A very Merry 1st Unbirthday

Today is Lucas's shoulda-been birthday.  I don't know why I'm so stuck on this day.  Maybe because both his actual birth day, and his 1st birthday (thank you Icemeggedon 2013) were surrounded by such chaos.

The new year has slowly meandered its way into our lives without any fuss and all is calm.  Today would have been a great day to have a party.

But like I said in this post, I need to remember it is his story.  And if December 8th brings chaos every year... so be it.  Because this guy is worth it.

Plus... he seems to thrive on craziness.  It's how he rolls.

A very Merry Unbirthday once again Lucas.

Thoughts on your first birthday

Dear Lucas,

A year ago, you came into our world with a bang.  You had your own pre-determined schedule and you were sticking to it.  Now, 365(ish) days later, not much has changed.

You actually started out as a pretty chill baby.  I think you slept about 23 hours a day after you were discharged from your 9 day stay in the NICU.  You fit into our family easily and you were adored by all; especially your brother and sister.

As you sped through the months, your easy-going nature continued.  And then, everything changed... I don't know if it was when you learned to crawl, or if it was teething that sent you into an eternal angst-spiral, but ermahgerd child... simmer down!

If you want something, you WANT it.  And telling you "no" leads to wailing and gnashing of your three teeth (that may or may not be the culprits of your 'tude).  I guess what I'm saying is that you are one determined little dude.  Even though some days it makes me tear my hair out, I do love watching you crawl at warp speed towards the open front door, that unfaltering smile on your face as you are single-minded in your quest for freedom.  And no matter how close I am to that door, or how far away you are... still you make a break for it; one time even getting all the way out only to sit and munch on a leaf you found on our walkway before I caught up to you.

Speaking of eating strange stuff... once you learn to talk, I will be asking you what's up with that?  Paper, markers, leaves, dog fur, candy wrappers, Polly Pocket heads, Lego, rocks... those are just some of the items I have fished out of your cute little kisser. It doesn't matter how thorough I am at scanning the floor for these tiny torture devices, you still seem to find them.  Just stop eating them!

Having said all that, you are also one of the sweetest little snugglers a Mama could ever ask for.  I don't think there's a better feeling in the world than picking you up and feeling you wiggle into your perfect cuddling position.  I love how you light up when you see me, and even though it hurts my ears, your wailing as I walk away is a total ego-boost.  And yes, I even love those open-mouthed, drool-fest kisses you give.  And sometimes?  I don't even wipe my cheek afterwards.

This year we had a grand birthday planned for you.  People!  Coming to our house!  Food!  Cake! Friends!(as you grow older, you'll get that this is a big deal, your Mama hates being a hostess).  Then the ice hit the fan.  Er, the ground.  Everything was frozen over and people were stuck in their houses.  By the day of your party, things were a bit better and some people managed to make it.  Actually, it was perfect... right down to your face as we sang Happy Birthday to you and your expression when you had your first taste of cupcake.

Just like last year, your birthday was not boring.  But let's not make this a thing, okay?  It's hard on your Mama.

Happy Birthday my doodle.  I love you so much and can't wait to see what this next year has in store for you!

And now he is one

I meant to post this yesterday, but we had a party on his actual birthday and most of the day was spent preparing.  Only half the guests could make it because of an ice storm that hit our area, but I think a good time was had by all.

Apparently, Lucas's birthday will never be boring.

Three!

From this...

 ... To this

Happy birthday to the best mix of crazy and sweet you will ever find in one boy.  You keep us laughing every day with your antics, and you keep me on my toes. Your pre-school teacher told me how well behaved you are in class (but you love making mischief for your Mama... hmmmmm), and that you are definitely a leader, not a follower.  May it always stay that way, and may it serve you well.

Happy Birthday... I love you, my little man!

Six

As we snuggled together on the eve before she turned 6, Elise said to me, "I wish I could stay 5... everything is perfect when you're 5."

If she only knew the greatness that awaits her; this year, next year and all the years of her life.

She will do amazing things.  She will have an amazing life.  I can feel it. 

