ON BOOKS ~ Storytellers...

My family roots are in the South. When I visit my extended family, I am surrounded by expressive storytellers who make everyday occurrences sound fantastical, no matter how many times you've heard them told. So I suppose I am spoiled, having grown up with that level of storytelling as my gold standard.

My parents read to me and my brother throughout our youth, and shared family tales when we were old enough to find them entertaining. While I have the ability to craft a story in written form, and to deliver it orally in a way that captures an audience, I do NOT have the ability to think on the fly - to make up stories on the spot and deliver them around a campfire. Or to create an impromptu bedtime story when all the favorite books have been consumed. I also have a hard time recapturing the full essence of those family yarns - to remember all of the details that make your eyes glisten with anticipation and your belly ache from laughing. So no, I did not inherit those fantastic storytelling genes in their finest forms. But if you give me a book and a room full of kids, I can get them interested and hold their attention - teaching them a thing or two in the process.

So you can imagine my disappointment and utter bewilderment when I began bringing my toddler, Sammy, along to story times at the library, or to organized play groups which incorporate reading into circle time, and to play dates with other parents where an interlude with a book was a welcome respite to reckless games of chase, and discovered that truly very few of these grown-ups know how to make reading as fun for a child as the rush they have when flying down a slide.

Time and again over the past year or so I have had to sit on my hands and suppress the inner urge desperately begging me to tear a book out of the hands of the librarian, the facilitator, the volunteer, the parent - and take over the damn effort.

Because that's what story time feels like in the hands of such folk, not gifted with the storytelling gene. An effort. Sometimes it is an effort because the reading selection is just not the right level for the full age spectrum of the audience. Sometimes it is an effort because they obviously didn't bother to read the book ahead of time and can't focus on anything beyond getting the words right. Sometimes it is an effort because they are shy in front of a group that includes kids and their parents. Sometimes it is an effort because they don't know how to compete with surrounding distractions.

For me, it's simple - innate in a way. If you love books, and the particular stories within them, you want to share that joy of experiencing the tale for the first time. And you will do anything it takes to make sure you don't blow your one shot. So for anyone who has the occasion to read to a child, here are my suggestions to make the process a positive one for everyone involved:

1. Know Your Story. Select books to read that you have read yourself. Know the plot. Know the themes. Know the characters. Know the illustrations. The more you already know, the more you can focus on the experience for your audience. If you don't have the luxury of advance reading, take it slow from page to page - ask your audience questions you're considering yourself when wondering what happens next. But always make sure that you know whether or not the book contains anything potentially sensitive or upsetting for your specific little one(s).
2. Know Your Audience. Select books that are geared for the right age range. Books that are not too long or not too simple for the children you are reading to. Books that encourage movement for younger ones, and books that encourage rhyming or refrains for older ones. Consider how many children may be tasked with listening and save more detailed reads for smaller groups, and find an oversized book for large crowds so everyone can see.
3. Engage, Encourage, Interact. Attention spans are fleeting. Some children's bodies may be more inclined to work on their gross motor skills than their listening ones. Some children may have read your selection one too many times already. Others may not understand the book's main points and lose interest as a result. As the storyteller, your most important job is to be the most interesting option in the space. Capture their attention with energetic language. Introduce participatory actions for the children to do throughout the tale. Give them shakers to shake, or toys to squeak. Refrains to shout or motions to make during repetitive spots. Put something in their hands and give them something to do. This captures their attention, encourages listening and allows for participation - which will keep their attention focused on you, your story, and the lessons it introduces.
4. Have No Shame. You don't need to pretend you're up for an Oscar, but you should give the story's characters some life. Perform for your audience - act out the way a character walks, use silly voices to distinguish one from another, use props to emphasize key elements, use music, use puppets. It only takes a little expression to bring a page to life for a child, and when pages come to life, they stick more strongly in a child's memory.
5. Speak Up. There is no rule that stories should be read quietly. Have you ever spent time in the children's section of a library? It can be one of the noisiest places on earth. So wherever you read to a child, be it in a library, in a school, in their room at night - make a joyful noise. A commanding voice attracts attention. Extra emphasis on certain lines provides entertainment and keeps their focus. And the natural ebb and flow of crescendos within a tale teaches conversational skills and more than anything else, it makes a story a heck of a lot more interesting and fun for all involved.
6. Move On. Not all audiences can be won over. You could deliver the most magical read-aloud in the history of mankind, and still have your audience crying, day dreaming, disrupting or picking their nose out of total boredom. They just may not be in the mood. It's not you - it's them. So know when the battle is an uphill one and make a strategic move. Stop in mid-book - with a dramatic flair. This alone will often redirect their interest back to you and what you are doing. Ask them to sing a song instead that fits the book's general feel. Play a game that could be connected to the book's character or theme. Pull out some crayons and paper for them to draw their own ending. The best part about a story is that it can be changed. It can be told in different ways - in different mediums. Disinterest in the traditional approach can often be a window of opportunity to explore creativity and expression. Becoming a part of the story, or having a chance to tell your own can be very empowering, and fun, for children especially.

There is no such thing as a child who doesn't like stories. There are certainly those who find listening to them a challenge - especially if the subject matter or reader is not all that interesting. But if you give them the opportunity, you just may discover that those children are the best storytellers of all. 

ON MUSIC ~ Meet The Beatles...

Before Sammy arrived, I remember everyone advising that when you have a child, it is so important for the parents to make time for each other together, alone. And while I agree that there should always be room for grown-up time, date nights and kid-free zones, I also think it is equally important for each parent to have their own alone time with their kid.

After Sammy came along, I chose to revamp my career path by finding a completely different full-time job that I could do from home, under flexible hours, that would allow me to be the primary caregiver in our son's life. So, while Sam does go to day care a couple of days a week, he is with me the majority of the time. I love the quality time that we get to spend together, the influence that I am able to have and the opportunity this one-on-one time provides me as a witness to our little guy's discoveries and growth. I am also entirely exhausted.

This is why I am the world's biggest champion of Daddy time. And thankfully, Sammy's Daddy embraces it as well. Andy gets Sammy up every morning; their morning routines just happen to coincide, benefitting my love for extra sleep. On the days that Andy is not bringing Sam off to day care, I roust myself up after they've had their breakfasts so that Andy can head out to work. This window of time in the morning has become a pretty special time for them. Instead of playing games or reading books, Andy has Sammy fully immersed in a Beatles education.

