Wednesday, June 30, 2010


My BFF Julie (yes, we're twelve) hosts lots and lots of parties. She's totally the "Monica" of our circle of Friends.

At one particular Thanksgiving party, there was a young woman who was pregnant. She was still about six weeks away from delivering and everyone was excited for her. And as we women tend to do, we were sharing birth stories, pregnancy memories, etc.

One of the women there told the young woman that motherhood was probably going to be much harder than she anticipated. All the veteran moms nodded wisely and told her to just trust her instincts.

The pregnant woman went on to ask if we'd found motherhood to be harder than marriage.

Oh wow. See...I was the odd man out in that conversation.

I was one of the few (the only? It was a couple of years ago and I am getting old.) that said that I'd found marriage to be a lot harder than motherhood.

Oh gosh, motherhood is hard, really, realy hard. I question constantly if I'm doing the right thing, making the right choices. Do I say no too often, just for the sake of saying no? Am I too lenient? Too soft?

But marriage? For me, it's so, so much harder.

With the kids, well, at least my say is final. They know it and I know it.

Marriage is so much about compromise and sometimes, I'm not sure my husband remembers that. Honestly, I'm often having to remind myself of that fact. When you take two adults with strong convictions, give them tiny people to care for, throw them all in the same house and expect there to not be conflict, well, you're stupid. It's true.

Yes, I love my husband. But...there are times when I have to remind myself that he's not out to drive me out of my mind. He doesn't deliberately do things just to irritate me. Once I remind myself of that, it makes any situation better.

We're trying to buy a house. Tom is very competitive. He wants to win. So even house-hunting has turned into a game/competition. It's making me crazy. Add to that, he and our realtor are a lot alike.

So...frustration abounds.

But I love this man. I took vows to honor him and I'm trying to do that.

See, the biggest problem is he's a morning person and I'm not. I don't like mornings and I'm not pleasant in the mornings.

You'd think after seven years of marriage, he'd know that and avoid me in the mornings. You'd be wrong. So very, very wrong.

On Tuesday mornings I have to get up at 4am (oooh, it hurts just to type that) so that the girls and I can be on the road at 5:30 to go to my mom's for three nights, four days.

And while I'm plodding around, barely awake, packing food, combing my hair, putting on my socks, he's in the kitchen, making himself come coffee and singing.

SINGING! At 4am! I know...grounds for divorce, right? Except, I like this guy. So I've decided to try and appreciate his cheerfulness...even at 4am. Because it could be worse. We could have two grouchy Gus' blundering around the house at 4am. Wouldn't that be pleasant?

Monday, June 28, 2010


The lovely Dr. S. warned me not to do a lot of research on Olivia's syndrome. When she gave that warning, I'm pretty sure she was trying to prevent any unnecessary worrying on my part. The research is very out-dated.

What I don't think Dr. S. anticipated is that upon doing the research and finding other parents of 5p- kids (thank you Facebook!) I might become complacent in my parenting of Olivia.

See...I read that kids with universal low muscle tone tend to not potty train very easily. I found during my non-heeding of advice research that 5p- kids typicall started potty training around seven years old.

Now, I'll be honest, I think Olivia has already proven herself to be ahead of the curve that most 5p- kids are riding. I hope that doesn't come across as braggy or even condescending to other 5p- kids, but she's speaking more than most her age, she's physically at or above the curve.

Oh whatever. I'm her mother. I think she's amazing and the very best 5p- kid EVER. So there.

But yeah, braggy mom aside, whenever I thought about potty training, I figured we had another year or so before we should even make the attempt.

My mom is Olivia's babysitter and the thought of changing diapers for another year or so did not sit well with her.

I tried to warn her that it probably wasn't going to happen, but Gram knows best, right?

Well, in this case, she did. A month or so ago, she started working with Olivia, taking her to the bathroom every half hour or so and just getting her familiar with peeing and pooping on the toilet. She also lavished Olivia with praise when she managed to hold the pee until it was time to go on the toilet.

