Elusive

Sleep has long been an issue for me and my kids.

Alyssa slept through the night exactly one time before she turned two years old.

Olivia was a pretty good sleep as an infant, but grew out of that around a year old and became, well, like her sister, less and perfect at sleeping through the night.

I'd heard of those kids who slept through the night at three months old and kind of just figured the parents were liars. I know, not a fair assumption but...it kept me sane during my sleep-deprived years.

Every time I saw a movie or television show where an adult would tuck an awake child into bed, tell them goodnight, leave the room and the child would GO TO SLEEP, I'd roll my eyes and think, "That doesn't really happen."

Except...it's happening in my house these days.

Alyssa, two months shy of her eighth birthday, can be tucked into bed, kisssed goodnight, wished sweet dreams and I can leave the room while she's still awake and ten minutes later, I can check on her and she'll be asleep.

I know!! Miracles do happen.

We fell into co-sleeping because I was so flipping tired that I was willing to do whatever it took to get Alyssa (and later Olivia) to sleep longer stretches.

These days, Alyssa is in her own bed.

Granted, her bed is still in my room, but again, we're in a new house, and Tom's not here all the time and so, for my own sense of safety and comfort, I like having her in the same room.

I know that by the time she's twelvish she'll be demanding her privacy and moving to her own room.

I'm okay with that too.

But the best thing ever? Being able to put her to bed witout having to lay with her until she sleep, and avoiding falling asleep myself.

Wow.

The things I can get done in the hours between 8pm and 10pm without tripping over kids who should be in bed. It's amazing.

I know...they should have been doing this years ago.

But they weren't and so...whatever.

I take what I can get and celebrate these milestones, however late they arrive at our home.

Nothin' But Net

Alyssa loves bounce houses. Our first dance marathon had one set up and I think Alyssa jumped for six hours straight. She jumped so long that her feet and legs hurt for days after.

This past weekend was no exception on the bounce house. She jumped and jumped and jumped. And when she wasn't inside jumping, she was sitting on the ledge on the outside, letting the kids inside bounce her around.

At one point during the dance marathon, I left the girls in the bounce house with Ally and snuck off to the bathroom. Ahh, the joys of peeing alone (even if in public, at least I didn't have to attempt to work around two little girls standing in the stall with me.)

When I ventured back to the bounce house, I found Alyssa looking, hmm, pensive? Alarmed?

I approached her and asked if she was okay.

She said softly, "I think I lost one of my teeth..."

"One of your teeth?" I repeated. "Where? Which one?" None of her teeth were loose enough to have fallen out on their own, at least I thought that was the case.

She opened her mouth and showed me that she was now missing both of her top front teeth.

I asked her where the tooth was.

She shrugged.

I asked where she'd lost it.

She pointed to the bounce house.

I asked, "Were you bouncing when it came out?"

She nodded. She was still a little shocked. The space where the tooth had been was slighly bloody, as is typical when a baby tooth comes out.

We headed back to the bounce house and started looking for a bit of white.

I gave Alyssa a drink of water and asked her if her mouth hurt.

She said it felt weird but didn't hurt.

I told her she'd get used to the missing tooth.

From inside the bounce house Ally asked us if everything was okay. I explained what had happened and that we were looking for the tooth.

She found it and handed it to Alyssa through the netting.

Eventually, Alyssa confessed that she'd been bouncing against the netting, back and forth and ended up in the net face-first. Her tooth had been snagged by the net and yanked out.

Her biggest concern? Her Gram is going to make her sing "All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth."

Yes, I had much fun the rest of the weekend singing that song to Alyssa's disgust. Olivia enjoyed my serenade even if Alyssa didn't appreciate my warbling.

And the Tooth Fairie did find her way to our hotel room the night A lost her tooth. That's one resilient Tooth Fairie. Just saying.

Looking at Alyssa these days, with those two teeth missing, I can't help but think of something a good friend from my college days said once, in disgust at another friend who couldn't shut up about corn on the cob (I think that was the reason for his comment. Julie can correct me if I'm wrong.)

"It's hard to eat corn on the cob with no fucking teeth."

Yes....it was funny when I was twenty-three.

And we're hoping that by the time corn on the cob season rolls around again, Alyssa's permanent teeth will have filled that adorable space.

Between the Lines

I'm guilty of reading between the lines. Or of interpreting someone's tone incorrectly.

This is probably one of the biggest issues that Tom and I tackle.

I read things in his words that often just aren't there.

I put my own spin, attitude into his off-hand comments.

And that's unfair.

I've admitted to having a lot of self-loathing coursing through my veins these days.

