From the (potty) mouths of babes...

Top 5 quotes overheard during Gavin's sleepover this past weekend:

5. "Oh, Nards." (in the place of 'crap', 'dang it', etc. This was a frequent term.)

4. "You gotta get up and poop, and poop, and poop!" (To the tune of Pink's current hit 'Try')

3. "I will poop, I will poop for yoooooooooooouuuuuu!" (Keeping with the music theme, this is to the tune of  Mumford & Son's 'I Will Wait'.

2. Kyle: "Luke, say 'Luke'"
    Kyle & Luke simultaneously: "Luke"
    Kyle: "jinx"
    (this one got style points for creativity)

1. And finally, my favorite: "Yuck. Sunny D, rootbeer and chocolate ice cream doesn't taste good mixed together." (Well....duh!!! But I suppose you never really know unless you try it, eh?)

A great time was had by all. I still can't believe he's 7!

Mmmm, pizza!

Always read the card first!

Grayson, Professional Photobomber (he does his own stunts, hence the scars, snot, bumps and bruises)

Loves Pokemon

Seven Candles. Time sure does fly!

Insecuries, and a dog that eats plaster.

So, tomorrow is Judgement Day. No, I'm not dying, I'm not headed up to meet my maker....

Tomorrow is Gavin's first EVER classmate birthday sleepover. I've been running around like a crazy woman fixing holes in the walls from 'Kowalski' - the plaster eating canine, plus purchasing birthday supplies, goodie bag treats, and painting the playroom downstairs. But here's the real issue:
Tomorrow, at 2:00 pm, four mothers are going to pull into my drive with cars that are nicer than mine, from homes that are a lot bigger and nicer than mine. These women go to work, have college degrees (one is even an attorney). They don't wear their hair in a ponytail every day. They iron their clothes. Yet I will graciously and humbly invite them into my home, let them have a look around, and make them feel at ease for trusting me to safeguard their 6-7 year old child for the next 18 hours.

I try to keep my insecurities in check. Sadly, I feel I have passed along the insecurity gene to Gavin.

Case in point: he wakes up at 2:00 this morning crying and complaining of a stomach ache. I console him and offer Pepto and water, snuggles, and back to sleep. This repeats itself at 6:00, and I'm starting to get worried. Like 'should I call the parents and cancel because he really is sick?' After a little probing conversation, I realize he's nervous as hell at the thought of all these boys (really only 4) descending upon our home for the night. As excited as he is, he's still insecure and anxious about the ordeal. *sigh* I know the feeling. Sometimes I HATE that he is so much like me. It pains me to se him struggle as I do.

So tonight we finished the playroom, and I let him pack the goodie bags by himself. Tomorrow, we will be a unified front, and rock out with 5 First Graders tearing our little home to shreds. No doubt the memories made will be priceless. I just wish the buildup wasn't so exhausting.

Happy early birthday, my sweet Gavino...I love you with all my heart.

Gasping for air

Breathe. Every day I try to get through the day and breathe. And every day something comes along and attempts to choke the life out of me while I'm simply trying to breathe. I'm so sick of this house. I'm so sick of this life. I can't even begin to express the utter despair I feel almost every waking minute.

I'm not stupid, and I'm not lazy, so WHY DOES EVERYTHING HAVE TO BE SO FUCKING HARD??? I need to go back to school to get a job....but school costs MONEY and we are poor as church mice. How ironic is it that because I'm 'not working', I technically have time to go back to school full-time...but because I'm not working I can't afford to go? And explain to me how I can have more credits than necessary to complete (at the very least) an Associates Degree, and most of my Bachelor's...but because my credit hours are from 3 different schools, I have NOTHING to show for it. Except student loan debt. Yeah, I have that to show for it. How many God Damned times do I have to take English Composition (3 times) or Accounting 101 & 102 (2 times each) before I can get a stupid piece of paper that tells the world that I'm NOT an uneducated moron.

Every week, usually on Tuesdays, I get the 'your account is overdrawn' texts from Chase, and my anxiety builds to a crescendo. Anti-depressants help, but I'm still sinking. Xanax is great, but it's only a brief vacation from the gripping reality that consumes me every day. Every day I struggle to make ends meet running two separate companies that have yet to compensate for my time. I'm so tired of struggling. I'm so tired of feeling helpless.

