To work or not?

This battle has been going on for such a long time. I never thought I would feel the way I do at this point in my life, but I do.

I always thought that as soon as I had kids I would stop working. My mom didn't work, so I never envisioned that I would do anything different. Time with your children is such a precious thing that you can never get back. Especially at such a young age.

But as the time came for little Nathan to enter the world, financial road-blocks prevented me from not working, so I continued to partake in the working world while also stumbling through the beginning days of mommy-hood.

Fast-forward two and half years later, and I am still working. And I love it. I have two part-time jobs, which (if necessary) can be done from home. I am at home with my son two days during the week and also weekends. The husband is at home one day a week and also on weekends. The boy spends one day of the week with his grandmother and one day of the week with his aunt and cousins. It works out really well.

Though I miss him tremendously during the days at the office, I feel like it makes me a better mom. I appreciate my time with The Boy so much more than I would, had I stopped working. I am able to develop my professional career while at the same time contribute to our household income. I have full days of not working so I can dedicate attention to him.

Yes, I'm still jealous of those who are stay-at-home-moms. I envy the time you have with your kids, and the memories you will always have of this special time. The job you have as a mother is the one of the hardest, most important jobs in the world. You are the unsung heros of this world.

But because I'm not a part of that club right now, I am thoroughly enjoying where I'm at in life at the moment. I have two jobs that I enjoy, a husband who's supportive of this decision I've made, co-workers who are understanding that family comes first, friends who I consider family and of course a son who brings me endless joy and love (and often frustration too).

I'm doing the best I can.

Apologies

My apologies for being so absent on my blog. That's what working two jobs, raising a child, and being on a volunteer board will do to you. But NEVER FEAR, for I am back to the blogging world. I have not yet abandoned my internetty friends.

I was watching Oprah the other day and they had an episode on motherhood that had me laughing the whole way through. Confessions from real moms:

"I once made my kids lunch with snacks entirely from my car."

"I didn't bathe my twins for three weeks - I figured the hot-tub would take care of it."

"Nobody told me little boys wake up with woodies. I was freaked out one morning when I came in to get them and they were all pointing at me!"

"I went without diapers for three days using only maxi-pads and duct tape."

It was a great show. First, it made me feel like a really good mom, knowing that I'm not the only one who makes mistakes and doesn't know what in the hell I'm doing. Second, these women came from all walks of life: some working, some young, some with one child, some with several (one had seven!).

My confessions:

When Nate was seven months old we visited Tulsa with him for the first time. I realized early the next morning that we were out of diapers. While BSC ran to the store to get some, Nathan totally ruined his current diaper, leaving us with nothing. Turns out that my MIL had some doggie diapers, which actually worked quite well minus the hole in the back for the tail.

On more than one occasion, Nathan and I have eaten ice-cream for lunch.

One day I let him watch TV ... all day.

I know there are more, these are the ones I can think of off the top of my head. I wish I would have saved that episode of Oprah so I could watch it every once in a while. It's good to see women totally let down their guard and talk about their total (and often hilarious) falters with child-rearing.

Let's hear it for the moms!

So Proud of Him

BSC and I went to Target tonight to pick up a few things. We did our usual routine: One of us doing the shopping while the other takes The Boy to the toy aisle for some entertainment. This time the boys went off to play while I gathered the items from our list. After putting the shampoo and conditioner into the shopping cart, I turned around and saw my two guys coming toward me, with Nathan riding a bike.

Now why am I so proud of this? Because his daddy didn't even flinch at the thought of letting Nathan ride a pink and purple bike around in public. I know a few dads who would have a fit at the thought of their boy playing with such a "girlie" item. I am ok if Nathan plays with his cousin's dolls, I'm ok if he wants to play dress-up, and I'm ok if he rides a pink bike. Making a big deal out of generally gender-specific toys to a two year old could potentially have a negative effect on him when he's older. So, good job BSC, you've risen above the typical male stereotypes and passed on an excellent lesson to your son!