As you may or may not know, Andy (aka Concert Boy) is a huge fan of music. He loves to listen to it, collect it and study its history. He would totally be your phone-a-friend for all sorts of musical trivia. One of his favorite groups is The Beatles and therefore, his sister once gave him a box of coasters depicting each of the Beatles' album covers. Sammy used to love to play with them - stacking them, taking them in and out of the tin box. At some point, this evolved into Andy playing Beatles songs from the corresponding album that Sammy selects from the coaster collection.

As a result, Sammy is now learning the Beatles catalogue. He knows which albums Andy has on his phone and which Andy needs to hurry up and download. He knows which songs are on which album. He can tell you with certainty that the Beatles' names are George, Ringo, John and Paul. And he can identify them as well. He may not yet know the correct names for the songs (he gives them his own names), but he knows what track they are on each album and can press the right number to hear what he's in the mood for. He does not have the album names down yet, which is something Andy wants to emphasize. I'm kind of surprised he has not assigned Sammy any Beatles homework for me to work on with him during the day.

Sammy loves his Daddy. And in addition to Sammy, his Daddy loves the Beatles. It is only natural that Sammy would end up loving the Beatles too. I know Sammy's Daddy would love Sammy even if Sammy preferred Mommy's favorite, Led Zeppelin, but this common bond makes their alone time more special. I may not be a morning person, but it always brings a smile to my face when I come downstairs to find them in the middle of a Beatles lesson; Sammy in Daddy's lap, coaster in one hand and phone in the other, both singing away to Yellow Submarine (track #6 by the way, on Revolver).

Sammy's Beatles Playlist, in no particular order (his favorite album is Revolver and he appears to have an affinity for Ringo):

1. Yellow Submarine - Revolver (aka Submarine Song)
2. Octopus's Garden - Abbey Road (aka Octopus Song)
3. Good Day Sunshine - Revolver (aka Sunshine Song)
4. Doctor Robert - Revolver (aka Christopher Robin Song - Robin/Robert? not really sure why)
5. Drive My Car - Rubber Soul (no aka, he's got this one down)
6. Help! - Help! (no aka, he's got this one down too, with bravado)
7. And Your Bird Can Sing - Revolver (aka Bird Song)
8. Nowhere Man - Rubber Soul (no aka yet, fairly new preference)
9. Here Comes The Sun - Abbey Road (aka Sun Song)
10. Good Night - The Beatles/White Album (no aka, knows it by name and listens to this at night right before bed)

ON SPORTS ~ Grand Lamb...

Sammy Sam LOOOOVES baseball. Shocker - I know. He went to his first big league game at Fenway Park on their last home game of the regular season. It, like so many of their games this year, was a win. He got to see his favorite player, Big Papi, hit a home run right near our seats, and learned how to sing "Sweet Caroline" along with the Fenway Faithful.

He has been watching the playoffs with earnest, doing laps around the kitchen and flopping onto the ottoman declaring himself "SAFE!" He enjoys chanting "Koji, Koji, Koji" when Sox closer Koji Uehara slams the door on a victory. When he can't watch the games because he's sleeping, he finds joy in the highlight clips on mommy's laptop the next morning.

His favorite moments of course have been the Grand Slams by Big Papi and Shane Victorino. To him, these are things that should happen all of the time. He doesn't know how special they are in the nature of baseball - especially playoff baseball. To Sammy, they are just "Grand Lambs" for the Red Sox, which seem to make his mommy and daddy very happy. And that makes Sammy very happy.

He is getting for bed right now; his daddy putting on his PJ's after a bath. He won't be able to watch the World Series live, but he's in the spirit. He is singing Sweet Caroline loud and strong and completely off key. Not unlike his rendition of Take Me Out to the Ball Game below. It may hurt your ears, but it is sweet music to mine every time. GO SOX!

ON HOME ~ All The Write Moves...

At the age of 45, writer Regina Brett wrote a column for the Cleveland Plain Dealer listing 45 lessons that life had taught her thus far. As a breast cancer survivor, many of those lessons were learned the hard way. Five years later she added five more lessons rounding her list up to 50 and turned her popular list into a book called God Never Blinks. I found her list to be entertaining, inspiring and thought provoking. I thought I would go through each of her lessons learned and write about how that lesson has or has not come up in my own life, now that I am over 40 and feel old enough to have finally learned something.

"A writer is someone who writes. If you want to be a writer, write."

~ LESSON #18

(I must first preface my thoughts on the above by saying that I discovered, after 45 "50 Lessons" posts, that the chain letter of this list that I was working off of was quite inaccurate in the order of Ms. Brett's actual list. I went back and corrected all of my previous entries to match the correct Lesson number. Which is why you find me covering Lesson #18 just now. For myself, who values accuracy and proper quotation, this is annoying. For you, it shouldn't make any difference - the lessons and my thoughts are in the end, the point - not their order of appearance.)

This is the last of my "Lesson" posts. I have finally covered all 50 of them! It is more than a bit ironic that for a writer who hasn't written anything here in over three months, this lesson is to never stop writing.

Ah - but you see, I have not stopped writing. My writing has just been happening on different platforms, for a very different purpose. You may recall (or by now you may have completely forgotten; it has been so long) that I took on a new job that allowed me to work entirely from home while still being the primary care giver for little Sammy. This virtual role is generally administrative; office management in nature. But it also requires quite a bit of creative writing.

No, I'm not working on the next great American novel. Not by any stretch of the imagination. But I am creating enticing stories, designed to inspire readers into action and connect people in need. Sounds pretty fantastic, right? Hmmm. Well. When you approach it from that perspective, I suppose it does. You see, the creative writing portion of my job occurs during the task of crafting job advertisements.

I work for a boutique recruiting firm for the high-tech industry. Part of my job is to manage the job search process - from drafting agreements, to writing, publishing and promoting ads, to assisting with search efforts, to overseeing bookkeeping for all placed positions. While a large portion of the talent that we deliver comes from our recruiters' direct sourcing efforts or our internal network and referrals, there are still many candidates who come to our virtual door purely in response to the ad they find online and within social media promotion.

It is a challenge to take a boring template job description and make it an edge-of-your-seat actionable job ad, that will filter the appropriate candidates and stand out from the sea of similarities in the want-ad world. Not only do I need to promote our client while disguising their actual identity (because if you know who they are, then you bypass my firm and go direct) but I also need to re-purpose the job description into original content that again, does not lead you direct to the client, but also does not penalize our website's SEO standing, as the duplication of existing online content will most certainly do.

