Ducky Diaries: 2015

Thursday, December 24, 2015

A different kind of Christmas

No matter how long I stare at this screen, I still can't seem to get anything to come out of my brain.

The last month has been a whirlwind and not in a good way......

One week and 6 days ago, our family suffered a tragic loss.

My father in law passed away. A man who was so much to so many. The figure-head of our family. A husband, father, grandfather, brother, uncle, son, and friend left this earthly world at just 57 years of age.

F#ck Cancer!

And for a man who lived one heck of a life, the words I need, allude me. It's tragic. As a family, each of us left here without him are trying to find ways to go on. We hug our memories tightly and we mourn the one's we surely thought we would continue to make.

So this holiday is tough to say the least. It's a different kind of Christmas, one where someone so loved is no longer with us. And as all of the grandchildren open their gifts tomorrow we will smile and also feel the pain of missing a great man who loved his family dearly and spoiled his grandchildren rotten.

                            A baby's sweet words to her "Papa".

A man who possesses the power to hang the moon is so much more than just a man.

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Tuesday, December 8, 2015

Parenthood: A series of unfortunate events

It's Ta-Ta-Ta-Tuesday!

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Thursday, December 3, 2015

On December 3rd, he asked me what day it was. It's December 3rd.

Who all read that title in the voice of Lindsay Lohan in Mean Girls?
*Raises hand*

For those of you about to tell me that it wasn't December 3rd, it was actually October 3rd, I KNOW THIS!!!!!

P.s. Guess what? It's December!!!! I LOVE DECEMBER!!!!! It's my most favorite time of the year! And if Ohio would give me some snow that doesn't melt away by 10:00 a.m. I would be really happy. Although it's probably for the best because I get exceptionally Christmas crack-heady in the presence of fluffy white stuff. *snicker snicker* I see what you did there.  IT'S CHRISTMAS TIME, GUYS!!!!!

So, funny story......

Recently Bear's teacher informed me that he had learned, all by himself, how to pop his brakes on his wheelchair. So you know, the world is now his oyster and no one can stop him.....
And I should probably watch him like a hawk because he's quick yada yada yada, why you calling me before I've drank all the coffees, teacher?!?!

Well, a few days ago, forgetting this bit of information/ warning to heed, I headed to the grocery store with my bambino's. Everything was smooth sailing until I was at the check out.

Bear being in an exceptionally ornery mood decided to make a break for the door, three times, and much like Santa Claus, he was laughing all the way.

Just wanting to swipe my magical card O' plastic and get the heck out of there I locked his wheels. Because I'm the boss (que beating on the chest doing my best Tarzan yell)! And because I obviously did not listen to a word his teacher told me on that pre-caffeine call.

I then went to swipe and sign (again) for our sustenance when a laughing cashier chuckled out "Um, mom, MOM" and pointed towards the door.

I turned to see a hysterical Bear wheeling out the damn door!!!!!

Hand to God. My heart stopped for a second.

The little stink popped his brake locks. Thankfully the Salvation Army bell ringer was quicker than me and wheeled him back into the store. That was a sight indeed. Bear in all his laughing glory being pushed back into the store by a stranger in a Santa hat.....

So, to the therapist that told us that he had made no notable progress and may not when Bear was 10 months old,  I stick my tongue out at you!

He's just fine.

How about some pictures? Not of the grocery store story because I didn't have time for all that. But, you know, other pictures, more picturey (totally a word) pictures...


 Babies, playing together.
It's a before Christmas, Christmas miracle! Fa la la!

 Mary once was lost in the back of a toddler push car, but now is
found. Also, kids do not care about the purpose of your Nativity!

The two year olds mad coloring skills. 

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Tuesday, November 17, 2015

Parenthood: A series of unfortunate events

 Post shower conversation with my angelic preshuz bee-bee:

Zo- "Mommy, you have a big vagina. I see it! It's big!"

Me (the unsuspecting prey)- " What?!?!?!?!??!"

Zo- "You have a big vagina."