Olivia LOVES praise. She loves being adored and I think the praise was what did it. She started staying dry and only peeing on the toilet. Then she started telling us when she had to go. And this weekend, wonder of wonders, she told me she had to poop, BEFORE she started going in her underwear.

Well then. It looks like we have an almost potty trained girl on our hands. I only say almost because she can't pull her own pants down, get on the toilet herself, pull her pants back up and wash her hands herself.

But we can to to Walmart for over an hour and she either stays dry or will tell me she has to go and will actually go in the public restroom.

I underestimated Olivia. I'm sorry for that. I shouldn't have let the research influence me. I haven't let it do that for any other part of her development. I've let her show us what she can do and gone from there.

Of course, I didn't underestimate the amount of work it takes to have a semi-potty trained child in the house. When she tells me she has to go, I have to be willing/able to drop everything I might want to do and take right that minute because she's still at that stage/age where she has to RIGHT NOW when she actually says she has to go.

I hope this is a lesson to me. If this is the only area I underestimate this child, we'll be ahead of the game.

Friday, June 25, 2010

The Typical One

It's hard to be seven years old. On top of that alraedy difficult adversity, add in being the older sibling of a child with special needs. Make that special needs child especially clingy to her mother and you get an idea as to why Alyssa needs a little mom time of her own.

Last night when I got to my mom's house, Olivia was sound asleep on the couch. She doesn't nap regularly, so when she finally does take a nap, it tends to be late and LONG.

Apparently, Alyssa had been playing with her horses all day and she'd been making mess after mess after mess as she created corrals and stables and whatever else horses need to survive using the furniture and blankets and pillows, going so far as to block entries into rooms with 'gates' so that her horses can't escape.

And my mom had had it. She told Alyssa to pick up the things and stop making messes.

Alyssa started crying. She cried and cried and cried. She's tired too. Being out of school and out of any sort of routine is taking its toll on her. She's not getting enough sleep, she's not settling down for quiet time often enough, she's just going and going and going.

So I sat down and held her. I rocked her and explained that Gram was tired too and that she (Alyssa) needs to work with us mean old grown ups so that everyone is a little less stressed and frustrated.

Then I suggested that since Livie was asleep that Alyssa and I go outside and play in my mom's pool. Alyssa jumped on that notion. We changed and headed outside. We were probably out there for an hour, just the two of us. We played, we floated. At one point Alyssa said, "I'm a dolphin. What are you going to be?"

I thought for a minute and before I could answer, she suggested, "You could be a rock."

So I was a rock, letting the dolphin dive over me over and over. It was fun. It was some very much needed Alyssa/Mommy time. I think we both need to make more time for that.

Alyssa's one of those kids who loves her toys. She plays with things all day long and just wants to be near the adults in her life as she goes about playing with her toys and using her imagination.

Olivia, on the other hand, isn't so much into toys. Instead, she's into people. And not small people like herself. Oh no, no, no. She wants to play with whatever adult is in the vicinity, whether it's dangling from that adult's hands, letting them help her hop, or making the grownup sit on the floor and letting her do somersaults over their legs, she wants all the attention, all the time.

And this is usually okay with Alyssa. But I can tell that there are times when she gets tired of it. When she wants someone (me) to notice her, to pay attention to her, to make her the center of attention even if just for awhile.

I'm trying to make this work. I'm trying to be the best mother I can be to two amazing little girls. I hope that each day I get better rather than the opposite.

Thursday, June 24, 2010


Ever since we started our 'career' of working with therapists, developmental pediatricians, special-ed preschool teachers, we've been told that Olivia's most important teacher/therapist is her big sister.

Alyssa is really, really great with Olivia. She really is. She's gentle when she tumbles her sister about the room, she invites her into tents built out of furniture and blankets, she's willing to put on a swimsuit just because Olivia is wearing one and wants her sister to match her.