On top of that, I am tasked with giving candidates more preferable detail. I don't just need to tell you about the company, the location, the salary and the requirements you need to have to be considered. I need to also tell you what things you will be expected to do and accomplish in this role. That last part is a rarity in the job ad world. Yet it is something that can weed out underqualified applicants, by giving more clarity on the actual responsibilities involved.

Because we tend to place senior/management/executive level roles, the most sought after talent is already employed. An ad needs to really sell the hiring company (our client), the opportunities a candidate would have, and the achievement path it provides. It needs to convince a highly talented candidate to leave their comfortable job for something else. Therefore, I approach our ads as marketing posts; not brief, elitist bullet-point ads that keep the interesting and helpful details at bay, attracting no one but the desperate.

This writing of job ads is not very exciting. In this format, and for someone (myself) lacking a strong knowledge base in the industry we serve, it is also a bit time consuming. But it is interesting. With each one, I learn about the varied careers out there, what they entail, and how competing companies can value very different qualities for, essentially, the same roles. And whenever a candidate engages with us in response to one of these ads, and goes on to be hired, I feel happy knowing I helped people connect in order to pursue new dreams together.

And then Sammy tugs on my leg and tells me that he tooted. Which in 2-year-old speak means he's got a messy diaper that just cannot be ignored.

A writer writes. In whatever format afforded them. Make the most of your opportunities for writing and approach them all with the same passion you would feel if you were, in fact, writing what you wanted to write most of all. It will make the effort more enjoyable, give you a sense of pride and hone your skills for the day when time belongs solely to you, for whatever writing you choose to do.

ON HEALING ~ Marathons Are For Families - Not Cowards

 

 My heart goes out to everyone devastated physically and emotionally from yesterday's horrific and cowardly act at the Boston Marathon finish line. I have been in those very spots myself over the years and can attest to the crowded, yet joyous environment you will find there. Marathon Monday is 26.2 miles of families, college kids and encouragement, celebrating the determination of amazing people. Marathon Monday is not fear, destruction and evil. When you watch the footage and review the stories from that day, look at the heroes. They were everywhere. Keeping that emphasis on the determination of amazing people.

ON HEALING ~ Groundhog Day...

At the age of 45, writer Regina Brett wrote a column for the Cleveland Plain Dealer listing 45 lessons that life had taught her thus far. As a breast cancer survivor, many of those lessons were learned the hard way. Five years later she added five more lessons rounding her list up to 50 and turned her popular list into a book called God Never Blinks. I found her list to be entertaining, inspiring and thought provoking. I thought I would go through each of her lessons learned and write about how that lesson has or has not come up in my own life, now that I am over 40 and feel old enough to have finally learned something.

"You can get through anything life hands you if you stay put in the day you are in and don't jump ahead."

~ LESSON #17

(I must first preface my thoughts on the above by saying that I recently realized, after 45 "50 Lessons" posts, that the chain letter of this list that I was working off of was quite inaccurate in the order of Ms. Brett's actual list. I went back and corrected all of my previous entries to match the correct Lesson number. Which is why you find me covering Lesson #17 just now. You will find the remaining lessons to be in random order. For myself, who values accuracy and proper quotation, this is annoying. For you, it shouldn't make any difference - the lessons and my thoughts are in the end, the point - not their order of appearance.)

Tell that to Newtown citizens. Because they need something to pull them through right now. Tell that to citizens across this country for that matter. We all need someone to lead us through this minefield of horror.

In this tragedy, staying put is the problem. I am stuck in that day. My mind won't let me jump ahead. And so getting through what life has handed me is problematic.

I know that the point of this lesson is to take things one day at a time. To not get so caught up stressing over all of the big picture details that you become too overwhelmed to survive the most basic and key steps. But I just want to skip that part. I don't want to process pain; utter torture of the heart and soul. I don't want to plod along and through challenges. I want mommy to kiss it and make it all better. Pat me on the head and send me off on my merry little way, joyful and carefree again.

Instead, I am stuck. Running in place. Groundhog Day. Over and over, experiencing fear in my heart and tears in my eyes. Trying to figure out a way to express my sorrow and support for folks in Newtown who will be forced to go through the depths of despair in order to pull through to the other side. A long and desperate emotional journey. One that they will try to forge through by focusing on something else fiercely that will allow them to move through one day into the next; another family member, a joyful memory, a new cause.

I have my young son to hug and hold tight. I think that I have time for the world to get its shit together, before I have to nudge him out of the nest and give him wings to fly. But we never really know how long that time is. It certainly isn't forever, so I choose to stay put in the day I'm in. To marvel at and treasure how we're living through today instead of living in fear of what tomorrow could bring. And that's how I'm moving through what life has dealt us. I'm the lucky one. I know that. And I feel less guilty about it because I appreciate it. But when I figure out a way to help the healing of Newtown, I'll be better able to sleep at night.

ON FUN ~ Even Santa Needs A Letter To Know What You Need...

Image courtesy Karen Harvey Cox

At the age of 45, writer Regina Brett wrote a column for the Cleveland Plain Dealer listing 45 lessons that life had taught her thus far. As a breast cancer survivor, many of those lessons were learned the hard way. Five years later she added five more lessons rounding her list up to 50 and turned her popular list into a book called God Never Blinks. I found her list to be entertaining, inspiring and thought provoking. I thought I would go through each of her lessons learned and write about how that lesson has or has not come up in my own life, now that I am over 40 and feel old enough to have finally learned something.

"If you don't ask, you don't get."

~ LESSON #48

(I must first preface my thoughts on the above by saying that I recently realized, after 45 "50 Lessons" posts, that the chain letter of this list that I was working off of was quite inaccurate in the order of Ms. Brett's actual list. I went back and corrected all of my previous entries to match the correct Lesson number. Which is why you find me covering Lesson #48 just now. You will find the remaining lessons to be in random order. For myself, who values accuracy and proper quotation, this is annoying. For you, it shouldn't make any difference - the lessons and my thoughts are in the end, the point - not their order of appearance.)

I've always felt I was a pretty secure person. Once I moved beyond those insecure teenage years of course. I am always encouraging people, girls especially, to be strong, and go after what they deserve. To not be shy. To not be afraid. Validate themselves by going after what means the most to them. I remind myself to muster up my own courage to do these things all of the time. So I'm not afraid to put myself out there and stick to my guns. But I am often ashamed to ask for what I need.

