Tag Archives: motherhood

Perfect Moment – No whiners or quitters

Perfect Moment Monday with Lori at LavenderLuz.  A time to reflect on the crazy, chaotic and possibly disappointing times of the past month and realize the one moment when all was right in your world.

I started blogging not quite two years ago.  The result of not so gentle nudging by dear friends who insisted, after hearing the tales of my daily chaos, that I needed to start a blog.  A what?  I didn’t know much about blogs let alone writing my own.

Trust me, they said, this is good stuff.  You have funny kids and a compelling story.  If you write, they will read.  “You think so?”  “Yes, I know so,” was her response.  And with that I jumped into the deep end, with no life jacket and began to doggy paddle upstream through the blogosphere.

On a not particular schedule I began blogging away about Johnny, his brothers, and our Madeline.  Much to my surprise, it began to take on a little life of its own.  “Hey!” this blogging thing is kind of fun, I thought.  So, I blogged on.

I was holding up my end of the bargain by writing but the readers must have lost the memo on their end, because, well, the readers, they were playing hard to get.  That term “viral”, yeah, you know the one…has not happened.  No one has died of the funny and had to tell millions of their “friends” about what is happening with Johnnypsmom at Life According to John.

Offers to publish Johnny’s wit and wisdom, have not been rolling in.  But that’s okay because he has his own little cult following that he doesn’t even know or care about for that matter.

For the most part I have just continued to entertain myself, if no one else.  And if I questioned my own motives or direction I could hear my Dad’s voice in my head echoing the words I heard for 40 plus years, “I did not raise a whiner, quitter or complainer, so on I blogged.

 Then I got braver and hooked up with a few blog hops and even made blogger friends.  “What’s the secret?”  I would ask.  “There is no secret, just keep writing.”  Don’t give up, just keep writing.  Eventually opportunities will come your way.  For me?  I really began to question this line of thinking as I dove further over my head into the blogosphere.

Then one day I got really, really Brave and BOLD, and with additional cheerleading from Kathy  at  Bereaved and Blessed and others, I took a piece I wrote, made 4 copies and took myself over to parts unknown, Virginia to audition for the 2013 Listen to Your Mother-DC  show.  With a deer in the headlights look about me and fueled by anxiety,  I proceeded to read for a coveted part in the 12 person cast.

After a nerve-wracking twelve days of waiting , I had my perfect moment, one of a lifetime: 

Announcing the 2013 LTYM DC Cast!  And there was my name, on the list!  I am honored and thrilled to be a part of this show.  To have my voice be heard.

I guess my friend was right, after all, write it and the readers will read.  And, of course, Dad was right..”Don’t quit, Ames.”  “Nothing will happen if you quit.”

So, here I am, a non-quitter who wrote.   Dear readers I hope to see all 10 of you on April 28, 2013, to hear my voice and all 12 voices as we give a shout out to Motherhood!  Never know, could end up being your perfect moment to.

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We all Scream for Ice Cream

When Johnny was about three or four I took he and Little Brother to a high school production of a musical featuring Disney songs and characters.  All the greats were there, Mickey, Minnie, Ariel, Nemo, Simba.  I was prepared for a morning of dancing in our seats and little boys with big smiley faces.

THAT is not what happened.

I believe it ended up being my first lesson in “be prepared” for ANYTHING… all the time.   Because there was only one smiling face that morning, Little Brother.  Johnny, well, it was hard to get a good look at his face due to his screams of terror, his thrashing in his seat and his attempts to escape.  So, I chased him up and down much to the audience’s delight and tried to engage him in the show.  NOTHING DOING!  This was HELL and he wanted out, NOW!

That morning ended with me pacing the first of many lobbies to contain Johnny.  Little Brother watched the show in another Mom’s lap.  It might have been the first, but it was certainly not the last time this scenario played out.

Johnny was already in a Special Education pre-school class for “developmental delays” but this added to my ever-growing concern that there was more to the story.  Outings of any kind were a crap shoot.  You never knew which environment he would enjoy and which would cause him to scream bloody murder in a panic like state.