Basically, Olivia idolizes her big sister, which is only right and good in the world of sisters. She watched Alyssa and figures out how the world works. She also watches her sister to see how to get her way in this world where the big people try to be the boss of her.

Alyssa is a master as getting what she wants. She's gentle, she's sweet, she turns on the charm. but she can also be whiny and cajoling to the point where a haggard old mother might just give in to get some peace and quiet.

Heck, my mother has a cat in her house becuase when Alyssa was four years old she cried for three straight hours about how much she just wanted a kitty of her very own. I know. Seriously. I know. My mom got that cat a week later and told Alyssa that it was her cat, she just lives with Gram and Papa.

That's just how good Alyssa is at getting her way.

And Olivia's learning from the master.

One of Alyssa's biggest things is that she gets most of her calories for each day at the end of the day. She snacks on small food items early in the day and by about 4pm, she's 'STARVING' and starts saying, "I'm hungry." about ever ten minutes.

Believe me, it's annoying.

But at least at seven years old, Alyssa is capable of getting herself a lot of foods. She can microwave a hotdog, she can get turkey out of the fridge, she can get an apple/banana/grapes. She can open a bag of chips. You get the picture.

But Olivia...oh, Olivia. She's very recently picked up this habit from her sister. While she doesn't just pick at food early in the day, she's begun to announce that she's hungry every ten minutes throughout the day. And at three years old she can't just help herself. Which means an adult (ME!) had to go get her something. Constantly.

One of the things that is affected by O's syndrome is her metabolism. She has a very high one. So I don't feel good about just telling her, "Dude, you JUST ate." Even if she did just eat. So we get her food, constantly, throughout the day.

Yes, it's lovely to see the sisterly interaction of my girls. I just wish I could pick and choose the things Olivia learns from her sister.

Tuesday, June 22, 2010


Olivia's first two years of life really tested my faith in the medical profession.

Her first four months were tough enough, with several doctors in the same practice telling me that there was nothing at all wrong with my scrawny, screechy baby, that she didn't really cry more than other babies, she was just louder. And her lack of significant weight gain wasn't really anythign to worry about.

I was told over and over again that 'she'll catch up.' She didn't. She couldn't.

When she finally developed a dry, raspy cough at four months old, one of the doctors in the pediatrics practice started to believe that there might be something to my claim that Olivia was in pain. She (the doctor) prescribed Zantac and the change in Olivia over the next couple of months was AMAZING. She stopped fighting feeding. She still cried more than her older sister had at that age, but she was no longer either screaming, sleeping (rarely) or spitting up her food. We could actually put her down for longer than three minutes without her having a fit.

But still, the doctors didn't take my concerns about Olivia's lack of head control when she was eight months old seriously. Again, I heard, 'she's just a little behind. She'll catch up.'

I had to take her medical care into my own hands.

Don't get me wrong, I do actually like our primary pediatrician...for Alyssa. She's a typical kid, with typical problems (strep throat last year that he caught quickly and cured even faster.) but for a child like Olivia? I'm not sure he ever believed anything was truly wrong until the doctor at Riley gave us her diagnosis of 5p- Syndrome.

I actually mentioned the syndrome to him over a year before I asked for the referral to Riley Hospital for Children and the doctor actually said, "No. She doesn't have that. She's too pretty."

So you see, I'm not sure I trust many in the medical field.

But on Sunday, with feverish children in tow, I headed to Redimed, asking yet another doctor I'd never met to help me help my children. He...he

He asked me if there were any medications that I'd been warned that Olivia should take due to her universal low muscle tone.

Those who know me probably know that i staret him, slack jawed, all "Duhhhhh?"

See, none of her doctors, not her primary pediatrian, not her geneticist (who has released O from her care), not her developmental pediatrician at Riley has ever told me that there were medications out there that doctors might prescribe a typical child that Olivia shouldn't take.

This doctor, Dr. M,this Redimed doctor, explained that there are medications on the market that have proven to affect the muscles and the nervous system in such a way that patients with low muscle tone shouldn't be given these medicines.