Two Years

My Dearest little Nathan,

Today you turn two years old. Two years ago at exactly 9:18pm you entered the world with a lot to say, and you haven't stopped saying things since. A few cliche sayings have been going through my mind like "I can't believe it's been two years already," and "Time has just flown by," or "You are growing up so fast." And even though I hate to include those phrases in my letter to you, I understand more than ever why those sayings have become popular. They are just so true.


Every day your daddy and I see more and more of your personality develop and we get glimpses of the man you will one day become. You tend to be shy and reserved around groups of people you don't know. You'll cling to me and hide behind my leg, sometimes whimpering at the thought that I might leave you with this evil group of strangers. But when you are with me, your daddy, grandma, grandpa, your aunt Nici, uncle Rocky or your cousins, you let your true personality shine. You run, jump, play and constantly sing, ask questions and talk. You're always asking "[Insert Name] what 'ya doing?"


You've become very good at remembering things and learning to repeat phrases. I hate to admit this, but I taught you your first bad word. Yes, it was me. Not your father, uncle Jim or grandpa. Can you believe it? About a month ago we were finishing up dinner when I accidentally knocked over your plate full of macaroni and cheese, rice, chicken, fruit and chips. Then your juice rolled off the table into the mess and spilled all over the floor. I had just mopped the floors that afternoon and without even thinking, the first words that popped out of my mouth were "OH SH**!" You proceeded to repeat this phrase for the next five minutes, over and over again. Your daddy couldn't stop laughing and I was mortified that I was the one who prompted that string of letters to come out of your mouth.


I currently have two part-time jobs, which means that I have to leave you three days a week. Even though we have the perfect situation with you going to your grandma's one day, your aunt's one day, and staying home with Daddy one day, I still hate to leave you. I'm so torn because I feel like I shouldn't enjoy my job as much as I do. I never thought I would become so career-minded. But after finding a job like I have now, one that allows me to be a mom as well as grow in my professional career, I find myself feeling guilty. Guilty that I enjoy my time without you, and also guilty that I can't be with you all the time. It's like I can't win.


Knowing that I can't be with you all the time makes me enjoy our time together more and more. A few months ago, as we were getting ready to watch a movie together (Toy Story 2 - for the 100th time), you came up behind me while I was putting the movie in the player, hugged me as hard are your little arms could possibly hug and said "I love you Mama." It was the first time you had ever said that without someone saying it first, or being prompted. My heart will never get over that single moment in our lives.


I love the way you say things. Even though you are constantly complimented on how well you pronounce your words, you still have your own little dialect:
packidoes: popsicles
pabo: pacifier
bunby: bunny
uhmba: Simba
blanquen: blanket
mote: remote
cereos: cereal
You also have certain phrases that you love to use. Any time you can get two of something in your hands, you'll always exclaim, "I got two of 'um!" Every time you're on the stairs, going up or down you say you're going "Going upstairs!" You love to give your daddy and I directions in the car to where you want to go (or throw a fit when you realize we're going somewhere you don't want to go). And you've made up this little game where you ask yourself (or whoever happens to be close by), "Does [insert Name] eat cereals? NO!" You ask this question over and over with different names each time. And the answer is always no. Just today you substituted the "eat cereals" with "go poopy." Which brings up another one of your most recent fascinations. Anytime you go poopy you love to watch the toilet flush and exclaim "Buh bye turds!"


You are definitely very stubborn and want your way all the time (who doesn't?). We are trying to teach you how to share and not claim that everything is "yours." This lesson is going slow. You have also given me your fair share of public fits. Grocery stores, restaurants, and more recently on an airplane. It's during these fits that my head just about explodes and I wonder why people love parenting so much. But then you turn around and sing me your ABC's or count to 20 with me (as I'm trying to calm down), and I realize - again - that this is what being a mom is all about.


I love you sweet boy. You are so special and beautiful.

Love,
Mama

18 (19) months

My Dearest Nathan,

You are now over 18 months old. My letter to you is late for a variety of reasons, it's been one of those months that seems as if everything is happening, one event on top of the other. A few months ago I got a new job that allows for much more flexibility in my schedule. The extra time I get to spend with you is priceless. I love the days I get to stay at home with you, even the days that end in me collapsing on the couch from exhaustion. I know that raising you is the most important job that I'll ever have. Being your mommy is my highest priority, so being exhausted at the end of the day gives me hope that I'm doing something right.


