Black Belt Mama

Chaotic Cupcakes

I volunteered to make cupcakes for Big I's Halloween party at school.  (It's the Mom guilt.  I can't go to the party with Lil C and I don't have a sitter.)  Because I'm a perfectionist over-achiever, I had to do something super cool.  No ordinary cupcakes would do.  So, I found an idea for jack-o-lantern cupcakes and went to town. 

Lil C is quite content playing in her port-a-crib, so she hung out in there while I put orange icing on the cupcakes.  Then I heard Big I cracking up laughing.  "What's so funny?" I called to her.  "Lil C is undressing herself," she laughed.  She could barely talk she was laughing so hard.  I walked over to the crib and there's Lil C without her little jeans, with her zip up sweatshirt off, and her tank top pulled up and over her head, bunched behind her neck holding her in a full nelson.  She spent the entire afternoon wearing only a diaper and protesting loudly if I tried to redress her. 

When she was sick of her crib, I brought her into the kitchen while Big I and I cut green leaves candies into pumpkin stems and arranged chocolate chips into jack-o-lantern faces.  In the time it took to finish the cupcakes for school, Lil C:

• pulled all of my Tupperware out of the cabinet
• pulled all of the snacks out of the cabinet including a bag of pretzels that she emptied completely onto the floor
• removed every single school paper that Big I has ever brought home from school from Big I's folder and spread them out around her in the kitchen
• removed each and every letter magnet that she has and threw those on the floor as well
• tried to remove my cleaning products from another cabinet
• pulled out pots and pans and threw those on the floor as well

When she went towards the pantry closet, I decided that decorating the extra cupcakes for us was going to have to wait until later.  I sort of attempted to tidy up the kitchen before acting class, but gave up because dressing the squirming naked baby took quite a bit of time. 

When we all arrived home tonight, Mr. BBM was greeted with the kitchen from hell and leftovers.  After dinner, I finished decorating our cupcakes and was directed by Big I to make them "creepy."  I did my best. I know my skeletons look like they have some irritable bowel issues, but I only had one kind of icing and Big I was still thrilled despite the poopy-pants skeletons. 

 

I think I have to change my blog name to "Black Belt Betty Crocker". 

Be sure to check back for costume pictures tomorrow!

If you are interested in fantasy football, you can check out my latest post at Save the Soldiers.  It's all about making lousy decisions which is what fantasy football is all about right?  The post is called Serving and Devouring Crow 24/7 and can be found here. 

I'm also participating in the Carnival of Family Life this week and those entries, along with a link to my sad little chipmunk story can be found here.  Check them out!

And to all the new visitors and commenter's, a big BBM "Welcome" to you! 

Not Me

I don't want to be that person.  Sometimes I wonder if I am.  Starting out in the martial arts at 29 seems to be ancient.  I wonder if the parents who watch their children from the comfort of the waiting area are thinking I should give it up; karate is for kids, not their parents.  I wonder what other people think about how I do my kata, how I spar.  Do they think I'm a joke?  Do they think I'm good?  Do they think I'm silly for starting so late?

It's easy to doubt yourself when it took a good ten years to start on the path that you wanted to all along but were too afraid to try.  It's easy to wonder, when you see your reflection at the dojo, wearing that brown belt, if you've really earned it, if you really know your stuff as well as you should. 

After studying karate for a few years, I can look at others and know which ones are really nailing their kata, and which ones are sort of going through the motions.  Am I going through the motions or do I look like I know what I'm doing?

If you ask my Mom about me and my karate she will tell you how great I am at it.  She will say about my karate skills, "She's a natural.  It just comes so easily for her.  She's really great at it."  She brags about me to her friends, and although I'm flattered and happy that she thinks I'm so great, I know that she is, after all, my Mom.  That's what Mom's do.  They praise and brag.  It's in the Mom wiring. 

Recently several students at our dojo competed in a tournament.  I didn't go.  I wouldn't have been able to anyway, seeing as how sick I was; but even if well, I doubt I would have gone.  I haven't ever really considered going to tournaments.  The martial arts journey has been personal for me.  The idea of putting it out there in a public arena is a little unsettling.  Trophies are nice and all, but who knows if I'd even get one.  Wouldn't that be embarrassing?  The 31-year old brown belt who is there and is a complete joke.  Who let her in here anyway?