Me- "Um, well, thanks I suppose. " 

Zo- " And I have a big vagina, and Bubby has a big vagina, and daddy has a BIG VAGINA!"

And then all of the sudden I was transported onto the Oprah stage.

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Sunday, November 15, 2015

Surprise Eggs

 For anyone who has no idea as to what 'Surprise Eggs' are, let me enlighten you in the ways of this you-tube phenomenon.  Videos of hands opening plastic eggs filled with surprises, that's the big thing......

Mostly toys and candy, maybe a few stickers here and there.

Oh and also, toddlers, for some reason go BAT SHIT over these videos of people opening plastic eggs filled with junk toys. Like they get crazy obsessive. 

Did I mention that MY toddler stumbled upon this abomination while watching a Mickey Mouse show on my phone?  It's now been two months and her brain has been harvested..... 

Our favorite videos are from DCTC with Amy Jo and Brandon and also one other father/daughter duo.  Outside of being a visual time suck, I don't mind them too much especially when they're babysitting my kids.   *Probably shouldn't say that* *but that's me for you*

But......   Zo is getting kind of creepy with the stuff.  At first it started with her leaning in to my ear and eerily whispering "What's inside? What's inside, momma? What's inside???". 

 In the beginning it was just creepy, then hysterical, then I got to the point where I was so traumatized I just screamed " I DON'T KNOW?!?!?! GWENETH PALTROW'S HEAD?????!?!?!?!?!?!?" . 

I'm guessing that wasn't the right answer, especially since there's just no explaining why I'm screaming that Gweneth's head would be in a surprise egg.  I mean, it's not a box, but how many times can someone whisper "What's inside" before your brain automatically goes to that scene in Seven. 


That's how many times it took before I said  it out loud at least.

Now that she has watched approximately 500 videos of Surprise Eggs, Zo is on this kick. I don't honestly know what it is, I'm so confused. I'll pick a video for her to watch then she runs back to me screaming that she wants " COOL SURPRISE EGGS!", so I tell her I gave her cool surprise eggs and she'll yell back: 

 And I'm not even sure what to do because:

Then I spend 20 minutes pulling up videos from everything to Hello Kitty, Spider Man, Frozen, basically every video she has watched a million times until she decides on a 'cool' enough video. 

And that's Surprise Eggs, from a mom's point of view.........  

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Sunday, November 8, 2015

The 10 ways kids are totally genius

I like to think that by now my crazed screams are like a sweet lullaby to my neighbors ears. A sweet cadence flowing through the walls to the tune of "You're not listening to me!", "Why aren't you listening?", " No, no, No, NOOOOO!!!!!!", and the ever popular , "WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT!?".

Such a peaceful serenade. The sounds of my people.

But recently my kids have shown me the error of my ways. They're not disobeying, defying, or rebelling. No way Jose'. They're are showcasing their genius. My kids are way more intelligent than myself.

In fact, since learning how right they actually are and how wrong I truly am, I've decided I need to share this new revelation with ALL parents. Everywhere! Around the globe! You all need to bow down before your baby geniuses!

The old saying is so true you guys, kids are way smarter than their parents, and we were in fact born yesterday.

1.) You're so right, urinating in our heating vent has totally changed the smell of our house, for the better. 

2.) I totally see it now! Placing ALL the glasses into the dishwasher right side up is an absolute time saver! Now when we empty it we'll wash the floor and get a shower, AT THE SAME TIME! Genius!

3.) How right you are, AGAIN, my coffee cup really does make an excellent home for that spider. 

4.) Mmmhmm, that wall is way prettier with an oil pastel mural. How did I ever doubt you?

5.) Incredible, I totally get it now. A quicker way to brush your Barbie's hair is to stick her head in front of the vacuum. 

6.) WOW! Would you look at our coffee table. Those Mickey Mouse stickers definitely give it character. 

7.) Oh my, I just love the new texture of our living room carpet! What's that you say? It's strawberry milk and gold fish crumbs. Terrific! 

8.) Thank God you put my cell phone into the toilet. It's never worked better!!!! 

9.) I totally understand why you rubbed your spaghetti into your hair. The scalp has amazing taste receptors. 

