Every evening about this time, after Jilly has been in bed for a little while and Marshall goes to sleep, and after I catch my breath from my workout (Curse you Jillian Michaels and your hard yet extremely effective DVDs!), I sit down and, for the first time all day, think about me. What do I want to do with the hour or so that I get completely to myself before I go to bed? Usually, one of two things happens. Most nights, I look around at the messy house, then start straightening up, doing dishes, cleaning bathrooms, preparing Jilly's meals for the next day, all before getting myself ready for bed and passing out as soon as my head hits the pillow. Then there's nights like tonight, where I decide that maybe I can be lazy for a night. I skip my workout, look around my messy house, and think "Meh, it can wait." Because I'll be honest, I'm tired. So very tired.
Jilly has quite the routine at this age. We wake at 9 (give or take a half hour), eat, then she plays in the exersaucer while I get some breakfast and try to wake up enough to be fully functioning. Then we play on the floor for about an hour. These days, this means Jilly rolls and scoots around getting into stuff while I see just how not-childproofed my house is. "No, Jilly, Daddy's xbox is not a toy. No, Jilly, we can't try to eat cat hair. No, Jilly, we don't pull things off the coffee table." She's not even fully mobile or pulling herself up on anything yet and she's already sooo busy. Before I know it an hour goes by, and she's ready for her nap at 10:30.
Now, nap times are sacred to a parent. Unfortunately, my sacred time only lasts 45 minutes at most, so I try to cram as much into nap times as possible. The morning nap is my shower and get ready for the day. By the time I'm showered, dressed, and at least partially made up for the day it's usually pretty close to wake up time, so I try to start getting lunch around for us during the last moments of precious sleep. Then we play until 11:45, when she's into the high chair so I can finish our lunches, and lunchtime begins. After lunch comes clean-up, which usually takes a while since Jilly likes to try to feed herself and makes a huge mess. Then at 1:00 is her afternoon nap. She usually naps for an hour (woah!), so I clean up the kitchen from lunch, sweep the floors through the house, switch laundry, make Marshall lunch, and then Jilly wakes up. We play, read, whatever, until 4, when she naps again, then Marshall entertains her so I can make dinner, we eat, play, bath at 8, then book, song, and bed at 8:30.
Marsh goes to bed at 9, then the house is quiet. It's in that moment when I think, "Where did all my time go today?" I never feel like I get much accomplished, and yet I never stop moving. My house always looks like a mess, and yet I feel like I'm always cleaning. How the hell does that happen?
Anyway, this evening I'm doing nothing for a bit. But, it's already 10:30, so bedtime is any minute now. I'll tell you what, writing this out explains to me why I'm always so exhausted! I kind of miss having some time to myself to focus on things I love to do. On the same hand, taking care of Jillian is what I love to do most, so I guess it all balances out! I hope as Jilly gets older and can entertain herself more (and separation anxiety is over!) I can balance my time a little better to work in some time just for me to do what I want!
Monday, August 29, 2011
Friday, August 19, 2011
I'm ba-ack! With "Adventures in Nursing: the Acrobat"
So, I think this is the longest I've gone without blogging anything. Vacation, man! Get off my back! *Looks around shiftily.* Anywho, my vacation was amazing. I wish I could say I feel refreshed, but it was exhausting. Now I just find myself homesick for that hecticness as I sit around with nothing to do but hang with Jillybean all day. Fortunately, hanging with the Bean just so happens to be the highlight of my life.
My vacation was mainly just visiting family. Jilly ate up the attention like no other, just as long as I was the one holding her. She did okay near the end, but she just wanted her mommy pretty much the whole vacation. But what can one expect from a baby who's never met anyone or been anywhere other than with her mom and dad and a small group of close friends? She did awesome.
I don't have too much time to write tonight, so I'll write about my vacay later. But for now, I'm going to write a short bit on "Adventures in Nursing."
The day before yesterday, Jillian decided that the only way she'd eat is in the side-lying position. For my non-nursing friends reading this, this means I lay down on my side, Jilly lays on her side, tummy to tummy, and she eats. This has always been her favorite way to eat, but until Wednesday she'd eat however she could because the girl loves her food.
