4 Years and Several Pounds Ago

I gave birth to Gracie.
On July 22, 2004.

My pregnancy caused great stress and I wondered how we would get through.
A double-blow was dealt when I found out that we were having a girl.
I wondered how.

How I would mother a girl.
I knew love and hugs would be involved. That's easy.
But it was all of that other stuff.

Needless to say, it's been fine.
Beyond fine.
I still struggle with the horror of horrors:
Princess crap.
I draw the line at tiaras and clothing with the words princess on it.
But she's a girl.
Through and through.

Despite being my daughter, she is my rock.
She has no idea that there are days when she is what is holding me together.
And I recognize that might not be good.
But all it takes is for her to smile or touch me.
And I know it will all be OK.

She is full of something that I will never possess.
She is what would happen if you mixed the very best parts of Rav and I
but only
made it better.
She is that fantabulous.

I love my daughter.
My girl.
Happy Birthday, my little lovely.

Here is your (latest) favorite song.
May you hold it close. And remember it is so true.

Dreams and Wishes From The Past

I had my 2nd reiki treatment last night.
The session was interesting & I can't wait to share it.

But first I had to get a few other thoughts out.
The first thing is that I wanted to share that I wrote a little card to *E's* mom.
And it was well received.
I'll leave it at that for now.

Last night before and after my treatment I met up with my stepmom for some girly talk.
And after we were finished - quite honestly we probably could have chatted all night long - I stopped in to see my dad and brothers. It wasn't a long visit. But it was enough. In a good way.

I was sharing with my dad the details of my reiki treatment and something came to him and he walked away.
He came back with a box.
And inside the box was a violin.
An old violin.
In pieces.

He began telling me how this violin was my grandfather's (his father). And he loved this violin. He thought it was "something".
My dad took it to a musician in a local city to find out about it and to inquire about getting it put back together.
Sadly (or not so sadly), the violin is "nothing" in terms of monetary value and it would cost more to put it back to rights than to buy a nice, quality new one.

As my dad was telling me about it, I began salivating.
And felt bad despite myself.
I felt like a wolf, hungry for the kill.
I felt horrible for being so overtaken with thoughts like Give it to me!! Drop it, sucker. Hand me the box and no one gets hurt!!!
I somehow managed to get ahold of myself.

See, for as long as I remember I've wanted to learn how to play the Violin. And to see this in front me of me was almost too much to handle....the thought of playing Violin - his violin - clouded any ounce of good judgement I had.
I never have understand why I wanted to play. Because my passion has always been the Saxophone (and percussion, although I've never played percussion instruments).
Something has always drawn me to the Violin.

I had no idea until last night that my grandfather used to play.

My dad finished his story about the poor, dime-store violin.
And then he said
I'm going to have a little ceremony and I'm going to burn it.

I gasped.
My eyes in wide horror.
WHY????????

He said I'm going to burn it and take it down to Dad. Maybe if we all get together on the weekend of Thanksgiving we'll burn it then since we all will be together.

My grandfather apparently had much love for this 1920s Montgomery Ward Violin - that he bought 2nd hand and thought was "something".
And my dad is doing the right thing by his Dad.
It should be with him where he rests.

I left their house a little less selfish.
Happy that it will be returned to its rightful owner
and that since I've never met my grandfather and always longed for some physical connection, content in the fact that maybe I got this desire to play from him.

What's It Lke Inside That Head Of Yours, Connor?

We have conferences next week at Connor's school.
I always look forward to these.
I'm most interested to hear what the teacher has learned about Connor and to hear about his progress.

I'm a smart mom.
I know my kid is a genius.
But a mom just likes to hear it over and over again, ya know?


I know words like
stubborn
inattentive
emotional
might be thrown about.
But that's OK.
It's part of his, um,
genius.
OK?
OK.

In an attempt to get to know each child better, the teacher sent home a paper asking about the kindergarten experience thus far.
The things your child especially likes, dislikes, what they say about school, etc.
And the teacher has asked that we bring it in for our conference.


I sat down and began asking Connor the two that seemed the easiest to answer.
The things he likes best about school
and the things he likes the least.


Some of the things he likes best are:
friend of the day
the green playground
the little blocks
Ms. Morris' hair (the librarian) - and OMG, did my son just say that? I need to check this woman out.
housekeeping


Some of the things he likes the least are:
gym
music
art
the blue playground
crayons AND pencils
group time.


I was intrigued by his answer of group time. So I say to my boy Why don't you like group time?
To which he says - (get ready for this...)