10.) Yes, how right you are, as always, an entire bottle of mommy's expensive shampoo DOES  makes an excellent bubble bath..........

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Friday, November 6, 2015

Me, myself, and my disturbed brain.

The human psyche is delicate. 

Or in the very least that is what we as a species is lead to believe, but in reality the human psyche is amazingly complex. It has the ability to adapt to it's surroundings. The ability to re-route itself onto a different path than originally intended. 

So, this blog post is starting off a little different than most of my mommy themed rants. Well.... Yes. LoL but it will come full circle I promise.

As I've been getting to know some new family I'm becoming painfully aware of myself. And my differences or unique personality traits, to put it nicely. 

One of those things being my tell it like I see it / brash/ no filter personality. I'm not a venturing being. I'm in fact a creature of habit. I find comfort in keeping my world small. 
I find my tight cliques extremely comforting and one of the many reasons is that my personality is pretty quirky and at times abrasive. I say things that most people would not dare say out loud. The things most people think but keep to themselves. And sticking with the same people for long periods gives me the comfort of knowing my friends know exactly where my mind is and consequently, who I am because my cards have been on the table for a very long time. 

Sometimes I happen to make jokes about wanting to shake my kids, or drop them off at the fire station, or sell them on ebay. Truth is, anyone that knows me knows I am head over heels in love with my children. I'm positive that without them I would stop breathing.  They are beautiful miracles, simply put.

But child abuse is not funny, so why do I make jokes about such a horrible topic?
For me as a person who has survived extreme trauma, the things that are and are not "appropriate" to say are lost on me. 

When confronted with severe psychological trauma the psyche will respond in one of two ways, it will re-route and change or it will break.  

As someone who's psychological trauma came at the hands of her own biological mother, I can honestly say that the chemistry and thought pattern of my brain changed dramatically to survive intact.

To survive I gave way to my new personality which ensured an emotionally healthy stable life. To make light of the horrible things that happened is weirdly a way to take back control, to say "I won, I'm okay! I'm still here!". 

And also I've learned since becoming a parent that there is an importance to talk about the thing's most new mother's are too afraid to speak up about. To joke about such dark things (such as child abuse or various forms of postpartum issues involving mental health) gives an overwhelmed mother who may have stumbled upon this site a moment to realize she is in safe company and not alone. She can share and be assured that parenthood is frustrating at times on incomprehensible levels. Feeling frustrated is normal. Being a good mother is putting your child down and walking away at times. 

So, with ALL of this being said, I'm learning as I get older to stop apologizing for my off hand, totally non P.C., *gasp* "I can't believe she just said that!" jokes. 

And to be happy with who I am even when I get sideways glances of shock, because I came out the other side of child abuse a different person than when I went in. 

However because of that I will forever see and respond to the world in a different way than most, and that's okay.....

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Tuesday, October 27, 2015

Driving through the dark

 Wow!  No posts for an entire month. I think that's a new personal best for me.

It's been a rough few months to say the least. There have been times where I've genuinely thought about just shutting this whole site down, but, I'm not ready for that. Plus I would be really sad about it after spending so much time here....   Can you believe we've been hanging out since 2011?!?!?!?  Crazy right?  I can't believe it myself.  Plus, even though I think there's only like 5 of us who are still reading my posts (yes I'm counting myself, someone's gotta proof read, lol. ) I'm hanging on for you. And partly because I would be really sad if my favorite bloggers just up and left me hanging.

So, back to the elephant in the room, my absence.

I don't know if you can recall but awhile ago I sort of, but not really, touched on some personal things I had been going through, including finding out about the death of my father.

Read about it  HERE

Well, I found out back in April that my father whom I hadn't seen since I was 6 (but loved/ love very much)  passed away in 2,008.  Around July I was put in touch with my father's side of the family who I also hadn't seen in 28 years, including my big brother. It was a time of many emotions for sure.