If no one knows that you are in need of something - be it money, love, or a break from the chaos - it is hard for them to provide what you could use the most. There are moments in time where you have to put aside your pride and be honest with those who can help. There is a tremendous sense of relief when you confess your needs. Because inevitably, those you reach out to come through. Without judgement. They come through because they care.

Think about when someone you care for is suffering. You wish you knew what to do. How to be of the most help. Your greatest desire is to provide relief and make things better. You feel lost and useless and bumble around with attempts to ease their burden, only to find that what you've offered or provided is the same thing everyone else is doing. Don't waste time. Your time, being troubled over what you don't have. Their time, trying to figure out what you need most.

I recently read a book by Anne Lamott about her life as a single mom during her son's first year. A friend came by on one particularly challenging day and asked her what one thing she really would like to have him do for her the most. She threw caution to the wind and decided to confess her greatest need at that moment - for her bathroom to be cleaned. And as ashamed as she was to admit it, the result was pure joy. Her friend happily scrubbed away and left her with a place to scrub away her own stress. She was honest. Most of us would have shooed our friend away, trying to put up a front of having it all together. What I'm trying to say is that sometimes, it is okay to ask for what we need. Someone to give us a ride, a loan, a night out, a hug.

Every now and then, such as with Ms. Lamott, you don't have to ask for what you need - someone asks you to tell them. When you get so lucky, for God's sake, answer honestly. And the rest of the time, don't wait for your friends to ask if everything's all right. If you're as good at hiding your reality as you think, they'll never figure it out. And you'll never get the relief you need. Time is precious. Ask. And ask again. Until you get what you need to make the time worthwhile.

ON FAMILY ~ Faithful Roots...

Image courtesy Hannah @ Mama Whimsy

At the age of 45, writer Regina Brett wrote a column for the Cleveland Plain Dealer listing 45 lessons that life had taught her thus far. As a breast cancer survivor, many of those lessons were learned the hard way. Five years later she added five more lessons rounding her list up to 50 and turned her popular list into a book called God Never Blinks. I found her list to be entertaining, inspiring and thought provoking. I thought I would go through each of her lessons learned and write about how that lesson has or has not come up in my own life, now that I am over 40 and feel old enough to have finally learned something.

"Read the psalms no matter what your faith, they cover every human emotion."

~ LESSON #38

I must first preface my thoughts on the above by saying that I recently realized, after 45 "50 Lessons" posts, that the chain letter of this list that I was working off of was quite inaccurate in the order of Ms. Brett's actual list. I went back and corrected all of my previous entries to match the correct Lesson number. Which is why you find me covering Lesson #38 just now. You will find the remaining lessons to be in random order. For myself, who values accuracy and proper quotation, this is annoying. For you, it shouldn't make any difference - the lessons and my thoughts are in the end, the point - not their order of appearance.)

My grandmother was a woman of strong faith. Both of my grandmothers were, in fact. I'm not sure if their devotion skipped some generations or what exactly, but my parents, and myself as a result, are not big churchgoers. My religious teachings essentially ended when I entered high school - probably a time they would have provided a lot of good moral lessons that I otherwise ignored altogether ;0) I always enjoyed church and the bible stories that were imparted to me as a child. As an adult, I decided to pick up my Bible and read through it, rather than reading whatever modern fiction was on my radar at the time. I do love a good classic after all.

The trouble I had with my attempt at reading the Bible was that it felt like reading Shakespeare - the language threw up a roadblock to something I wasn't completely enthusiastic about to begin with. Truth be told, when I entered into more unfamiliar territory the farther along I went, I got lazy and gave up.

My grandmother didn't give up. At her funeral, the preacher read to us from her own Bible. It was clear that my grandmother's favorite book was indeed The Good Book. Her love, devotion and personal connection to the scriptures inside were evident by the margins filled with her personal notations and well worn, dog-eared pages.

My grandmother's religious practice may not have filtered down to me in the same way, but I did inherit her propensity to fill my beloved books with myself; scribbles, notations, markings and turned down pages.

I want to revisit my grandmother's favorite book. I wish that I had her own copy at my disposal to infuse my reading with her personality. I believe that my uncle has this prized possession, as he should. But I do have a lot of her personality already within me. In fact, both of my grandmothers' personalities thrive within me. They were headstrong, forward thinking, fiercely protective, and devoted. I come from excellent stock. And because headstrong is a polite way to describe someone who is stubborn, I have no excuse but to begin my goal again and forge ahead.

And who knows, perhaps I'll decorate my Bible with my personality as I read along, leaving something for my son to have when he's in need of some extra guidance.

ON FAMILY ~ Casting Call...

At the age of 45, writer Regina Brett wrote a column for the Cleveland Plain Dealer listing 45 lessons that life had taught her thus far. As a breast cancer survivor, many of those lessons were learned the hard way. Five years later she added five more lessons rounding her list up to 50 and turned her popular list into a book called God Never Blinks. I found her list to be entertaining, inspiring and thought provoking. I thought I would go through each of her lessons learned and write about how that lesson has or has not come up in my own life, now that I am over 40 and feel old enough to have finally learned something.

"Life is too short for long pity parties. Get busy living, or get busy dying."

~ LESSON #16

(I must first preface my thoughts on the above by saying that I recently realized, after 45 "50 Lessons" posts, that the chain letter of this list that I was working off of was quite inaccurate in the order of Ms. Brett's actual list. I went back and corrected all of my previous entries to match the correct Lesson number. Which is why you find me covering Lesson #16 just now. You will find the remaining lessons to be in random order. For myself, who values accuracy and proper quotation, this is annoying. For you, it shouldn't make any difference - the lessons and my thoughts are in the end, the point - not their order of appearance.)

See that sorry mug up there? That's my sweet Sammy Sam, leaving the hospital with a full leg cast on his right leg. A week ago, we were out with my parents on a playground, after a celebratory birthday lunch for Grandpa. Riding down one of the big kid slides on my lap, Sammy's shoe caught the edge of the slide on an unexpected turn at the bottom. It was enough to twist his foot and leg to cause a "toddler fracture." It seems this often happens when kids get their foot stuck in the slat of their crib. Of course in my world, it happens with him in my arms, trying to have fun. Mother of the year.

