Morning glow by your light
We can make the new day bright
And the phantoms of the night
Will fade into the past
Morning glow is here

At last.

-Stephen Schwartz, Pippin

The post Morning Glow. appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

The launch of the new website for Pearl Communications, my PR firm. It was actually the owner who suggested that I use Brand Revive and then ended up hiring them herself, with brilliant results.

A great phonecall with my friend who told me she would make a wish for me at 11:11.

Eating brownie batter (pre-egg) with both of my kids and having matching chocolate mustaches.

Discovering, accidentally, that over a half a year ago, a woman blogger whom I do not know nominated me for a Liebster award.

An impromptu visit by my grandparents so that they could drop off two new winter coats for my daughter, just because…

…and then my son falling asleep in my arms as we chatted; My daughter then climbed onto my other side and wrapped us all in a blanket and my Mommom and Poppop watched the three of us with sheer joy.

Getting a card addressed to “Aunt Becca”. #friendshipisthickerthanblood

Catching a phonecall with J, with whom I have been playing phone tag for two days, only to say, “I have to go in 7 minutes because I have an important call with a doctor and my kids are running around like crazy and I’m home alone with them.” and then hanging up on her when the doctor called, only to see her face at my front door 10 minutes later. She didn’t offer. She didn’t ask. She just showed up.

My husband coming home from work and saying, “I have something for you.” That something was not a traditional gift (it was actually a self help book to be honest) but he’s never been big on the traditional romantic gesture, now has he?

Giving my son his bedtime and kissing him twenty times before placing him in his crib. Giving my daughter her bedtime and cuddling with her, nose to nose, as she told me, “You are the best mom in the world and you make me so happy and I want to be with you all the time. You are super.”

Sending a goodnight text with a friend that was, incredibly, truly identical to the goodnight text she sent to me.

 Cozying up in a bathrobe and towel turban next to my husband on the couch as he played Grand Theft Auto 5; Bob Seger’s “Night Moves” came on as the background song and we sang it together, belting out, “…Waited on the thunder!”

Getting a video text from my dad’s secretary from their firm’s holiday party (which included margaritas and karaoke). Because it is the greatest thing ever. (Hint: Click the link below and allow Quicktime. You won’t be sorry.)

IMG_4551

Agreeing to listen to a kooky podcast before bed. Because that’s the kind of thing that girls do early on in relationships when they really like a guy and they say “Oh yeah, I would LOVE to watch that monster truck alien zombie space ninja action movie with you!”, which I think means that I still feel that way about my guy; I want to listen to something to make him happy because I really like him. Even though it’s weird.

Parenthood. And I will leave it at that, because I am not a show spoiler.

Holding my hot and crying daughter at 2am as she said her ear was “killing” her. I told her that she probably had an ear infection, like I have just had. “Awwww, mom, are you trying to copy me?” she asked.

I think that I am blessed to have had all of those moments, but, I think I am even more blessed that now,

because I can finally appreciate them.

The post Things that made my heart burst yesterday: appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

I had at least a handful of moments where I would catch eyes with my son and smile and he would beam back at me with his grin that is becoming more toothy by the day. I think there is a small part of me that fears that he doesn’t love me the way that he could or should because I didn’t exactly make the best first impression. But every time I see him smile like that, and when he nuzzles up to me, right thumb in his mouth, left hand reaching for mine, I know that he loves me, too.

I feel particularly emotional today for no one reason. No, it is not hormonal. Perhaps it is because of what I wrote last night and all that it conjures for me, or perhaps it is from some other stressful things in my life. I just feel extra raw.

And I have no idea why, but today I cried. A lot. And it wasn’t sad crying. It was just emotional crying, if that makes sense.

I cried while reading some personal messages that I received today. I am humbled, truly, when people share themselves with me, as I have with them.

I cried about stuff related to my desire to publish my book (I want to help others so badly!!!).

I cried when I took my daughter to the Pediatrician and saw a new baby in it’s infant seat. (perhaps that was sad crying). I felt so wistful. It ached.

I cried as I made my daughter the appointment for her FIVE year old check up. How is my daughter turning five this year? The receptionists talked about it incredulously as well, as they remember her as a newborn.