I get all sweaty at group time and it makes my belly hurt.


My dear, sweet, nervous boy.
I know exactly what you mean. When mommy is at school and she has to talk in front of people, she feels the same way bud. The exact.same.way.
You get it honest.
************************************************

Tonight is Halloween.
And I am sorry to say that I left my creativity back in Halloween of '06 and did not make anyone's costume this year.

Tonigth we will do what we have done for the past 2 years.
We will go to our friend's house - B & D.
Their three kids and our two get along famously.
Gracie even declared that N was her boyfriend.
We will order pizza and beg for candy in their neighborhood (it's a much safer 'hood than ours.). In fact ours would qualify for a 'hood status. Theirs does not.

Be safe tonight everyone.
And have a great time!

Sunday Morning Song of the Moment

Certain songs/albums define periods of time.
And when I hear them I am instantly transported back to that time.
Often, I can smell the smells that I associate with that moment in time,
I can recall instantly how I was feeling, the vibe of the environment around me.

I know that you guys probably have experienced this too.

Within the past week, I have heard this one song two times. And I haven't heard the song in quite awhile.
When I heard it, I was transported instantly.

I was transported to the infantile stages of my courtship with Rav.
The stage where all we had was time together and little responsibility.
Our time was our own.
And most of that time was spent in bed.
Talking for hours on end.
And that talking would, of course, lead to other things.

The constant vascilation between deep, heartfelt conversations
and an even deeper physical connection is what comes to mind when I hear the following song.
And the entire Parachutes album by Coldplay is best easily described as the soundtrack of these days.
The seeds of the famiglia de Ravioli were planted at this time and took root.
Connor was, quite possibly, made to one of the songs on this album.

Enjoy Don't Panic by Coldplay

******on a side note, one more final to go. papers have all been turned in. and i will be able to resume my normal lurking, reading, commenting activities.******

The Better Half

Flutter did a post about her boy after being tagged by Kyla.

And Flutter was kind enough to tag anyone who read it to participate.

As is the usual lately, I am stumped on something to write about, I jumped all over it.

*****************************************

1. Who is your man?

Known in certain circles as Ravioli - or Rav. More commonly as Bryan.

2. How long have you been together?

We've been together for 6 years.

gawd, look how thin and young we looked. that was from when we first started dating.

3. How long did you date?
Before getting pregnant? Um, 4 months.
Before getting married? 2 years.
We knew that we were it for each other pretty early.
He knew before I did.
Well. That's not entirely true.
I was fighting it.





4. How old is your man?
27 years old & he rubs it in every chance he gets that I am older than him.

5. Who eats more?
That is just too close to call. We both can pack it away.

6. Who said "I love you" first?
My guess would be that it was Rav. Honestly, sitting here right now I can't remember.
(i'm terrible, i know)

7. Who is taller?
Considering we are both Hobbits I find this an amusing question.
Rav is taller though. By about 3 or 4 inches.
(he is so going to comment because of this answer)

8. Who sings better?
Rav without a doubt. Totally.
He may make up his own lyrics to songs. He may be ahead of the beat 9 times out of 10.
But dude can sing.

9. Who is smarter?
Hmmm. I think it's pretty even there.



10. Whose temper is worse?
Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
Though, when Rav really gets mad, he blows. Must of the time, it's pretty tough to ruffle his feathers.
I got every ounce of Irish temper left behind by my ancestors.




11. Who does the laundry?
We both do. It's a large task, laundry is in this household. It generally takes the both of us to tackle putting it all away & we each try to stay on top of making sure things get in the washer and dryer.

12. Who takes out the garbage?
We both do. When one forgets, the other remembers to lug the trash can to the curb.

13. Who sleeps on the right side of the bed?
Rav does. Though we tend to mix it up every so often.

14. Who pays the bills?
Pretty much me.

15. Who is better with the computer?
Rav. Totally. I've got absolutely no skills. Ask Slackermommy. She'll tell ya!

16. Who mows the lawn?
Mainly me. Rav might once or twice a season. But mainly me.

17. Who cooks dinner?
Primarily me. Rav might cook up a box of mac 'n' cheese for the kids now and again. But the majority of the cooking is done by yours truly.

18. Who drives when you are together?
Again, primarily me.
And again there are exceptions. But most of the time it is me. So much so that on the rare occasions that when Rav does take the wheel, the kids beg for Mommy to drive.