What was going on?  Too much!  That’s what was going on.  Too many people, too dark, too loud, too bright, too much music, too much clapping, too much surround sound.

The scary part, when put in these situations, he would just run, out the door, with no concern of knowing where he was or anyone around him.  He just wanted out.  So he would run and then find a place to hide.  If it was a “familiar” place, I would at least have a peace of mind to know his “go to” places.  But unfamiliar places were a nightmare.  One minute he was there, the next minute…gone.  One time we were at a tailgate party and finally found him hiding in a port a potty.  THAT’S  how much he hated crowds and noise. Those drinkers waiting in line looovvved him.  That’s okay, they weren’t the first or last to give me the you suck as a parent stare.

It seems only logical that knowing this about him, we would keep him away from any and all crowds.  Problem is, that’s extremely isolating and I thought would only eventually worsen the problem.  But the biggest reason is I wanted so badly for us to be able to do “normal” things as a family, altogether.   But ever so slowly I began to accept that this would not be the case.  Our reality was different.  One parent went on the “outing” and one stayed with Johnny or took him to a “safe” place for him.  Which, at the time, involved any place with a train.

As he has gotten older, with different behavior therapy and some better coping skills (for everyone) most outings have gotten easier.  He can also be convinced to “tolerate” a place with the promise of a “treat”.  For him, this involves pizza or ice cream.  He will do most anything for  ice cream with chocolate syrup.

But lately I have wondered who it is for.  Me or him?  And is it “fair” to him to push him into these anxiety fueled situations?  Is it helping?  Is he really learning to cope any better.  Or am I possibly causing him greater anxiety?  And is that anxiety almost fear, like “no way out, I have no way out.”

Don’t get me wrong, we do not, on a daily basis, put him in situations we know cause such stress and anxiety.  But at times, it is unavoidable.  And at times one of us quietly excuses ourselves and remove Johnny from the “too much” of whatever is stressing him out.

I have been thinking about this in relation to things or activities that I greatly dislike and cause some stress and anxiety.  For example, last week we were going as a family to watch Big Brother play basketball.  On the car ride The Captain was listening to a CD of  heavy metal music.  I HATE heavy metal music!  I thought I was going to come out of my skin!  When finally it was turned off I actually said, “Thank God!”  I hate that stuff.

And this is only an occasional occurrence for me.  Unlike Johnny, whose whole world seems to be stress inducing.

This caused me to reflect on the expectations we put on him.  In the interest of what?  And for what… Ice cream?  Because I got to thinking, I would not EVER take a ride in a car with blaring heavy metal music by choice.  And certainly not for the promise of a stinking ice cream.  

In the end we do it for him, I believe.  For his future, to help him learn to cope with a world that  seems to have an unfair advantage over Autism.   Maybe the world and autism could meet in the middle…maybe, someday, for Johnny’s sake, and not just for ice cream.

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Matters of the Heart

It’s that time, well, actually, past that time but I guess when it comes to doing the Time Warp, time is relative, right?  My friend Kathy at Bereaved and Blessed hosts this blog hop once a month.  She explains,  “The gist of Time Warp Tuesday is to revisit and share some of our favorite blog entries from our archives and reflect on our journeys since we wrote them.”

(To read more: http://bereavedandblessed.com/2013/02/time-warp-tuesday-heart/#ixzz2KoF8xqFH)

Appropriately, the theme for February is  heart.  With Valentines Day upon us the matters of the heart are all around us.  Everywhere you look is your big chance to show your affections by showering your sweetheart with Valentine sentiments.  To show them what is in your heart.  Thanks to good marketing the possibilities are endless.  Your choices  span from heart shaped pizza to donuts to chocolate, to cookies, to tasty truffles…and if you are really lucky…big gluey, sticky construction paper hearts with rough edges and cryptic messages written with the best crayon left in the school supply box.

I wish matters of the heart were always this clear.  But they are not.  The heart is delicate and can be broken.  Once broken, not easily healed.  But being a complex organ it is capable of loving beyond measure despite being cracked.