Tired of failing, tired of the judgement. Tired of bill collectors, tried of overdrawn accounts, tired of pretending I'm ok. Tired of being overwhelmed at the long list of tasks to accomplish each day. Tired of being a failure. Tired of applying for jobs to be turned down because I don't have my degree. Tired of feeling useless. I'm just tired.

I want the old me back. The happy-go-lucky spontaneous me. The person I was before life ran me over like a mac truck and left me to pick up the pieces. Sometimes I think she still might exist. Somewhere, deep inside. On days like today, I'm not so sure. I wonder if I will ever get to be that person again.

The Diet Files: Apple Dip

Ok, here’s the deal. I grew up on an orchard, so I’m somewhat of an apple snob.

It’s not that I don’t LIKE store-bought apples, it’s just that they are kind of ‘meh’ for me. Unless the apple comes fresh from the stand, I generally don’t eat it whole. I slice it up and dip it! Yum! Peanut Butter, Nutella, and honey (or any combo of the three) are my favorite selections….but since none of them are diet-friendly, I had to get creative.

Sooooooo, I brought out the Oikos Greek Yogurt. By itself, yuck. Used for baking (including the pancakes I made this weekend)…not so bad. Enter splenda. Zero calorie sweetener – yes!!!! And cocoa. If I can’t have peanut butter, then I had better be able to have chocolate, right? So here it is:

Diet Apple Dip

¼ cup Greek Yogurt

1 packet of Splenda (or other non-calorie sweetner)

Sprinkle of cocoa powder

Verdict: not awesome, but not gross. Will I make it again? Maybe. Would I rather have Nutella? HELL YES! Whoever said ‘nothing tastes better than skinny’ has clearly never tried Nutella. 

Dieting, healthy eating and life in general

So Brady and I have decided that we don't want to be hungry hungry hippos next year in Puerto Rico...or this summer....or pretty much anywhere...so we have made the commitment to eating healthier and exercising. With the help of the "MyFitnessPal" and "RunTastic" apps, we are on our way!!!

Obviously, Brady is winning the weight loss race - guys always do, ugh. I, however, am winning the longevity race - running 3+ miles 3-4 times per week. Since Brady 'buggered up' his knee, he's slowly working his way up to distances again. I have to keep practicing, my best time so far is a 10.5 minute mile, but Brady is already in the 8's without even trying....I still have quite a way to go.

Gunner is becoming the best running partner ever, even though he wishes I would go faster. I think he likes going with Brady more than me, but that's ok - he pushes me to go faster...when he isn't trying to eat the ducks at the boardwalk!

Grayson's stitches are healing nicely, and we are gearing up for Gavin's birthday next weekend. Holy crap, how can he be 7 already? Time sure flies. I'm really trying to slow down, take it all in and enjoy it more. Hence, the appearance of absolutely pointless and rambling blog posts about our life. I'm hoping to have more of a digital diary so I can remember more of our life when I'm old and senile, lol.

Just Be

According to psychologists, today is the most depressing day of the year. It’s January. It’s the 3^rd Monday of the month. All of the holiday bills are due, and its cold. Most New Year’s Resolutions have been broken, and Valentine’s plans are not yet in the making. BLAH.

Last year, I had a nice list of resolutions to accomplish, and although I did make progress, I am not nearly as close as I thought I would be a year later. This year, I have one resolution: just ‘BE’.

Be happy, sad, enlightened, motivated, scared. Be cautious, bold, jealous, thankful, optimistic and depressed. Be a great Mom, a lousy Mom, and a ‘let’s just get through the day’ Mom. Be the best friend my husband has ever had, a grumpy mess, and a quiet crusader of our marriage. Be unorganized, chaotic and frantic. Be calm, cool, collected and well prepared. Be noticed and forgotten. Be smart, stupid, stubborn and oblivious. Be wrong and right, and everywhere in the middle.

Be friendly, warm, inviting and open. Be introverted, closed and guarded. Be the person my children will look up to and admire, and be the person they will discuss in therapy sessions. Be lazy, be boring, be fabulous.