And it all started 6 years ago today. Happy birthday to my sweet, wonderful, amazing girl.  I love you and love you.

THIS guy...

... was born two years ago today.  To say I love him is like saying Texas can be a little warm in the summer.  In other words, a HUGE understatement.  There is something so adorable, so stinkin' edible about my little man.  He is both sweet and a whirling dervish of crazy at the same time and I wouldn't have him any other way.

Happy Birthday sweet, adorable, hilarious Mattias.  Thank you for making me laugh every day.

THIS girl...

... was born 5 years ago today.  She was and still is one of the most beautiful things (on the inside AND out) I have ever laid eyes on.

Happy Birthday sweet Elise!  We love you and you continue to amaze me every day.

He's 1

Dear Mattias,

Exactly 1 year ago today, as I write this, you were being born. Yes, I am writing your 1 year letter on the day of your birthday. Let's just say you keep me a little busy these days.

From your level of activity in utero, I should have known you'd be a wild man. I can still clearly remember lying awake at night, my poor bladder absorbing your kicks and punches.

Only these days, all your energy is put into giving me a heart attack. If it's dangerous, you want it. If it can hurt you, you make a bee-line for it. You have no fear of anything, and while that will serve you well later on in life, all it's doing now is aging me prematurely.

You have no time to snuggle, give kisses or demonstrate your love in any way. You are way too busy getting into trouble. You will, however, sit in my lap for a story. The reading of which makes you laugh manically for some strange reason.

You love to dance, bop and move to music. It captivates you, and makes everyone around you laugh. Which is fine by you, since you seem to be the world's biggest ham. And for the record, wearing a napkin on your head while we're out at a restaurant is okay now, but you should probably stop it by the time you're in your 20s.

This year with you has been a wild ride, my little man. I love your craziness... but let's try and calm down for the next 365, m'kay?

Love,
Your Momma

She's 4

Dear Elise,

When you have children, people love to tell you, "cherish these days, they will be grown before you know it." And while you are not yet grown, you are 4. Which is almost the same thing to me. I blinked, and my tiny baby morphed into a pre-schooler. They really must put some sort of crazy hormones in that milk.
Although I do miss you as a baby, you have grown into such an amazing little girl. You have the sweetest heart and I have never met a child that feels so deeply. I honestly don't think you have a mean bone in your body. Thankfully, your mother does and stands ready to give an atomic wedgie to anybody who dares to make you cry.
That's not to say that you are a wimp. Quite the contrary. You are probably stronger that most adults. Perhaps it's because of the diabetes, but I think it's just who you are; strong spirited.
Elise, you are beautiful; inside and out. And while most people comment on your outer beauty, I want you to remember to stay beautiful on the inside. You are kind. You are generous. You are loving and the best big sister to Mattias. I love who you are; a quirky, fun princess with a huge imagination and a heart to match.
Four years have now passed since the first moment I held you in my arms. And I have held you everyday since. It never gets old.

Thank you for making me a Mom. And happy birthday to my sweet little bean.
Love,

Your Momma

My gift is a blog post, and Freddie... this one's for you

April 30th has always been a special day. It's my Mom's birthday. I have probably 5 or so friends that also celebrate the anniversary of their birth on this day.

But best of all, it's the day that my wonderful husband came into this world.

I can remember, at the ripe old age of 20 and 3 months, telling my Mom that I was going to marry Fred. We had only been dating for a short time, but I knew this was the man for me. My Mom told me that there was no way I could know such a thing, but I guess we all know how was right on that one, eh Mom? I win!

Anyway, back to Fred. This birthday happens to be a big one. I won't tell you exactly how old he is, but it sounds like 40. And since I'm such a wonderful wife, I have put together a huge surprise party, with catering, hired a band, an airplane will do a fly-over with a banner reading, "Happy Birthday to the BEST husband ever!" And at the exact moment of Fred's birth, we will release 40 doves into the air.

No... wait. None of that will be happening. Because I am the crappiest wife in the world.