In the safety and comfort of the dojo, where the environment is so supportive, you can start to let yourself believe that what you're doing is right, that others see what you're doing and think that you know what you're doing.  At a tournament?  You might become one of people that everyone sort of laughs at, the joke. 

When it all boils down, it shouldn't really matter what other people think about me, my kata, my karate.  It should really only matter what I think of myself.  But getting to that point is going to be the hard part.

Just my Luck Or RIP Little Chipmunk

I drove Big I to school this morning and there was nothing extraordinary that separated today from any other day.  Upon arriving home, I normally walk around the front of my car to get Lil C out.  I don't know what made me go around the back today, but I did and that's when I saw it. . . a squished dead chipmunk.  It lay there, three feet behind my back wheel, dead as a doornail and so obviously my doing. 

I stopped in my tracks and let out a horrified sigh.  And then I realized something even worse than the dead chipmunk.  Before Big I gets off the bus today, I'm going to have to clean up my mess. 

I am the person who can't pick up a cat hairball without throwing up a little in my mouth or at least heaving to the point that I have to run to the bathroom, just in case.  I scanned my neighbor's houses and cars to see if anyone suitable for doing this sort of thing was home, and the answer was sadly, no. 

I took Lil C in the house and did what any rational wife who just killed a chipmunk would do.  I called my husband whose office is 45 minutes away and demanded that he come home and now.  He laughed while I cursed him for not working from home today of all days DAMN IT.  "Just put on a glove. . . " he started.  "NO!  I can't do THAT!" I said completely horrified.  "I'll throw up!" I said.  "Well, then your other option is to get the snow shovel. . . ".  "Oh GOD NO. . . Can't you just come home?" I begged.  "Do you think my Dad would come out and take care of it for me?" I asked my husband.  "No, well, maybe.  You could call him and tell him that you hit a deer, and that you need help.  Then, when he shows up, you could tell him 'Oops!  Sorry, I meant a deer MOUSE'" my husband said while relishing in the fact that he was a good hour away. 

"How bad is it?" he asked.  "It's bad," I said "he's a pancake, squished in the middle and what's coming out the ends isn't pretty."  "Oh Man," he said and laughed some more. 

So I hung up and did what any rational woman would do. . . I called my Mom.

"I have a problem," I said.  "WHAT?" she asked thinking there was something seriously wrong.  I told her my dilemma and she recommended that I first cover the poor little guy with some leaves and then scoop him up with a snow shovel and put him in some bushes or trees where he wouldn't be disturbed. This from the woman who had a chipmunk trapped in her fireplace, so my Dad put a trap in there, caught him, and then released him into the woods.  "I don't know if I can do this," I said.  "Well, you're going to have to.  Imagine Big I's face when she gets off the bus."  "I know," I said, resigned to my fate. 

I got Lil C occupied in her port-a-crib and retrieved the snow shovel.  As I opened the front door, a squirrel sat on my step just staring me down.  You think I'm kidding?  Because I'm not!  Then the birds started making all kinds of noise and swooping around in a threatening fashion.  I was waiting for a mountain lion to come charging down from the woods and eat me or something.  I felt like the friendly forest folk were declaring war on me.  I needed to do this quickly. 

I threw some leaves on top and I'll only say that dead chipmunks don't just nicely move themselves onto snow shovels.  There was some scooping and some squirming (that was me) and then I finally got him on the shovel and put him in a ground covering bush away from the house.  Then, I had to hose off the shovel, and hose down the crime scene.  I also had to hose down my back wheel.  Can I tell you how relieved I was that it was my BACK wheel and not the front?  I never saw him because he ran out after my front wheel had already passed.  Stupid chipmunk running under a car. 

And so considering how this day started, I think I'm ready to call it a day.  The things we'll do for our kids. . .