19. Who pays when you go out?
I think this is a sort of weird question just because all of our money is pulled together in the same pot. I don't consider either of our wages "mine" or "his". It is "ours". He may actually, physically pay the bill. But we both contribute monetarily.

20. Who is most stubborn?
HA! HA! HA!
He is certainly stubborn. Totally.
But I think I've got him beat by just a smidge.

21. Who is the first to admit when they are wrong?
Me. Rav might be wrong more often. Yeah. That sounds good.

And in all seriousness, even when he knows he is wrong he'll fight it & fight it until you produce proof otherwise.

22. Whose parents do you see the most?
We see my mom and stepfather more often than my dad or his parents.

23. Who kissed who first?
It was mutual, I think.
But I think I initiated it.
You'll have to ask him for that story.

24. Who asked who out?
Rav asked me out.
He thought he was so money.
He thought he was kicking mad game.
It was pretty bad.
But he had his charm about him despite his shaky game.

25. Who proposed?
He asked me to marry him, but the whole act of becoming engaged was a mutual effort.



26. Who is more sensitive?
Once again, we both are very sensitive people.
Though I would venture to say that I am a bit more sensitive.

27. Who has more friends?
I would say that it is probably me.

28. Who has more siblings?
Rav. He has three older brothers.

29. Who wears the pants in the family?
Yours truly.

(I picked this picture because it is from far away & you can barely see my face. For whatever reason, I am becoming less and less photogenic. But is a pic from this past weekend in Baltimore. And it illustrates the fact that I do wear the pants in the family.)

Oh, and go for it if you feel so inclined.

Last night, I went out with a group of women to see a musical written by a woman.
A musical that was about a group of women reliving the "old days" and therefore cementing the bonds of their sisterhood.

As I sat in the audience, I found myself thinking of all of you. Wondering if you could feel me sending vibes across this country and making it's way into other countries. I wondered if you could feel that someone out there was thinking of you.

During the musical an idea for a post came to mind.
And I found myself elated and relieved.

Then I came home to find out this had happened.
And I thought to myself that there is no way that I could justify writing about anything other than this.

If you haven't already, please go visit Jenn.
Please offer her your kind words and condolences.
Let's all go in peace today and do the best we can to keep each other safe.

Full Circle

I haven't seen Three Dog Night Dad in quite awhile.
There really is no great excuse.
Attempts have been made.
And for one reason or another, it just doesn't come to fruition.

Out of desperation, I phoned old Pop at about 4 p.m. Tuesday evening and said
Hey, Dad. It's Jess. Feel like stopping by for a bit on your way home from work?
He gobbled up the invitation.

We sat on the couch and chatted while the kids showed him every meaningless tidbit under the sun.
Meaningless as in Here, Pop-Pop! Look at this tissue!!! Here, Pop-Pop, look at this Cheerio on the floor that has been here since Connor's 6 month of life!!!
They were so excited to see him, they had to ply him with every object and object description they possibly could.

So there we are.



Father and daughter sitting on the couch.
Having a good old,long overdue talk.
All of a sudden, my dad stops listening.
His eyes avert to the right of me.
Something else has grabbed his attention.

At first I'm a tad bit alarmed thinking maybe that ginormous spider of ours has made it's way into the house.
Or worse yet, a mouse has been spotted (I'm freakishly afraid of the nasty buggers).

I look in the direction that has him so engrossed.
And it is this picture that has made it's way to the computer screen during the screen saver montage:

He sat there staring with the goofiest, most satisfied, longing, happy look on his face.I was speechless.
I didn't know what to say.

But as a mom, as a parent, I can only imagine what he must have been thinking.

Sunday Morning Song of the Moment

I really have been out of the music loop lately. I'm usually on the prowl for little known artists and songs. But so many other things have been keeping me away from it.

Things like my first baby heading off to all-day kindergarten.
And this fact has had me reflecting quite a bit about just how fast time flies.

We were visiting parents of some good friends of ours last weekend.
And we began to talk about the kids.
And I said to Mr. & Mrs. S. It seems like it was just five minutes ago we came over here with Connor in his infant car seat.
Really.
It does feel like that was just five minutes ago.
I've been trying to remind myself that our financial situation isn't always going to be like this.
The kids won't be this little that much longer, that I'll be finished school sometime soon, and things will change.

And all of this is good.
All of it.
The hard, the easy, the heart-wrenching, the anticipation.

And the other thing?
I am happy.
We are happy.