I had such plans for this day. I was trying to orchestrate a surprise (not the one above) that would have been so much fun. But it didn't happen. Because if 2011 has been the year of the crap sandwich for this family, then the month of April has been the big, stinkin' pile of sauerkraut on that sandwich.

I hate sauerkraut.

And I have dropped the ball, big time. And I hate that. Because Fred deserves so much more than a crappy blog post and a failed attempt at a birthday celebration.

Fred, I am so sorry. I feel like I failed you. I know our life has been so difficult lately, but that is no excuse. You truly are the most amazing husband and father to our kids that I could ask for. I also know I haven't been the most fun person to be around, but yet you still stand beside me, picking me up when I fall.

I don't ever really write a whole lot about Fred on here, but I wish all of you could know him. I wrote a post for our anniversary a few years ago,, and wanted to include an excerpt of it, because I think it paints the perfect picture of who Fred is:

He loves me despite my many quirks. Even better, he embraces them and doesn't try to change me. He is one of the hardest workers I've ever met, and has never complained once over the last 11 years that our family relies on him, and him only as our income source. Although our senses of humour are very different, he still cracks me up on a daily basis.

If you are lucky enough to call him your friend, you know how he goes the extra mile for the people he loves. If you asked for the shirt off of his back, he would give it to you. And his pants. And, if it wasn't so gross, probably his underwear too.

He doesn't get my love for Lost, but will watch it with me... mainly because it's in HD. He will sometimes show up at lunchtime during a weekday and bring me Chick-fil-a. On Sunday, he mopped the floors for me. I know he loves me and will do almost anything to make me happy. We're talking about a guy who has flown to 4 different states to see my favourite band 7 different times. Love? I think so!

Above all else, he is a wonderful, Godly man. He knows he isn't perfect, but tries his best to live his life according to God's word. He is an amazing example to our kids of what a husband should be.

Over the past 15 years (4 years dating, almost 11 married), we have gone hot air ballooning, driven through Europe, rafted 10 rivers, bought a house, hiked in Hawaii, been extras on an X-Files episode, racked up over $75,000 worth of debt, paid off over $75,000 worth of debt, skied Jackson Hole, jumped off a 30 foot cliff and made a beautiful daughter and son together.

I am so thankful for our marriage. I feel blessed beyond all measure to call Fred my best friend, father of our kids and best of all... my husband.

Happy Birthday Freddie. I love you.

And you can tell everybody this is your blog post
It may be quite simple but now that it's done
I hope you don't mind
I hope you don't mind that I put down in words
How wonderful life is while you're in the world

Happy Birthday Elise!

Happy 3rd Birthday to my sweet little Bean! You are one of the best things that has ever come into my life and there aren't enough words to describe how much I love you! You've come a long way, baby!




Just as sweet as the day she was born!

They say it's his birthday

While I would love to write a post waxing poetic about my love for Fred, I have in-laws landing at the airport in less than 2 hours and my house looks like a landfill threw up. Sooooo, let me just say Happy Birthday to THE best husband and father in the world. Elise and I are blessed.

Love you Freddie!

Because I'm not like other girls

Fred got me a washer and dryer for my birthday

This is a disclaimer to all and any men reading this... I am not like other girls. Buying a present like that for your wife will probably end up with you sleeping on the couch for an undetermined length of time, and spit burgers served for dinner. And most likely the longest "dry spell" (aka no bow chicka-bow-wow), you've ever experienced.

But me? I was ecstatic with my new, high-efficiency, front-loading, visions-in-white, time-savers. Mostly because it means that my husband listens to my never-ending griping about certain appliances that take almost two hours to dry a load of laundry because the stupid (man) person who designed it thought that a 30-minute shut-off gave the machine more than ample time to dry the articles within. I would like to meet that man and, you guessed it... kick him in the groin.

It took me a long time to be okay with the fact that I'm just not like other girls. I read the "Love Languages" book and figured out that "gifts" were definitely not mine. I'll probably get kicked out of the girl's club for saying this (heck, I think I'm already on probation), but jewellery doesn't do it for me. Neither do flowers... giving a person something that just ends up dying is rather morbid. I would rather the flowers stay in the ground and remain pretty and alive.