On the mend but still annoyed

It is no secret that the American Academy of Pediatrics recommends nursing until your baby is at least 12 months old.  An article came out recently in diabetes literature, citing that breast milk is really the best thing for your baby and that cows milk should be avoided until the age of two.  Breastfeeding helps reduce the incidence of diabetes in both Mom's and babies.  With the strong history of diabetes in my family, and considering the fact that I had gestational diabetes while pregnant this last time, I felt that it was my duty to nurse this baby as long as I could.  Although I started the weaning process at 10 months, I nursed Big I until she was 14.5 months old and when she stopped nursing it was so gradual that she never even missed it.  It was the best thing for both of us. 

Lil C recently turned a year old and I am still nursing her.  I am in the process of weaning her, but weaning to me, is not something you do cold turkey.  That is not beneficial for either of us.  It's a very gradual process in this household and I appreciate it greatly when people mind their own business about it.  A popular chant for abortion rights activists is "My Mind, My Body, My Choice" and I feel that saying applies even more so to breastfeeding a baby.  I never imagined in a million years, that a doctor or physician's assistant of all people would be so unsupportive of my decision about nursing and how long to continue nursing. 

After toughing it out all last week with body aches and a fever on and off, I finally made an appointment with my doctor's office and of course could only get an appointment with a Physician's Assistant.  I've seen her before and it always felt like she was rushing me out the door.  Friday was no exception.  We ran through the gamut of my symptoms and she determined that I had strep throat.  I told her I would need a medication compatible with nursing.  She asked how old my baby was, and I told her that she is 12 months old.  I saw the reaction, subtle but definitely there and judgmental.  She left the room to go consult on what she should prescribe. 

She came back a few minutes later with a prescription for Levaquin.  Levaquin is what they put my husband on after he had abdominal surgery.  It is a strong antibiotic and a bit of an overkill for a strep throat.  "Here you go" she said handing me the prescription.  "Oh, and you'll have to pump and dump for seven days."  Lil C has not ever taken a bottle.  She refuses, and pumping is not exactly easy for me either.  It's not like I have a freezer full of back-ups. 

"That's not going to work," I told her.  "I need something safe for nursing.  I'm in the process of weaning her and I'm not going to do it like this."  She responded with "Well, I nursed my daughter for eight months.  I know it's hard, but there's nothing else we can give you."  "There has to be something," I retorted.  "Nope, sorry.  Pump and dump for seven days or just wean her now."  I told her I would just not take the drug.  She said, "Well, then it will go to your heart and kidneys."  I was finding it very hard to believe that a mother who also nursed her child wouldn't be more sympathetic. 

I left the doctor's office and was a mess.  What was I going to do?  I got home and consulted the internet.  I found resources from The Breastfeeding Network that listed at least ten antibiotics safe for nursing.  I called the office and left a voice mail saying that I wanted my prescription changed to one of the drugs I found on the list that I had success with before.  The nurse called me back and said, "I talked to (the PA) and she said she already discussed this with you.  She prescribed the one drug that is safe."  "Levaquin is not safe," I said, "and she told me so."  "Oh," said the nurse.  It was obvious that they were not taking my request seriously.  Can you imagine if I had taken the nurse at her word and taken an unsafe drug while nursing? 

I repeated my request for the different drug and told them to call it in for me.  They said they would call it in but that it was still not compatible with nursing.  She threw out a "Well, WE'RE trying to do what's best for your child".  "Really?" I said.  "Well if that were the case, then you would know that breast milk is what's best for my child, and weaning her cold turkey is not." 

I called my daughter's pediatrician and left a message telling them my dilemma.  Within a half hour, the nurse from the doctor's office called me back and left me a message (I was at the pharmacy).  The medication I requested, along with the other nine or so I had found, were completely safe with nursing.  She told me things to watch for in Lil C in case of a bad reaction, but stressed that the drug I had requested was safe. 

While at the pharmacy, I asked the pharmacist his opinion.  He told me the drug was safe as well and said it was fine to take it and continue nursing as usual.  I am nursing her so infrequently now that I could time the drug so that there would be many hours before I had to nurse Lil C again. 

So, my question is this: If I could go on the internet and find reliable information including the package insert for the drug that says it is safe for nursing; if my pediatrician could tell me it was safe; if the pharmacist could tell me it was safe. . . then why couldn't my doctor's office? 