Now, Miss Fuss has recently started to scoot around a bit. She can scoot in circles like a pro, and she can go backwards, but she's learning to army crawl forward at the moment, at least when she's not getting super frustrated and just looking at me screaming. ("Why aren't you moving me? What do you want from me, Mom? JUST PICK ME UP ALREADY OR MOVE ME AND STOP MAKING ME TRY TO DO IT!!!!")
Yesterday, as she was eating, I noticed she was kicking off me with her legs, and rolling onto her stomach. All the while, she had her brow furrowed in concentration and was grunting a bit. She scooted a bit, pulled off and laughed, then continued eating. All the while I was just kind of staring like "Uhhh..what are you doing, love?" After a few minutes, she moved herself into a full out backbend, then straightened herself out so she was perpendicular to me. And yes, she was still eating with an occaisional giggle thrown in.
Today, she somehow managed (I was napping with her so I'm not 100% sure how this happened), while nursing, to turn all the way up so her body was pressed against my face, once again still eating the whole time and giggling.
Apparently, we have to eat in the side-lying position only so she can turn me into her little mealtime jungle gym. I have a feeling the older she gets the more shenanigans while nursing I'll experience. My little crazy kid!
My vacation was mainly just visiting family. Jilly ate up the attention like no other, just as long as I was the one holding her. She did okay near the end, but she just wanted her mommy pretty much the whole vacation. But what can one expect from a baby who's never met anyone or been anywhere other than with her mom and dad and a small group of close friends? She did awesome.
I don't have too much time to write tonight, so I'll write about my vacay later. But for now, I'm going to write a short bit on "Adventures in Nursing."
The day before yesterday, Jillian decided that the only way she'd eat is in the side-lying position. For my non-nursing friends reading this, this means I lay down on my side, Jilly lays on her side, tummy to tummy, and she eats. This has always been her favorite way to eat, but until Wednesday she'd eat however she could because the girl loves her food.
Now, Miss Fuss has recently started to scoot around a bit. She can scoot in circles like a pro, and she can go backwards, but she's learning to army crawl forward at the moment, at least when she's not getting super frustrated and just looking at me screaming. ("Why aren't you moving me? What do you want from me, Mom? JUST PICK ME UP ALREADY OR MOVE ME AND STOP MAKING ME TRY TO DO IT!!!!")
Yesterday, as she was eating, I noticed she was kicking off me with her legs, and rolling onto her stomach. All the while, she had her brow furrowed in concentration and was grunting a bit. She scooted a bit, pulled off and laughed, then continued eating. All the while I was just kind of staring like "Uhhh..what are you doing, love?" After a few minutes, she moved herself into a full out backbend, then straightened herself out so she was perpendicular to me. And yes, she was still eating with an occaisional giggle thrown in.
Today, she somehow managed (I was napping with her so I'm not 100% sure how this happened), while nursing, to turn all the way up so her body was pressed against my face, once again still eating the whole time and giggling.
Apparently, we have to eat in the side-lying position only so she can turn me into her little mealtime jungle gym. I have a feeling the older she gets the more shenanigans while nursing I'll experience. My little crazy kid!
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Favorites
My daughter is very opinionated. I didn't realize that such a little person could have such a big personality. One thing you have to know about Jillian right off is that she likes to tell you exactly what she thinks. When she's happy, she's all smiles and giggles. When she's tired, she dramatically talks a long "waaaaahh" followed by around 5 minutes of complaining "hmphs" and she drifts into sleep. And when she's mad, oh man, does that girl get mad.
One of the things that's really developed recently is her love of certain items. She's got quite a few favorite things. And if she wants one of her favorite things, she lets you know with lots of grunting, babbling, and cooing. Unfortunately, being only five months old (although I swear at times she thinks she's much bigger!), she can't exactly tell me what she wants. So we go throw the motions of figuring out what she wants.
Does she want her George Girraffe? (Rrrraaaaaaaaaahhhh!) Nope.
How about her Winkle rattle toy? (Bbbttttthhhhhppppppaaaaaaaarrrrrrrggggghhhhh!) Nope.
Maybe she wants her ball? (AAAAAAARRRRRRAAAAAAAHHHH UH UH UH UH!) Definately not.
Anyway, we go through her toys until all of a sudden:
Do you want your orange lizard chewy thing? (Ah! Ah! Ah! Oh! Giggle, coo, giggle.) Okay. That's what she wants.
Being the mom of such an opinionated little squirt is hard work. But, I've figured out her favorite things at least, so that does help.