After breaking his leg, Sammy was wrapped up in this cast and I was told that it could not get wet at all and it would stay on for three weeks. And since it is a full leg cast, disallowing him to bend his knee, walking would be out of the picture too. Well, Sammy had just spent the last two months perfecting this walking and running skill. He had been waiting his WHOLE LIFE to walk and run. And now it was off the table. He also is a big fan of baths. Ernie's "Rubber Ducky" tune could be the boy's theme song. So, you can imagine how bummed out he felt that first day.

As a baby, Sammy was miserable before he could crawl. He would sit there and flap his arms and wail for someone - anyone - to come by and pick him up and move him to wherever it was that he wanted to be. His demeanor changed dramatically when he figured out how to crawl. And it got even better when he figured out how to walk. Now that he found himself being held back in "being mobile class," he was furious. When he woke up to find that stupid cast still stuck on his leg wasn't just a bad dream, he fussed and whined and played the injury card every minute. And of course, I coddled and spoiled and begged forgiveness. And although he enjoyed the attention, the novelty wore off pretty quickly when he realized I still couldn't read his mind after 14 months of effort. If he wanted what he wanted, he'd have to come up with another way to just get it himself.

By the end of the first day after the cast arrived on his leg, he had climbed in and out of his toy basket and all the way up the stairs without a slip. It was a noisy climb - lots of thwacking of the cast on the wood stairs. It was a hairy climb - as his spotter, I had endless visions of a tumbling toddler needing a full body cast and calls to Social Services. It was a tiring climb - a deliberate pace and impressive display of upper body strength. But most importantly, it was a joyous climb - Sammy plopped on the landing at the top, turned around with a beaming smile and clap-clap-clapped with great pride. He had discovered that he wasn't trapped in a cast after all. He could still be independent.

The next day he improved upon the dragging crawl and perfected the crab crawl technique. From there, he began to prop himself up on furniture and then shuffled into some furniture surfing. By the fourth day, he was pushing his toy car around and around the kitchen as if there was no cast underneath his pant leg. On the fifth day, he started walking.

I am concerned that this walking skill may harm his healing process. At the hospital, I was told by the orthopedic doctor that Sam had no restrictions aside from water. But the doctor also said that Sam would not be ABLE to walk because of the cast. This child is able to do anything because of his powerful will to do everything his mother wishes he wouldn't. I need to call this doctor and find out if we need to strap Sammy to a board for the remaining two weeks or if his peg leg maneuvers will be okay; Sammy's definition of a walking cast is a little different from the medical one.

I am very thankful that our little boy has such a determined spirit. That he recognizes already how much better it is to do things than to wait for things to happen. By the time his Get Well Soon care packages arrived from sad friends and family, he was making his way to the door to say hello to the delivery truck. He does not want or need a pity party. Instead, you should feel sorry for Tedy, the cat. As you can see at the end of this video, he just can't catch a break...

ON FUN ~ Burden of Trust...

Image credit uncertain - found on Google Images with allowable sharing categorization

At the age of 45, writer Regina Brett wrote a column for the Cleveland Plain Dealer listing 45 lessons that life had taught her thus far. As a breast cancer survivor, many of those lessons were learned the hard way. Five years later she added five more lessons rounding her list up to 50 and turned her popular list into a book called God Never Blinks. I found her list to be entertaining, inspiring and thought provoking. I thought I would go through each of her lessons learned and write about how that lesson has or has not come up in my own life, now that I am over 40 and feel old enough to have finally learned something.

"God never gives us more than we are designed to carry."

~ LESSON #10

(I must first preface my thoughts on the above by saying that I just realized, after 45 "50 Lessons" posts, that the chain letter of this list that I was working off of was quite inaccurate in the order of Ms. Brett's actual list. I went back and corrected all of my previous entries to match the correct Lesson number. Which is why you find me covering Lesson #10 just now. What previously I believed to be #10 was in actuality, not a lesson of Ms. Brett's at all! It was a great mantra, to be sure. But something that was inserted into the telephone game of email chain letters along the way. Not of Ms. Brett's work. So for the remaining 6 lessons, you will find them to be in random lesson numbers. For myself, who values accuracy and proper quotation, this is annoying. For you, it shouldn't make any difference - the lessons and my thoughts are in the end, the point - not their order of appearance.)

None of us feel that we are Job. I'll bet Job didn't feel he was Job. Until it was demanded of him. And then he saw that he could bend more than he could break. That his incomparable suffering was born of something other than retribution. In other words, he didn't get what he deserved - he wasn't punished for being evil, wrong or shameful. He was being tested. And in the end was given reward. Now, it seems to me that replacement children aren't exactly a fair reward, but who am I to question these things? No one, according to God. Don't question - he's too busy with too many things as creator and manager of our entire humankind to spend time explaining it all to me. He is smarter, wiser and more experienced. Just do what I tell you to do, believe what I tell you to believe, and don't ever waver. Trust.

When stricken by grief, trust is all we have. Sometimes perhaps we deserve the emotional turmoil. Sometimes perhaps we don't. But that isn't the point. We all get thrown curve balls. My level of struggle should not be compared to your level of struggle. For my comparatively minimal troubles may be taking a mammoth toll on my psyche, my heart, my physical abilities. They are the limit of my burden. The most weight that I can carry. It doesn't mean that I am weaker, less willing or a big fat wimp. It means that my level of burden produces the same amount of toll that yours does on you.

Generally, women cannot run as fast, lift as much, throw as far as men. It is just in the way that we are put together. When we push the limits of our physical abilities, the way that our throat burns, our muscles ache or our heart races at the max level of exertion is the same effect that men feel at their max level of exertion. We push ourselves as far as we individually can handle and collectively share in the same after effects of our efforts.

I don't know how much I can carry in life. It may be that what I tote around seems far less than my neighbor, friend or family member. It may seem to be far more. But I trust that it will be the most that I can bear.

ON FUN ~ The Gift...

Image courtesy Stock.Xchng

At the age of 45, writer Regina Brett wrote a column for the Cleveland Plain Dealer listing 45 lessons that life had taught her thus far. As a breast cancer survivor, many of those lessons were learned the hard way. Five years later she added five more lessons rounding her list up to 50 and turned her popular list into a book called God Never Blinks. I found her list to be entertaining, inspiring and thought provoking. I thought I would go through each of her lessons learned and write about how that lesson has or has not come up in my own life, now that I am over 40 and feel old enough to have finally learned something.

"Life isn't tied with a bow, but it's still a gift."