I have decided to switch primary care physicians because if they are incapable of helping a nursing mother out, then I am incapable of giving them $25 every time I need to see a physician's assistant who has less schooling than I have.  Although she didn't come right out and say it, there was an obvious judgment being made about my decision to wean my 12-month old daughter gradually, and that is just one of the problems that nursing mothers face every day.  Until now, I had never really experienced this, and I hope to never experience it again.

Out of the Office

Black Belt Mama is currently out of the blog world suffering from a case of strep throat.  She will return to the blog world when she's feeling up to it.  She has a wonderful story to pass on about nursing mothers, medication, and big time jerk doctors (actually physicans assistants AND doctors) that is sure to get you all riled up.  She can't wait to share it with you.  Now go pray that your child doesn't bring home strep throat too!

These boots were made for walking

At J's request, the story of how the boots became mine and how I explained them to my husband. . .

I did not have any intention of buying these boots.  I saw them last week.  I searched on the internet for the best deal and found none.  Last week, I purchased a coupon through Big I's school for $5 which entitled me to 25% off all day today.  Last night, my husband gave me a princess cut diamond solitaire necklace for our anniversary to match the earrings he bought me for Mother's Day.

I was completely surprised (although I shouldn't have been considering he was very very late getting home).  He's a last minute kind of guy.  So, I really was having no urge to buy the boots today. 

Then I saw them.  I had just finished some Christmas shopping and I saw them in all their glory.  They were calling to me, just waiting for me. 

I asked to try them on, hoping that I would hate them.  I hoped they wouldn't be comfortable. 

But they were. . .

I handed them back to the sales girl and told her "no thanks".  I told her I was going to "think about it" and maybe come back later.  She said, "O.k. but just so you know, we only got one in each size. . ."

I sat there while Lil C chowed on some cherry puffs and then I decided that I had to have them.  And here they are. . .

Now I just need a denim skirt to go with them. . .

And as far as the explanation. . . it went something like this:

Me:  I was bad today.
Him: Why?
Me:  Well, let's just say you already got me a Christmas present.
Him:  Huh?
Me:  (revealing large box from closet and showing him)  Aren't they awesome?
Him:  What's the damage?
Me:  Well, they were on sale. . . and I got an additional 25% off.
Him:  What's the damage?
Me:  $160
Him:  AND THAT WAS ON SALE???
Me:  I'm lying.  They were $149, marked down to $139, and then I had the coupon, so I paid $104.  That sounds so much better than $160, huh?
Him:  (laughing)

Ta da!  Good luck with your purchases ladies!  That's how its done!

Three Things

It's been a while since I've done a meme.  But, as per Junebee, I've been tagged. 

1.  Three people who make me laugh:

• My husband (who has in past years done great interpretational dancing to theme songs from ER, Law & Order, etc.)
• Karl whose birthday challenges had me holding my sides laughing
• My girls

2.  Three things I can do:

• change a diaper with one hand while lying down in the dark
• make chicken pie and chocolate cake from scratch
• crochet baby blankets, hats and booties

3.  Three things I can't do:

• go on a ferris wheel without completely freaking out
• keep my mouth shut when someone says something rude to my kids or my mom
• get the grill started  (I know the games men play. . . folding laundry poorly so they're not asked to do it again.  I can't get the grill started and I have a good reason why.)

4.  Three things I'm doing right now:

• trying to catch up on my blog reading
• looking around my living room and wondering exactly how many tissues Lil C has shredded today
• trying to find a good deal on an awesome pair of boots I saw last week figure out how I'm going to explain my boot purchase to my husband

5. Three things I want to do before I die:

• become a black belt and then some
• move into my dream home
• visit the Florida Keys

6. Three things I hate the most:

• political ads and phone calls (because I get at least four a day)
• people who litter
• people who are mean to people I love

7. Three things that scare me:

• child predators (although if any of them come anywhere near me or my kids I am fully prepared to unleash BBM's full fury on them)
• the crazy countries in this world (N. Korea, Iran, etc.)
• most dogs (I am not a fan.)