Often feelings of inadequacy wash over me when you throw fits or cry if you don't get your way. You have developed an explosive temper that comes out when you're tired, hungry or don't feel good. The only way I've found to calm you down is to hug you close to my body and whisper or sometimes sing quietly in your ear. After just a few seconds your screaming subsides and you rub your little face into my shoulder until you've completely calmed down. I love it when you smoosh your little face into my shoulder.



You have become completely attached to me. Sometimes you'll cry even if your daddy picks you up and takes you where I'm out of your sight. But you still love your daddy very much. You often run up to him and demand "chase" or "outside," knowing that he'll happily chase you around the house or take you outside for a walk. Every time we go outside for a walk you always want to walk down the same direction. We recently discovered that you're trying to walk to grandma's house or aunt Nici's house. You'll grab our hands and run down the sidewalk shouting "Nici, Papa, Nici, Papa." You love going over to their house so you can jump on the trampoline or play with your cousins. Not only do you know the way to their house, but you can tell if we're driving to the store, to my weekly Bible study, or to the gym. Once we turn on a certain road, you let mama know that you know where we're going.





You love books so much. You would be perfectly fine if the only thing we ever gave you was books. Several of your books have been taped, glued, re-taped and re-glued because you read them so much. Often you are so good to sit and read on your own so I can start fixing dinner, take a shower or do some laundry. You have several of your books memorized and will read parts of them to me and your daddy. If we leave out a word, you'll tell us. If we skip a page, you'll make sure we know. And often you demand that we read a book to you several times in a row by saying "gain pease, gain" (again please).



About a week ago you had a mysterious fever of 102. I assumed you caught a bug and made sure to give you extra fluids and love. I was surprised to find that all four of your 2-year molars are coming in. This gives you a total of 24 teeth, such a large number for such a young little boy. You'd think with all of those teeth in your mouth that you would be happy to eat whatever we gave you. No, you're not. We never know if you'll eat lunch or dinner. You are so picky. Luckily your daddy and I have discovered a few tricks and can manage to get you to eat a few healthy things during the course of the day. I can now appreciate the art of bribery when we discovered your weakness for milkshakes.



I feel like every day I'm just winging it and sometimes don't really know what I'm doing. This parenthood thing is much harder than I thought it would be, but you are worth it. Your hugs, your kisses, your smiles, your laughs and the funny things you do are so worth it. I love my little Doodah, you make life so interesting, fun and meaningful.


Love,
Mama

One year

My dearest Nathan,


You were born one year ago today. It's hard to believe that an entire year has gone by since the day you changed my life forever. This first year of your life has been the most thrilling, joyful, hardest, emotional roller coaster I've ever had the privilege to ride. One year ago, it was impossible to imagine that we would ever survive those sleepless nights, the colic, the fountains of spit-up, the exploding diapers and all the other things you brought into our little family. But your daddy and I have survived, and we are loving every minute of it. We can't believe that we were chosen to be your parents. What an incredible gift.

You are such a busy little boy. Like your mama, you always have to be doing something. You don't enjoy being confined to a stroller or high chair for too long. You want to be mobile, crawling as fast as you can all over the place so you can explore and discover new things you have never seen before. Your most recent fascination is the lazy suzan we have in the corner cabinet of our kitchen. You love to open the door and empty the entire contents of the cabinet, including soup cans, bottles of vinegar, boxes of rice, jars of cocoa, and anything else you can get your hands on. You reach your little arm as far as it will go into the cabinet, grasp the first thing that touches your fingers, look at it for a minute or so, then toss it behind you as if to say "I'm bored with you, let me find something more entertaining." This little act is repeated every single day and allows me to cook dinner, wash dishes or sort through the mail without having to worry about what you're getting into, knowing that you're fully entertained with some cream of mushroom.