This year I am giving myself permission to be myself. Whatever the day brings. Be in the moment, feel the love, the pain, the disappointment, the joy – or mentally check-out and know that tomorrow will be another day.

Unapologetically, just ‘BE’. 

Grayson at age 2

Grayson, at age 2, you are my fireball. You want it your way, or not at all. You are stubborn, headstrong and at times downright ornery. You fear nothing, have your Daddy’s charismatic charm, and a gleam in your eye that lets me know you will always have a little mischief up your sleeve - no matter how old you are.

You are smart. Oh, you are smart. You’ve figured already figured out how to ‘train’ us to understand your language. And if for some reason we are unable to understand, you will SCREEEECH at the top of your lungs until we DO understand. Let me tell you, this is not my favorite habit of yours. In fact, it has driven us all insane. Grammy, a licensed child psychologist, suggested I purchase another pack & play as a ‘time out’ area for you, and to place you in there until you stopped screeching and learned that your behavior was unacceptable. Unfortunately, we all underestimated your tenacity.

I assembled the time out spot it in my office, and placed you in it during your next screeching fit. You HOWLED. I closed the door. Then I heard thumping. A really odd thumping, more thumping, and then crashes, items hitting the floor. I opened the door to discover that you had figured out how to ‘rock’ the pack & play and move it about the room. To teach me a lesson, you angrily wiped everything off of my desk. And that is the day I anchored the time out place to a filing cabinet. Yes. I literally had to take a tow strap and anchor your time out crib to my filing cabinet.

You are also a very independent child. You have no problem with independent play, and if given some balls, cars, or your precious little “BERD BERDS”, you will play for hours. You can also be very sweet, and your favorite place in the world is on the couch in Daddy’s lap. Or Mommy, if Dad isn’t available. You give the cutest little hugs, patting us on the back and reassuring us you do love us, even though you make our lives chaos on the daily.

Little Bit, we love you so much, our family wouldn’t be complete without you. We can’t wait to see what the next phase brings. 

23 Tips for Maintaining your Sanity While Living with Children

Ever have one of those days? I mean like one of THOSE days. You know, where you wish it wasn't against the law to duct tape your childrens' mouths shut and THEN duct tape them to the ceiling...in another house??

YES!!!!

Want some tips on surviving these days??

YES!!!!

Look no further - salvation has arrived, in the form of an awesome blog from Alphamom.com:

1. Lower your standards for cleanliness and order.
2. Did that? Lower them even more.
3. Your house will never look like a magazine spread, period. Embrace that.
4. No matter how many baskets you buy to contain toys, they will always be visible.  Embrace the Toys ‘R Us/ frat house-chic decor.
5. You can never have too many popsicles in the freezer. How many bad moods have been fixed by a simple popsicle?
6. If you can’t change them, change your perspective. For example I read recently– probably on Satan’s website Pinterest– that toothpaste is great for cleaning things like faucets. So now when I go into the bathroom every day and see toothpaste splatter all over the bathroom faucet I think about how my children have done half the chore of cleaning for me. How considerate of them! Then I wipe it off while cursing.
7. Those chores that no one ever wants to do. Decide if you would rather do it yourself, badger your child to it, or let it go. If you are confused about what to do, see Number 1 on this list.
8. No one cares what is stuffed under your child’s bed, why should you. Unless it is old food.  In that case, you should get a dog.
9. If you have boys, your bathroom will always faintly stink like pee.  Invest in some Febreeze and count down the days until they move out and you can go visit them and pee on their bathroom floor.
10. Don’t buy white furniture. Unless you enjoy screaming at your children every time they go near it.
11. However bad a situation might seem, one day it will be funny. I have a few for which I am eagerly awaiting for the funny to kick in. Any time now….
12. When your child is a young teen there will be nothing more embarrassing than your very existence. Use this to your advantage. Start planning early.
13. Do not paint any walls in your house with flat paint.
14. Be okay with letting your kids stumble sometimes. Whether that is turning in an assignment late because they didn’t do it or wearing an outfit so hideous you have trouble looking at them without laughing.
15. Noise cancelling headphones are great for blocking out whining, bickering and the endless episodes of Sponge Bob.
16. Socks do not have to match. Every day is Crazy Sock Day at my house, which is infinitely better than Crazy Mom Day.
17. The crayons will break and it is okay to throw them away rather then save them to make some sort of craft that involves the hair dryer. In fact, I give you permission to not feel guilty about all the crafts you know you will never do.
18. Your children will not die from eating the occasional hot dog or frozen pizza. And by occasional I mean more than you are really willing to admit.
19. If your children are driving you crazy arguing with each other, start an argument with them. Then your children will bond over their mutual hatred of you and be quiet.
20. Children do not appreciate top sheets or high thread counts. Buy neither.
21. Homework time is the worst time of the day.  Help your kids and yourself by having a designated time and a quiet place to do homework. Preferably in a neighbor’s home.
22. Just say No to ironing.
23. Last, but not least, a glass of wine and some really bad TV makes everything seem a little better.