Roughly at the same time I started becoming depressed and very angry. I tried to ignore it but I got pretty bad to the point that I didn't even want to get out of bed. I snapped at everyone, my kids, husband, friends....  I was in such uncharted territory. I began to feel angry. Especially at my mother who was the cause of my separation from my father. He and I were just pawns in her mentally ill head game. I felt robbed. I began to feel a familiar hatred for her that I had worked for years to let go of.  I was just becoming this person in a  constant vile mood.

I was confused by my own feelings and thoughts. I felt silly for grieving. Even felt angry at myself. I felt like I didn't deserve to grieve his death. I tried to convince myself that I didn't have the right to grieve losing him. I even felt too much time had passed since his actual death for me to grieve him.

As far as grief goes, there is no controlling it. And despite my best efforts there is no distracting it with your kids or plans to ignore it. 

I was in a bad place. I tried writing funny things here to mislead myself. My kids did easily play a big role in keeping me occupied, but, nothing was working. I still  felt horrible. Life sucked.  Everything seemed gray. Food, company, laughter, I just felt numb and when I wasn't numb I was mad.

But, the more time that went by spent with my newly found family the more I learned about my dad and myself. The more I realized that my grief was very real no matter how long ago he left this Earth. My grief was real and new and I had to allow myself to feel it to move past it and get back to living.

So slowly but surely I began to allow myself to grieve without fighting it. I cried when I needed to, I spent time with family, watched his funeral service (which thankfully had been filmed), talked about him, and this past weekend I sat down and wrote him a letter in preparation to finally visit his grave site.  I wrote as though I was going for an actual visit with him and poured out everything I've ever wanted to say to him if he were standing in front of me.

And then I read it out loud at his grave.

And I cried. Big fat ugly tears that smeared the ink on my letter until I felt like my brain was going to fall out of my temples and my eyes burned from mascara.

Then, I felt free. As though this boulder I have been emotionally carrying my entire life had been lifted, finally, from my shoulders. 

I've honestly never felt better. I'm still sad, but that's okay.  I miss him, I always will and sadly he'll never be here as my dad, but, he flows through my family, my brother, myself, and his D.N.A. flows through my children, so in a way, I'll always have him here when I need him. And when missing him gets to be too much I can go for a drive and sit with at least some part of him that's still here on this earth.

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Wednesday, September 30, 2015

The man under the stairs

Dear customer service workers (or anyone in direct contact with people),

Moms don't really hate you. I promise. I mean, we sort of do, sometimes. Like when our kids are sick and we're schlepping them all over town for appointments and prescriptions, but we really don'

We just hate your face. At that moment. And your questions. And your slow walk. And anything you're doing that delays us from a speedy return home, where our crazy is allowed and pants are optional.

You see, when you have only one child and they are sick longer than a week you start to go a little nutty. Your sleep deprivation is hitting a peek that newborn night wakings can't touch. There's no bottle or boob that really truly soothes a sick child for long. 

However the benefit of having only one child is that it allows you to consider how you look and act in public because you still care about how you're perceived. So you're able to pull that polite smile from the depth of your being.....

But, throw in another kid, maybe pop a few more out. This is when shit literally hits the fan. The train automatically derails the moment the second spawn walks out of you.
You may think to yourself (in moments of innocent ignorance);

"This ain't my first Ro-Day-O!", am I right?!


Multiple kids sick at the same time is a hell you will not come back from. Throw in 3-4 weeks of this type of hell and BOOM!, you're gone. Your brain has left the building. Sleep, it ain't happening. When one beast finally falls, the other is awake, crying, coughing, sneezing, snotting, demanding allllll the things including your love, which flew out the window 3 vomits ago. It's a rotation of human torture....

And then there are moments when you panic because you can't find your kids. Yes, the very one's yanking at your pant leg for some thing. 

Or the moment when you're coming up the basement stairs (because laundry still needs done) and you damn near fall back down them because your water heater suddenly turned into a man standing under said stairs...... 

*Note to self*
At these times it should be a legal obligation for someone to come to your house, wrap you in a snuggie, and toss you in bed. While they take care of your kids for 12 hours, of course.

But throw in yourself as one of the sicks, and you're screwed....