I like gifts that are useful.

I remember one birthday I asked Fred for some sort of kitchen appliance. He said no, he hates to buy those types of gifts. So I stomped my feet, wailed and gnashed my teeth some, and he gave in. And saw how happy my electric griddle/crockpot/blender (okay, I admit I can't remember what it was) made me. And he's been hitting the nail on the head ever since.

Don't worry, the washer and dryer were not the only gifts I received, Fred is a lot smarter than that.

And by the way, I do consider a massage and facial a very useful gift.

Happy Day You

Although the title of this post may look like I've been hitting the sauce, it's actually how Elise says "Happy Birthday". Or rather, sings "Happy Birthday to You". Which she's been doing over and over since she turned two a few weeks ago.

My poor, sweet child must be so confused over this birthday stuff. First we haul her off to another city and tell her it's her birthday. Then we come home and tell her we're going to have a big party on the weekend to celebrate her party. Except we don't, and I can actually blame it on the rain (blame it on the sun...). And the fact that Fred and I were running temperatures over 102.
So then we start telling her we're going have the party the following weekend, and she's been singing "Happy Day You" ever since.

So we actually pulled it off, and I've got to say... it was a lot of fun. Ulcer notwithstanding, I'm glad we decided to throw a big celebration. Especially with what we've been through over the past year. It was sort of like saying, "suck it diabetes!"

The best part was seeing all the people that came out to help us celebrate Elise's life. We were so touched and so blessed by everybody just being there and having fun. What a great way to spend a Saturday afternoon/evening, surrounded by wonderful friends. Thank you for being a part of our little girl's life!

If you are so inclined, you can check out pictures on my other blog.

A post where I complain... a lot

If I were the superstitious type, I'd be wondering if my daughter was ever meant to have a birthday party.

Take for example, last year's "party"; interrupted about 30 minutes into it by Elise's doc telling us to take her to the hospital, she's just been diagnosed with type 1 diabetes. Pretty sucktacular.

So this year, as we were away for the actual day of birth, we decided to throw Elise a party for the weekend after we got home. It was all planned; people invited, food bought, decorations thought of... blah, blah, blah.

Then on Wednesday, I got sick. Not just sick, but dear-Lord-of-all-things-good-and-right-everything's-going-dark-no-wait-I-see-some-light-and-I'm-heading-towards-it-sick. But it's okay, I still have my main man Fred to help get things together for the party.

Then on Thursday, Fred starts heading towards the light. The guy who has been sick a total of 3 times in 11 years, who has managed to dodge all sorts of crud that I have incubated including about three rounds of strep throat, Mr. I-doan-need-no-stinkin'-Advil. He's got it too.

At this point, we start contemplating that the party needs to be cancelled, or at the very least, moved to the next weekend. Mother Nature decides to get in on the act, and it's predicted that there's an 80% chance of rain on Saturday. In Texas. In September. My friends, that just doesn't happen here unless it's biblical times and God has just had a little heart-to-heart with a guy named Noah.

And just in case we get any ideas about going forward with the party, Elise then gets sick on Saturday morning, and it rains here like it has never rained before. Talk about twisting the knife.

Do I sounds bitter? Probably... probably. Chalk it up to frustration, I guess. I do have one rather funny tale from when I went to the doctor to see if my crud had a name (and hopefully not one that sounded like Swine Flu).

Fred made the appointment for me, and when the receptionist asked why I needed to be seen, he replied, "she's sick". Straight and to the point, that's my Fred.

So somehow I slipped past all the superb screening, and was sitting in the room waiting to be seen, sans mask. The doc walks in, notes my temperature on the chart (101.6), and asked me if I had been coughing. When I said yes you would have thought I told him I was there to pluck his eyeballs out with my thumbnails.

He jumped up, tore open the door and yelled, "nobody told meeeeeeeeeee", as he ran down the hall. I sat there, feeling very much like a leper.