{Re-blogged from Alphamom.com - http://alphamom.com/parenting/toddler-parenting/23-exceedingly-helpful-tips-for-maintaining-your-sanity-while-living-with-children/}

Timelines.

This post may or may not make sense. I've been really bad about blogging, and I think it's because I have it in my head that I have to have a witty story line every time I write. Today I don't have anything witty to say. 

I'm sad. My heart hurts for all of the sons and daughters and moms and dads and aunts and uncles and grandmas and grandpas out there experiencing the 11th anniversary of tragic loss. So many people will be looking at their watches and clocks today reliving the timeline. 

8:46 - the first plane hits. Families are destroyed in an instant. Lives gone. Sadly, nobody (except for the terrorists) has any clue of the horrors to come. 

9:03 - the second plane hits. Panic sets in. This is real. Time officially stops for anyone with relatives in the NYC area. 

9:37 - the Pentagon is hit. Military families around the world know what is happening. They've devoted their lives to defending this country, and now command central has been attacked. 

9:59 - the South Tower collapses. Phone lines jam - anyone that hasn't heard from their loved one fears the worst. 

10:07 - a plane crashes in Shanksville, PA, along with some brave men and women who did their best to avoid more loss of life. 

10:28 - the North Tower collapses. Chaos reins. 

To people that have experienced tragic loss, the timeline isn't so much about documenting the events of that day, but a series of 'what ifs' and 'where was I at this moment', or 'what would (loved one) have been doing at this time. It's a gut-wrenching annual ritual of time and space and remembrance. There is no way to make it stop - it plays in your head like a video. 

Tonight I will hug my boys a little tighter, and be thankful that I am here for them.

My life as a stripper....

So my friend JBF texts me this afternoon regarding the 'Laverne and Shirley' predicament I've got myself into, offering to help if she could. She then ads: "This would be a perfect blog entry....I know you prolly aren't ready to laugh at it just yet though". WELL, maybe it's the fumes, the contact buzz, or maybe just the sheer hilarity of the crap that I seem to constantly get myself into, but here goes nothing.

It all started with Pinterest (EVIL EVIL Pinterest) where I come across this GREAT idea for a cool floor:

Beautiful, right? SO, I get started. Brady comes over to the studio to check on me and finds this:

Understandably, he FREAKS. I talk him off the ledge and reassure him that it will be EPIC and he has nothing to worry about! [keeping in mind that his BOSS is my landlord :)] As promised, after a ton of rubber cement and two coats of polyurethane, the floor was AMAZEBALLS!!!!!

Until the next morning when I arrived and all of this gross ugly yellow patches were 'growing' on my beautiful floor!!! GAH!!!!! So, in an attempt to salvage all of my hard work, I decide to just freakin' paint the stupid floor (sulking, after wasting all of my time). I was feeling alright about my decision when DISASTER STRIKES:

As I was moving my equipment back, a light stand SCRAPED MY FLOOR! GAH!!!!!!!!!!!!

 So I now realize that a). this flooring is not meant for high-traffic areas, and b). this was a really stupid idea. So guess what I get to do now????

I get to strip off the polyurethane/paper layer, AND the gunky carpet adhesive underneath. So begins my new career as a stripper. Once, (before I had children and stretch marks) I attempted to give Brady a lap dance. Lets just say it was more awkward/funny than it was sexy, so I'm REALLY not looking forward to this new phase in my life. *Sigh* Thanks Jules, I am laughing at the absurdity of it all....