THEN YOU GOTTA GO OUT IN PUBLIC! And subject innocent bystanders to this shit that is your life!!!!????

God, why you so cruel???!!

Dear customer service peoples, I don't hate you. I just haven't slept in 3 weeks. And you as the receptionist on the phone making me wait to check out at the Dr.s office where I've just spent 3 hours shoved into a room the size of a cubicle,with 2 germ spewing rug rats are NOT my friend.
While my sick minions eat tissues and throw tantrums, I'm kind of thinking about how your head would look mounted on my wall. 

And you..... Drive thru pharmacist..... It's a DRIVE-THRU!!! I'm supposed to just DRIVE THRUUUUUUUUUU. Like a drive by where nobody dies and I throw out ice cream, but you might die... Or get screamed at because I turned my car off after 15 minutes and have had to endure snot filled screams of agony for over 20 minutes. 

You are the worst today. You're holding the drugs my kids need. I NEED. I need them so that they may feel better soon and may, in turn sleep, which may in turn help me not want to chew your face off. 

So, in conclusion, 

Dear customer service people mom's don't hate you. They just are not in their right minds when caring for ill offspring. Please forgive us all. 

The mom who almost went full Zombie on your ass.

Monday, September 14, 2015

School Drop-off blues

 Once upon a time I lived in the glorious land of bus pick-up and drop-off, but then an evil came upon the land and placed a spell so devious on the town of Quackson,  which states, from now until that which came goes away again I shall ride in my carriage to deliver thine precious offspring to and fro his enchanted kingdom of learning.....

 Otherwise known as "I used to have a pretty sweet set-up. Ship Bear off to school at 8:00 a.m. and then meet him at the bus stop at 4:00 p.m."  Much cleaning and rearing of the little one was done. And nay I say a little trashy television viewing at nap time.

Then last week Bear's bus driver pulled up to our drive-way looking a bit out of sorts and relayed a tale about him scooching so far down in his wheel chair that he just about hung himself with his harness straps.....

So yea.  Now I'm schlepping a total of 2 hours a day to and from his school as his personal chauffeur.
I have to put on pants!  THE INJUSTICE!!!  I have to take my coffee to go! THE INJUSTICE, I SAY!!!

At least until we can get something to attach to his seat that will prevent him from attempting to injure himself on the bus again. And I thought that would be pretty simple until the place in which we bought his chair originally, informed me today, that "oh it is not  really that simple" .
Apparently there's a lot of things we have to do to get this all fixed and squared away. So. Awesome. 

I am just thrilled.......

But thankfully he did not injure himself and obviously I would rather drive him than place him into a situation where his orneriness can and will injure him.



I wish to conclude this with a word of advice to our young people, a warning really....

Don't have kids. They're great, but they do stupid things often. And then you have to drive them to school.

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Tuesday, September 8, 2015

Parenthood: A series of unfortunate events

 Yay! It's TUESDAY!

Which means!!?!?!?!?!?!    

                               Parenthood: A series of unfortunate events.....


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Friday, September 4, 2015

Closing up shop

OH MY GOD BECKY!!!!  LOOK AT HER POST!!!  Twice in one week!  Stella's getting her writing groove back!
Anyhow, last week I sent everything but the children's coming home outfits into the abyss.  I boxed it all up, literally not shedding a single tear. I kept a select few items (booties, hats, etc..) that I absolutely could not part with, but otherwise, I was all "WALK THE PLANK YE VARMIT!".....

Well, I sold the big items and gave the rest away which = the abyss,never to be seen by thine eyes again.

So that's it. Finito. Done. Shop is CLOSED! No more humans coming forth from my body. Which is a really freeing and at the same time sad and weird feeling.  My youngest is a toddler. She's out of diapers and doesn't shut up, ever. So pretty much I can send her out to get a job at this point. (LOL I wish!)

Mostly, my kids are just that, kids. Not babies. Not ever again.