Her favorite color is orange. Followed closely by fire engine red.
Her favorite book is "Bunny's Noisy Book" by Margaret Wise Brown. We could read that book over and over (and sometimes do) and she always squeals in delight as we go.
The mornings are her favorite for tummy time, and her favorite toy to try to reach for is her orange lizard "Spock."
Her favorite game while sitting is to knock over the stack of rings from her little ring stack toy. (You know, the one with the yellow pole on the white base and you stack the big blue, smaller green, even smaller yellow, smaller than that orange, and smallest of all red rings on it.)
If she's sitting in her bumbo while Mommy cooks/cleans/whatever in the kitchen, she must, MUST, have her white spoon. If you try to give her any other kitchen object, she throws it down and won't take it back. But her white spoon, that's love.
I love being able to make her happy. I love that she's old enough to really start showing herself to us. I can't wait for her passport to arrive, so we can take that 9 hour plane ride back to Ohio and she can meet her family there. I wonder if her preferences will carry transcontinentally? Or if Ohio will affect her interests? I can't wait to find out!
One of the things that's really developed recently is her love of certain items. She's got quite a few favorite things. And if she wants one of her favorite things, she lets you know with lots of grunting, babbling, and cooing. Unfortunately, being only five months old (although I swear at times she thinks she's much bigger!), she can't exactly tell me what she wants. So we go throw the motions of figuring out what she wants.
Does she want her George Girraffe? (Rrrraaaaaaaaaahhhh!) Nope.
How about her Winkle rattle toy? (Bbbttttthhhhhppppppaaaaaaaarrrrrrrggggghhhhh!) Nope.
Maybe she wants her ball? (AAAAAAARRRRRRAAAAAAAHHHH UH UH UH UH!) Definately not.
Anyway, we go through her toys until all of a sudden:
Do you want your orange lizard chewy thing? (Ah! Ah! Ah! Oh! Giggle, coo, giggle.) Okay. That's what she wants.
Being the mom of such an opinionated little squirt is hard work. But, I've figured out her favorite things at least, so that does help.
Her favorite color is orange. Followed closely by fire engine red.
Her favorite book is "Bunny's Noisy Book" by Margaret Wise Brown. We could read that book over and over (and sometimes do) and she always squeals in delight as we go.
The mornings are her favorite for tummy time, and her favorite toy to try to reach for is her orange lizard "Spock."
Her favorite game while sitting is to knock over the stack of rings from her little ring stack toy. (You know, the one with the yellow pole on the white base and you stack the big blue, smaller green, even smaller yellow, smaller than that orange, and smallest of all red rings on it.)
If she's sitting in her bumbo while Mommy cooks/cleans/whatever in the kitchen, she must, MUST, have her white spoon. If you try to give her any other kitchen object, she throws it down and won't take it back. But her white spoon, that's love.
I love being able to make her happy. I love that she's old enough to really start showing herself to us. I can't wait for her passport to arrive, so we can take that 9 hour plane ride back to Ohio and she can meet her family there. I wonder if her preferences will carry transcontinentally? Or if Ohio will affect her interests? I can't wait to find out!
Monday, May 23, 2011
Wake Up!
My daughter has a great sense of humor. I can tell that already. There's a few things that make me say this. One is that she's figured out that if Daddy pats her on the back and she says "Waaaaaaaaaaahhh!" it comes out like "Waa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-hh!" So she'll do that for a little while, and looks very pleased with herself. Another is that she thinks it's hilarious if I "eat" her hand, and will keep putting her hand up to my mouth for me to "Nom! Nom! Nom!" and she'll smile and laugh.
But the main reason I say this is the way she's been waking me up every morning for the past couple weeks.
As I've talked about before, we've become a bed-sharing family. Actually, we've become a "Mommy and Baby get the master bed while Daddy sleeps in the guest bed" family. And it works great for us. Marshall doesn't normally go to bed until much later than we do (Jilly's in bed around 7, me at 10:30, and Marsh around 1-2 a.m.), so with him sleeping in the other room Jilly and I can get uninterupted rest. Plus, we get up a couple hours at least before Marshall so that way we don't wake him up.
It used to be that I'd be awoken by Jilly's slight stirrings as she was waking up for the day. Now that she's a little older, she's found a new way to let me know she's ready to take on the world. She pets my face. Literally.