The Lucky One

Better late than never - let me tell you about my awesomesauce Mother's Day!

First, my boys prepared the most delicious breakfast ever! Veggie omelet, bacon and jelly english muffins - yummo!!!!

I was also given some really sweet cards, and a plaque that Gavin made at school:

But wait! There's more! These boys know I love flowers <3

They also pitched in and washed Bessie:

 And then we played with, er, ate some sidewalk chalk.

All in all, it was the best Mother's day EVER!!!! Thanks boys!!!

lurking in your bathroom...

It’s time to get real about toilet paper. And I don’t mean like those dumb commercials about ‘getting real’ in the bathroom and pudgy bears with specks of paper on their bottoms either. “OUR paper is soft without being TOO soft.” “Oh yeah? Well OUR paper does the job better, and won’t leave you feeling like you just dremmel-ed your arse!”

Seriously. Do people actually REALLY study these things? Can toilet paper actually be too soft?

Personally, these matters do not concern me. What concerns me is the volume of toilet paper that is consumed in this household. I simply cannot understand how our little family of 3 potty-users (2 of which are male) can go through a roll of toilet paper every 3 days. WHERE DOES IT GO???????

My first thought was that Grayson was eating it. Come on! The kid eats just about anything else. But, he’s not allowed unsupervised in the bathroom 1). Because he will likely eat the potty paper, and 2). He thinks the potty itself is a kiddie-pool.

I briefly toyed with the notion that maybe Max and Erma had learned how to use the toilet, but one look out the back door busted that myth.....

...which leads me to the OBVIOUS conclusion: Potty-paper Gnomes. A distant relative of the Under-pants Gnome, the Potty-Paper Gnome  thrives in the bathrooms of families with small children. This crafty little bugger feeds off the TP roll, causing unsuspecting mothers to question their sanity and monthly budget. There is no cure or ‘icide’ to rid your home of these parasites, however, I am told they will eventually move on once your children learn that they do not need to wipe themselves 24 times per visit.

BEWARE THE POTTY-PAPER GNOME!!!

A family of Ninjas

HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Brady just forwarded me the FUNNIEST link, and it got me thinking about how you change when you become a mom. Not just the obvious bodily changes. I'm talking about the enhanced senses of the Ninja Mommy.

Pre-children, I could sleep though a hurricane. Thunderstorms, dogs barking, OTHER PEOPLE'S kids crying, you name it. Ahhhh, those were the days....Now, my sleep patterns are that of a goldfish. Eyes open, waiting on the slightest ripple in the water to send me fleeing from danger. If one of my boys so much as farts in his sleep, I hear it.

I admit it. I sometimes get irritated with Brady. "Didn't you hear the baby last night??????????????" Uggggh. Of course he didn't. Ninja Dads are trained to respond to the call of DANGER. Apparently gassy children don't fall into this category.

You can read the article HERE, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!

That's NOT what I meant....

A friend text me this morning, and asked me what I was doing today. I answered: "eh, not much, just ripping and burning the Bible again". WHAT?????????????????????

Brady's Grandmother "Gigi" is 94. A huge accomplishment if you ask me! Anyway, she loves to read, but since she can't see all that well anymore, we had to find a different solution. Last year, we got her a cd player and some audio books. The good news is that the St. Clair County Library system has a whole bunch of audio books. The bad news? She is blowing through Danielle Steele novels like nobody's business.

Since my mother-in-law (Gigi's primary caretaker) is in Florida for the month, Brady has stepped up to help with doctors visits, simple shopping, library runs, etc. After the second library run in one week, Brady suggests to her that she get something that is slightly longer than your average smutty romance novel. So what does he have in mind? The Bible. Great idea. Gigi is interested, and admits that she has never read it, but (since she's 94 and all) it seems that now might be the time to start. Brady agrees to pick it up on his next trip.

Here's where this story gets interesting:

He brings 'the Bible' home and it's SIXTY FOUR AUDIO DISCS. It literally takes up an entire binder. Hmmmm...there's no way she is ever going to be able to get through this before the time to return it, so he has the most awesome idea - we will copy it for her! All 64 discs. Anyone that has ever copied a CD knows that they have to be 'ripped' onto the computer, and then 'burned' onto a blank CD. All 64 discs.