And nothing encapsulates all of this for me like the following song.
Mushaboom by Feist

Magic In The Night

**Edited to add a Youtube video**
At the end of a long, hard day I make my way up the steps to take my place next to my beloved.
Nothing feels better than my side of the bed, feeling the warm, electric skin of my man on his side. It's what keeps me hanging on.

The steps lead me to my peaceful spot.
And as I ascend, ghosts of the day travel them with me.
Countless trips up and down them by clopping kid feet.
It reverberates and haunts - these apparitions that flash by and through me as I make my way up to the spot that is calling me.
I can hear the echo of a giggle or a jump from the last step to the living room floor.
But I know my kids are safe and sound asleep in their beds.

My kids.
My kids.
My kids.

They are kids.
As much as I hold on to the last shred of baby that they may still carry hidden.
It's the baby in them that only I can see, as their mom.
Their mom.
Their mom.
Their mom.

Sometimes I long to hold their little tiny baby butts in my arms.
To feel that soft, hard lump on my forearm.
To smell their baby smell.
To touch their baby cheeks.

I reach the top of the steps and all these thoughts float and disappear into the air with the ghosts of the day.
And I stand in front of two doors.
One is my refuge.
And one is full of magic.

The magic of what happens in the night when peace washes over these kids. My kids.
The magic that transforms them from the kids they are becoming
and shines a light onto the babies that are still there on the inside and by some trick you can still see only when they sleep.

It is a secret that I've kept and have now unearthed.
The magic that I see in the night.
To revisit that babyhood.
For only a minute before I bed down next to my love.
The love and the man that helped create that magic.

Sunday Morning Song of the Moment

Last night, Rav & I joined his parents, his three older brothers and their wives at a wedding for a childhood friend of all of the Ravioli brothers. (if you'd like to check out my brother-in-laws post on the wedding and some pictures of the famiglia de Ravioli, check out fatmarc)

It is very rare that all 8 of us (the brothers and the wives) are together in one room anymore because of busy lives, geography, kids, etc.
So when we all get together it really is a treat.
And we are often looked upon as that table or oh, those people.
It's not a bad thing. In fact it's quite funny.

The wedding took place in a beautiful church in center city Philadelphia.
The bride and groom were stunning.
Both families looked wonderful, proud, and happy.
The bride is of Philippine descent and it was lovely to see some of her culture blended into the ceremony.
All of the guests made the walk to the venue which was just a few blocks away.
And the reception venue was absolutely gorgeous.

Rav & I have become quite the wedding connoisseurs lately, as we have been to approximately 11 weddings in 4 years.
And this wedding was pretty tops for many reasons.

The friendship, love, and harmonious blending of different cultures, backgrounds, orientations was so elegantly pulled off.
And there are many details I could delve into.
But the bottomline is that all of the exterior things, the things that categorize people really shouldn't matter.
And this couple got that - gets that.
At the end of the day, love is love. It has no bounds and it doesn't exclude.
It is there in the beginnings and endings of the days despite the petty trappings we try to confine love to.
Love doesn't always conform and love doesn't look for norms.
Love just is.

When we were seated at our tables we were given a card that thanked the guests for celebrating, it offered an email address where you could send any pictures you have taken of the day to share with the bride and groom. And on the back of the card was this wedding favor:

In lieu of favors we have made a donation to "Freedom to Marry" to support those who are denied the right to enter the institution of marriage. Today we celebrate the finest and most noble expressions of marriage - love, commitment, and responsibility - while rejecting discrimination and prejudice.
http://www.freedomtomarry.org/

I thought this to be the most noble gesture two people could make on a day to beat all noble gestures.

My heart forever melts for this couple who so rightly love each other and love others so eloquently. I raise my glass to J & K. A couple so deserving of a love and life full of endless possibilities.

This song is for them (it is the song they danced to) and for all of those who have someone but by some ridiculous right-wing agenda cannot enter into the institution of marriage.

I hope you enjoy Forever by Ben Harper

The Day My Heart Went Walking Outside Of My Body

About an hour ago, we dropped our first-born off for his first day of all-day kindergarten. As much as I have been looking forward to this, I was the only tearful mom in the school lobby. I couldn't hold back the tears off happiness for my boy's new adventure, the longing of days now gone by, worry, and trepidation from starting something new. This is the first real step in the separation that begins between momma and her cub. It is necessary and hard.

But it is good too. Deep down I am happy.
My heart aches a little for the profound silence in the house.
But it is good.