I cried when we were in the actual exam room; we had a pretty long wait (as she was given some tests) and I started to sing to her from my new favorite part of her new favorite musical and she stopped me, because she said that the people in the other rooms would think that I was the real Baker’s Wife. I am still not sure why that would be a bad thing (maybe she thinks they would steal me and throw me into the woods?), but I cried at her innocence.

I cried when I asked her if she loves performing and told her how much it has always meant to me. I welled up trying to explain to her how it has forever been my dream and I was so moved by the poignancy of our talk.

I cried on our way home from the doctor, which is literally down the street, because as we approached our normal turn, Queen’s “Somebody to Love” started to play and I said, “You have to hear this song, do you mind if we drive around a little bit?” (we had her dad’s super fast new car and could zip around the streets).  She was obviously game. I told her that it was Freddy Mercury singing. “Oh, Queen.” she replied. And I belted out the words and then, when it ended and we pulled up in the driveway behind my pink peace sign, I cried to have had that experience with my little girl.

I cried this evening, after I put my son to bed, when it was time for me to give a final snuggle to my daughter. I noticed that there were black drawings on some of the furniture by her bed. It is a well established rule in this house that markers are to be used only on paper (and this rule was implemented after certain dolls were colored, etc.) I cried because I saw the fear and pain in my daughter’s eyes. And I had a wonderful parenting moment. I told her that I was not mad at her (her biggest fear), and that I was proud of her for being honest. I told her that we all make mistakes. She asked me not to tell her daddy and I told her that I tell him everything. She asked if she could snuggle on me for a little. Her eyes. Those sad eyes.

I cried tonight when I watched the Season 1 finale of Broadchurch.

And then I cried afterwards when I went up and looked at my sleeping daughter in her bed.

On my way to my bedroom, I looked down at my sweater to see this:

Ok, I thought. I’ve got this.

All of these little crying sessions have been very small, perhaps even too small for anyone else to notice, and part of me thinks I am holding in one giant deluge of tears. That remains to be seen.

But there is one positive that I take away from having an emotional day like this; it means that I am keeping the promise I made to myself to “cherish the mundane”.

I had a cold day in with a sick child and a needy baby and I was able to enjoy them. Not all of the time. But most of the time.

And that shows me how far I have come.

Or, as some may say, how far I been able to travel out of the woods.

The post An emotional day. appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

My daughter didn’t sleep. My son sleeps.

My daughter nursed for 18 months. My son nursed for 10 weeks.

My daughter would sit and play for hours. My son eats candles.

My daughter, when taken to the pool for the first time, splashed on the stairs. My son DOVE in.

My daughter didn’t require childproofing. My son slit his wrist on my coffee table, requiring 7 stitches.

I joke about the fact that my son is more active than my daughter was and I often kid that it is because of his Y Chromosome.

The truth is, they are just two different human beings. And I love that. My daughter has always been more verbally advanced, while my son excels physically. She is more of a cuddler, while he is more of an explorer.

But they also have some similarities; they both like the sound of rain falling as their ambient noise while they sleep; they love back rubs and will stop, immediately, when I lift my hand under the back of their shirt; they adore music and dancing; they are lovers.

However, I will say that whatever you want to attribute it to, my son is fearless by nature, has seemingly boundless energy and enjoys items based on how dangerous they are (the correlation being that the more hazardous something is, the more he likes it ; e.g I give him a spoon and he throws it. He begs for the knife).

I could give you countless examples from the past several months, but I do not have to. He gave me enough examples from this morning, alone.

So, this morning:

My son opened the dishwasher and climbed in and started to play with the plastic cups on the top rack

Found lotion under the kids’ bathroom sink and the kiddie toothpaste from the counter and I couldn’t pry them from his hands.

Ate food out of the dog’s bowl.

Ate quinoa chips off of the floor.

Lifted the 17 inch Macbook Pro and carried it (I just looked it up; it’s 6.6 lbs, a quarter of his weight).

Put my Mason Pearson hairbrush in the toilet so that I PEED on it, as I didn’t look in the toilet bowl before.

Hid his single pair of unbroken glasses in a large vase in my Living Room.

See what I mean? He gives me a lot of material. But, do you know what else this little boy gives me? A whole lot of joy. Like when he walked over to me, put his right thumb into his mouth and his left hand into mine. He may not be the kind of kid who will stay in bed and cuddle for hours, but luckily, I already have one of those. I have this kid who is willing to dive into things (quite literally) and for that I am grateful.