God has blessed my husband with his kind heart, loving personality and will to serve. He was also blessed with a wife that works from home on a computer that has a fast processor that can efficiently rip and burn discs. Yup, I was left holding the bag.

In summary: for the past couple of days I have been not only ripping, but burning the Bible. If the path to Hell is paved with good intentions, then I'm pretty sure that's where I will end up.

Angry

Reason, Season or Lifetime

People come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime.

When you figure out which one it is,

You will know what to do for each person

But how do you replace the only person {prior to Brady and my boys} that was always there? The one that never turned his back on you, no matter what the circumstance?

You grieve. You grieve, and then you grieve some more. You get angry. Eventually it gets easier. You look back and smile way more than you cry. You move on. Most days. But there are days {like today} when it all comes flooding back. Grief is raw, red, angry and deep. You want to scream. You want to lash out. You want someone to blame.

But there is nobody. I can’t blame him, he didn’t wake up that morning intent on hurting so many. He didn’t plan on taking our marginally-functioning family and rendering it useless - destroyed completely beyond repair.

On March 26th, 2006 - I was robbed. I was robbed of the only semblance of family that I had. I am angry. I am bitter.

Today, the grief, the memories, the emotions will come in waves - just like they do on this day every year. Once again I relive the timeline. The timeline of events that changed me forever that day.

Tomorrow is a new day. Tomorrow will be a good day. A better day. But today, today I am angry. 

News Flash: I am a horrible blogger!!!!!

Wow, May? Seriously? What the heck have I been doing for the past 8 months since I last posted? Hmmmmm. I'm guessing it had something to do with raising 2 kids, running 2 businesses and typing on two separate computers at the same time. (That's why we were given two hands, right?)

Ok, enough complaining - we are all busy, I get it. Soooooo, in honor of the New Year, I am going to list out my resolutions....(if only to have them publicly posted so I might feel some shame and motivation to actually accomplish them).

1. Lose the baby weight. Yes, he's a year old. No, I still haven't lost it all. I'd really like to get rid of 20 - but right now I would settle for 15...just so I can have some different wardrobe options.

2. BLOG MORE!!! When I was younger, I kept a journal and wrote in it mostly every night. These journals have since disappeared (?) but it was neat to look back through them when I had them. I'd like the same for my children...even if the posts are embarrassing quips about them :)

3. Take more pictures. HA! Although I do take tons of pictures, they are mostly of OTHER PEOPLE and families, and not of my own. So this year I'm really going to try to take more candid pics of the fam...and even give Brady my cam and let him take some pics of me and the kids. Baby steps, baby steps...

4. Sleep more. (see first paragraph)

5. Stress less. (see first paragraph)

That's enough for now. I don't want to overwhelm myself with resolutions, because I tend to short-circuit and stress when I have too many obligations. And adding more self-imposed obligations would A. make me stress more, and B. cause me to sleep less - which would defeat the whole purpose of having these resolutions, right?

War of the Words

According to research, the average 5-6 year old has a working vocabulary of 2,500 – 5,000 words. It has also been shown that women speak an average of 20,000 words per day, while men mutter a mere 7,000. Unless your name is Gavin Locke, and therefore you are REQUIRED to maintain an average per-day requirement of at least 30,000 words per day, with 10,000 of them being “mom” or some other variation.

Yes, I know it’s a blessing that he has such an advanced vocabulary, and he’s already miles ahead of the pack when it comes to reading, language development and yada yada yada. But sometimes I JUST WANT HIM TO BE QUIET.

I realize that there are some relatives of mine that will read this and smirk…thinking to themselves that I got what I deserved – a little ‘Gabby’ (my undeserved childhood nickname). I also understand from my own recollection and from family story time that I was somewhat of a talker. I get it. I still am. But there is NO WAY I was ever as chatty as Gavin. Holy Moley that boy can talk! About the weather. About dinosaurs. About rain. About legos. About photo backdrops and lighting equipment. Ok, this last one was my imagination as I was temporarily blocking him out to make room for my OWN thoughts.