8. Three things I don't understand:

• why so many Americans hate their own country so much
• why politicians don't take all the money they spend on political ads and instead use it to find cures for diseases, improve our schools, etc. etc. etc.
• school violence

9. Three skills I'd like to learn:

• how to breathe properly through my kata's
• how to properly use joint locks. . . the first time
• how to deliver a killer serve in the style of Venus Williams

10. Three ways to describe my personality:

• Assertive
• Thoughtful
• Fun

11. Three things I think you should listen to:

• your children
• Alana Davis
• Lil C and Big I playing together. . . their giggles are intoxicating

12. Three things you should never listen to:

• political ads
• political phone calls (like the stupid one I got today from Bill Clinton himself)
• Hector & Victor from ESPN who give weekly projections on fantasy football players (Rex Grossman with a -7 for this week!  ARGHHH!!)

13. Three favorite foods:

• Tortilla soup from Max & Erma's
• Pollo Fundido from Cozumel in Pittsburgh
• Wings from Johnny's Place in Pittsburgh

14. Three beverages I drink regularly:

• diet decaf iced tea
• cherry vanilla hot tea
• diet decaf coke

15. Three shows I watch a lot:

• Lost
• Gray's Anatomy
• The Unit
• Just three?????  Project Runway too!

16. Three people I'm tagging to do this:

• Jenn from Maniacal Days
• Karl from Secondhand Trypotophan
• Jody from And Baby Makes 6

Cess pools

I think I have figured out a way to keep health care costs down in this country.  It's simple really and involves two steps:

1. All children will be schooled at home through home-schooling or cyber-schooling, thus avoiding the school buildings (cess pool #1) which are apparently teeming with germs. 
2. Children will no longer go to doctor's offices for well visits.  Doctors will make house calls for well visits, thus helping children avoid cess pool #2. 

I have learned in the last month and a half that Kindergarten is a cess pool of germs.  I have never had so many colds/viruses in my life.  Not even when I was a teacher, did I get sick this often.  You see high school kids, for the most part, know how to blow their noses and keep their germs to themselves.  I don't think Kindergartener's have learned this crucial skill yet.  We're currently running on a cycle something like this:

• Day 1: Big I comes home and complains of slight sore throat and/or runny nose.
• Day 2: Lil C starts sneezing.
• Day 3: Mama starts sneezing and glands swell up big enough to make me look like a linebacker.
• Day 4: Big I, Lil C, and me all break out in full fledged runny nose/achy body/sore throat hell.
• Days 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 are all like Day 4
• Day 11:  We all start to feel better.  I realize we're not going through a box of tissues every half hour. 
• Day 12:  Feeling great!
• Days 13, 14, 15, 16, 17 are all good.
• Day 18: See Day 1

I swear this is how it has been since Big I started school.  Last week we added another germ cess pool to our daily routine with a well visit for Lil C.  Every time the child gets a vaccine, she gets sick.  She starts out fussy, feverish, and hating sleep.  Now she has a full fledged cold, complete with "Mama, Mama, Mama" crying non-stop, except for the few precious hours when she sleeps, breathing through her mouth.  And we don't even get her all of the recommended vaccines.

During our visit to cess pool #2, the doctor said Lil C is doing very well and is ahead developmentally.  Duh, she is the child of a valedictorian and a perfectionist after all.  She is 31 1/4 inches tall (97th percentile).  This marks the first time since birth that she is actually on the charts for her height.  She weighs 20 lbs. 14 oz. (50th percentile), and her head is still 90th percentile. 

In other news, Mr. BBM and I went out for our eight year anniversary (eight years of marriage-twelve years together)this weekend to a restaurant that was anything but a cess pool.  We enjoyed crab stuffed mushrooms as an appetizer.  Mr. BBM had kobe steak and I had sauteed crab cakes with green olive tartar sauce.  It was delicious.  I also had two glasses of the house Pinot Grigio which made walking in heels a bit of a challenge afterwards, but it was worth it anyway (Nine months of pregnancy plus 12 months of nursing makes for a dismal tolerance to any and all alcohol).  We wrapped up dinner with a slice of pecan pie for Mr. BBM and a vanilla creme brulee for me, accompanied by an Ethiopian coffee in a french press that was so divine that neither of us even needed sugar. 