You have such a defined personality. You are very sensitive and get your feelings hurt easily. If I pass through a room and don't say hello to you, or acknowledge you in some sort of way, your little lip starts to quiver, your eyebrows furrow and your mouth opens up to let out a high-pitched cry while you crawl over in my direction to give me a hug. You have learned to hug and love on people now, which totally melts my heart. You will put your head on my shoulder and pat my chest with your tiny little arm, while the other arm grips tight around my neck. I live for these moments. Nothing is wrong in the world when my little Nathan has his head on my shoulder.

We had your first birthday party a couple of weeks ago while your Grammie Debi was in town. You had been sick for the last couple of weeks, so it was a bit overwhelming for you (and your mama). As is your personality, you were very cautious about the cake. The first mouthful made you gag, but as soon as you realized it was sugary-sweet, you kept shoving fist-fulls of crushed cake and icing into your mouth.

Your daddy and I love to make you laugh. You have become quite ticklish, which makes for great entertainment for all. I will usually pin you down with your arms above your head and eat your belly, your sides, and under your arms. You will laugh with a laugh that gives your daddy a joy that can't be explained. When we're both exhausted of the laughter, you usually crawl over to my lap and lay your head on my knee. I always respond, "I love you too Bubba."

You have always been very fond of the cats:

Your vocabulary has exploded these past few months. You try to repeat everything we say. Your most recent favorite words are: Daddy, up, breakfast, done, gone, juice, and more. You're always talking. The other day, while at home with Daddy you got a hold of our phone. By pushing the buttons, you scrolled through our caller ID and called me at work. I answered the phone to hear you loudly saying "Dadadadadadadada!" Your daddy found out too late that you were using the phone and started laughing uncontrollably. It made my day.

As always, bathtime is an adventure. I think your daddy and I share the same opinion: it's our favorite time of the day. You love to splash as much as you can, kicking your legs as fast as possible. By the time we're done bathing you, the entire bathroom is drenched. You always tell us when you've had enough by standing up and saying "done." Then I take you in my arms and wrap you in a warm towel. This is one of the few times you will let me just hold you and rock you while you snuggle into my chest to keep warm.

This first year with you has been indescribable. Though I miss being able to hold your tiny little body for hours on end while you sleep in my arms, I wouldn't trade this time with you for anything. You are so much fun, so smart, and so beautiful. I don't care if you're not supposed to call boys beautiful, you are.

I love you bubba, you're my big boy. Happy birthday!

Sick

I'm sick. I'm sick of being sick. This is the third, yes THIRD cold/sinus infection I've had in two months. I'm tired of this. I've always been a relatively healthy person. But this year I've had more than my fair share of colds. Poor little Nathan has to suffer too. Whatever I get, he gets too and it's usually worse than mine because his immature immune system can't handle these things as well as mine. Not only has he had all of the colds I've had, he recently developed a stomach problem causing a fever and diarrhea for six days (going on seven). Poor little guy will not eat, is so tired, and only wants his mama. And here I sit, sick at work, wanting nothing more than to be sick at home with my sick little boy.


I just want to cry.

Aging

I've come to the conclusion that the reason we age is because of our kids. Sleep deprivation causes bags under the eyes. Stress causes wrinkles. Constant worry causes brain malfunctions. Screaming children cause hearing loss. Put that all together and you're bound to look slightly older than you did in your 20's.

Nathan hasn't even come to his first birthday yet. I shouldn't be aging this fast, should I? Well, apparently I am.

Most of you who read this blog know me. You know how old I am. Those of you who don't know me have seen pictures of me and probably have a guess at my age.

Take a guess at how old people think I am.

Go on, guess.

Got your number?

For the record, I am twenty six years old. I was recently told that I look THIRTY FREAKING FIVE. Not that 35 is old, I don't think it's old at all. But when someone tells me that I look almost ten years older than I really am, it's a bit bothersome. And when people constantly think I'm older than my OLDER sister, I start to wonder.

Maybe it's time to get some work done. A face lift here, a chemical peel there. Or maybe I just need a break. A time to rejuvinate my body and soul to find my inner-youth. Any ideas?