And how would it be if matters of the heart were always so clear as to be eloquently stated on a heart shaped piece of paper?

When I began my blog in May of 2010, my heart was newly shattered.  There was no “healing” taking place.  I was too numb to even consider that “h” word.

In fact, when I first began writing, the subject of such grief and pain was only mentioned as an after-thought.  You see, I was seeking only to entertain.  My intention was to write the humerous antecdotes surrounding Johnny’s adventures.  When I went back and read through a few posts I found I skipped around any matters of the heart and stuck to the topic of my Johnny and his brothers.  This then  became a sort of escape.  Then my life could appear only funny, and not sad.  Tears of a clown, isn’t that what they say.

With my heart not in it, blogging was more of a chore.  Even though I really, really love a good story, followed by a big ol belly laugh, while ignoring the contents of my heart it was becoming too difficult.

Around the 16 month anniversary of Madeline’s death I was overwhelmed with fresh grief and sadness.  The thought that she had been gone from this earth as long as she had graced and blessed us brought a wave of emotion.  This mixed with the memories of her last moments haunting my days.   I felt a certain anxiety pushing me to try to assign words to these feelings.   Instead of thinking what readers wanted to read, I listened to my heart.

So I chose this post I wrote in March, 2011, at the 16 month anniversary of Madeline’s death.  I have since been told on many occasions that I write from my heart.  But that has not always been true, I can pinpoint when my writing shifted.  This, I believe,  was my first product of listening to the calm place in my heart and not all the noise in my head.  And in that calm place I dumped the contents of my shattered heart into this post and the words seemed to flow.  Fluid but raw.

It is entitled, “Sweet 16, Baby Girl”.

Almost a year has passed and my heart has moved from the sharp pain of shattered fragments to an ache of longing and emptiness.  I feel that I no longer remember  who I was before Madeline was born let alone the person I was before she died.

Pouring my heart out in this space has helped put a few pieces back together.    As you know by now, that post was just the beginning and I continue to write about Madeline, her life, and my life after loss.  At times it is very raw and other times my heart simply overflows with love and my sweet memories

I still struggle with many “if-only’s” and “what-if’s.”  Unloading some of this has brought unexpected rewards.  Instead of people running away in droves I have actually developed relationships with others, some struggling with a similar loss, some who just have a better understanding of my world and strong shoulders.

It is difficult to quiet all of the noise.  To make any sense of how and why this is now my life.  I don’t know if this is something my mind can answer because in matters of the heart, there is a voice from the broken pieces, trying to be heard, if only one will  listen.

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Cause I’m YOUR Mom…

...AND I SAID SO!

…AND I SAID SO!

Monday, Monday, Monday…What have you done for me lately? Except for that familiar feeling of screws being tightened really, really tight on either side of my head, I would have to say…NOTHING! But in all fairness, I don’t know who can claim the clamp on the screws, Monday or The Brothers.   They all are excellent handymen!  Very adept with the ol’ screwdriver, that’s for sure!

Depends on the Monday and which Brother, I suppose. Since everything is supposed to be all equal and no one EVER feeling left out I BLAME ALL OF THEM!!!! Cause that’s the kind of stand up Mom I am.

The screw began to turn slightly last night when Little Brother, wouldn’t stop his Irish jig and dropped my Kindle Fire HD on the ceramic tile…not a good combo;

Big Brother took his turn on the screws with the Science Fair project that won’t go away and Oh by the way, apparently points are deducted if you do ANYTHING other than the day before. Guess he’ll have an A Plus.

We’ll have plenty of time to discuss as he burns the midnight oil studying for a test he discovered at 9:00 p.m.  Guess penalties also apply for any early test preparation.  He’s really adding up some extra credit in the last minute, fly by the seat of my pants, make my mother scream category…I think that should be added to the grade card…then my boy can be creme de la creme.  Oh and Big Brother, thanks for that, that one screw was getting a little lose, so the tighter the better, I say.