It was wonderful to have dinner alone, without anyone requesting more chocolate milk for the 14th time or tossing a cup over the side of the high chair yet again.  We talked about fantasy football, home improvements, our jobs, and funny things from our past.  It was a great night out.  I'm just glad that the full-fledged cold held off until Sunday so that we could enjoy our night out. 

Back to the germs.  I'm sure someone needs to blow her nose. . . again.

My latest post "Fantasy Football for Dummies" is up at Save the Soldiers, and is all about how my fantasy football season is going so far.  Right now, the person who posts my entries made a boo-boo and the post says that it was written by Andrew something or other.  It's mine.  It will be fixed.  "Andrew" is probably not real happy that the first line says something about "my husband." If you like fantasy football or just football in general, you'll especially like this weeks post.  Actually, you'll like it even more if you're a Chicago Bears fan.  Enjoy!

Looking Ahead

I must have scared off the teenage black belt with my mad sparring skills, because he hasn't been in my advanced class for two weeks now.  Either that or he's sick of listening to me scream when I fling the nunchaku too close to my face. . . probably the latter.

I'm basically getting private lessons now which has been great.  In two weeks, I've managed to learn two of the three kata's (Odo No Nunchaku and Pinan Yondan) I'll need for 2nd kyu and the waza as well.  I've also learned a lot about the history of Okinawan Kenpo, which has been very interesting. 

The other thing I'm learning?  Being a brown belt is hard work.  There is no such thing as casually letting a kata sink in anymore.  Now it's time to pound the kata's into your head, relearn all the little things that you were doing incorrectly beforehand and learn how to apply the kata's to real life situations.  Everyone thinks that karate is physically demanding. But lately, I'm finding that it is more mentally trying. 

Brown belt kata's have all these techniques and preps that are unfamiliar.  I was joking with my instructor this week that it was going to take me 40 minutes to complete one kata on my own.  When parts were sticky, I had to stand there and think so hard it almost hurt, just to get my hands the right way and get into the right position. 

The good news though, is that my instructor said that he saw improvement in my nunchaku swinging technique.  I'm getting the hip motion down or starting to anyway, and hearing a compliment on that kata made me grin from ear to ear. 

Big I won't be grinning for a while about her kata though.  Big I's new kata is proving to be quite a challenge.  Her kata for yellow belt is Wansu.  Wansu is unique from the first Nai Hanchi kata's because it does not move on a straight line.  Wansu is all over the place.  The best way to teach Big I kata is to mirror her.  She does well if you can do the kata backwards.    I've been able to help her this way with her first two, but Wansu doesn't allow for such a teaching technique.  While the rest of the class is facing the mirror, Big I is standing facing the back of the dojo, watching our instructor and doing all the moves backwards.  Wansu is going to be a trying kata for Big I (and for her mama too.)

I am sorry for the lack of updates.  I've had requests for a fantasy football update, and I have much to tell on the Kindergarten topic.  However, along with your baby turning a year old comes a 1 year well visit which means a shot, which means a fussy baby with a fever.  It also means that one particular BBM is super busy freaking out and wanting to spend every moment with my kids because MY GOD, they grow up too fast.  Plus, we're all sort of hanging out under the weather with yet another cold brought home from Kindergarten, etc.  Things will get back to normal around here soon.  I look forward to catching you up on my life and catching up on all of yours as well. 

Elmo-palooza

I didn't write about karate last week.  I wanted to, but I just didn't have any time to put anything coherent together.  First, the gifts started arriving. . .

Then, I was too busy being all "wah, my baby is a year old"; and then came the baking. . . lots and lots of baking.  First came the cookies in the shapes of C's, 1's, little hands and little feet. . .

Then came the cupcakes, complete with Elmo cupcake papers and Elmo icing decorations.

Then came the baby block cake that took 5.5 hours to complete from start to finish.  It was four layers and took all kinds of patience and tools like a cake leveler (which is THE coolest baking invention EVER), and food coloring and Smoothie Skittles (which I don't recommend eating although they are great for decorating).

The cake was a huge success as evidenced by the cake buzz. . .