~ LESSON #50

Every year, at the end of August, the local Boston sports talk radio station and the Red Sox TV broadcast station join together for two days to raise money for cancer. It is called the Jimmy Fund Radio Telethon because all proceeds go to support the Jimmy Fund at Boston's Dana-Farber Cancer Institute. The Jimmy Fund clinic primarily supports children battling all kinds of cancer. It becomes a safe haven for these kids. A place where the scary things they are dealing with melt away and they are allowed to feel normal, happy and strong. The nurses, doctors and staff at the clinic embrace every patient, their family and support group with unconditional love, patience and determination. They make these kids feel like a part of a community, instead of alone, angry and depressed while missing out on everything their friends are able to do.

This year's telethon raised $3,200,000 in 48 hours. How? Because they present a non-stop conversation with current patients, former patients and family members of patients who didn't survive. There are little tiny kids. Teens. College students. Grown men and women. All of them come on air to tell their personal story of cancer, the Jimmy Fund and Dana-Farber. You cannot listen to these folks without becoming angry. Angry that cancer is still winning out so often. Angry that sweet souls are put through the wringer. Angry that it could be different if there was just more funding for research and treatment. But these folks aren't angry.

They are THANKFUL. BLESSED. Every one of them relays this. Cancer brought them to Dana-Farber and the Jimmy Fund clinic. To people doing God's work on Earth. To friendships and memories that revitalize their lives. They MISS going to the clinic. They MISS getting to see their care providers all the time. That's how powerful a place it is. Through the most agonizing, scary and threatening times of their battle, the Jimmy Fund and Dana-Farber make it a positive experience.

I don't always get what I want out of my life. Sometimes that is because I am too lazy or too afraid to pursue it. Sometimes that is because things just aren't fair. And I start to feel sorry for myself. To lament. And then the Jimmy Fund Radio Telethon comes along and smacks me upside the head. I haven't had to fight for my life, or watch my child helplessly raise up his little fists to beat back cancer. Too many have. And they appreciate every second they have. The kind soldiers at the Jimmy Fund and Dana-Farber help them to see roses where there are mostly weeds. For these patients, the gift of life often seems like the booby prize. But the Jimmy Fund warriors do their best to hand out the shiniest bows to each and every patient coming through their doors.

ON FUN ~ Getting To Know You...

The Gal Herself has tagged us for the Liebster Blog Award, which comes with the following criteria:

• Each person must post 11 facts about themselves.
• Answer 11 questions the tagger has given you
• Choose 11 people and link them in your post. Tell them you’ve tagged them - no tag backs.
• Give 11 questions for the people you’ve tagged.

It annoys me when people hijack a concept and morph it into something entirely different without changing the name. Kind of like how The Count of Monte Cristo "the movie" (circa 2002) should have been called "Happily Ever After," giving fans of the book a head's up that they needn't bother wasting a few hours being pissed off at the completely different plot. I wasn't even that huge a fan of the book and even I was enraged by the cinematic "interpretation."

The Liebster Blog Award has evolved over the years. It seems that a few years ago its intent was to promote bloggers with minimal followers; to give them some props and increase their exposure. Actually, it seems that even a few months ago, others simply had to acknowledge, thank and pass along this award. Yet somehow, by the time it arrived on The Gal's blog threshold, it had morphed into a complicated set of requirements involving "getting to know you" questions. The Gal decided to add us to her shortlist for this award, which translates from German into "Dearest" Blog Award. Luckily for The Gal, I like getting to know people by answering and creating questions. And so I have very graciously accepted this award.

It has been a few years since anyone gave anything out to me. Am I just unpopular without any readership these days or have you noticed that the award frenzy fell by the wayside a while ago in the blogosphere? Maybe it's just that I live within a more veteran niche of bloggers now and awards are for newbies. But The Gal has been around this blogosphere a lot longer than I have, so it is more likely that I am no longer cool enough for award consideration. As a result, I have decided to respond to the award's current "11 Things About Yourself" criteria on behalf of little Sammy Sam, who is definitely a newbie:

1. I will be tall enough to play on the Olympic Basketball Team in a few months. (I get this from Daddy)
2. I may look like Manute Bol though; I am quite a string bean. (I must get this from my Uncle Nate - Mama & Daddy, not so much these days)
3. If the Flock of Seagulls want to reunite I could take over as lead singer; my hair forms a natural mohawk which is not troublesome to me in any way. (I get this from Daddy - you should see his bed head when I take off his hat in public)
4. I have incredible dance moves that involve shaking my mohawk'd head just so. (I get this from Daddy - you should see his Travolta "point")
5. I enjoy spa treatments, but skip the facials. Sunscreen, or any lotion applied lovingly, is fine with me - except on my face. (I get this from Mama, who tells me her only facial was a train wreck)
6. I can play with any kind of balls all day long. (Insert getting this from Daddy joke here)
7. I am hooked on jingles. I can get to the TV in two seconds flat whenever I hear that Southwest tune for the commercial with the balls being tossed in the air. (You should hear my Mama's jingle catalog)
8. The library brings out the best in me - lots of carpeted space to cover, endless books to pull off of shelves, a puppet show castle, train table and a salt water fish tank. I want to be here forever. (I get this from Mama)
9. I hate vegetables. There is no way that the yummy bread I scarf down has zucchini AND carrots mushed in there.(I get this from Mama too)
10. If I don't make it as a basketball player, I may become the next Michael Phelps. Water is awesome - from a faucet, in a tub, through a hose, at the lake. It's the waves that scare me - pool laps here I come! (I get this from everyone but Grammy, who doesn't know how to swim and therefore hopes I avoid her fear)
11. Everybody's Got Something To Hide Except For Me And My Monkey. My special lovey is a blue, fleece, baby-sized blanket with a monkey head and little monkey arms sticking off the top. It has a green star stitched in and the tag does not reveal its maker. No one knows who gave him to me and so I do the best I can not to lose him. He is my everything and allows me to feel comfort when Mama and Daddy can't climb into my crib with me. (I get this from Mama who still has her Cuddle bear and from Daddy who loves The Beatles and keeps singing that song to me)

And now for The Gal's questions for us, about us. I'll make these from my "grown-up" perspective simply because Andy has fallen asleep on the couch and Sammy isn't capable of speaking in English. Plus, I don't know any Latvian translators (I seriously think that's what he's picked up somewhere in a playgroup):