I mean really, REALLY!!! I don't mind looking my age. When I'm 40 and people think I look 40, I'll be ok with that. But when I'm 26 and people think I'm 35, it's a bit depressing.

Excuse me while I go get some Botox.

Motherhood

I've been asked several times since becoming a mother how my life has changed, or what I find the most surprising about parenthood. Of course the typical answers like not sleeping in, no time to myself, no going to movies, all apply to me. But one of the surprising things about motherhood is the violent instincts that have developed inside of me. Of course I'm not talking about violence toward my little guy! I'm talking about the lioness instinctively protecting her cub. If someone ever tried to hurt my baby boy, I really think I could do them some serious physical damage. I don't think I'd use a weapon of any sort, I'd much rather resort to tearing the person up with my bare hands. Really, I think I would.

Along those same lines, I've never been so emotional. I can't watch medical or forensic shows that focus on a sick, hurt or murdered baby ... I cry the entire show. I can't watch movies that even talk about harming babies or the news when someone has been cruel to a child. I have to change the channel because I simply cannot get the poor baby out of my mind for the entire day or longer.

Last week I stumbled upon a blog of a someone I don't even know. Recently, one of her twin nephews was found in his crib not breathing. He died at the age of two months. Before having a child of my own, I would have been saddened and felt horrible for the family. But now, not only do I feel these things, but I also feel a small bit of the pain the mother must be going through. After reading about the devastation, I sat in my office and cried. I can hardly think about a situation like that without tearing up. I no longer have control over my heart and emotions, they have taken on a new life in the form of a little boy:

Pictures, etc.

BSC and I finally got around to getting the boy in for some professional pictures. This is NOT an easy task. Trying to find a time that he'll be:
1. Awake
2. In a good mood
3. Not hungry
4. Clean
It's just not very easy for anyone. The first weekend we tried to take him to Kiddie Kandids, but they don't take appointments, it's just first come first serve. We went to two different locations, both of which had three hour waits. Yeah, my list of four things would have been destroyed after waiting three hours. We decided it was necessary to go to a place that would take appointments. Off to JCPenny! The morning started out stressful as Nathan decided it was a good idea to poo all over himself. This wasn't just any up-the-back, run-of-the-mill poo. It was EVERYWHERE! I don't know how he did it. One minute I was changing his diaper, the next minute I was trying to keep him from shoving poo-filled fingers into his mouth. I had to wake BSC up early to help me bathe him because poo was getting all over the place. This totally violated rule #4. I must say that I was rather impressed with the JCPenny. I never thought department stores had very good photography studios, but I'm very happy with how the pictures turned out. We will be returning there for his six month pictures.

Here are a few of my favorites:

Little Sooner

Our Little Family

Baby Butt!

Little BSC

He's Got My Toes!

It's weird pumping at work

Yes, I'm back to work now. Sorry for the lack of updates, but I promise to update on a more regular basis now that we have somewhat of a schedule. Nathan comes with me to work every day but Thursday when my wonderful mother watches him so I can attend meetings uninterrupted. How is that working out, you say? Well, it's hard ... much harder than I thought it would be. Yes I have a swing, changing station and pack 'n play in my office, but it doesn't make a baby cry less or be less demanding (nor does it make my boss less demanding). This is my first whole work day to be away from him and I miss him like crazy. I have go through all my pictures of him once an hour just to stop myself from going insane.

Things he can do now:
Smile - he smiles SO big when I talk to him. What a wonderful feeling.
Roll from front to back
Pull my hair and jewelry
Fart louder than his daddy
Scowl like his mommy

I have to mention here that I got some pretty awesome gifts for Christmas, but one of my favorites has to be Season 1 of Beverly Hills 90210. Did any of you ever watch that show? Yes, it's horrible and cheesy and has some really bad acting. But I LOVE that show! Watching all the original episodes has brought back so many memories and made me laugh so hard I pee a little (a lovely side effect of having a baby).