As if the baking wasn't enough, there was also decorating, and other food preparation. . .

But all that really matters is that the party was a huge hit with Lil C.  She loved the balloons. . .

She loved all her gifts, including her clothes (that's my girl!). . .

She also loved her new car.  Our living room is now a drive-in for watching Elmo's World. . .

And playing with Big I has never been so much fun. . .

The party was indeed a huge hit with Lil C. . .

This post has been brought to you by the monster(s) who have taken over my home. . .

One

Dear Lil C,

One year ago tonight, I was just starting to hit the harder contractions after being in the hospital the entire day.  Finally, at 1:05 am on October 4th, you, my beautiful baby girl, came into this world with your fist curled underneath your chin and my life was once again, turned completely upside down.  In the months leading up to your birth I wondered to your daddy how we would love a second little girl as much as we already loved our first.  I never could have imagined the amazing joy of becoming a parent for the second time, of becoming your very lucky Mama. 

This year has been amazing, full of all those exciting firsts, and so full of love.  You are adored by everyone who meets you.  Your sister adores you completely, even during those moments when you knock all of her blocks over, or decide that one of her dolls makes a fine teether.  One of your favorite things to do is run to the stairs, look back at me and your sister and say, "Go Up.  Go. . go. . .go. . .go" as you crawl up the stairs as fast as you can, so that you can beat your sister to her room and get a prime location in front of her Cinderella vanity. 

You are always up for a game of chase and tickle with your sister.  She spent much of this year waiting anxiously for a chance to hold you, curl up with you on the sofa and stroke your little head.  Now that you're too busy for just lying around, your sister steals the cuddles where she can and often grabs you mid-step to give you a hug.  Although often annoyed with these intrusive hugs, you sometimes return them with a wide open mouthed kiss that sends your sister into hysterics.  Although there will be bumps in the road as you both grow, one thing that will never change is how much she loves you.

Recently, you have become very social and love to wave hello to perfect strangers, even cars that pass by as we wait for your sister at the bus stop or take a walk.  If you're unsure of someone though, you immediately lay your head down and grab hold tightly of my arm and shirt.  I can't help but love these moments, because it's during these times that I'm able to truly cuddle you and hold you close.  Those moments are becoming more and more rare since you've become an expert at walking, climbing, and getting into trouble. 

You are easily able to climb up onto furniture now, and although you have no idea how to go down steps, your ease at going up completely amazes me.  You are also no stranger to innovative thinking.  The ottoman provides easy access to your port-a-crib and I fully expect to see you trying to dive into the crib within the next few weeks.  When there isn't a piece of furniture to assist you in your endeavors, you find other ways.  Books make great stepping stools, and handfuls of Mama's hair makes for great leverage.  At this rate I'll be bald before I ever get a gray hair. 

Although you took your first three steps at about 8 1/2 months, you waited until September to start walking like a pro. I have to say that I was happy for the delay, because now you are unstoppable in your destructive adventures.  Whether pulling all the DVD's out of the cabinet, finding your way to the bathroom and shredding toilet paper, or dumping every single toy out of your port-a-crib, you do so with great enthusiasm.  Often, on a return trip, you will hold one of your found "treasures" high above your head, swinging the other arm high above your head as well, and your daddy and I can't help thinking that you would make the orangutans at the zoo very proud.

In recent weeks I have caught you "reading" to yourself and flipping pages with ease.  Although in the beginning, only "Brown Bear, Brown Bear" would do, you have now expanded your reading tastes to include some of your sister's books too, and Elmo is always a welcome treat.  Speaking of Elmo, you adore Sesame Street and say "Elmo" with ease.  I am hoping that all the hard work of turning our house into the backdrop for Elmo's World this week is a hit with you at your party. 

You seem to have an amazing grasp of language already.  Your daddy and I were shocked when you sat up in bed last weekend, waved, and said "hi da".  We were also amazed at your interest in the pantry closet's contents, particularly the jars and bottles of spices.  One of your favorite past-times is requesting that I open up the vanilla extract so that you can take a little sniff.  A few weeks ago, after hearing me say it for the 100th time, you repeated back "wanilla" and I about fell over.  Because I didn't believe it myself, I called your daddy and let him listen to you repeat it over the phone.  We laughed because you sounded so incredibly cute and you laughed too. 