My main goal is to have my children fly - to soar. And they are getting there.
His feet are just barely off of the ground. But they are. And I am proud and happy.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Making the decision to have a child - it's momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking outside of your body. ~ Elizabeth Stone

Knowing When To Walk Away & Knowing When To Run

The three weeks or so leading up to the start of this new job were really disheartening for me.
The people I shared the news with IRL seemed less than pleased about the prospects of me taking this job. For many, many reasons. Reasons like my safety & well-being, how I will tackle my classes while working a crappy shift, getting Connor to and from school, etc.

And let me explain something about where I was going to be working. I would be working at a facility that has been operating at double-occupancy for pre-adjudicated juveniles. There are kids sitting in that facility right now who have been sitting in there for over a year awaiting their Superior Court trial for murder.
For many kids, in that section of the detention facility where I would be working, there is a revolving door.
There is a heightened sense of tension in there. Kids that come in don't know when their leaving, what their outcome will be. Many times, there families are done with them, so they don't get visits.
And often, the ones that have been in the detention facility for awhile see their friends leave or have visits from family.
It's just a really tense place.
Anyway....

You all know I have stressed out about this for far too long. I've chronicled that pity-fest for so very long

I would come home from training & tell Rav stories about staff members who were assaulted and are still out on leave because of their injuries.
And Rav, trying to be supportive of my decision, told me I would be fine.
But then.....
Then he started hearing first-hand accounts from coworkers (who used to work in that facility) just how off the hook it is.
And he didn't say anything. He was trying to be supportive.

Last week, I sat talking to my BFF on the phone. And she noted how awful I sounded. I told her that the transition has been hard, I was not getting any straight answers from anyone regarding my shift, if I would be alone on a locked unit, etc. That I was just not feeling this. It just wasn't feeling right. Whatever that is. And rather than feel better as time went on & making peace with the changes, it has been feeling increasingly worse.
I got off the phone with her and turned to Rav and said, I so want to ask her if she would hire me back to work at the preschool.
And then I cried, no scratch that, I sobbed for about 40 minutes.
I explained to Rav that I feel guilty because I feel like I am not doing a great job as a mom because I'm working and yet I feel like I'm letting my family down financially because I want to walk away from this job. That everything about this feels so wrong.
Rav was supportive and great -as he always is.
I wiped away the snot and the tears and I called my BFF back and asked her if she would consider hiring me as a teacher at the preschool she owns and operates (the preschool I have worked at for years before leaving to stay home with the kids). And she was surprised.

See. Way back when I was nursing Gracie and Connor was just barely 2, I opened my big mouth and said I would never work at the preschool again. I just didn't think I had it in me.

So, you understand her surprise. We talked and I explained why I had said that.
And it has come to pass that I will be working at the preschool.

I have handed in my resignation at the detention facility and gladly take on this new/old position.
And it feels right.
Getting Connor to and from school? Not an issue.
Taking my classes to finally finish my degree? No sweat. In fact, I'm carrying 5 classes this semester and feeling damned good about it.
Taking care of my family? No biggie.
Working almost full-time? Maybe still not financially setting the world on fire. BUT. It's an income and is a much better fit for all of us.

I have felt a 10 ton weight lift from my back.
We have partied this weekend with some old friends and made some new ones.
I feel a love and admiration for my man grow by leaps with every new hurdle.
And my daughter curled up on my lap and lay like a baby - she wrapped herself in a blanket - and just stayed there, looking up at me as I rubbed her cheeks and whispered to her. She even followed me into the shower, the actual shower.
Connor has been happy to be home and have me home.
And I know that I've done the right thing.
The right thing for me and my family.

And I once again have learned that I should listen to my gut.
Not only that, walking away and/or running away, sometimes aren't bad things.
I do have guilt about the possible irresponsibility of this.
As well as, guilt towards 120+ kids I've never met. 120+ kids who will not have me work in the facility. Someone who would show them kindness and compassion and empathy. My bleeding heart can't reconcile that part. That I can't put my money where my mouth is. I talk about wanting to help and feeling so much for so many. And I walked away.
And maybe in time I will be able to reconcile it without rationalizing too much.
My time will come to do it. I know that.
I think right now though, my place is still right here.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I want to thank you all for your support of me during this time. Listening to my constant whining when so many other bloggers out there are facing really frightening health scares and real issues.
I have climbed out of my self-pity pit.

I'm back, baby.

Another Saturday In August

Yesterday, my BFF's middle child, her son, was united in wedded bliss.

Are you scratching your head over that one?

Yes. I did say my BFF. She's a bit older than me. By 20 years.
That's just how I roll people. Most of my peeps are older than I.