Starting a couple weeks ago, I would feel her stir, start to wake up myself, then suddenly feel her little hand exploring my face, accompanied by a "Gaaa?" It's hilarious. Sometimes she grabs my nose, and sometimes she strokes my face like I'm her little pet. It's always with some kind of audible noise, usually question-y sounding in nature, and always with a smile.
Actually, I think she might think I'm her pet. As in, I think she thinks she owns me. And she kind of does. Besides waking me up with a gentle pat, as she falls asleep lately she reaches out and pets me on the chest or arm like "Good Mommy, way to comfort me, Mommy!" And within the past few days, she's decided that she's going to let me know she's hungry by reaching up and pulling down the top of my shirt. Quite embarrassing when we're, say, in the clinic's waiting room waiting for her four month checkup.
Then there's the banana incident, and others like it. Two days ago, I was eating a banana while holding her, when she reached up, stuck her hand in my mouth, and grabbed at my currently being chewed banana. She managed to get a little and stick it in her own mouth. It rocked her world. She LOVES her bananas. We've shared a couple since then, with me chewing and chewing, then letting her eat some ABC, mama made banana puree. Now, whenever she sees a banana she goes "Oooh! Oooooo! Oooh! Ooooo!" with her eyes wide and her arms flailing. She's constantly watching me eat and mimicking me by opening her mouth as I open mine and "chewing" as I chew. Sadly, I think my baby's pretty ready for solids.
All of these things remind me that a baby is a teeny tiny person. Not like I didn't know that already, but it's easy to forget when they're fresh outta the tummy that they have their own little personalities. Now that I'm seeing hers shine through, I'm so enjoying watching the person she's becoming.
And she's becoming quite bossy. It cracks me up!
But the main reason I say this is the way she's been waking me up every morning for the past couple weeks.
As I've talked about before, we've become a bed-sharing family. Actually, we've become a "Mommy and Baby get the master bed while Daddy sleeps in the guest bed" family. And it works great for us. Marshall doesn't normally go to bed until much later than we do (Jilly's in bed around 7, me at 10:30, and Marsh around 1-2 a.m.), so with him sleeping in the other room Jilly and I can get uninterupted rest. Plus, we get up a couple hours at least before Marshall so that way we don't wake him up.
It used to be that I'd be awoken by Jilly's slight stirrings as she was waking up for the day. Now that she's a little older, she's found a new way to let me know she's ready to take on the world. She pets my face. Literally.
Starting a couple weeks ago, I would feel her stir, start to wake up myself, then suddenly feel her little hand exploring my face, accompanied by a "Gaaa?" It's hilarious. Sometimes she grabs my nose, and sometimes she strokes my face like I'm her little pet. It's always with some kind of audible noise, usually question-y sounding in nature, and always with a smile.
Actually, I think she might think I'm her pet. As in, I think she thinks she owns me. And she kind of does. Besides waking me up with a gentle pat, as she falls asleep lately she reaches out and pets me on the chest or arm like "Good Mommy, way to comfort me, Mommy!" And within the past few days, she's decided that she's going to let me know she's hungry by reaching up and pulling down the top of my shirt. Quite embarrassing when we're, say, in the clinic's waiting room waiting for her four month checkup.
Then there's the banana incident, and others like it. Two days ago, I was eating a banana while holding her, when she reached up, stuck her hand in my mouth, and grabbed at my currently being chewed banana. She managed to get a little and stick it in her own mouth. It rocked her world. She LOVES her bananas. We've shared a couple since then, with me chewing and chewing, then letting her eat some ABC, mama made banana puree. Now, whenever she sees a banana she goes "Oooh! Oooooo! Oooh! Ooooo!" with her eyes wide and her arms flailing. She's constantly watching me eat and mimicking me by opening her mouth as I open mine and "chewing" as I chew. Sadly, I think my baby's pretty ready for solids.
All of these things remind me that a baby is a teeny tiny person. Not like I didn't know that already, but it's easy to forget when they're fresh outta the tummy that they have their own little personalities. Now that I'm seeing hers shine through, I'm so enjoying watching the person she's becoming.
And she's becoming quite bossy. It cracks me up!