You've also become very proficient at baby signs and have decided that the sign for "more" applies to so much more than just food.  Often, after reading you a book, you will look up with those big beautiful eyes and smile a little smile that shows how proud you are of yourself and tap your palm with your pointer finger.  More stories please, and who could resist?

As I count down the hours until you turn one, I am a little sad that this first year is over, and that it has gone so fast.  But I am also excited about what the coming year will bring.  This year has been so much fun as I've watched your personality grow and blossom into this adorable and fun-loving little baby girl.  You are so filled with joy and excitement when you do something new and have no problem giving yourself a round of applause, which sometimes turns into a spirited game of patty cake.  Your smile, now with six teeth, has the ability to light up the room and especially my heart. 

You are an incredible little miracle who has made my life so happy. I can't wait to see what is yet to come. 

   

Happy 1st Birthday!  I love you with all my heart.

Love,

Mama

What is going on?

I sit here today watching a news conference.  The officer on the television is saying that a 32-year old man stormed a one-room school house armed with guns and planks of wood to secure the doors.  Once inside he divided the boys from the girls.  He released 15 boys and kept and bound between 10-12 young female students, ranging in age from 6-12.  He proceeded to shoot all of the girls, killing some of them execution style before shooting himself.  The man had no criminal record.  He left suicide notes for his wife and children.  Two hours after walking his own children to their bus stop, he was shooting innocent little girls.  He said in rambling fashion in one of the notes he left that he was getting "revenge" for something that happened 20 years ago.  These children were not even a glimmer in their parents' eyes 20 years ago and now at least three little girls are dead and several others are fighting for their lives.  Last week was Colorado, now Lancaster County in Pennsylvania. . . Amish country Pennsylvania. 

When Columbine happened many years ago, I was camped out on my living room floor working on a project for one of my classes for my Masters degree in Education.  It was Earth shattering then, as I worked on my teaching degree.  Once I was a teacher it was terrifying and simultaneously annoying: the multiple school evacuations due to bomb threats scrawled on bathroom mirrors, the afternoons spent camped out in the stadium freezing since we were unable to retrieve any of our personal belongings before evacuating the building yet again, the inquiries from administration as to which students went to the bathroom and when to try to figure out who might have been behind the threat of the day.  When I gave up my teaching career, I was especially glad to be done with the bomb threats and the security measures we were constantly being made aware of as they changed and evolved along with each new threat. 

As a parent, the increasing amount of school shootings is even more alarming and unsettling.  Years ago, other students were the shooters; now they are grown men who are entering our children's schools and wreaking havoc.  Before I had children, I considered homeschooling as an option because sending a child to a school just seemed terrifying to me.  I talked myself out of it when I realized my daughter is as stubborn as I am and that it would probably just not work.  I rationalized that this doesn't happen in my area, that the media exaggerates and over reports on these stories, that the instance is actually very rare.  Today, it happened close to home and every parent has to be thinking that if it can happen in a one-room Amish school house, My God, it could happen in my child's school. 

How is a parent supposed to protect a child at school?  You can hope and pray that the school has safety measures sufficient to protect your children.  You can pick and choose where you send your child based on which school you think is the safest.    But let's be honest. . . schools were not built to withstand being stormed by lunatics.  School used to be a place where children were safe, where the biggest threat was a bully student.  Now, there are grown men, armed with multiple weapons, who threaten our children's safety and lives. 

The only kind of evacuation I ever had to deal with as a child was the mandatory fire drill on occasion.  Now children are exposed to much more.  When I was a child, I played outside for hours at a time with my friends.  Our yards and sidewalks were safe places.  Now our playgrounds, sidewalks, and yards are tainted by the memory of Samantha Runnion.  Our schools are the target of revenge seeking monsters. 

Today I am mourning the loss of these innocent little Lancaster county girls.  I am also mourning the fact that my children will never have the kind of care free childhood that I had.  And I am angry as hell that I am raising children in this type of world.  They deserve so much better.