He returned, from what I am presuming was a Lysol-shower, about 10 minutes later wearing a mask and with one for me. It turns out that I didn't have the flu, just one of the second-rate, run-of-the-mill viruses that doesn't get any press. Poor, un-named virus.

Have we always been so crazy when it comes to germs, or its it just lately that people are going off the deep end? I remember when I was younger, you got the flu, you threw up a little, and drank some ginger ale. At some point, you manage pass it onto your friends and family who threw up and drank ginger ale. Nobody went to the doctor, let alone the press.

Now, I must admit, I'm not so relaxed when it comes to sick people being around Elise, but unfortunately, diabetes makes things a little trickier. But shouldn't we relatively healthy people be a little less freaked out?

Okay, I think I'm done grumbling for now. Keeping my fingers crossed for Saturday. Time for Elise to have a birthday party, even if it is one year and three weeks overdue.

Two years ago, at this very moment...

Dear Elise,

I am going to start out this letter with the very cliche, "wasn't I just giving birth to you yesterday?" Yes, yes, I know it has been said a thousand times over, but there is no better description for how time has just rocketed by in the last two years.

And what a crazy two years it has been; full of so many ups and downs that I'm feeling nauseous. But I think I can chalk that up to the cast quantity of chocolate I have just ingested. But enough, this post is supposed to be about YOU.

Sweet Elise Rian, I don't think I have the adequate vocabulary to describe the amount of love I have for you. Nor can I put into words how you amaze and astound me everyday. All that you have been through in your life and you still face every day with a smile.

God knew exactly what He was doing when He entrusted me with your life. I say that not because I think I'm doing such a bang-up job as your mother, but because I have learned so many lessons from you.

I have learned that yes, life can suck, but then you keep on living it as best as you can. Every day is a new day, full of promise. I shouldn't fear what the future brings, I should look forward to it with eager anticipation.

I've learned the art of patience. Having a toddler with no concept of time, and a mind of her own will do that to you. I've also found out the old adage, "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" can be fun, especially when it entails hiding in the clothes racks at Target.

You taught me that music is to be enjoyed while spinning and jumping around and dancing with stuffed animals. And songs should be sung at the top of our lungs while driving in the car; complete with wild hand gestures. Who cares if the people in the next car are staring. They're just jealous that they're not having as much fun as we are.

I've learned to stop and enjoy the world around me. That you can sit and check out that strange-looking bug on the driveway for 20 minutes, because there is always another story time happening somewhere.

I always knew that I married a wonderful man, but I now know that I married an amazing father too. Seriously Elise, you are so blessed to have Poppa as your Poppa. One day, you'll get it. Judging by your reaction when he comes home from work, I think that you're already starting to.

You have taught me that I am a lot tougher than I thought I was. You have given me a lot of confidence in areas I never thought I'd be any good at. I'm still a work in progress, but I think we make a phenominal team.

I've learned that painting is always better when done naked (well naked plus a diaper). This rule only applies to you, not me.

I'm so proud of you, little girl, and so glad to call you my daughter. Happy Birthday.

Love,
Your Momma

Happy Birthday M to the A-R-C

Well, well... little brother Marc is turning another year older today. It's been awhile since we've seen each other (four years, I think), and we're hoping to remedy that soon. If Marc had his way, he'd move down to Texas, like, yesterday. I find it hard to believe that we're related sometimes...

We're only 21 months apart (something like that, I find it hard to do math after 9:00 pm), and spent most of our childhood at each other's throats. But we did have some fun, and rather hilarious adventures together. We were always pretty good at creating mischief.

Anyway Marc, Happy Birthday! Here's a nice little blast from the past. Totally rockin' the dominos. And I am totally rockin' that sweater. It also looks like my pants are tucked into my socks. And yet I posted the picture anyway.

Happy Birthday Freddie, now here's your present...

My first crush was Johnny Depp's character from 21 Jumpstreet, Tom Hanson. Tom was dark, he was brooding, and best of all; he was complicated. I quickly realized that the type of guy I was attracted to had those qualities and more. I loved the artistic type; a musician or painter, who often got lost in his own thoughts, only to emerge days later with an epic new poem. He could serenade me on his lute and loved to philosophize over tea about life, the universe and everything.