Monday, May 16, 2011
Cyclosporine
Cyclosporine is a drug given mainly to patients before receiving an organ transplant. It supresses the body's immune system so the body doesn't reject the new organ. It's also used as a treatment for cancer, although I'm not exactly sure why. Rarely, it's used by people with skin disorders like psoriasis when no other treatments yield results.
Marshall is now on cyclosporine for his cholinergic urticaria.
Side effects include nausea, vomiting, stomach pains, lack of appetite, mood swings, fatigue, changes in hair growth, hair growing in random places (which I find especially odd), and if used prolongingly many patients have hip and joint issues. Most users will experience side effects to some degree.
Within one hour of taking his medication, Marshall starts to experience what starts as a sour stomach. He says it starts feeling similar to how your stomach feels when you eat too much sugar. Then, he feels like his core is warm, while his arms and legs feel cooler. It escalates at some point into what he can only describe as a super nasty sour feeling that radiates through his body before starting to feel better. He feels like he's going to throw up constantly for about half an hour or so. The better his stomach feels, the more fatigued he begins to feel. At least with the fatigue he's not in pain.
He has definate mood swings. One minute we're laughing and joking, the next he's irritated with my teasing and wants to be alone. I'm learning to deal with it. My job as his wife is to try to stay as even keel as possible throughout this whole ordeal.
He's still having break outs. He's taking this stuff that makes him so sick, and it's not supressing his breakouts at all.
I hate cyclosporine. I hate the way it makes him feel. I hate that I can't make him better. I hate that it doesn't make him better.
And most of all I hate how it's made us lose hope. We've lost hope that he'll remain in the Air Force. We've lost hope that they'll let him appeal. We know this is the beginning of the end. Of that, we're both certain. And even if they do let him appeal, we doubt they'd decide anything different.
It's hard. It's so freaking hard. We make jokes about the movie "Fun with Dick and Jane." You know that scene where they sell their nice BMW family car and get a crappy teensy two door car that's falling apart? We joke about having to trade in our Focus, which we just bought a little over a year ago before this process started, and getting teensy car. We joke about having to sell our TV to have money to pay our bills.
And then we have a serious discussion about it. About what stays and what goes if things start to get bad. About welfare, medicaid, food stamps, and government assistance programs that we'll need to join. About living with parents and applying for jobs at McDonald's or Denny's or Burger King until we can find jobs better suited for us. About who will watch Jilly while we work, and about watching our dreams for our family crumble. About if I should go ahead and move back to Ohio with Jilly and try to find a job while we still have a main income, so I can take my time and find something I'd like to do, instead of have to do.
I keep it together, for the most part. I wait until I'm away from Marshall and Jilly, usually when I'm in the shower, to lose it. The hardest part for me is knowing that I'm probably going to have to leave Jilly. My dream was always to be able to stay home with my children. I love being home with her. But is that an option when you and your husband are going to be unemployed, or do you have to go find work, at least for a little while?
There's a constant knot in the pit of my stomach. I just want him to get better. Not just so he can keep the career he's so proud to be building, but so he can feel better. I want him to get better so bad it hurts. It makes me angry. It makes me question why. Why is this happening to him? It makes me question God.
I want so much for my family, especially my daughter. I want her to have a mommy who can stay home with her and raise her, and a daddy who can provide for her. I want to be able to buy her nice things, take her places, go on vacations. And I'm so scared, with the economy the way it is, that Marshall won't be able to find a good job. One that makes him proud, and has benefits, and gives us enough to live off of so I can continue being a full time mommy to Jillian.
I'm terrified.
Marshall is now on cyclosporine for his cholinergic urticaria.
Side effects include nausea, vomiting, stomach pains, lack of appetite, mood swings, fatigue, changes in hair growth, hair growing in random places (which I find especially odd), and if used prolongingly many patients have hip and joint issues. Most users will experience side effects to some degree.
Within one hour of taking his medication, Marshall starts to experience what starts as a sour stomach. He says it starts feeling similar to how your stomach feels when you eat too much sugar. Then, he feels like his core is warm, while his arms and legs feel cooler. It escalates at some point into what he can only describe as a super nasty sour feeling that radiates through his body before starting to feel better. He feels like he's going to throw up constantly for about half an hour or so. The better his stomach feels, the more fatigued he begins to feel. At least with the fatigue he's not in pain.
He has definate mood swings. One minute we're laughing and joking, the next he's irritated with my teasing and wants to be alone. I'm learning to deal with it. My job as his wife is to try to stay as even keel as possible throughout this whole ordeal.