D.I.C. and I have been going back and forth for probably the better part of a year. We would both say we were done, but then no major decisions would be made. I think mostly we were both done, but not quite ready to be 100 %. So "TO THREE OR NOT TO THREE" became the mantra around here. Especially with age, mine and the children. We like them to be close in age, and I am turning 31 this year. I'm way more tired than I was 5 years ago at the start of this creating humans journey. And I'm not quite sure my body could handle another pregnancy 14 months after the last.

Did you know that last Christmas was the first time I wasn't pregnant or taking care of a 6th month old?!?!?!??  It has been glorious!

At this point we're more than okay with our decision and ready to make it permanent. Both D.I.C. and I just know, we're done. Our family is complete. The level of daily chaos we're submersed in is all we can take for the next 20 years......  

I've been through every feeling imaginable at this point, which I think is normal.

I've noticed that there are pretty much 3 different categories in this phase of life for most people.

1.) You're totally okay with being completely done. Jumping for joy, actually.Handing your uterus to the nearest stranger and telling them to "go nuts!".

2.)You're mostly okay with being done, but you wouldn't freak out if there was an accident or the procedure didn't take. 

3.) You think you're okay but you start sobbing every time you see a baby, or walk by the baby section in the store.

 I think I at first was lingering between #1 and #2 but now I'm mostly just #1.  Once the decision is more 'permanent' I'll probably sway between #2 and #3 for a few days.

But for now, I'm just really okay with being done creating other humans.  Maybe if we were more like horses and they just walked from the get go, I'd like more, but, newborns, with all their amazing squish, scent, and neediness, are well, extremely needy.  And everybody is getting at least 5 hours of sleep a night at this point, so, I don't want to screw that up.

                           *The only person who even remotely cares about the baby things purge*

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Tuesday, September 1, 2015

Parenthood: A series of unfortunate events

 Welcome to my new Tuesday installment! 

Also- HELLO SEPTEMBER! P.s. if you're looking for Pumpkin Spice anything this is not the place for you.....

*Parenthood: A series of unfortunate events*

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In an effort to put stuffs on this here blog more often I will be here every Tuesday making veteran parents laugh and newbies run......  

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Sunday, August 9, 2015

I will survive- the rest of this summer vacation.

Ohhhhhh Gloria Gaynor. You get me....  You really, really, get me.


17 more days until school starts. 17 days left to survive. 17 more days until schedules, and rules,  8 hours of peace, and darkness at 7:00 p.m.

I can do this. I can make it.


God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change............ 

Like the fact that my house has looked like a tornado has gone through it every day since the end of May. And also help me accept all the stains and weird caked on food that covers ALL my furniture.
And maybe influence the people pricing wine (is this in poor taste being that I am using the serenity prayer? I'm not sure so I'll feign ignorance or temporary insanity.).

Or just let the next 2.5 weeks go by reallllllllly fast.

P.s. Dear fellow parents clinging on for dear life at this point:

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Thursday, July 30, 2015

Thrown into the deep.

So, I wrote this post about a week ago and have been staring at my draft box ever since trying to decide whether to hit publish or delete. This is a post about mental illness in one of it's many forms. It's important to know that those of us battling a mental illness are not all the same nor do we have the same brain chemistry. The journey towards acceptance and management is a very deeply personal one and it does not fit the cookie cutter mold that society portrays it as. 


Some of you may or may not know that I've battled an anxiety disorder coupled with panic attacks and OCD for over two decades of my life. 90% of the time I'm fine but sometimes if too much is going on at once and I don't take the time to slow down and breathe I'll have a "flare up".

Recently everything in life collided and I did not take time to breathe and process. Which has led to an anxiety ridden hell the past month of my life.
It started when I came to the realization that Bear is growing. He's not just a kid with Special needs, he's a person with Special needs (which sounds bad but I don't mean it that way), and that entails him growing in size. 

It's no longer as simple as carrying around a two year old baby anymore. I'm carrying a four year old, who's 2 feet away from being my height, up and down a staircase. I'm nearing not being able to just carry him wrappped around my neck from my vehicle to our front door. It's getting tricky and a little dangerous. 