1. What's Your Oldest Memory? Sledding. With my Dad. In our front yard in North Carolina. Must have been a celebratory dusting when we lived near the mountains. I couldn't have been more than 3.
2. Who Was Your First Crush? Miss Richardson. She was my 1st Grade Teacher in the mid-Seventies when I lived in Columbia, South Carolina. She was probably in her 20's at the time. If you know Miss Richardson today, tell her that I thought she was the prettiest lady, other than my mama, that I ever saw and that because of her sock puppet lesson, I have been addicted to puppets ever since. In fact, I think I still have that sock puppet she lovingly helped me to bring alive. Lucky Sammy!
3. When Was The Last Time You Cried? I am not a crier. I get teary eyed a lot. But I only seem to shed tears when things are monumentally terrible and then they come in buckets. I guess I store them up or something. The last time I cried must have been on Sam's Very Bad Day. Back when he was just a month old. I couldn't generate enough breast milk to keep the little Hoover happy. This meant that whenever I held him, he could smell milk but couldn't have what he wanted. Which pissed him off. Which made me feel inadequate. Either I couldn't provide the basic needs for my child or I couldn't comfort him when he was upset. And so we just cried. Together. Very long and very loud - especially on his Very Bad Day. At the end of that Very Bad Day we had out of town guests stopping by with their beautiful older children who had everything all together. I sat there for about two seconds with red rimmed eyes before I broke out into exhausted hysterics and had to sequester myself in Sam's room with him while I tried to nurse inadequately. My friend came and sat with me and told me how they had to use a vacuum cleaner to get their oldest to sleep for a few months. I felt much better knowing that all Sam needed was a hair dryer - so advanced.
4. How Often Do You Read The Newspaper? Rarely. First of all, I don't have time to read anything anymore. Because of that time-hogging Sammy Sam. Secondly, I couldn't possible read a real paper newspaper anymore due to the inky fingers and constant hand washing that Sammy Sam would require. I get the majority of my news from the local 6:00 broadcast, which I think may in fact be more obsolete than the newspaper. But when I want to know something before then, I go to the Boston Globe's online website and read their published news in a more modern format - which happens to be free.
5. What Is Something You Won't Scrimp On, No Matter How Tight Your Budget? I am very budget conscious but I despise coupon clipping. My mother used to make me hold her shoe box full of coupons when we went grocery shopping. I never enjoyed that job. I preferred looking around at all the things we couldn't buy. These days, I suppose the one item that is recurring on our credit cards and causing me the most guilt is my hair salon appointment. I blame this on my friend's wedding a few years ago. Prior to that I had my hair snipped at a chain cutting factory without a care in the world. Having my hair done at a salon by the owner lured me in and now I go every 6-8 weeks for a cut and color and a lot less in the budget to cover diapers and wipes. But I get over it. I feel better when I look better. I'm already a geriatric mom. I don't need the world to know this.
6. Do You Enjoy Your Time In The Bath Or Shower? Or Is It Merely For Hygiene/Grooming, Like Brushing Your Teeth? I've spoken about this very topic before.
7. Close Your Eyes And Think Of A Song. Which One Popped Into Your Head? "If You're Happy And You Know It." We clap our hands often around here.
8. What's The Biggest Dollar Bill In Your Wallet Right Now? There are no bills in my wallet right now. See #5. I paid in quarters today to get into the local State Park so Sammy could bask in the cool lake waters. Lucky for Sammy, his Daddy actually empties his pocket of change into jars each night.
9. You're Home. It's 9:30 At Night. You're Hungry. What Do You Snack On? Have you not read my Ode?
10. Are You A Felix (Neat Freak) Or An Oscar (Slob)? I am a converted Oscar. Meaning that I am very good at keeping things tidy, but not very willing to make things clean. I know that my slovenly nature is disgusting to others, and so I try very hard to create an illusion of neatness. With Sam's arrival, I have noticed a lot of OCD tendencies however. I sing this "Clean Up" song to him while putting his playroom back together before we move on - I learned this tune in his playgroup which I think may be a neat cult of some sort - neat as in tidy - not as in cool.
11. When Did You Last Send Someone A Card? It Could Be A Greeting Card, Or A Postcard. But You Had To Address It, Put A Stamp On It And Mail It. E-Cards Or A Card You Simply Handed A Person Don't Count. I wonder why handing someone a written card is not as valid as mailing it to them, Gal? I would think that a hand delivered card would carry a little extra weight. Putting it there, in their palm, with personal emotion. Or gently placing it in the screen door while tiptoeing away so as not to disturb your neighbor - who watches with great feeling as you think you've sneaked off without displaying that personal touch. I honestly think a personally delivered card takes chutzpah. Which is why the majority of mine are mailed. I don't want to look you in the eye while you decide to pick that very moment to open said card and read its private sentiments. I have been sending personal, handwritten cards for the past year. Thank yous to all of Sammy's loving tribe.

And FINALLY! The part where we create questions and assign them to other bloggers! To get to the depths of who you are and why you care! To learn about YOU! However - I have spent so much time crafting the rest of this post that I have no creative juices left to give this portion of the criteria its due. So instead, I ask ALL of you this:

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE BLOG POST - THAT YOU HAVE WRITTEN?

Leave your link in the Comments and we can accomplish the Liebster Blog Award goal; getting to know each other without a bunch of rules to follow ;0)

ON FAMILY ~ Milestones...

Sammy had a busy week. He turned a year old. He tasted cake and frosting for the first time. He had a ginormous BBQ in his honor with family and friends, a pinata, a rain storm, more cake and lots of presents and balloons. Then he spent a few days exploring all of his presents that require their own addition to the house. He had his doctor check-up where he got a gold star, and a couple of extremely painful shots that snuck right up on him and made him cry buckets. He ditched his bottles and went straight to milk in a sippy cup without complaint. Oh, and he learned to do this...

ON FAMILY ~ Tedy's Choice...

At the age of 45, writer Regina Brett wrote a column for the Cleveland Plain Dealer listing 45 lessons that life had taught her thus far. As a breast cancer survivor, many of those lessons were learned the hard way. Five years later she added five more lessons rounding her list up to 50 and turned her popular list into a book called God Never Blinks. I found her list to be entertaining, inspiring and thought provoking. I thought I would go through each of her lessons learned and write about how that lesson has or has not come up in my own life, now that I am over 40 and feel old enough to have finally learned something.

"Yield."