He's still having break outs. He's taking this stuff that makes him so sick, and it's not supressing his breakouts at all.
I hate cyclosporine. I hate the way it makes him feel. I hate that I can't make him better. I hate that it doesn't make him better.
And most of all I hate how it's made us lose hope. We've lost hope that he'll remain in the Air Force. We've lost hope that they'll let him appeal. We know this is the beginning of the end. Of that, we're both certain. And even if they do let him appeal, we doubt they'd decide anything different.
It's hard. It's so freaking hard. We make jokes about the movie "Fun with Dick and Jane." You know that scene where they sell their nice BMW family car and get a crappy teensy two door car that's falling apart? We joke about having to trade in our Focus, which we just bought a little over a year ago before this process started, and getting teensy car. We joke about having to sell our TV to have money to pay our bills.
And then we have a serious discussion about it. About what stays and what goes if things start to get bad. About welfare, medicaid, food stamps, and government assistance programs that we'll need to join. About living with parents and applying for jobs at McDonald's or Denny's or Burger King until we can find jobs better suited for us. About who will watch Jilly while we work, and about watching our dreams for our family crumble. About if I should go ahead and move back to Ohio with Jilly and try to find a job while we still have a main income, so I can take my time and find something I'd like to do, instead of have to do.
I keep it together, for the most part. I wait until I'm away from Marshall and Jilly, usually when I'm in the shower, to lose it. The hardest part for me is knowing that I'm probably going to have to leave Jilly. My dream was always to be able to stay home with my children. I love being home with her. But is that an option when you and your husband are going to be unemployed, or do you have to go find work, at least for a little while?
There's a constant knot in the pit of my stomach. I just want him to get better. Not just so he can keep the career he's so proud to be building, but so he can feel better. I want him to get better so bad it hurts. It makes me angry. It makes me question why. Why is this happening to him? It makes me question God.
I want so much for my family, especially my daughter. I want her to have a mommy who can stay home with her and raise her, and a daddy who can provide for her. I want to be able to buy her nice things, take her places, go on vacations. And I'm so scared, with the economy the way it is, that Marshall won't be able to find a good job. One that makes him proud, and has benefits, and gives us enough to live off of so I can continue being a full time mommy to Jillian.
I'm terrified.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
My first real Mother's Day
On my very first Mother's Day, my husband surprised me with a bottle of Victoria's Secret Love Spell, a bouquet of flowers, and a cute card saying something along the lines of being for "A Mom-to-be on Mother's Day." We were celebrating becoming parents to the being inside who was around 8 weeks along. I was showered with "Happy Mother's Days" from loving friends and family. My mom even made me a homemade Mother-to-be's Day card in celebration. What we didn't know then, was that two weeks later I'd be receiving another bouquet of flowers from my husband, and more wishes from others, but this time in mourning of the life that should have been. That was Mother's Day 2009, and before that terrible moment that changed me forever, I celebrated and was happy.
Mother's Day 2010 was a very hard day for me. I had one miscarriage and a chemical pregnancy at the beginning of the year under my belt, and felt sad that I didn't get to celebrate being a mother. My husband wished me a "Happy Mother's Day," saying that although our baby was gone, I was still a mom to that little one, regardless of the fact that we never got to meet. I was very torn. Each card or sign I saw posted made me feel a weird mix of happiness and longing. Mainly just longing. I quietly wished myself a Happy Mother's Day, and went on with the day, hoping someone would notice that I wanted to be wished well, too. I was after all a mother. But I felt very odd. Do you celebrate when you don't have any children here on earth, or when your children didn't even get to take a first breath of air? It was a bittersweet day, and another reminder of the life and dreams I had lost. Little did I know then that there was a little baby growing in my belly. I wouldn't find that out for an ironic two more weeks. (The symmetry between my first and second pregnancies is unbelievably creepy. Perhaps another time.)
This year, Mother's Day 2011, is the first Mother's Day in which I have a living child to celebrate with. So this day, I celebrate her, not me. I thank the Lord above for the wonderful blessing he's given me in Jillian. I don't think I've ever given God as much thanks and praise as I have since Jilly's arrived. Since she's come into my life, I thank God for her at least once as hour. She smiles, and I'll send up a silent prayer of gratitude. The same when she giggles. The same when she looks at me. When she blinks. When she cries. When she eats. When she sleeps. Pretty much when she does anything. I doubted I would be blessed with a child, and now I have a baby to love, to hold, and to feel her love back. Unlike the Mother's Day of the past, I can wrap my daughter up in a big hug and feel her snuggle into me.