And I project that onto my husband, imagining that he finds me disgusting, everything about me, from my physical appreance, to my inability to keep up with the vacuuming and the laundry.

Yet...I don't think he really feels that way.

I do. I hate myself for being overweight. I hate that I can't keep the house cleaner. I hate that I can't be a better mother than I am.

I hate that I can't do it all.

And because I feel this way about myself, I feel like Tom must feel this way too.

He's never, not once, told me that he thinks this way.

He's never called me lazy or implied that he thinks I'm a subpar mother or homemaker.

But...I feel like his expectations of me are beyond my capabilities as a working mother.

I feel like he doesn't view most of what I do as contributing to the household. I don't think he believes that taking the girls to gymnastics or helping Alyssa with her homework is something that counts as things that have to be done to keep our household running.

Of course, I'm speculating. I don't know that he feels this way at all. Because I'm scared to ask.

I'm afraid that I'll hear him confirm my own feelings and that might break me.

So here I go, imagining the worst, hoping it's all in my head.

That's just stupid, huh?

Good

It was good.

The Dance Marathon. It was good.

Ally, our...greeter? No, she was more than that. She was the one who took care of Alyssa and Olivia, taking them to the bounce house, to the craft table, just being there to make sure they were having fun. Yes, Ally, she was awesome. Beautiful, sweet, obviously very smart (business major and all that.) She was so kind, making sure that Alyssa felt as welcome and special as Olivia.

Being back in Bloomington after 15 years...wow. I loved that place so much all those years ago. I loved being in school. I loved being AWAY at school. I loved being a college student.

It's still as beautiful, majestic as ever.

Dance marathons are loud. They're insane.

They raise over a million and a half dollars for Riley Hospital for Children.

Amazing! Inspiring. Heartbreaking to hear all the stories of all the kids helped by that hospital. So many tears, mostly of joy but some of sorrow, sadness, loss.

Our hotel was deemed 'uncreepy' by both A and O this weekend.

I was able to keep them both from looking into the windows that overlooked the indoor pool that was RIGHT across from the elevators we used several times.

Next year, if we're invited back, we'll go for both nights so we can make us of that pool.

Exhausting. Olivia fell asleep in my arms fifteen minutes before we went on stage to tell our story of how Riley hospital saved my sanity. I held my Riley kid in one arm, propped against my chest and held the microphone with the other hand. Kind of neat, in its own way.

I was taken back seventeen years to when I was one of those who stood on her feet for thirty-six hours. I remember it being 3am with five hours to go. I looked around at 7am, when these amazing people only had one hour to go and watched some fighting to stay awake, still on their feet.

Then I joined in the cheering and bouncing as the total was announced.

Exhilirating. So much pride in themselves and each other for what they were doing, what they'd done. What we've all done to get to that point.

Relief when it was all over. When we pulled into our garage and unpacked the car, the mundane task of doing laundry, unloading the dishwasher, feeding my children. Glad to be back to the 'real' world. Excited to do it all again in three weeks when we head to West Lafayette to attend Purdue University's dance marathon and share our story again and watch the exhaustion, the exhiliration, the joy, the tears.

What an amazing life, all the way around.

The Other Side of the Microphone

The girls and I are heading south and slightly west this weekend to Bloomington, Indiana to attend the IU Dance Marathon.

This will be my second dance marathon as a Riley mom.

The first was Purdue University's dance marathon last year. I actually managed to speak to the crowd without sounding like an auctioneer.

Though this will be my second dance marathon as the parent of a child who has been helped by Riley Hospital for Children, it will be my third dance marathon to have attended.

Back in 1993, I was a participant in the Indiana University Dance Marathon.

What an experience.

It was one of those things you're glad you did but that you swear that you will never, ever do again. It was exhilirating, exhausting, thrilling, terrifying.

I remember one of my very best friends, Elizabeth, asking me early that academic year if I'd do the dance marathon with her. I'd never heard of it and had no clue what it was all about, but I'm always willing to go on adventures with good friends. I've been blessed to have friends who feel the same. (St. Louis, right Julie?)

So when I agreed to E's request, I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

I attended the meetings, the gatherings, the training sessions where we were given tips on fund raising. But I didn't really get why we were raising funds. Sure, sure we were benefitting Riley but, at 22 years old, that didn't mean so much to me.

What I remember about those 36 hours on my feet is the noise. I remember the crowds, the chaos, the orange plastic fencing they put up to keep the spectators on one side and the 'dancers' on the other. I remember being allowed to sit for five minutes at a time while we ate and for another few minutes every few hours while volunteers rubbed our backs and feet. But it was never enough.

The exhaustion set in about 24 hours in and we still had twelve hours to go.