And then there’s my Johnny, what would we do without my Johnny..I might just have to say he gave those screws on final, really tight go. Because we just can’t stay away…there we were… RELIGION Class!!!

I guess Johnny got wind of today’s events at the Vatican, because he tried to jump on the Pope’s Bandwagon to announce…”I want out of this program…I don’t think it’s my thing.”

Yeah, well, I DO…cause I didn’t schlepp you and your brothers to Mass every Sunday for nothing.  And I don’t really care what the Pope’s Mommy let him do, but as for me,  I still got some sacraments coming my way. So guess, what, Johnny? The Pope… he may be getting out, but YOU?…YOU’RE NOT!!!!

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Friday Fun – At the Disco

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“I got the Boogie Fever…I think it’s goin around…”  That’s right, Dear Readers, it’s time for Friday Fun with Hilary at Feeling Beachie.  And this week I am all about a good time!  Wouldn’t you be?  I mean I’m the Dancing Queen and I’m gonna Shake my Groove Thing, and sing Stayin Alive at the top of my lungs!  Because I am GOING TO THE DISCO!  Yep, say it isn’t so, but the school is having a Disco Dance.  Can’t wait to bust a move.  Just wish I had some GoGo boots…or am I getting my genre confused?

This could be a money making venture, as well.  I wonder what it’s worth to The Big Brother for me to keep my Dancing Moves secret?  The Little Brother has no pride, he won’t care what move I bust, just as long as I let him fill himself with large amounts of sprite.

Johnny…he’s pretty much staging a protest.  “Nobody likes Disco.”  He’ll be the hit of the party.

Well, must get to the point if we are going to find a good spot on the Dance Floor.  I need lots of room!

So, here are the Four questions you have been anxiously awaiting my answers to.

This week’s statements:
1. When I am on the phone I have to ____
2. I have a ____
3. I started blogging to ________
4. My worst habit is _______

Survey says…

1.  When I am on the phone I have to pace around the house, I have a slight problem sitting still.  Lucky for The Little Brother, he seems to have inherited that little habit.

2.  I have a date to the Disco but NO GoGo Boots.  I will just have to dazzle with technique!

3.  I started blogging to share my adventures in autism and tell the story of my Sweet Madeline.

4.  My worst habit is I don’t know when to say when.  Maybe it would help if I would just sit still and think about it.

But no time to sit, I’m off to the Disco!  Happy Friday!  Have a drink on me.  Diet coke only at this party.  And remember, always but always SHAKE YOUR GROOVE THING!

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Timeless

I’m a little late but nonetheless I jumped on the bandwagon.  I’m not usually one to follow a television series, especially a drama.  But a few weeks ago every where I looked I was reading about the highly anticpated return of season three of Downton Abby.  I generally love any stories set in that time so it felt like a win-win.

After watching episode 1 of season 3 I was in.  I then pooled my resources, got my hands on seasons 1 and 2 and proceeded to watch as if it was my full-time job.  Turns out you can get a lot of laundry folded with the right show to keep you on the sofa.  Downton Abbey was just the ticket.  My family has never looked so fresh, clean and neatly pressed.  Turns out the clothes don’t look so bad if not left a wadded mess in a basket.

Plus after watching all those housemaids work themselves silly, pulling my clothes out of my large capacity dryer seems the least I can do.  Still, I can’t say I was motivated to scrub my floors but Rome wasn’t built in a day.

I am fascinated by this show.  The life of the English Lord and Lady.  A life where you seem to spend a great deal of time changing your clothes, eating and drinking wine.  And the best, they don’t even dress themselves or do anything for themselves for that matter.  Needless to say I have spent the last couple of weeks completely entertained by all who dwell in Downton.

Fast forward, with dedication and hard work I managed to complete seasons 1 and 2.  After flipping through my DVR, I am officially caught up.  Which leads me to Season 3, episode 4.

Spoiler alert if you have not been watching, but I must share this.