So, here are some pictures of my adorable eight-week old boy:

Still Alive

Yes, I'm still here, still breathing and moving. I'm not sure that consitutes being alive, moreso in a zombie-like state. I have officially become a mom. Yes, I know that happened over a month ago, but now that it's been a few weeks the title has really set in. It's hard to get dressed in the morning, much less take a shower. So if you see a homeless-looking lady wandering the aisles of Target with a super-cute 4 week old baby boy, that's me. Yes I'm alive (though it may not look like it). I've heard the first six weeks are the hardest with a new baby ... 1 1/2 weeks to go, then maybe a break? Maybe? Please? Maybe I will attempt to put on some makeup or even brush my hair, perhaps a razor might even touch my legs. It's New Years Eve today and I will celebrate the occasion by attempting to take a nap and do some laundry. All of my clothes are drenched in spit-up and explosive baby poo. Maybe some of you veteran moms can answer this question: How in the world does spit-up land directly down my shirt, without touching my shirt at all? And why is it that baby poo gets EVERYWHERE? When I find baby poo under my fingernails an hour after changing a dirty diaper, I know I must be doing something wrong.

So yes, I am still alive and kicking. I try to read blogs as often as I can, but it seems that changing dirty diapers and cleaning spit-up are on the top of my priority list these days. None of you have been forgotten!

More picutres for you to enjoy:

All of the cousins in their Christmas PJs on Christmas morning up at the grandparent's house.

BSC with Nathan, Ciara and Caden all dressed in their OU garb. Such a proud daddy and uncle!

The boy cousins are instant friends (with aunt Nici in the middle). Caden (8 months old) is fascinated with his little cousin. Look at his big fatty hands!

Had me in a tears ...

"Strongest Dad in the World"
[From Sports Illustrated, By Rick Reilly]
This is an amazing video clip of the Father and Son team that did the Iron Man together.
Read the story below and the video clip will be more meaningful to
you.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WjPrL3n63yg
(If the video clip doesn't play, click on the "CAN" video.)

Real Story:
I try to be a good father. Give my kids mulligans. Work nights to pay for their text messaging. Take them to swimsuit shoots. But compared with Dick Hoyt, I suck. Eighty-five times he's pushed his disabled son, Rick, 26.2 miles in marathons. Eight times he's not only pushed him 26.2 miles in a wheelchair but also towed him 2.4 miles in a dinghy while swimming and peddled him 112 miles in a seat on the handlebars--all in the same day. Dick's also pulled him cross-country skiing, taken him on his back mountain climbing and once hauled him across the U.S. on a bike.

Makes taking your son bowling look a little lame, right?

And what has Rick done for his father? Not much--except save his life. This love story began in Winchester, Mass., 43 years ago, when Rick was strangled by the umbilical cord during birth, leaving him brain-damaged and unable to control his limbs. "He'll be a vegetable the rest of his life;'' Dick says doctors told him and his wife, Judy, when Rick was nine months old. "Put him in an institution.''

But the Hoyts weren't buying it. They noticed the way Rick's eyes followed them around the room. When Rick was 11 they took him to the engineering department at Tufts University and asked if there was anything to help the boy communicate. "No way,'' Dick says he was told. "There's nothing going on in his brain.''

"Tell him a joke,'' Dick countered. They did. Rick laughed. Turns out a lot was going on in his brain. Rigged up with a computer that allowed him to control the cursor by touching a switch with the side of his head, Rick was finally able to communicate. First words? "Go Bruins!''

And after a high school classmate was paralyzed in an accident and the school organized a
charity run for him, Rick pecked out, "Dad, I want to do that.'' Yeah, right. How was Dick, a self-described "porker'' who never ran more than a mile at a time, going to push his son five
miles? Still, he tried.

"Then, it was me who was handicapped,'' Dick says. "I was sore for two weeks.'' That day changed Rick's life. "Dad,'' he typed, "when we were running, it felt like I wasn't disabled anymore!'' And that sentence changed Dick's life. He became obsessed with giving Rick that feeling as often as he could. He got into such hard-belly shape that he and Rick were ready to try the 1979 Boston Marathon.