This doctor is not a pediatrician, he's not a neurologist, but he is smart. He paid attention in med school and he's continued to learn as he practices on real people.

Armed with this knowledge, be sure I'll be asking every single doctor that sees Olivia from this point on about those medications. I'll want a list, I'll want to know how each medicine she is given might affect her. If necessary, I'll ask for a referral to a neurologist so that we can make sure she's getting the absolute best care. It's what I do. I'm a mom.

While the last year has been quite, medically speaking, I learned a lot during Olivia's first two years. And the most important thing I learned is that if I have a concern or see a need that isn't being met, I have to speak up, I have to ask for the help we need because while doctors want to help (I have to believe that), they're human, and they can't see every issue, every possibility, every need. For the fifteen minutes they might see a patient, we parents are with our children all the time. We see the issues, we feel the concerns, we research the possibilities. So we have to ask for more, demand more as necessary. And that's what I'll continue to do for both of my girls.

Monday, June 21, 2010

Now that's a celebration

Father's Day this year wasn't so much about Tom. Poor guy.

He actually spent it working on the dungeon that is our basement, attempting to make it a bit less dungeon-esque. We're hoping to sell the house VERY soon, and he wants to make it as livable as possible for the next owner(s). So what if we've lived in a virtual dungeon for the last seven years.

But whatever...

Father's Day didn't quite dawn the way I'd envisioned. I figured it would be like years past. I'd get up with the girls, make breakfast for everyone, we'd lay around in our pajamas all morning, get dressed around 11ish and so on.

Instead, the girls and I were dressed and heading out the door at 9am for the local Redi-Med.

Saturday found Alyssa laying around beneath a blanket in 90 degree weather. We do not have air conditioning in our house, so, no, it wasn't cold in there. Around 3pm, I had a sudden "Duh!" moment. I went and got the thermometer and took her temperature. It was 100.9. Definitely a fever. But she had no other symptoms so I continued as we'd been going all day. I gave her popsicles, lemonade, water, grapes, etc along with a dose of Kroger brand children's fever reducer.

Fevers don't really bother me all the much until their hovering around the 102 mark. Yes, let it be known that this is what we call foreshadowing...

Around 8pm Saturday night Olivia woke up from having fallen asleep at 6. She was extremely unhappy. She was also very hot. Her little hands were like fire.

I held her all night while she alternately shivered and sweated on me.

Sunday morning I took her temperature and it was 101.9. Right at that worry mark. I know.

Alyssa was down to 99.8, so still higher than normal but getting better.

Still, I wouldn't have packed them into the car for the trip to Redimed if it hadn't been for Olivia wailing at 6am that her ear hurt.

We don't take ear pain lightly in our house. Having had tubes placed in her ears at 8 months old, O has fought ear infections most of her life, poor baby.

So off we went. And it was confirmed, she's got infection in both ears.

We headed to Walgreens to fill her prescriptions and then to Walmart for donuts. Now that's a breakfast. Poor Tom didn't get his Father's Day breakfast, other than a chocolate iced donut. Obviously, he survived the disappointment.

And hey, we bought him a watermelon as a Father's Day gift. See, we were thinking of him, even in the midst of ear infections and fever.

By the way, Alyssa came away with a stern order to stay inside until she'd been fever-free for 24 hours without medication. But no ear infections for her, so I'm counting that as a plus for the day.

Thursday, June 17, 2010

Let the Tired Sleep

A few months ago, I wrote about late naps (on my other blog and was all about the NO, it can't happen, she'll never sleep again.

Well...I'm trying a new attitude.

When I got to my mom's house the other day, after going to pick up my brother and nephew, it was near 5:30. And there sat my mom in the rocking recliner with a sleeping Olivia sprawled across her lap.

Alyssa greeted me at the door in her underwear. She was being a horse. It's what she does.