Anyway. It was her son's wedding & I woke up not feeling up to attending.
Not because I didn't want to go and have a fun night or celebrate this relationship, this marriage, between the lovely couple.
But because that meant another day (and night) away from my kids.
A month ago, I was salivating over the thought of the kids spending the night away from us.
Now?
Now it is totally different.

Gracie had fallen asleep while I was getting ready - tearfully - getting ready.
I did my hair and makeup (holy shit, I wore makeup) all while she drifted on cotton candy clouds and held onto the wings of butterflies.
When she woke up, I was standing at the end of the bed, fully dressed and getting my shoes on.
Gracie popped up and looked at me wide-eyed and said Wow, Mommy. Look at you!!
Buttah, I tell you. I melted like buttah.

Anyway, after dropping them off with my mom to spend the night, we headed off to the church.
The ceremony was lovely. My BFF looked stunning, her son handsome and the bride beautiful.
The reception was held at a lovely place along the water.
Drinking was done, but not in excess, between Rav & I.
My BFF even threw back a few - which she rarely does.
We all hit the dance floor and barely took time to stop cutting it up.
Our heads thrown back, our mouths wide open.
Laughing, chuckling, yelling, hooting.
To see my friend so happy, to see her let go like that made me so happy.

To dance, and sing, and grind with my man on the dance floor made me so happy.
And when I picked up the kids I missed them
I really, really missed them.
And I've been trying to make sure I capture every moment and make it as quality as I possibly can.

For tomorrow starts another week.

Congratulations, J & D. You two make such a beautiful couple. I know that there will be many, many years of happiness ahead of you.

And yes, YOU looked gorgeous my darling. You were radiant and glowing.
And I am so proud to be your friend.

Another Birthday - the big 5

Today is Connor's birthday.

This evening at 7:27 on 7/27 he was born.

The young master turns 5.

When I look back at the pictures it seems like a lifetime ago. So much has happened since then.

And yet it seems that time did a marathon and it was a mere minute ago.

Connor was a surprise. We didn't plan to get pregnant.

But I felt a peace I have never known when I was carrying him and for the first 2 years of his life.

Peace has given way to chaos. But that's OK. That's how it should be.

My boy. My little, quirky, smart, spirited boy.

Today he is 5.

infinite love + unrelenting guilt = a mother

Lately, I've been grappling with the guilt and questions that come with being a Momma.
A momma who is struggling to hold herself & her family up in the middle of the biggest transition.
And I know other Momma's out there are facing similar things.

That guilt that creeps in.
The guilt that is the gift that keeps on giving when you become a Momma.
As endless the love is that we have for our children
so is the guilt.
The love for them is as vast as the sky. There is no beginning. There is no end. It simply is.
And unfortunately that guilt can be just as endless. It can be the giant rain cloud that covers up the beautiful blue sky. And we have to learn to navigate around it.
Not always an easy task.

We are faced with this tremendously awe-inspiring task of caring for a totally dependent individual.
A constant vigil.
It never ends.
In fact, it happens so quickly and fiercely that you can't even see the point at which it started.
There is no definitive moment.

Some may say that this vigil, the watch guard post - and the guilt - begins upon finding out you are now carrying this new life within.
Some may say that it occurs when you've decided natural childbirth is archaic and the decision to opt out for a relatively pain-free delivery. And that is a relative term, mind you. Pain free delivery. Yeah, uh-huh, sure.
Some say that it begins the moment that new life is physically in your arms.

But it happens. And again, the process is so swift, so thorough that it really is hard to determine when it happens. But it does.

So as new mothers - or just mothers - we take on this monumental task of constant caring, nurturing, rearing, guiding, loving, empathizing, hurting, pining. You name it, we are i-n-ging it. But we're happy to do it. It's the greatest of works. The fruits of constant tending and work that cannot be compared to anything else.

The power we possess so raw, so carnal. The ability to alert or cloudy-eyed cubs of our presence by just walking in the room - because of our scent.
The power to soothe with the merest of hums in tiny, sweet ears.
The power to comfort and protect with the warmness of our breast and arms, wrapping our cubs in the thickest of fortresses.

But with that power comes awesome responsibility.
And with that responsibility comes questions, swift looks back and hoping that it went well.
We wonder quietly, if we did any damage on those days where we were weary from an all-nighter and operated on auto-pilot.
We wonder if those days where we are frazzled beyond oblivion when all we can do is bleat-bleat answers - not ever really hearing the questions. And realize as head hits pillow that they are moments that are forever lost.