Our dynamic of small child and adult is changing and it's scary.
And not only did this hit me mentally and physically, it hit me emotionally. HARD. All the questions, doubts, fears about the future, Bear's future, the sadness of my time carrying him coming to a close, with that the realization that I won't be able to protect him forever. Simply put my baby isn't a baby anymore. Which in part is something every parent goes through.

It's a very tough realization. To know our way of doing things has to change, to know we're on the verge of adaptation. Suddenly it's not so simple, realistically or metaphorically.  

Around the same time, I was reconnected with biological family that I had essentially been ripped away from almost 28 years ago as a small child by my abusive mother. I'm not going to say too much here for others privacy purposes but I'll share what I'm comfortable with.

I'm learning about my deceased father and my huge family, I'm grieving a long past death as though it happened recently. I'm seeing baby pictures of myself which is something I've never had the pleasure of. I'm meeting so many people. And while I'm so happy, I'm overwhelmed and in uncharted territory. It's just a lot for anyone to handle.

I basically overloaded my circuitry. And unfortunately when that happens, the OCD monster rears it's head.
 I'm obsessing, organizing, and rearranging all the furnitures....
But I'm okay. And I will be okay. My house looks pretty great to. 

A beautiful soul of a friend recently told me that "real life isn't always funny", when I confessed that all of this is why I haven't written anything in so long. 

And she's right. So very right. Sometimes real life is messy, chaotic, and overwhelming with a touch of mental illness.

Thursday, June 25, 2015

I meant to write this 15 days ago.

 I don't know where my brain has been but I totally meant to write this post a while ago. 

The kiddos had birthdays and it's always a big cluster duck because their birthdays are only 2 weeks apart so rather than doing individual parties we throw one. At least until they are old enough to protest enough that I care.
 But we also do something special with just us family members on their actual date of birth. So ya know, a big ole' cluster duck!

Bear turned 4 on June 10th. Which is absolutely crazy to me because I remember so wondering what it felt like to have a child who wasn't a baby when I was in the thick of caring for an infant and my friends had preschoolers.
It's always difficult on the birthdays, a reminder of previous birthdays when we still didn't know what Zachary's disability would eventually be labeled as.

There were even a few years where we were going through genetic testing and the titles of those labels were too depressing to handle. But we're here, all of us. Bear makes progress every year. Slow and steady. And Cerebral Palsy is the name of our game.

Some birthdays are just 100 % awesome. Some are difficult as he gets older and we really see the things he is not capable of, but then he does something he's never done before and we are reminded that he is the Captain of his own ship. He may be hit with storms but he works hard to right his vessel.   <3 


Zo-zo turned 2 on May 28th, which seems insane.  She's the last baby. Which comes with it's own ups and downs. And I always say it but I swear I just had her. How is she 2 already?

She can count to 20, sing her ABC's, is potty trained, cops an attitude better than me, has mastered the eye roll, and is a force to be reckoned with.  She is wild. I'm glad she was a surprise because I don't think I could have even imagined the amount of personality she possesses.

It's crazy how fast she has advanced almost out of necessity. 

The two of them together spells trouble as most days I feel like they are actually going to accomplish killing each other.

Dear friends with 2 or more children close in age, YOU ARE ASSHOLES!, thanks for telling me they fight like they hate each other.


To end this post before I can get any more elegant.......


 photo cooltext1292211702_zpsc9a335dc.png If you like what you just read please click to send a quick vote for me on Top Mommy Blogs- The best mommy blog directory featuring top mom bloggers Don't forget to check out our "Exceptionally Special" page and "Tot Spot" for tips, tricks, and tidbits for the kiddos.

