one of Playette's team if I had any questions at that time (I was alone) because, as it was put, "I hardly ever see you."

Ugh.

There's a reason for that. I know there is. I work outside of the home. That wasn't my goal when I met BD, and I didn't change my mind when I was pregnant. We were prepared for me to stay home. We had saved money and learned how to live off of one income. But then everything changed when she was born.

I no longer felt like I was enough for her. She needed more than I felt I could give. I was not the SuperMom that existed in my mind. If she did not excel, it would be on me. I had no other children and there was even guilt from that reality. Who would she interact with? Who would set the example that only another child could? Who would motivate her? Surely not me. Who was I? I was not special. I did not believe I was chosen because of all of my positive attributes like so many people liked to tell me I was. I knew myself to be lazy, choosing a nap over cleaning. The person with journals all over the house with a handful of entries in each because I couldn't be so bothered to keep up with them. Surely her placement with me was a mistake and my daughter needed more than I could provide.

So she went to daycare and I found a job shortly thereafter.

That was harder than I thought. I still felt that decision was best for us, but how do you balance it all? Therapies, IFSPs, Parents as Teachers Program, Support Group, Babycenter, Blogosphere, TriCare referrals, DSAsv, DSANV, MFT...and being a "normal" family in the midst of it all? Wanting to be looked at as just another family, like anyone else, while still asking for grace because of the extra commitments?

I cut out some things, sure. But it's still a constant effort. I can't read everything and be everywhere all at one. I want to be invited to gatherings and not be the one that people don't want around because I make them uncomfortable by simply "being."

I know what I'm doing is important, but...

Relax.
Relate.
Release.

Dammit if it doesn't always feel that way.

I already know Part II of this post will be "Guilt."

Holla if you hear me.

Dilemma

So here's the deal. You know how BD is a student right? Well, the President of the Uiversity is having this soireé on Sunday afternoon and only 10 students are invited. He was chosen. In a perfect world, I would attend as his guest.

I made my hair appointment, made a mental note to buy some stockings, prayed I could still fit the dress I wanted to wear.

But....Ms. J is busy. As it is, she's already coming over tomorrow and Saturday nights. It would be a lot to ask even if she were available. And she isn't. So now what?

We asked friends and co-workers. Everyone has plans. Which is totally understandable 'cause it really is last-minute.

It's times like this that I'm reminded of what I said pre-child:
Parents can't do everything they want to do.
Sometimes you have to say no.
Invitations can be declined.

I'm repeating this to myself over and over like a mantra.

It kinda sucks a little, but seriously? Our obligation to take care of Playette takes priority over all other things. Even really cool networking opportunity-type things that seem like could be possible if only the stars would perfectly align for two or three hours.

Well, this time we just have to suck it up and make a decision. Either BD goes alone or we pass. Or we find a suitable sitter, if that's even possible at this juncture.

This reminds me of something. I know there are folks out there that have been made to feel guilty for wanting to have an adult-only gathering (you should see the wedding forums I've visited in the past - WOOHOO is that ever a heated discussion!). I want you to know that even though I'm a parent now, I'm still with you. The only events Playette will attend are ones to which she is explicitely invited. Taking her with us is not an option here.

By the way, I got mad at BD earlier when he sent me a text message saying that he saw an ad for a babysitter on the bulletin board. I totally thought he was offering to leave my baby with a stranger so that we could attend a cocktail party. As if.

Apparently he was kidding. I didn't know that for a long time so I was mad...well, for a long time.

Oops.

Sorry.[/small voice]

In Honor of Veterans Day

This, by far, has always been my favorite memorial on The Mall.


"The Korean War Veterans Memorial honors those Americans who answered the call, those who worked and fought under the trying of circumstances, and those who gave their lives for the cause of freedom."