After watching the first 2 seasons I was prepared to be mindlessly entertained.  And then things got real.  I believe it is episode 3 that I thought my place at Downton might be lost.  As I watched Sybil labor so painfully and all the talk of preeclampsia, I knew things weren’t going to end well.  What I was  not prepared for was watching Sybil die.  And Sybil’s Mom watching Sybil die.  And everyone standing there, and NO ONE doing anything because there was NOTHING they could do.  And Sybil’s Mom yelling at everyone to “PLEASE DO SOMETHING, THAT’S MY BABY!”  Her calling out for Sybil to “come back” to “just breathe.”  Watching her baby struggle for air and turn one horrific shade of purple, then another.  And still Lady Grantham continues to beg her baby to come back, don’t go.

I am aware this is fiction.  That Lady Grantham and I are more than worlds apart.  But there are some things that history and time cannot change.  My body felt numb and cold watching this, as I have lived a very similar scene.  I was watching my real-life nightmare being played out on my television.  The begging, the pleading.  The utter despair as you watch everybody around you accept what you refuse to.  Reason would have said, SHUT THE DAMN THING OFF!  But not always reasonable, I didn’t.

As I watched her talk and say “good-bye” to her “baby” tears streamed down my face.  Such a touching scene.  But if you have lived a much to similar experience it is almost too much.  The way she just stroked her skin, taking her in, to commit to memory every detail of her child.  Because, truth is stranger than fiction and you are afraid.  Afraid you won’t remember, how they feel, the lines of their face, their sweet lips.

Touching and heart wrenching last night’s episode really hit home.  Someone mentioned to “Lady Grantham”, “now that that’s over.”  Her reply resonated with me, “when one loses ones child, is it really  ever over.”  The look of terror on everyone’s face when they realize their new normal that they cannot “fix” this problem.  Even the Dowager still tries to at apply  a bandage by forcing the doctor to tell the parents she would’ve had no chance of living.

I still have a few unanswered questions about the morning that Madeline died.  Some what-if’s and if-only’s.  If they were ever able to be answered would I find some relief or would wounds that have soothed somewhat be scraped raw again?

I don’t know why I couldn’t pull myself away once my “escape” became a mirror of reality.  But in a way, I think it was a little affirming.  Watching so many of my feelings and emotions acted out for me.  I wanted to scream, YES, THAT’S IT, THAT EXACTLY HOW I FEEL/FELT.

Truth is stranger than fiction.  Always we crave answers that aren’t there and an ending to our pain that might never come.  Quite possibly a feeling, experience that the neither the passing of time nor generations can change.

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She Rocks!

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Madeline – Rockin that Extra Chromosome!

I have been doing some lurking around the Down Syndrome Community.  Funny, that I feel the need to lurk.  So many emotions…the heavy hearted longing and wishing that things were different.  That I to could share pictures of Madeline rocking her extra chromosome and discuss the triumph of her hitting her milestones.  What I wouldn’t give for a video of her first steps or first words.   I see the photos of the other children and I can stare for hours.  Sometimes they make me smile.  And other times the tears silently flow.

I have a dear friend with a little girl, Ms. O.  Ms. O and Madeline would have been the same age.  Ms. O’s Mommy asked me once how I felt when I saw Ms. O.  I told her, ” I feel insanely jealous”, not in a hateful way, but in a way of wishing that I could be just like you.  A jealousy that perhaps only a mother of a child with DS would understand.   That instead of me going through hoops to get that Little O to hug me, my own Madeline could be here to warm my heart with snuggles and slobber me with kisses.

Do I still belong to that community?  I don’t know.  But do I care about that community?  WITHOUT A DOUBT.  When I see the other babies and children I think how lucky their family is.  Lucky to be blessed with this incredible person.  I know these families might think I “romanticize” what life would be like with Madeline.  Maybe I do.  I remember it was a lot of work.  Lot’s of appointments, hospitals and therapists.  It was exhausting but the pay off was beyond huge.  One cannot put a price tag on unconditional love.  Giving Madeline life and making that life full of unconditional love and unlimited possibilities.  She was strong in mind and body.  If her body was weak her Spirit was not.