I just really wish I hadn’t peed on my Mason Pearson hairbrush.

The post Diving in (and peeing on). appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

Patience, my dear ones. For I am off to a happy place, where I will be celebrating my 8th Engagemaversary in that very same spot.

…is what I had written, yesterday,

prepared to publish today,

as I would now be off to St. John, via St. Thomas, with my entire family; Parents, siblings, kids…

It’s funny. Just last week, Jordan said, “The way to virtually guarantee that a child will get sick is to schedule something that you really want to do.”

And it has been no secret that we have been sickie little chickies in my house for the past month.

But weeks of sick days and doctor visits all kind of came to a head yesterday when I crashed, unexpectedly, at 3pm, woke up two hours later in excruciating ear pain. I have been suffering from TMJ on my right side, but this pain was on my left. And I couldn’t hear out of my ear. Weird.

So, I shook the sleep out of my head and rallied to give the baby his nighttime bottle, give my daughter her kiss goodnight, and I told my husband that something wasn’t right. All of the local urgent care facilities were closed and all my doctor besties were stuck without otoscopes (I just wanted to see if I was crazy), so we found a Care Stat location a little ways away and I got checked out.

I told the doctor about my TMJ. “First let me look at your right ear, or your ‘good ear’,” she said.

“Yup, this ear is infected.”

Then she moved onto my left.

And all she said was, “Whoa.”

That’s never what you want to hear from a doctor.

So I have a double ear infection, but on my left side it is pretty severe, and I am prohibited from flying for a week. Which means that we had to cancel our trip to our happy place.

It’s ok. I was most disappointed for my daughter and parents, but we have made alternate arrangements so that my kids will be taken away on a fun family trip, just the four of us, that involves driving, and no change in elevation that will perforate my eardrum.

I walked out of the urgent care office, into the Krispie Kreme two doors down, and ate a hot glazed doughnut right off of the conveyer belt. Because, really, what else was there to do?

So, I will continue where I had left off yesterday before this all went down (when I thought I would be leaving you for St. John):

Please don’t think I would leave you hanging. Oh no.

Because we have some big changes on the not so distant horizon; my home for the past 4.5 years,

www.mommyeverafter.wordpress.com,

just got quite the makeover. We are moving on up people.

Very soon, this blog will be located at…

www.mommyeverafter.com

You can visit the site to countdown to our big launch on December 22. There will be ads! There will be new categories! There will be a feathers! This is forrealz.

And I realize that my audience here is mixed; some of you have been here from the beginning, while others are newer to the land of mom. So I am leaving you with some old favorites. And the fun thing is, they lead you to other old posts. You have almost 900 of ‘em to wade through as I wade through the ocean. (Editor’s note: I don’t even have to say it. Frowny face.)

Let me take this opportunity to say thank you.

This past year (and I am getting choked up) has been the hardest in my life; I am so grateful for the support I have received from YOU. You have empowered me to tell me story and motivated me to help others. Thank you. I would not be here without you.

So here you go. I’ll be popping in here and there over the next week, but to tide you over:

Something motivational

Something sweet

Something musical

Something nostalgic

Something comprehensive

Some Important Insight

The craziest call to the pediatrican ever. (Really, ever.)

The second craziest call to the pediatrican,, ever. And it’s a close second.

Something Happy.

Something Hard.

Something Hopeful.

See you on the flip side at www.mommyeverafter.com,

the home of everything ever after.

The post Stay Tuned and Get Pumped! (is what I was going to say.) appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

I made it no secret on here (and in my life) that I was quite nervous about expanding our family. We were a perfect triangle.

I remember taking an autumn trip to the beach house with the fairy godparents and sitting on the couch for hours, literally, listing the reasons why I was scared to have another baby. My bestie and her husband (who is also a bestie, so don’t get it twisted, babe!) do not yet have children of their own, but she is an incredible psychologist, so she was perfect for the job. She sat and talked me through it, holding my hand.  And, wouldn’t you know, as I am typing this I am remembering that she did the exact same thing 10 years before, in the exact same spot of that exact same couch. Obviously the subject matter was different, but we sat on that couch for hours and hours, as she held my hand and we shared secrets and dreams.

In any case, my list of fears about having a second child was scattered. Some of the reasons included:

The repeat C-Section. I loathed my spinal the first time around, as it made me feel paralyzed and unable to breathe (and wasn’t aware that I could opt for an epidural). Selfishly, I was terrified to go through that again.