If you know my husband, the type of guy I just described is the complete antitheses of Fred. So why is Fred my husband and not Officer Tom Hanson?

Well, number one, Tom Hanson is a fictional character. And while reality and I sometimes appear as though we are just mere acquaintances, I am not crazy. And number two, if I had married a guy like the one I described above, he'd be dead and buried in my backyard by now.

It's not them, it's me. As much as I love creative people, I just don't want to spend the rest of my life with one. The more I got to know "creative-type" guys, the more I realized that they sort of lived in their own world, by their own rules, and by their own watch. And they pretty much drove me crazy with all their meanderings and what-not.

So I married Fred. And got everything I needed in a husband and more. So what kind of husband is Fred? I'm glad you asked...

He's the type of husband that takes our daughter out every Saturday and Sunday morning; not only to give me a break, but because he loves spending that one-on-one time with Elise. He's the type of husband that cleans up the kitchen every night after dinner. He knows how to make me laugh, how to put a smile on my lips, and after 12 years together can still make my pulse race. He loves to surprise me, and spends most of his fun money bringing me little gifts. I don't think I've ever met anyone as generous as Fred.

He can wrap a present like nobody's business, which really has no real-world application unless you're working at a booth in the mall during Christmas. I'm just sayin' that my presents always look really purty-like.

He doesn't always get me, but he loves me anyway; despite my long list of quirks. Actually, I think he loves me because of them. He's honest, hard-working, funny, an AMAZING father, an INCREDIBLE husband, and let's not deny it; handsome and sexy as the day is long.

You know that episode of Seinfeld where George does the complete opposite of what he normally would do, and his whole life turns around for the better? Well, I guess in this case, by marrying Fred, I "pulled a George". Wow, that kinda sounds dirty...

This post was supposed to be so much more; I wanted to wax poetic (and perhaps write my own epic poem to be accompanied by a lute player) about how great a man, husband and father Fred is. Unfortunately, life once again, has reared its frantic head; making it impossible to devote the time and effort to this that I had wanted to. This post sounded so much better in my head. Everything sounds so much better in my head.

Maybe I'll start writing next years birthday post tomorrow.

Anyway, happy birthday Freddie! Thanks for being who you are and exactly who I was meant to be with.

Happy Birthday, Little Bean!

Birthday Countdown: Month 12

Month 12... the final month before she turns one year old. Elise started saying other words besides hi this month; she added Momma, Poppa, bye, and eye (while pointing at your eye, her eye, her stuffed dog's eye) to her repertoire. She also seemed to understand the concept of hi and bye; using each one in the proper situation. And, of course, always accompanied by a wave. She also started barking like a dog whenever she saw Seven. Or any other dog, stuffed or real. Come to think of it, she barks when she sees a cat, fish or bird too.

Elise decided this month she was big enough to start feeding herself. Not that I let it happen a lot. Because I just don't enjoy scraping food off the ceiling. But she's getting pretty good at it, and can actually get it into her mouth with a little guidance. She also likes to drink from my glass or water bottle. It's pretty funny; she gets so excited when she sees me drink, she opens her mouth really wide and starts panting like a dog (that's Elise speak for "Gimme some!"). Whenever she does get a sip of water (from her cup or mine), she lets out a refreshed little, "Ahhhhh". A little trick she picked up from her Poppa.

Elise is now getting pretty good at walking while holding onto something, and is also an accomplished dancer (as you may have seen already... sorry, this video just cracks me up). Her other new skill from this month is blowing kisses. She is quite adept at getting into everything and anything... especially the kitchen cupboards. I think it might be time for me to come out of baby proofing denial.

And thus ends my birthday countdown. This past your has been a tough, frustrating, amazing, and fantastic journey. I feel very blessed to be Elise's Momma. She has a very independent, but sweet spirit. And a crazy, fun personality too. Thank you Lord, for blessing me with this little girl, she is above and beyond what I prayed for.