That is what I see in the Down Syndrome Community.  Strength of spirit!  And the unmatched determination for  these children and adults to live a life where the possibilities are endless.   I see a community that wants nothing more than all people to know this about them and their child.  Isn’t that what any parent wants for their child?  I did…I still do.

March 21 is National  Down Syndrome Day.  3-21.  I love it!  I even got the t-shirt.  But this year apparently, they want to spice up the campaign and give it a theme.   Make it “Odd Sock” day or something like that.  I don’t even know the theory behind it.  My beef, why would anyone (especially, working on behalf of Down Syndrome) use the word “Odd” in its campaign?  Instead of helping others to move forward in any archaic beliefs they have about Down Syndrome, doesn’t this take us back to the world where the children were called Mongoloid and thought to have very limited capabilities.

Because I have learned first hand,  more people than you think still hold these beliefs.  The belief that these children and adults are somehow a burden on their families.  Sad but true…in any day and age…but now that we supposedly know better.  More than one person had tried to comfort me with Madeline’s death by telling me she would have had so many challenges in life or questioned who would’ve cared for her.

Don’t we all face challenges of some kind?  Aren’t we all a little “Odd”?  I know I am.  Ask my family, at times it makes me challenging to live with.  My boys would be more than happy to agree.  We are all different.  But for many of us we appear, “normal.”  There are no tell-tale signs of what makes us unique.  For the most part this prevents us from dealing with some long-held beliefs that others might see our life as less than in some way.

But for those who have the extra chromosome their path might not always be as smooth.  They will more than likely confront a road block or two.  Although much progress has been made, we are still in a time when as little as three years ago, when I first learned Madeline had Down Syndrome, I was then offered an appointment to terminate my pregnancy.

In order to challenge and change the belief that life with an extra chromosome is somehow of lesser value or even a “burden” I believe an easy step would be to refrain from using the word “ODD” when showing support for a community we love and care for.   Odd usually has a not so great connotation, like, “Odd man out”, “Odd-ball”, when something doesn’t seem quite right we say, “well, that’s odd.”  I could go on:  but I won’t.

Perhaps I do still have a place in the DS community.  Because when I read or hear things that remind me there are still many archaic beliefs about having a child with down syndrome it makes me crazy.  I would gladly work for any child to have the life I wanted for Madeline.  A life any parent would want for any child.  I don’t find that “ODD”… do you?

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Krispy Kreme Memories

Behind every Crazy Mom wondering how they got that way is a friend, at the ready, to remind you exactly how you got that way. 

Let me back track.  I love to write this blog.  It entertains and comforts me to have my place to say what is on my heart and mind…or not.  Today was an or not kind of day.  I woke up with a familiar anxiety which tells me I need to write.  But alas the cold front hit my brain and I was out of ideas…until I got one.

Sue to the rescue…not the first time.

I asked for readers to throw out writing prompts.  Anything they might like to know or read.  I promised fame in the blogosphere.  Being one for glamour and the spotlight, Sue chimed in.  “What about your crazy pregnancy stories, you know the one… my favorite.”  Which lead to an exchange to determine which story she was referring to because sadly…there are many.  But I had that ol gut feeling that she would let me run but not hide from my infamous morning at Krispy Kreme.  So for you, My Dear Friend, I shall tell the Chronicals of Krispy Kreme…

The year was 2003 and I was pregnant… again.  The Big Brother was 3, Johnny was 18 months old and I was about 7 or 8 months pregnant with The Little Brother.  To add to the excitement, The Captain was deployed to Iraq, the War had just started and we had no date for any homecoming.

Oh and I was trying to potty train The Big Brother.  I reeeaaalllly needed him to go to pre-school and he needed to be potty trained.  Let’s just say The Big Brother was NOT on-board.

Because all of that wasn’t enough fun I had developed some crazy reverse morning sickness.  So I spent April and May yaking around the clock and sipping purple gatorade.  I think The Little Brother still has a purple tinge to him.