"No way,'' Dick was told by a race official. The Hoyts weren't quite a single runner, and they weren't quite a wheelchair competitor. For a few years Dick and Rick just joined the massive field and ran anyway, then they found a way to get into the Race officially: In 1983 they ran another marathon so fast they made the qualifying time for Boston the following year. Then somebody said, "Hey, Dick, why not a triathlon?'' How's a guy who never learned to swim and hadn't ridden a bike since he was six going to haul his 110-pound kid through a triathlon? Still, Dick tried.

Well, now they've done 212 triathlons, including four grueling 15-hour Ironmans in Hawaii. It must be a buzzkill to be a 25-year-old stud getting passed by an old guy towing a grown man in a dinghy, don't you think?

Hey, Dick, why not see how you'd do on your own? "No way,'' he says. Dick does it purely for "the awesome feeling'' he gets seeing Rick with a cantaloupe smile as they run, swim and ride together.

This year, at ages 65 and 43, Dick and Rick finished their 24th Boston Marathon, in 5,083rd place out of more than 20,000 starters. Their best time? Two hours, 40 minutes in 1992--only 35 minutes off the world record, which, in case you don't keep track of these things, happens to be held by a guy who was not pushing another man in a wheelchair at the time.

"No question about it,'' Rick types. "My dad is the Father of the Century.''

And Dick got something else out of all this too! Two years ago he had a mild heart attack during a race. Doctors found that one of his arteries was 95% clogged. "If you hadn't been in such great
shape,'' one doctor told him, "you probably would've died 15 years ago.'' So, in a way, Dick and Rick saved each other's life.

Rick, who has his own apartment (he gets home care) and works in Boston, and Dick, retired from the military and living in Holland, Mass., always find ways to be together. They give speeches around the country and compete in some backbreaking race every weekend, including this Father's Day. That night, Rick will buy his dad dinner, but the thing he really wants to give him is a gift he can never buy. "The thing I'd most like,'' Rick types, "is that my dad sit in the chair and I push him once.''

I just told off my boss.

I'm shaking in my boots (actually I'm not wearing boots, but rather some very cute black espadrilles, but that's not the point here).

I hate it when I have to do that, but sometimes it's just too much to handle and certain people have to be put in their place. I haven't been very tolerant of other people's stupidity lately.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BSC and I try to attend church on a regular basis. We find that we usually get more out of our spirituality by questioning our faith and challenging our beliefs on our own and with friends who have similar convictions. But every once in a while we'll show up on a Sunday morning at one of the few non-LDS churches here. The people are really nice and we've met some great friends there. Granted, we haven't been in attendance much over the past few months because of my constant nausea and exhaustion, but I figure that God is ok with us taking care of our unborn child for a while.

This past Sunday we went to church. The one thing I enjoy most about our church is all the children. We have TONS of them, and they tend to overtake the entire auditorium. Before they're all dismissed for "childrens' church" you're bound to hear one of them make a fart noise during the prayer or yell at their parents that they have to pee during the announcements ... I LOVE IT. But what I enjoy most is watching when the dads, who are used to the moms taking care of the kids, show up to church without Mom. It's quite comical. Usually these moms are prepared with all sorts of things to keep the kids occupied: coloring books, crayons, fruit snacks, and other toys to keep the children quiet and occupied.

This particular Sunday BSC and I sat behind a dad sans the all-prepared mom. The service hadn't even started yet and his son, who looked to be about four years old, was already getting restless. I knew we had chosen the right place to sit when I saw the dad give his son an energy bar to keep him quiet.

Wait ... did I just see that? Did he just give his son an energy bar in order to keep him quiet?

It worked for the first five minutes, until he finished eating his snack. Half way into the announcements the kid was hanging from the ceiling and foaming at the mouth. His eyes looked crazed and he was making strange noises. We had a front-row seat to the entertainment of trying to watch this dad control his four year old without disrupting the entire service. At one point I was laughing so hard, I had to put my head down and pretend I was praying.

So if there's any reason to attend our church, come for the kids. They're bound to give you a show.

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Now I must publicly thank my good friend Sarah for having mercy on a friend by bringing me a crunchy potato burrito and a vat of salsa from Taco Bueno after her trip to Tulsa. Dinner will be so freaking good tonight. Ole!