Yesterday I actually contemplated vacuuming AGAIN just to get a 10 minute break from it.

Brady is gone until Tuesday. My ears are bleeding. Please send help. And cocktails.

Alpha Dog: sibling lessons learned 30+ years later...

I am the oldest of 3. This means I have learned a thing or two about sibling rivalry, or at least how to look out for my own best interests….sometimes (I admit) at the expense of my little brothers. Now that I’m a mom, I’m being forced to look at both sides of the coin.

Easter morning, Gavin woke up first…of course. The Easter Bunny had come! Well, being up late and having a pretty good idea of what he had brought anyway, Brady & I were content to spend an extra couple of minutes snoozing - especially since Grayson was too. Apparently he wasn’t as concerned about the big bunny’s visit as Gavin was…which was totally fine with me.

After 10 minutes of suspicious quiet, and no sound of footsteps running back UP the stairs, Brady & I lazily grabbed the baby and headed downstairs to something that can only be described as Easter Mayhem. Gavin had literally disassembled BOTH baskets and laid out both boys’ offerings in some sort of candy/trinket/toy/formula cult shrine.

But here’s the best part: not having any idea that Mom & Dad would actually KNOW what the Easter Bunny brought, Gavin had taken it upon himself to select the choice goodies from Grayson’s basket that he obviously thought would be more suited to HIS tastes.

The Bunny had left a green sand pail/orange shovel for Gavin, and an orange pail/green shovel for Grayson. Guess who had a green pail AND shovel? And the monster-sized bucket-o-bubbles that really were for Gavin (kind of) but were placed in Grayson’s basket as ‘filler’? Yup, those ended up on Gavin’s side of the ‘shrine’.

When questioned (tactfully, or course) he gave up the gig and confessed that since Grayson was a baby, he couldn’t really use the bubbles anyway, and also (since he’s a baby, you know) he probably doesn’t care what color his shovel is, and Gavin would rather have the green. Such logic from a five year old, huh? So we made him ASK Grayson if he MINDED if Gavin took the green shovel (he really didn’t give a hoot) and he volunteered to blow bubbles for him once he gets a little older.

Grayson is lucky the only other things he got were formula and baby toys...otherwise he might have lost a lot more!! Almost makes me feel a *twinge* of sympathy for my little brothers...almost...

Better be on your toes, you have two to watch over now....

I love snow. But towards the end of February, the love affair is over, and I start longing for warm days. Today, I look out the window and all I see is snow. It's an all-out blizzard right now. Seriously? Can we be done with this already?

However, 5 years ago today was a completely different story. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, there were beautiful daffodil blooms on my windowsill (courtesy of my CIPA friends, celebrating Gavin's birth just 16 days before). It was so nice, that Brady and my Father-in-Law decided to go golfing for the first round of the season.

I, still basking in the glow of new motherhood, was sitting at the coffee table, working on Gavin's baby book. He was sleeping beside me. Looking back, it was all so Norman Rockwell it makes my heart hurt to this day.

About noon, the phone rang. The call changed my family forever. My brother had been in a motorcycle accident, and although he couldn't give me any details at the time, the officer said it was imperative that I come out to Yale and meet him at my Dad's house. Of course, this started the scramble. OH MY GOD, I have to call Brady. Brady, you have to come get me, we need to get to Yale. This has to be wrong, everything is OK, I just need to get there and everything will be fine. You'll see, Nicole, you are just overracting - your mind is playing tricks on you. Dress the baby, make a couple bottles, pack the diaper bag, and we will get this all sorted out when we get there.

And then the phone rang again. This time it was not the police, but Grant, a close friend of my brother. The minute I answered the phone to his sobbing, I knew. Over the phone, Grant told me the extent of the accident, and that Justin didn't make it.

By this point, Brady had returned from golf to pick me up, and we made the mad dash out to Yale. All I could think about was getting out there to fix this. It was all a mistake, once I got there, I would explain everything, and we would laugh about how crazy neurotic Nicole got herself in a tizzy over nothing. And then we arrived in Yale.

The officer met me at my Dad's house. Since my Dad was no where to be found (he didn't have a cell phone at the time) and my other brother was living in Florida, I was next of kin. He took me aside, explained the details, and confirmed that my little brother was in fact deceased.