But we try.
We work our hearts and fingers to nubs.
We never fully take credit for the wonders that we are responsible for.
Instead, we second-guess.
We think that it's never enough.
We think it's all wrong. We're doing it all wrong.
And certainly, it's never story-book.
But considering what we're up against, we're pretty damned good at it.

If we asked our kids who were the best mommies in the whole-wide-world, what do we think the answer would be?
And true, some day they may question our abilities, our actions, our intentions, or how well we did.
But in time, they do come around and see just how hard we tried.
How hard we did.
How much we loved
and still love.

Mistakes will be made.
Yes.
Absolutely no doubt.

But in between the mistakes, and the guilt, the brand new cub and the adult they grow up to be is the best of us. The best of us that we give to them. And that questioning and the guilt shows just how seriously we take this job. We want to do it just right.
And if we didn't question, if we didn't care - we wouldn't wear our guilt and worry like the hottest new skirt or shoes for all to see.

In that time -the in betweens - are the moments that rest on sleepy eyelashes, toddler giggles, and chubby-armed hugs, the dirty fingerprints on everything, the countless buttercups handed over to us, the campy arts and crafts, the pb&j kisses. Those moments are just for us.
And we work so hard for them. We don't ask for them. They are handed over so lovingly, so generously.

The guilt is an occupational hazard, for sure.
It's there to stay.
But.
They'll be OK.
And so will we. I think.
Yeah.
So will we.

Sunday Morning Song of the Moment - the big 3

Friday was spent running around on errands to get ready. And we spent the whole day doing it.
The whole day.
From the time we got up to the time we went to bed.
Yesterday even found us spending much of the early part of the day getting ready.
And then at 1:00 p.m. it was on.
A big birthday bash for Gracie who turns 3 today.
And for Connor who turns 5 on the 27th.
We went all out for this one (which we don't usually do).
But I wanted to have a good time.
So we also invited a lot of "adult" friends.
And we enjoyed a lot of "adult" beverages.
The weather was beautiful. Perfect actually.

Perfect actually. That describes my Gracie - I call her Gracie-goo, Googie, Goog, Poogie, Poog. Pick one. We call her it.
She was born 3 years ago today.



My sweet, loving, caring, even-tempered (but a fireball) of a little girl.
The little girl I was so upset to find out we were having, but couldn't imagine my life without.
You can read her birth story here if you would like. Or if you haven't already, you can read the story as to how she got her name.
She is such a joyful girl with the most beautiful spirit.
And I'm glad she came to me -to us. I know that her path to get to me was a long one. But she's here now. And we're both better for the long wait.




These are for her. The first song, Isn't She Lovely by Stevie Wonder I put on one of her very first CD's that I made for her. And the second one is from the O Brother Where Art Thou? soundtrack. It's Didn't Leave Nobody But The Baby by Alliso Krauss, Gillian Welch, and Emmylou Harris. I used to sing this to Gracie over and over and over. And it is still one of her favorites. If she curls up on my lap for a snuggle and I start to sing it, you can tell she slips into a memory, a comfortable place, and is soothed. I prefer the album version of the song. But I have to take what I can get.
Enjoy.

Wrestling and Words

talking on the phone with the Administrative Assistant who is setting up the arrangements for the new employee orientation, questions were asked. Questions like:

when will we find out exactly what our schedule will be?
what is the attire for training? is there a "uniform" to be worn?

The answer to the 2nd question was: the dress is business-casual for training, but there are days where you will be permitted to wear jeans and there will be days you need to come in sweats. they'll let you know. the days you have to wear sweats are the days where you will be rolling around on the floor doing take-downs.

A Cheshire-cat-grin spread across her face upon hearing "take downs". Oh, she was familiar with them. She has seen her husband do quiet a few of them. She's even attempted a few take-downs during their mock wrestling lessons on the livingroom floor.

The call ended and she shared the information with him.

She feigned worry. i can't do this shit. really. i can't.

he beamed. yes, you can. i'm an all-state wrestler, remember? and you've taken me down plenty of times when we were wrestling. you'll be great. you'll do fine. you'll tear it up. just remember, if you're the best in the class you'll probably end up with the better schedule. and i know you'll be the best in the class. you've got it going on. you're awesome.

yeah. she said.
i know it's true. i just feels good to hear it sometimes.

he throws his head back in laughter. he takes her in his strong arms and kisses her on top of her head. he pulls back and looks deep within her eyes, with a sparkle in his and says

and that is why i love you.