You could say I was beginning to come unglued or I had just driven my train into crazy town.  I’m sure my friends will clarify.

Military life being what it is, my friends rallied around me and I carried on, purple gatorade and all.

During that time our only hope was Playgroup.  This got us out of the house.  It gave the Boys other faces to look at and me the opportunity to use sentences with more than two words.  It also gave Sue an opportunity to invite me over to her house.  I lived for those invitations.  Okay…I’ll admit I mostly invited myself.

Anywhoooo…this particular morning our Playgroup was going on a field trip…to Krispy Kreme.  The kiddos were going to get a tour and see how they make the donuts.  All very exciting stuff.

I was supposed to be there at 10 a.m.  I lived minutes away.  If only I could get in my car.    In trying to get there I had just a few problems… I couldn’t stop throwing up, The Big Brother would only pee-on the floor-after he got off the potty and Johnny didn’t walk yet and was screaming in the pack and play.  I believe I might have been shedding a few tears as well.

All I could think….I’m going to be late, I’m going to be late, we’re going to MISS EVERYTHING!  Finally, I am able to unwrap my arms from the toilet, put some dry pants on The Big Brother, calm down Johnny and we are off.

Like a Mommy on a Mission minutes later I arrive at Krispy Kreme.  Only problem, I am about 20 minutes too late.  Nerves completely frayed and sanity long gone, I enter and am greeted by Sue who asks, “Hey Ame, where ya been, ya missed everything?”  Let’s just say, I can take a lot–two toddlers, pregnant, throwing up, husband at war — but that was the perverbial straw that broke me.  My Boys MISSED the donut tour.  What kind of a Mommy takes that kind of information without emotion?  Certainly not me.

So, I did the next natural thing…I stood in the middle of Krispy Kreme, 8 months pregnant screaming and sobbing uncontrollably, “I COULDN’T GET OUT OF THE F###IN HOUSE!!!!!!!”  AND NOW MY BOYS MISSED THE TOUR, THE DONUTS, AND EVERYTHING.”  Except I was in such a state it took an interpreter (and two good friends) to understand.   Weeeelll, I think the “F” word came out pretty clear.

I then proceeded to have a good ol cry and complete melt down in the middle of Krispy Kreme.  That, Dear Reader, is how Krispy Kreme became an adjective.  A perfect, concise term that describes all those moments when I can’t take it any more and all my hinges pop at once.  They are my Krispy Kreme moments, days and weeks.  Thank to  Sue, I now have this mug for all of those times…

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Nothing, and I mean nothing, says crazy quite like a Big Crying, Cursing Pregnant Lady in a Krispy Kreme.  Or as Sue said, as she laughed, “trust me, someday you are going to laugh about  how crazy you look.”

Well, Sue, I guess the day has come finally come…

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Filed under Johnny P, Just Because...

Friday Fun with Farmer Brown

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Yay!!!  It’s Friday!  And contrary to what might be popular belief, we Stay at Home Moms, look forward to Friday like everyone else who is terribly underpaid for their service to others.  Except, unlike other workers, I am lucky…I receive sticky, smelly hugs, gluey art and a kiss (if I bribe them) from the Little Men who I work for.  In other work environments, I realize that is a lawsuit waiting to happen.  Guess that’s the benefit of my work.  The boys I work for would never sue, they know that they have traumatized  and inflicted more emotional pain and suffering, than the other way around.  Unless you, of course, consider the meatloaf I made for dinner last night.

For example, just in the last week, I have been informed by The Big Brother that he thinks the FBI is going to come and “get us”…why?  Weeellll, that’s what “the virus” on the computer told him when the warning came up about “downloading” let’s just say…inappropriate material.  Which lead to a very uncomfortable conversation about the “P” word, ends in… ography.  Having to have this discussion with Johnny is worth a couple of million in damages alone.