We went to the Gartenschau in downtown Kaiserslautern, where I watched my little girl take in the scenery and people around her. And she "played" in a park for the first time. We had a few groups of German ladies stop to tell us she was pretty and say hello. (My small German vocabulary at least gave me some indication of what they were talking about, lol.)
And that, folks, is what Mother's Day is all about. For all those days when we hold, we love, we kiss, we hug, we comfort, we cry with, we watch, we marvel at, we feel frustration with, we protect our children. For all those times when we look at them with disbelief that something so wonderful could be ours. For all those moments when we feel so much love swelling in our hearts that we feel we might explode heart shaped confetti from out chests. This day is for us.
Thank you, God, for giving me a reason to celebrate today. You have blessed me beyond what I deserve.
Mother's Day 2010 was a very hard day for me. I had one miscarriage and a chemical pregnancy at the beginning of the year under my belt, and felt sad that I didn't get to celebrate being a mother. My husband wished me a "Happy Mother's Day," saying that although our baby was gone, I was still a mom to that little one, regardless of the fact that we never got to meet. I was very torn. Each card or sign I saw posted made me feel a weird mix of happiness and longing. Mainly just longing. I quietly wished myself a Happy Mother's Day, and went on with the day, hoping someone would notice that I wanted to be wished well, too. I was after all a mother. But I felt very odd. Do you celebrate when you don't have any children here on earth, or when your children didn't even get to take a first breath of air? It was a bittersweet day, and another reminder of the life and dreams I had lost. Little did I know then that there was a little baby growing in my belly. I wouldn't find that out for an ironic two more weeks. (The symmetry between my first and second pregnancies is unbelievably creepy. Perhaps another time.)
This year, Mother's Day 2011, is the first Mother's Day in which I have a living child to celebrate with. So this day, I celebrate her, not me. I thank the Lord above for the wonderful blessing he's given me in Jillian. I don't think I've ever given God as much thanks and praise as I have since Jilly's arrived. Since she's come into my life, I thank God for her at least once as hour. She smiles, and I'll send up a silent prayer of gratitude. The same when she giggles. The same when she looks at me. When she blinks. When she cries. When she eats. When she sleeps. Pretty much when she does anything. I doubted I would be blessed with a child, and now I have a baby to love, to hold, and to feel her love back. Unlike the Mother's Day of the past, I can wrap my daughter up in a big hug and feel her snuggle into me.
We went to the Gartenschau in downtown Kaiserslautern, where I watched my little girl take in the scenery and people around her. And she "played" in a park for the first time. We had a few groups of German ladies stop to tell us she was pretty and say hello. (My small German vocabulary at least gave me some indication of what they were talking about, lol.)
And that, folks, is what Mother's Day is all about. For all those days when we hold, we love, we kiss, we hug, we comfort, we cry with, we watch, we marvel at, we feel frustration with, we protect our children. For all those times when we look at them with disbelief that something so wonderful could be ours. For all those moments when we feel so much love swelling in our hearts that we feel we might explode heart shaped confetti from out chests. This day is for us.
Thank you, God, for giving me a reason to celebrate today. You have blessed me beyond what I deserve.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Return of the Foodie
Yes, that's right. I finally am making another food post! Can you hear the crowd cheering? And by crowd I mean me. Woooot!
I've been out of the loop in inventive cooking since Jilly's been born. You would think I'd have to be more creative and find options that are quick and easy to eat one handed, but let me tell you, that kid rules this house. Most nights Marshall is working, and it's much easier for me to heat up that Lean Cuisine than invent a cuisine of my own. And on days when I do have time to cook, I've been making the same things over and over. (I did, however, make a pretty tasty pork tenderloin for Easter, if I do say so myself, using a glaze made of Catalina dressing and honey, and a sprinkling of chili powder, garlic powder, rosemary, and something else which escapes me at the moment. It was yummy.)
But tonight, my readers, it was on. I felt the itch. I needed to invent something. But what?