The Girl With The Campfire Hair

This past weekend, we went on a family camping trip. Which means, our little family met up with Rav's family (his parents, their dogs, two of his brothers, and our nieces and nephew).

To be perfectly honest, I was not looking forward to a 5 hour car ride and camping with our two kids. I was not looking forward to this trip. But it was the only time we could get away & I thought the break might be nice.

I packed and baked goodies and made chicken salad with a heavy, heavy mind.
In fact, there was a breakdown thrown in for good measure.
A fit of crying, and questioning, and the throwing of hands up in the air.
All the while, Rav let me do it. He watched, he sat quietly, he let me air my crazies out.
And as always, he remained cool. Perfectly calm.
He knows how to ride out storms like a pro.

Once I purged my mental toxins, I felt a little better.
And upon piling in the car, I was even feeling happy.

The set-up of our Ravioli tent city went pretty smoothly considering there were 2 dogs, 4 kids under the age of 6 and one 8 month old.

The evening met with much throwing back of bottled adult beverages, a tidy campfire, and Rav & his brother playing guitar and singing.
And I just sat quietly.
Willing myself to shoo away anxious thoughts.
I talked to all of the kids as much as I could.
I sang to some of the songs as much as I could.
Because with stillness comes the dread, the fear, the questions, the doubt.

Saturday met us with plans to hit a place in town called The Gorge.
Connor headed to Corning Glass with my one brother-in-law and his daughter (my niece).
That left Rav, Gracie & I to head to The Gorge with my other brother-in-law, my sister-in-law, and my other niece and my little baby nephew.
The Gorge was breathtaking.
And the place where I felt life melt away - just a little.
For there were views like this:

Gracie on the left. Cousin royal T. Ravioli on the right.

And this:

This one (above) is one of my favorite pictures that we took at The Gorge. The views were mind blowing.

The girls did such a great job at The Gorge. I was so proud. They did a 2 mile hike with rarely a peep or complaint. Cousin royal T. liked to be carried and Gracie just wanted to stop and look at the water. That was the only time you heard them complain. They took it all in and just had a blast. You could see between them a bond begin to form. A sisterly companionship that was truly spectacular to watch. And you can see it bloom in that first picture I posted of the two of them at The Gorge.

At one point during the hike, I had picked Gracie up and was carrying her. I leaned in and made the most of the moment - being there in this beautiful place with her - and I kissed her sun-kissed head. And as I did, I inhaled. And her hair smelled like campfire. She smelled like home. She smelled so beautiful. I know that I will never forget that moment with her as long as I live. The moment was quick. It was undetectable, really. No one knew. It wasn't marked by fireworks, squeals of delight, or monumental applause. It was for me and her. Though she doesn't even know it happened. I felt renewed there. My daughter who gives me so much - and she doesn't even know she does it.

It may sound cliche and hokey. But it was then that I felt peaceful. It was then that I felt back at center and back to myself. Surrounded by beautiful, natural cliffs, running spring water, and my girl.

My sweet girl with the campfire hair.

There's just one thing missing in this picture. I wish Connor had been there.

Ravioli's Day

That picture of Rav over there, to the left, is one of my favorite pictures of him. It's not a great picture. And I'm not even sure why I like it.

This was taken before we even had met. But I think it just reminds me of that time. I love the fact that he bleached his hair - just as he did the summer we met. And I even had him bleach his hair for our wedding.

Today is Rav's birthday.

As always, there are a million things I want to say. But I can't quite find the words.

There are so many things that I would love to do for him today. But circumstances just don't allow for it.

I want him to know just how much he is appreciated and loved. That he is deserving of a celebration. He is an amazing friend, partner, father. He has such a calm, loving soul. And in the demands of daily life, Rav often gets looked over. He is the kind of person that demands little and requires even less. He is always happy. He is always in a calm, balanced state. So it is easy to forget that he needs tending to. And he never complains. He just keeps plugging along.

I want him to know how happy I am to mark this day with him. To recognize this day for what it is. The day that brought him here. The day that would ensure his presence in our lives. And we are all the better for him.

I love you, Rav. Happy Birthday!!

Today...Four Years Ago

Today, is the day that, 4 years ago, Rav & I wed.

I know that at times, I jam my feelings for Rav down your throat.

So, I won't this time. You all know where we stand with each other.

All I'll do today is share a little slideshow of pictures and a song that we chose during the cake-cutting/smashing portion of our wedding.

All I want to say is Happy Anniversary, Rav. It's been a great ride so far. And thank you for the message that you left for me on here.