I had been warned countless times that having two children isn’t double the work, but 100 times the work. That is scary.

And then there was the anxiety; I was nearly crippled by anxiety at times during my first pregnancy, doing “kick counts” and googling things like “Does a baby get hurt by being jumped on by a 25 lb dog?” and “Do blowdryers scare babies in utero?” I also vaguely remember a brief freak out over Tonic Water and the safety of Quinine during pregnancy.

I also had a fear that I could have a crazy, wild, messy, rambunctious, high energy child. I could have a boy.

But, most of all, I feared the change in our family’s shape. We were a perfect triangle; We had our system down, we were a  trio.

(*Note: In trying to come up with the equivalent word that means the same as “pair” but with three people, please be careful with the terms that you Google.)

My daughter was my everything.

(I should mention that as I typed that sentence, she just popped her head into my bedroom door, clad in pink, fuzzy footie PJs and said, “I just needed one more mommy kiss. And after you’re done writing about me, read this Ariel book I gave you. It is the best. And maybe later, I will check up on you, and sneak up on you, very quietly, and give you a new book.” and blew me a kiss.)

With my daughter, everything was magical. Her nursery was an enchanted garden. She had a tutu collection. She was dainty and delicate and darling.

I was scared to push my luck.

And so, that night, that Fall, my friend and I decided that it was clearly not the right time for me to have another baby, and that maybe, one day, I would feel ready.

And I waited. And I waited. And I waited for that day to come.

And then something happened.

We moved into a new house, in my dream neighborhood (where both my husband and I grew up) and all of a sudden, I just felt ready. It took years, but I got there.

He was conceived instantly, came out early, and I loved him instinctively and deeply.

And then all hell broke loose.

I was not able to care for my son in the way that I had for my daughter; I was a wreck, had to be medicated which forced me to wean him at 10 weeks (after having nursed my girl for 18 months) and I completely lost it for awhile.

But, to be honest, it wasn’t because it was hard. It was never really hard having two. I realize that when some people have their children very close together it can be insane. But for me, having a second child was not harder than having one. The bright spot in a bleak year.

Slowly, though, things have changed. And if you read here regularly, I think you will have noticed a perceptible shift in how I write about my son;

I recently declared him to be the best thing that has ever happened to me and I named him as my true strength symbol.

Over the past year I have woken up to many people and many things. I now look at life in a completely different way and hold those dear to me closer than ever before. I tell my friends I love them every day. I try to show my husband, in some way or another, how grateful I am for him. And I adore the hell out of my kids.

Every time I pick up my son, every single time, I kiss his face. I know that despite a rough start to things, he knows that he is loved.

And just like it went with his sister, I have become obsessed with him. Even with all of his crazy antics (and, truth be told, he is literally the personification of the fear I listed above) I gush over his toothy smile and sweet kisses and how he loves to nuzzle into my neck.

And I think I kind of took this change for granted a little, as though it was a natural shift that just happens.

But it didn’t really hit me until Sunday. It was the afternoon and the whole family was in the living room, the Eagles were on the TV, my daughter, husband and I were on the couch and my son was sitting with my brother in law on a chair eating goldfish. The three of us cuddled up and my husband remarked about how cozy and nice it felt. But I didn’t feel that; I felt incomplete. It was like our family’s hole had morphed from a triangle to a square and no other piece would fit. Without my son, we just weren’t whole.

And I didn’t have to force it. Not at all.

***

Believe it or not, despite my depression, I don’t cry a whole lot.

Today, my son and I picked up my daughter from school in the carpool line, and when the door opened and they saw each other, they literally squealed with delight. And she insisted on sitting in the extra booster seat that is right next to his carseat, and my two children were lost in fits of giggles as I watched them through the rear view mirror. And tears streamed down my face.

This was love. Love of the purest kind. Love of the truest nature. My team.

And all I felt was gratitude.

Biologically speaking, we won’t be any new sides to our family’s shape.

But oh my word, how blessed am I that I get to spend my days with this dainty girl who never ever stops talking,

and this sweet boy, who will cause destruction at every chance he can get,

and that when they say, “Mama?” I get to answer.

I am so in love. This is what life is all about.