History lesson: Today is Cinco de Mayo. Which, in America, is a holiday where college students and those wild and crazy peeps without kids drink Tequila and Margaritas and Corona and Dos Equis while doing a drunken Mexican Hat Dance in celebration of something or other that happened in Mexico. In short, Cinco de Mayo is an excuse to drink for us Americans. I'm celebrating by drinking a small glass of Moscato. Party hardy.
In honor of this holiday, I invented a new recipe I appropriately call "The Chixican Hat Dance." It's a skillet dish (my favorite), and is not very healthy, but very, very tasty. And of course I made enough for a small army so we have plenty of leftovers for the next night or so. Here's what I had.
~ 1 lb. boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into 1/2 inch wide strips
~ Taco seasonings (I make my own out of chili powder, ground cumin, paprika, garlic powder, and minced onion
~ 3/4 cup water, divided
~ 2 cups white rice, cooked
~ 1 cup thick n chunky salsa (I use medium)
~ 1 cup Frozen bell pepper strips, thawed
~ 1 can whole kernel corn
~ 1 cup Shredded Monterey Jack or Cheddar cheese*
And here's what I did.
Heat a small amount of oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add chicken and cook 10 minutes, turning the chicken strips every few minutes or so. Sprinkle with taco seasonings and add in 1/2 cup water. Heat to simmering, turning chicken strips every few minutes. Once chicken has finished cooking through (approx. 5 more minutes), remove chicken from skillet. Reduce heat to low. Add in 1/4 cup water, white rice, and salsa. Mix together. Add in pepper strips and corn. Mix together. Place chicken on top. Smother with cheese and serve.
The finished product, which is tastier than it looked.
It was so, so yummy! Next time, though, I'm going to add in a can of black beans. I didn't have any in the cupboard this time.
It's nice to get back to doing something I love!
* I put one cup of cheese, but I just sprinkled over top to cover. Use as much or as little as your heart desires!
I've been out of the loop in inventive cooking since Jilly's been born. You would think I'd have to be more creative and find options that are quick and easy to eat one handed, but let me tell you, that kid rules this house. Most nights Marshall is working, and it's much easier for me to heat up that Lean Cuisine than invent a cuisine of my own. And on days when I do have time to cook, I've been making the same things over and over. (I did, however, make a pretty tasty pork tenderloin for Easter, if I do say so myself, using a glaze made of Catalina dressing and honey, and a sprinkling of chili powder, garlic powder, rosemary, and something else which escapes me at the moment. It was yummy.)
But tonight, my readers, it was on. I felt the itch. I needed to invent something. But what?
History lesson: Today is Cinco de Mayo. Which, in America, is a holiday where college students and those wild and crazy peeps without kids drink Tequila and Margaritas and Corona and Dos Equis while doing a drunken Mexican Hat Dance in celebration of something or other that happened in Mexico. In short, Cinco de Mayo is an excuse to drink for us Americans. I'm celebrating by drinking a small glass of Moscato. Party hardy.
In honor of this holiday, I invented a new recipe I appropriately call "The Chixican Hat Dance." It's a skillet dish (my favorite), and is not very healthy, but very, very tasty. And of course I made enough for a small army so we have plenty of leftovers for the next night or so. Here's what I had.
~ 1 lb. boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into 1/2 inch wide strips
~ Taco seasonings (I make my own out of chili powder, ground cumin, paprika, garlic powder, and minced onion
~ 3/4 cup water, divided
~ 2 cups white rice, cooked
~ 1 cup thick n chunky salsa (I use medium)
~ 1 cup Frozen bell pepper strips, thawed
~ 1 can whole kernel corn
~ 1 cup Shredded Monterey Jack or Cheddar cheese*
And here's what I did.
Heat a small amount of oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add chicken and cook 10 minutes, turning the chicken strips every few minutes or so. Sprinkle with taco seasonings and add in 1/2 cup water. Heat to simmering, turning chicken strips every few minutes. Once chicken has finished cooking through (approx. 5 more minutes), remove chicken from skillet. Reduce heat to low. Add in 1/4 cup water, white rice, and salsa. Mix together. Add in pepper strips and corn. Mix together. Place chicken on top. Smother with cheese and serve.
The finished product, which is tastier than it looked.
It's nice to get back to doing something I love!
* I put one cup of cheese, but I just sprinkled over top to cover. Use as much or as little as your heart desires!
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