My first thought was, "Oh crap, now O's never going to sleep tonight."

But instead of saying that, I told my mom, "Let me go to the bathroom and I'll take her."

And that's what I did. I settled into the rocking recliner and held Olivia close, kissing her head and patting her back.

I've realized a few things since that last 5pm nap. One, she's not going to nap forever. I should relish these moments of closeness with her.

Two, she's only going to be three a little longer. I love three! Three is so funny and silly and sleepy.

Three and most importantly, if she's sleeping, she must be tired. So what if she naps from 4:00pm until 8:30pm. Which is the hours she slept the other night.

Once upon a time, I'd have been stressed out that she wouldn't go back to sleep that night until, oh 3am and her sleep would be screwed up for days and days. Well, that didn't happen this time. At 10pm, she and I went back to bed and she went right to sleep and slept through until 6am. It was great. And she was well rested, which she obviously needs.

So I'm trying to be more zen about naps and sleep times. Yes, yes, we have a typical bedtime though summer has, so far, been much more relaxed. But if a child who usually doesn't fall asleep at 4pm is doing so? She must be tired.

And everyone knows, I'm all about the sleeping.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Potty Time

We've been trying to potty train Olivia.

By 'we' I mean, my mom and I have been trying to work with Olivia so that she recognizes the urge to pee and tells us when that happens.

And she's doing well. She is...when my mom or I are around to remind her to use the toilet.

Tom? Well, he tries. But when the girls are in his care, he's often busy around the house and not paying attention to the cues that Olivia gives.

And she does give cues. I've learned that if she comes up and just stands beside me, she has to pee. If she's pulling at her clothes around the crotch area, but not pulling at her actual crotch, she has to pee. If she's leaning against something with her head down, she has to poop.

See, this potty training thing is a lot of work! Not for the kids but for the adults in their world.

We have to keep vigil on these little trainees.

When we were working with Alyssa, there were times when I was ready to just throw in the pee-soaked towel and just put a diaper on her. No one ever goes to kindergarten in a diaper, right?

Except...well, Olivia has 5p-. Which means she has universal low muscle tone. Kids with 5p- often don't achieve full control over their bladder/bowels until the early teens. Olivia is three and a half.

Low muscle tone means she might not be able to hold her pee as well as typical kids her age. It also means she has to work harder to poop than others because 'universal' means she's weak all over, from the inside out.

But she's doing it! We've been working with her for three full weeks now and she rarely has an accident when in the care of me or my mom. Tom? Well, again, he's often busy and doesn't ask her as often as she needs to be asked. And he takes no for an answer.

I don't. I'll ask her if she has to pee and if she says no, I accept that. And then I ask her ten minutes later. And if she says no this time? I'll suggest that she try to pee anyway. She's been known to protest, saying, "But I don't hafta pee!"

And I'll tell her, "I know, but try anyway, okay? Please? I wanna do the pee pee dance."

And she tries. And she pees. And I dance. And we high-five. It's awesome.

I'm very proud of her. She's trying very hard and doing very, very well.

And this time around? Yeah, it's still a lot of work. But having gotten beyond diapers with one kid, I know that the work is worth it to be diaper-free. I can't wait for the day that O is wiping her own butt too.

Monday, June 14, 2010


I have been known to be a mean mom. Yes, it's true. I have made my children finish their green beans before letting them have ice cream (well, Alyssa. Olivia loves green beans and on some days would prefer them to the ice cream.)

On the last day of Alyssa's career as a first grader, I'd managed to get a "You're mean!" out of both girls before 7:15am.

"My work here is done," I announced, thinking I should go back to bed since there was no way I could accomplish more than being mean to a seven year old and a three year old in the first 45 minutes they were awake.

What had I done that was so very evil?

Well, Olivia declared my meaness when I made her pee on the potty. I know, the evil is never ending.

Alyssa decided that I was probably possessed when I put more toothpaste on her toothbrush after she washed it all off before even putting the thing in her mouth.