That fun event was only to be followed up by the Little Brother bringing smut into our Catholic home.  Yep…you guessed it…say it isn’t so…The Little Brother was busted reading, The Old Farmer’s Almanac.  Which, I (and “The Teacher” learned the hard way, IS NOT your Granpa’s Almanac.  Or maybe it is, and Ol’ Granpa had a Wild Side.  Because along with the weather report, The  Little Brother was able to learn about “improving life in the bedroom”  and certain “enhancing” pharmaceuticals.  Oh yeah, he could also order an Asian Bride.  And I will swear on a Bible that I did NOT make one word of this up.  I would bring out my witnesses but I promised to protect their identity.  She’s at Confession right now, anyway.

So…I think I can safely say…Bring on the Weekend!  Before I go though, it is time for Fun Friday Fill In with Hilary at Feeling Beachie.

This week’s statements:
1. I am a ____
2. Sometimes I don’t know when to ____
1. My two favorite words lately are ___________ and ____________
2. I would like ____________ if ____________ didn’t happen

Where do I begin?

1.  I am a very loyal person and friend.  I get very attached to those who have held me up during these last two years.

2.  Sometimes I don’t know when to say when.  This would be possibly why I have Three Boys and walk around like the house is on fire.

3.  My two favorite words lately are irritated and Almanac (come on, you saw that coming.)

4.  I would like to know what life would be like if my days didn’t happen to be a series of “Unfortunate Events” involving Farmers and the FBI.

That’s about it.  Have a drink on me and raise a toast to my “sanity.”  In the meantime I headed to  a local book burning of that Darned Almanac.

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Filed under Friday Fun, Just Because...

The More Things Change…

Let’s do the Time Warp Again.”  On the second Tuesday of the month, Kathy at Bereaved and Blessed hosts a party in which the game is to look through your blogging archives and chose a previous post in which you mentioned the theme, then reflect on what has changed on your journey since that time.  The theme this month is Change.

At times I truly believe that old saying, “The more things change, the more they stay the same.”  Except I tweak it by adding…at least a little.

I have only been at this blogging business since May, 2011.  My first published post was on May 18, 2001.  When I started blogging (at the great and not so gently urging of friends) I wanted to be funny and witty.  I fancied myself a modern-day Erma Bombeck who would entertain with humorous anecdotes.  Mostly about Johnny and The Brothers.  I had always wanted to do that.

The problem…how was I going pull that off when I was only beginning to function a mere six months after burying our Beautiful Madeline.  Initially, I didn’t even plan to discuss her death and our paralyzing grief.  I wanted people to read and I thought if people tuned into all that, well, they wouldn’t come back.  But I am learning you cannot accomplish any goal if you are going against what is in your heart and on your mind.  That path leads to nowhere.

The post I chose is the first one I wrote where I mention Madeline.  I am discussing how Johnny is helping me cope with missing her.  It is rightfully entitled, “Just Too Much”.

Going back through my archives this what not initially my choice for this Time Warp, but when I read through I changed my plan midstream.  I read “Just Too Much” and couldn’t believe I wrote it.  Yes, the Johnny anecdote is one thing.  What struck me was the somewhat nonchalant tone I took when writing about Madeline and that experience that day.  It sounds so restrained and sterile…detached.  Because, believe me, I was there, that was NOT quiet sobbing.

I think when I started this blog I was so focused on what direction I thought I was taking my writing. The path that would save me.  The path that would put a band aid on what wasn’t broken and let me escape my own nightmare.  But somewhere on this path I discovered it was leading me in the wrong direction.  And I couldn’t keep up the dueling personalities any longer.

Today I like the path my blog is taking.  Life According to John is now reflects only ONE me.  The real me.  The me that likes a good belly laugh, especially at the absurd and most especially at the everyday absurd that is the chaos of my home.  But it also is the me that still longs and aches daily for Madeline…that still chokes back tears when everything seems to be too much.  

And now when it is just too much I dump it one here and each time I write about Madeline… her life and our life without her…I know I am taking a just one more step, a very small step,  on the path to Just Right.

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Filed under Johnny P, Precious Baby Girl