Tuesday, June 9, 2015

The Playground

At some point whatever god you believe in, along with man came up with a creation so glorious it saved our mentally frayed, child rearing brains.
We call it The Playground.....
Its sorcery coerces our spawn to leave us alone in increments that cannot be measured by time but by the needs of our sanity.
We show our thanks by wearily dropping our children, shooing them away, and then staring into space or at each other.
And that's how I realized The Playground is like this big majestic watering hole that brings together a wide variety of parental species.
Just look around you.
You're sure to see the following mammals:
-The Yoga mom
You can't miss her. She's flitting about in her workout gear like a speedy little hummingbird with the energy of a sugar fed child. She's also really good at making us feel like slackers in our knee length shorts, ratty t-shirts, and mom buns.
And she's there to walk the trails. Go ahead, loathe her while you want to be her.
-The Yoga pants mom
This woman is not to be confused with the Yoga mom. She's only wearing her yoga pants because they're comfortable. And they give off the illusion of working out, thus having her stuff together. She probably slept in them the night before.
Don't judge her too harshly, we've all been The Yoga pants mom.
-The chit chat coffee moms
They're together. Usually a group of 2-4 making the rest of us feel like the losers we were in 9th grade. Sipping something from a coffee mug or thermos while sitting on a bench or standing near the equipment ( My bet, it isn't coffee if you know what I mean.). Their kids are running in a pack because"The chit chat coffee moms" are always together and will inevitably become "The soccer/football/cheerleading/gymnastics moms".
-The Do your thing mom
Her kids are playing in a suspiciously wet sandbox covered head to toe in mud. It could be leftover rain water or urine.  "The Do your thing mom" does not care. As long as she's left alone for 10 uninterrupted minutes and no one is bleeding. This mom has zero f*cks left to give today. You find yourself slightly afraid and also wanting to be her friend. This is normal.
-The Helicopter mom
She hasn't sat down once because she's terrified Jr.s going to break a leg just by walking. You can see hand sanitizer dangling from her keys. Give her time, she'll change into "The Do your thing mom" after the second kid.
-The 'You're okay' mom
You hear her repeatedly yelling "You're okay!" every time her dare-devil children holler an "oww" or "mom". She's a distant cousin of "The do your thing mom". She's got her phone or a book and isn't leaving unless there's a significant amount of bloodshed.
-The Photog mom
You have no idea what her face looks like because it's hidden behind a camera. Her child is dressed like royalty and looks like an angel. "The Photog mom" turns The Playground into a photo shoot. You can't recall seeing her kid actually playing.
-The Dad
Whether he is a seasoned veteran SAHD or just getting the kids off mom's back, he always looks out of his element. The only hotdog at a hamburger stand.  He's also the one running across The Playground to get to his princess before she leaps from the top of the spiral slide while screaming at his other spawn to not move.
Newsflash, the not moving spawn just peed themselves.
-The Grandparents
They show up with an ice cream covered cherub. Their pockets are stuffed with gummy worms and ice cream shoppe napkins. They try to keep up with the kiddos until retiring in front of the slide or sandbox on a bench in the shade while they cheer the sticky choco monsters on.
Ah, The Playground. It's the equivalent of a football half time. It's where we as parents go to take a moment. Refresh. And prepare ourselves to jump back into the game when it's time to leave. We're all there for the same reason. To hopefully expel our offsprings never ending kid-ness (totally a word). Even if we all look differently while doing so.

Monday, June 1, 2015

Captains log

Parenting day 1,460+1 ( because I'm pretty sure there was a leap year somewhere):

Kids fed, bathed, dressed, happy, healthy.

I realize I forgot to brush my teeth 20 minutes into a trip. Not the first time not the last.

Fast forward to 2:00 p.m. and ending up in the emergency room for a suspected blood clot.

I realize as my legs are being felt up that I haven't shaved in at least a week. 

And I'm pretty sure I haven't showered in at least 3 days.

I contemplate my life choices as I wait for the ultrasound tech to arrive, and watch Harry Potter movies with my sister in law. 

Then eat some chinese food. 

The ultrasound tech arrives to feel me up from groin to toes while telling us he's paid off all his kids debt. 

I wonder if adoption still applies to us 30 year olds. Not for my kids, but for myself. I am technically an orphan..... 

7:00 p.m. breathe a HUGE sigh of relief that there are no clots, just an angry vein.
Lesson learned? 

I showered and shaved last night. And have managed to brush my teeth today, twice.

Also if you spend 5 hours away from your kids your blood pressure will significantly drop. In a good way. 

                                                               Room with a view.