Unfortunately, (or fortunately, because all of his things were still inside) the house was locked, and my garage code was not working. I walked around to the back door, attempted to open it, and collapsed. How could this be happening? Less than 48 hours ago he was at my house and I was telling him what an idiot he was for buying some stupid earrings. And what about Gavin? He was only 16 days old, and surely couldn't know the extent of my grief, and would never know the uncle that cherished him by rubbing my belly, holding him, and just marveling at the first little baby he had ever held.

I hurt so bad, and there was nothing I could do to fix it. It still hurts, just not as deep and raw and sorrowful as at first. I wonder. If he were still here, would him and Gavin be the best of buddies? Would he have been as excited about Grayson's birth as he was with Gavin? Would he be married, with kids of his own?

So many questions, no answers whatsoever. But today, I look out at the snow and wish that it was snowing on March 26, 2006 - because he wouldn't have gone for a motorcycle ride in the snow. He would have taken his beater car, and would likely still be here - horrible table manners, loud obnoxious personality and all.

I know he's up there, because he's been watching over Gavin for 5 years now. I just hope he's up for the challenge, because now he's got two to look out for.

Rest in peace Justin, I still miss you so much.

Scary times, new beginnings...

I admit it, I am a ‘bad’ blogger. I can go weeks and even months between posts. It’s not that I don’t have lots of comical/interesting things to post about, it’s just that I am SO FREAKING BUSY. So why am I going back to work next week????

Well, to pay the bills, for one. And two, well, there really isn’t a two - because I really don’t want to go back.

The past year and a half has been a very sobering and humbling period for me. Our family experienced a fall from grace of epic proportions….and we have nobody to blame but ourselves. Part stupidity, part foolishness, and honestly, quite a bit of arrogance led to the demise of our financial security.

Bad economy? Eh, we are fine, we are better than fine – let’s just get whatever we want, whenever we want it! A deck as big as our house? nice cars? nice clothes? fun toys? fun trips? cleaning lady? – you name it, we had it. Until December 8th 2009. When I lost my job I thought “no problem, we are good – we are better than good – we will make this work”. Which is true, we could have made it work, had we taken the time to examine our financial priorities and adjusted our style of living. We made some cutbacks, but not nearly enough, and not nearly as quickly as we should have. For example, the $80 a month we were paying (direct withdrawl) to AT&T for a phone line that WE NO LONGER EVEN HAD! I didn’t discover this little ditty until last summer – about 6 months AFTER I lost my job. Sadly, this gives you a very real picture of how well we managed our finances.

I’m not posting this as a ‘cry in my beer, oh pity me’ plea for compassion, but a wake-up call for anyone out there who is miraculously unscathed from the ‘financial crisis’ and is STILL thinking that they are bulletproof. If it can happen to us, it can happen to anybody…only now we are humble enough to admit that we are no better than anyone else, and that we need to make some drastic changes if we ever want to get it back to good.

This week, we started Dave Ramsey’s ‘Financial Peace University’. What an eye-opener! Brady & I thought we had a pretty good idea of our budget and debt….wow, were we wrong. Just reading the first couple of chapters we both realized that we are such a statistic it’s downright SCARY. Fortunately for us, we are not too far gone to repair the damage.

To our awesome friends –we will be doing plenty of ‘hanging out’ this summer. Gone are the nights out to dinner and movies…but we will gladly have you over for a drink on our deck! With as many bad things that have come out of the past year, there have been SO MANY good things as well. As a family, we have realized that all of the things we have been coveting is just ‘STUFF’ and that, quite frankly, we have waaaaay too much ‘STUFF’ - but we don’t have nearly enough of each other.

Nope, I’m really not looking forward to Monday. But I am looking forward to a couple of years from now when my family is free from the chains of debt that have plagued so many of us. I’m also looking forward to getting back to the basics, and teaching my children fiscal responsibility so that they may avoid the traps and pitfalls that their parents didn’t.

So when we sell the Mountaineer and buy our new ‘hooptie’, please feel free to laugh - because we will be too. Because if you can’t laugh at yourself, then really what’s the point?