But you see...I'm okay with being mean.

I'm not here to be their friend. These girls will have friends. Lots of them. Some will lead them astray and other will pull them back. Some will push them out of their comfort zones and others will always be on their side, no matter what choice they make.

I am their mother. It is not my job to be their friend. I'm here to parent them. To teach them right from wrong. To comfort them when they're hurt but also to teach them not to hurt others. I'm here to make sure they don't eat ice cream for breakfast and that they get at least a vegetable a day.

I have friends who probably think I'm way more lenient than I should be. I'm okay with that. We all make choices we feel are best for our family.

Yes, my girls still sleep with me. Yes, I hate it. But at heart, I'm a lazy mother. I'm a lazy, mean mom. There are some things I won't let my laziness get in the way of, such at the toothpaste. There are other things that just aren't worth the fight, such as buying a small toy at the zoo we get to once a year.

I want my girls to know love, kindness and joy. I also want them to learn responsibility, self-control and how to be kind to others. It is my job to teach them common courtesy, since it seams that it isn't so very common these days.

So bring on the "You're mean!" I take those moments as signs that I'm doing my job as their mother.

I will continue to retort, "Someday, you'll thank me for this!" I've totally become my mother!

Friday, June 11, 2010


As I gleefully took the clippers from beneath the bathroom sink outside to Tom who was showing Olivia the cute red chair he'd brought out for her to sit in for her haircut, it never occured to me that the cut we were about to give her would cause people to think she'd had lice. LICE?! Holy crap, no. She didn't have lice.

I would like to thank one of my dearest friends, the lovely Mandy (aka Amanda) for pointing out that she'd have feared that very thing were she comtemplating giving her child such a haircut.

See, Olivia has been pulling the left side of her hair out for, oh, about two years.

She sucks her right thumb and pulls at her hair with her left hand.

I think it's more a habit than a compulsion, so I'm hesitant to call it trichotillomania. She's never been diagnosed as having that compulsion. Then again, we've never taken her to anyone who would diagnos such a thing.

So we cut her hair. Short. As in it's 1/4 of an inch in length all over her head. See the above picture.

She's still adorable, right? Sure, a bit on the boyish side, but still awfully sweet.

And she has all summer to let it grow back evenly. I hope.

Whenever I do anything with Alyssa's hair, Olivia demands that I do the same with hers. Except...Alyssa's hair is to the middle of her back. There are lots of options. Olivia's? Not so many options. And since Monday? None. But she's three, she doesn't seem to mind the shortness of her hair. In fact, she probably appreciates that she doesn't have to get it washed as often as her sister has to have her washed and that brushing thing? She's so over it.

Thursday, June 10, 2010


It's hard for the youngest child not to get babied by the rest of the family. Add in a few special needs and a youngest child who didn't start walking until she was 29 months old, and you have Olivia, a child who very much enjoys being the baby of the family.

My brother's son is an only child and the differences between him and Olivia are often striking. Jaxon is exactly a year younger than Olivia and yet he's so much more independent.

My mom watches Olivia four days a week and Jaxon one to two days a week. She mentioned recently that when it's just her and Jaxon, she can actually leave a room without him and he's fine for up to a half hour without coming to find her.

Olivia, on the other hand, will stand in the doorway, crying at my mom who is IN SIGHT out on the deck attempting to do someething that requires her to not have a three year old at her heels.

Some of this comes from the fact that Olivia has never had to be alone. She's never really had to entertain herself. She's always either had me, Tom or my mom or even Alyssa by her side, keeping her company.

My mom is still attempting to get her garden in but with the rain that has poured down this spring it's been tough. Yesterday, she thought that the three kids would play up at her swingset/kitchen area while she worked all of twenty feet away. But no. Alyssa wanted to 'help' and Olivia wanted to be where her sister was. So while Alyssa helped, Olivia stood at the side of the garden and whined.

My mom was not amused.