The post Be there and be square. appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

We watched an episode of My Little Pony, found the “Tuesday” underwear from my daughter’s drawer, hurried her off to school, as my son and I stayed in our pajamas.

My son and I snuggled up in bed for a good two hours and napped together, as I fell asleep to the rhythmic sounds of his breathing.

And then we went to the eye doctor. And we got some unexpected news. My son had to get glasses at 11 months to correct his farsightedness, just like his sister before him. He also had to have a minor surgical procedure to unblock a clogged tear duct, and I feel so fortunate to say that it went very well.

Today, we learned that my son’s eye crossing is not exactly like my daughters, and my sister’s before her, and my mother before her ; he not only is extremely farsighted, but he also has a weak eye muscle. This will require a surgery, and it is a much more extensive surgery than the little tear duct probing. And my heart stopped beating.

Let me stop right now.

I realize that my son is getting eye surgery.

In the scheme of life, this is a blip. It is a slightly large blip, but I recognize that parents, every hour, are given far worse news about far worse procedures and prognoses, so please do not think for one second that I do not have perspective. I do. I send all of the love I can muster to those parents and those children and those families.

But I also have the knowledge that my son will have to go under general anesthesia, be intubated, and face some pain afterwards. And, this surgery will not do anything to correct his vision.

The eye doctor said, “Boy, this one can’t catch a break, can he?” and I replied with, “None of us can this year!”

And I was thinking about my son’s first year;

He had a mother who went a little crazy and then was later hospitalized. He has been to the Emergency Room FIVE times now: once in utero, twice for RSV (which lead him to a most depressing Christmas week stay in the children’s ward of the local hospital), once for Carbon Monoxide poisoning and then, finally, for slicing his wrist on my mirrored coffee table, requiring seven stitches. He hasn’t had it so easy.

But just like the realization that I had a week ago, when it occurred to me that my sweet son is the best thing to have ever happened to me,

I had another epiphany today.

He is my strength symbol.

Right before we left for the Ophthalmologist, I found this tiny, stray feather stuck to the inside of the wrist of my sweater.

It gave me the feeling that I always get when I see feathers, which is that I can be strong and that there are people watching over us to guide and protect us, even through the darkest of days.

And then I got this crappy news from the eye doctor and I looked back down at my feather and tried to figure it out. What was it telling me?

And I got it:

My son is my strength symbol.

He has shown me bravery, fortitude and resilience like nothing I have ever seen.

He has had a tough year with some tough circumstances, and wakes up with a smile on his face every single day, showing seven little teeth, gapped and perfect.

So, my tiny feather, you are my inspiration. You show me what it means to be courageous. You have faced so much in such a short time and I am so, so, proud to be your mother.

You are my little hero.

And we will just keep chugging along.

The post The little feather that could. appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

(except, if you mean temperature hot, which I do, a little).

Throughout the past four and a half years I have written about so many sick days; the time that my baby had her first fever and my husband was traveling across the country; the time when my husband had such severe strep that he was shivering in bed for days; recently, when my kids and I napped together and they woke up holding hands; and the general theme is that sick days are pretty crappy.

First and foremost, sick days are bad because it means that a kid or two is sick. And a sick kid is sad! Two sick kids are even sadder. I never want my kids to feel discomfort or pain, so I feel terrible when they are ill.

And some days sick days are tough, because it means juggling schedules and rescheduling appointments and finding childcare coverage. Today I had to cancel with the jaw chiropracter, just as we are starting to make real progress. So, not ideal.

And then there is the whole “What in the world am I going to do with two kids for twelve hours while they are cooped up indoors, sneezing, coughing and/or vomiting?”

But, the thing is, my kids now figure that part out for themselves. They worked as a team, their team.

As I was cleaning up the breakfast dishes, they built a train.

My daughter was the conductor (of course) and she told me that we were going to visit my sister in “Meyork City”.

I hopped on board.

And for a few minutes it didn’t really matter that her nose was running, and it didn’t really matter that there were some dishes in the sink or crumbs on the table,

I just felt so proud of my kids.

I feel honored when they let me join their team–when I can wear their pinny–and play along.

So we still have 8 hours until bedtime, but so far this sick day isn’t so bad. Not really at all.

The post All aboard. appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

Eyes close in my arms;

Remembering your blue hat.

Always my boy, babe.

For her, at wake up.

Before the sun rose
you tiptoed into my arms;
Hearts beating in sync.

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