I remember people getting on stage and talking but I don't remember what they said. And quite honestly, I don't remember seeing a single child there.

The dance marathon I attended last year was so much different. For me, at least. I was a Riley mom. I was on the other side of the microphone. I was the one talking about my Riley kid. I was the one telling how much Riley Hospital for Children helped our family.

I was the one watching these amazing college students make both of my kids feel special. I watched them dance with Olivia and color with Alyssa. I watched them hold Olivia on their shoulders so she could watch another child dance on stage.

I stood back and took it all in, this time, the exhaustion wasn't there because, as a mom, I got to go sleep in a comfy hotel room (about which Olivia declared, "I don't like this creepy house.") and go back, refreshed to watch these tired, amazing people celebrate as the total donation was announced.

It's an amazing experience, one I'm going to do again this weekend and again in about three weeks at Purdue again.

How lucky am I that I have been on both sides of the microphone? Why was I so blessed to be surrounded by such amazing people who care so deeply about my kid and all sick kids who need a hospital like Riley?

This will be my first time back in Bloomington in about 15 years. I spent five years of my life there and then didn't look back. I've missed that place and feel so very lucky to be going back for this very reason. I can't wait to show my girls a place that made such a big impact on my life.

And quite honestly, I have to say that I prefer this side of the microphone. I might miss the body I had in my early twenties (one I didn't appreciate AT ALL, I totally thought I was fat, so stupid!) but I don't miss that life. I've lived that life and I'm so very blessed to get to live this one now. This life that has put me on this side of the microphone.

Fast

I've been accused of being a fast talker on more than one occasion.

Okay, I've lost count of the number of times people have told me that I talk really, really fast.

The most recent was during a visit to the bank.

It was a Saturday morning. The girls and I were on our way to buy groceries and I needed to cash a check and make a payment to my student loan. (I know, forty years old and STILL paying off my college loans, so very, very sad.)

Anyway, while there, the girls were being good, as they are while in public. Seriouly, they're actually pretty well behaved whenever we're out and about.

I was telling the teller that I'd had some trouble with the online services of our bank.

I explained that I'd like to make my payment online but I can't actually access my checking and saving accounts that way. I can get to my dad's accounts and the savings accounts I set up for the girls but not my own accounts.

She suggested I meet with one of their 'banking assistants.'

She said, "With the way you're talking and those sweet girls behind you, I can see that you're a busy woman, maybe a bit overwhelmed."

Whoa!! Overwhelmed?

Not so much because of banking issues, but whatever. I smiled, gathered my circling children and left the building with my cash and my receipt for having made my payment.

My great grandmother visited from Mississippi way back in the late 80s/early 90s. She and I were having a lovely conversation when she put her soft, wrinkled hand on mine and said, "Lawdy, honey, but you talke so fast I can't understand you."

I attempted to slow down.

When my current boss first started with this company about three years ago, he suggested that I SLOW DOWN when making an announcement over the paging system.

This summer I needed to tell one of our temps, the teenage son of a full-time employee, that he needed to go to to the temp agency and fill out some papers.

I was mid sentence when he looked at me in awe and said, "Wow, you talk really fast."

I don't know what the point of all this is.

Maybe just to say that it's not a sense of being overwhelmed that makes me talk so fast so much as I often feel like I have so much to say and so little time to get it all out.

Who knows? Alas, at least I can come here and spew all those random, pointless thoughts and not actually bother anyone. Right?

Very, Very Bossy

Olivia seems to have decided to get a headstart on the bossiness that seems to come with being four years old.

Last weekend during breakfast, she announced, "When I am doing eating, I am taking a bath."

Tom and I shared a look and I replied, "You are?"

She nodded wisely and said, "I need to wash my butt."

Well, okay then. I mean, honestly, you can't argue with that kind of logic, right?

She got that bath.

Along with this bossiness she's developed this sense of urgency. Everything is very extreme.

Last night on the three-mile drive from my mom's to our house, O announced, "I'm very, very hungry."

This morning, in the dark hour between 5 and 6, she told me, "My butt is very, very itchy."

Hmmm, not only is she on the extreme side of bossy, she seems to be preoccupied with her butt...which...well, she's four.

Admittedly, I find it all very amusing. My husband? Not so much. Remember, he tends to be the prudish adult in the family when it comes to words like butt and fart.

But the bossiness? While sort of endearing right this minute, could get old very fast as she attempts to tell me what to wear, how to do brush her sister's hair, what she's going to eat (ice cream and pie to not constitute dinner, no matter how much I might wish it did.)

But for now I'm enjoying this independent streak and taking it all in from this girl some doctors said might never talk.

Keep on with your bossy self, Baby O.