She ended up giving up on the garden for the day and taking the kids in for a snack. Yeah, the 'baby' got her way in the end.

It must be hard to be the baby.

Wednesday, June 9, 2010


When Alyssa went from kindergarten to first grade, I was all, "Oh my gosh, where did the time go." I think there may have been some hand-wringing in there for dramatic affect.

When she exited first grade last Wednesday there was nary a hand-wring in sight. Yes, yes, she's growing so fast and I'm losing my baaybeeee, but...well, I kind of like this new, more mature little girl that is emerging from the cocoon of whininess that has enveloped my child and kept her safe for, oh, the last three years or so.

Where kindergarten (have I ever mentioned how much I HATE it when people call it 'kindy'? If you're one of those people, please don't be offended, it just rubs me the wrong way. Call it a sensory thing.) taught Alyssa the hard and fast rules of school, such as speaking to an adult when spoken to (she's bad about this when I'm around, *sigh*) and raising your hand when you have a question. First grade taught her the more subtle nuances of school.

She made friends in kindergarten but there were more one on one friends. In first grade, she made groups of friends. She learned that there is a hierarchy and that she wants nothing to do with it. I love this about her. I also find it amusing that since she cares nothing about the hierarchy, those kids who deem themselves at the top of the hierarchy want to be her friends. Interesting, that.

Kindergarten taught her to count to 100 and beyond, first grade taught her to add and subtract.

She went from a few sight words and reading from word to word to chapter books read with cadence and emotion. She reads silently to herself as well as aloud to her sister.

Speaking of her sister, Alyssa seems to have grown into her role as the big sister. She is so very good to Olivia. Of course there are still moments of jealousy, when she points out that she never gets to sleep next to me anymore since Olivia sleeps in the middle of the bed (yes, yes we are co-sleepers. And yes, I HATE it but...we do it anyway.) But overall she seems to have come to a place where she sees the benefits of being the first-born.

She no longer talks in babytalk to get attention. Instead, she plays with her sister, teaching her to pretend, teaching her to be a horse, playing house and being the mom while her sister is the baby.

Some of this change could very well be because once Alyssa headed off to school, she no longer had to sit through thrice weekly therapies with Olivia as the center of attention. She was finally in a setting where SHE was the one people were paying attention to, people were teaching HER.

Gymnastics starts tonight for both girls. Olivia's class is first and then Alyssa's. I think Alyssa will enjoy it a lot just because she loves to throw herself around.

We're using the gymnastics as a sort of physical therapy for Olivia rather than pay for private therapy through the summer.

I can't wait to see how much they both grow from yet another area of experience.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010


So there's me, the wife/motherly type. There's my husband, Tom, who also happens to be the father of our children. I know!

And there are our daughters. Alyssa is seven and just finished first grade. She's awesome, wrapped in frustration and whininess, sometimes. But mostly, she's just awesome. At least Tom and I think so.

Olivia is three and a half. She's the baby. We're done having babies. Even if Olivia had been a model infant (she wasn't) we'd have been done after she was born.

She's all kinds of awesome too. She's silly, she whiny like her sister, she's tough and she's sweet, all rolled into one little bitty girl who just happens to have 5p-.

That's us.

As of today? We're (and by we, I mean Tom) trying to get our house ready to be listed and then SOLD. Yay.

I've been making a 65 mile one way commute for eight years. It sucks in all sorts of ways.

Let me count the ways it sucks to make that kind of drive:

291,000+ that is how many miles my car has on it. It's a Pontiac Grand Prix. I'm so very sad that there will be no more of these cars because this car? Is great.

The girls and I have to stay at my mom's house three nigths a week just to save ourselves getting up at 4:30 each morning to get to school/work on time.

I have to do all our laundry on the weekends because I'm gone all flipping week.

Tom misses out on the girls' lives three nights/four days a week.

It all just sucks. And construction/remodeling sucks too.

And yet? My life is not all suckage. It's actually pretty great. In fact, it's just this side of ordinary.