~ LESSON #49

Yield, verb - To surrender or submit (oneself) to another.
Sammy is about to turn a year old the end of this month. Of all of the wondrous things we've witnessed since he joined our little Bumble world, perhaps the most amazing is that not once has our beloved cat, Tedy, raised a paw towards him in any way.
Since the day Sammy was brought home, Tedy has embodied the definition of "yield." At first, I think this was more because he was curious and unsure of who this little hairless cat was living in our home. But as the weeks went by, and it was proven that Sammy was here to stay, Tedy made a choice. He could have lashed out in anger, fear or jealousy. He could have swatted, jumped on or otherwise pestered or endangered baby Sam. But he didn't. He decided instead to yield.
He became a protector, a pal and a patient pet. He has been content to observe, to tolerate overzealous little fingers and to find ever higher perches out of harm's way. As Sam has become more and more mobile, I expect that surely this will be the stage when Tedy revolts. Where he will refuse to yield to the pesky kid. But it appears they have both grown comfortable with each other and their boundaries, making life more enjoyable for all parties involved.
Every now and then, Tedy will steal one of Sammy's toys - it is torture I'm sure to watch balls roll around everywhere and not pounce on one every now and then. In those moments, it is Sam's turn to yield. He does so with glee, clapping and smiling at his furry cat...momentarily...before chasing after him. It seems Sam needs to take a page out of Tedy's yielding notebook more often.

ON FAMILY ~ Seize The Day...

At the age of 45, writer Regina Brett wrote a column for the Cleveland Plain Dealer listing 45 lessons that life had taught her thus far. As a breast cancer survivor, many of those lessons were learned the hard way. Five years later she added five more lessons rounding her list up to 50 and turned her popular list into a book called God Never Blinks. I found her list to be entertaining, inspiring and thought provoking. I thought I would go through each of her lessons learned and write about how that lesson has or has not come up in my own life, now that I am over 40 and feel old enough to have finally learned something.

"No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up for life."

~ LESSON #46

Gah. I am the world's laziest Bumble. Even when I feel terrific, I would generally opt for sleeping in, lounging on the couch in my PJ's and staying at home ordering delivery. To me, that's a perfectly acceptable way to pass the day. Of course, that is exactly what it is. Passing the day away. Not seizing the day.

My co-worker seizes the day. She runs the Boston Marathon every year. She runs "fun" runs on the weekends. She goes to the gym, boxing classes, track training. She's nuts. But she gets up, looks great and gets there, even when she'd rather hang at home catching up on her DVR.

Andy seizes the day. The man never misses a day of work. And every morning, he gets up to give Tedy the cat his medicine and breakfast, comes back to bed for a catnap of his own, and then gets up again to feed Sammy while I roust myself. Then he goes to work. Or, if its a weekend, just hangs with the boy. He never sleeps in. On Father's Day I insisted on taking care of the morning round of feedings, and he still got up shortly after they were done. He may not always "dress up" but he gets dressed and takes on the world when I know he'd rather take a nap.

I try to seize the day now most of the time. Sammy gives me no alternative. See that mischievous little guy up above? That's what happens when he gets bored. My job is to make sure he learns something every day. Maybe not something new. But building upon newer skills. Refining. He can't learn anything if I'm in my PJ's watching game shows. Well, I suppose he could learn price points from The Price Is Right. But lets focus on saying Ma-Ma first. Most days we have a plan. Some place to be. And so I get up, get dressed and get there. But every now and then, we don't have anything to do. I elect to skip the shower. Stay in my PJ's. Keep on the glasses instead of swapping out for my contacts. Play inside all day instead of going for a walk so the world won't see my grimy, lazy self. And wouldn't you know, the one day I skip the effort, the UPS guy shows up needing me to sign for my neighbor's package?

It turns out, my son is teaching me a lesson here. By tugging on that damn activity box on his crib rail every morning and waking me to the Itsy Bitsy Spider tune over and over and over again at the crack of dawn, he forces me to get up, get dressed and show up to wherever it is we need to be, regardless of whether I'm in an "under-the-covers-watching-soaps" or "I-can't-believe-how-beautiful-the-weather-is" kind of mood. Who knew even lazy summer days need motivation to get kick-started?

ON FAMILY ~ Retreat...

Where oh where have I been this past month? I wish I could say I was jet-setting somewhere beautiful and exotic. Sadly, no. I haven't even been transporting myself virtually to another world through reading. No time, no time. I have been out living life. Not an exotic one. Just hanging out in and around our town. Watching Sammy grow bigger and stronger, learning new skills that he is proud to show off over and over to anyone who will look his way, even if that is just Tedy the cat. Working my tail off when he sleeps. In the office. At home from my laptop and smartphone. Doing chores, yardwork, running errands. Trying to figure out how to earn more income without sacrificing more time. Making time for just Andy and I to get out together and catch a Sox game, a concert, have dinner - things we can't afford anymore but that we need to do for ourselves to stay tethered to each other - the selves we were before Sammy took over our hearts.

Just as we ask our little boy to give up things he doesn't really need anymore, like his pacifier, we give up a lot of things we enjoy but don't really need in order to be content. We take cues from Sam, who prefers boxes to the pricey things packaged inside of them. A good, healthy meal made from home is not as much of an event as heading out for some fancy dining out on the town, with a beautiful view, outdoor dining and tantalizing tastes served by someone else at a relaxing pace.

We dine in much of the time now. But it is still quite an event. Sam's exploration of food - the faces, the actions, the sounds - provide lots of entertainment. And frustration of course. Mess, fits and waste can be disappointing. Such glee though, when a new food is consumed without a fight! Reason for a toast indeed. Dinner of our own is usually reserved for after Sam's bedtime. A dessert of sorts.

Andy creates his own cookbook by filling a plain binder with printouts of recipes he's come across online, copied from magazines or from other cookbooks. Sometimes I forward blog posts of recipes to him too (hint hint). On the nights when he isn't rushing off to play for the Longshots, he swings by the grocery store to gather ingredients for that evening's dinner. After playing with Sammy and watching his dinner performance, Andy whips up our meal while I tuck our little one into bed. And when he's finished with his culinary efforts, we enjoy a meal together. Discuss our day, take in the Sox game on TV, or perhaps enjoy our meal outside on the patio gazing out onto our lovely yard with some tunes playing in the background.

We aren't dressed up and we have to do our own clean-up, but it is just as nice as going out to eat. Better, actually. The nutritional value is better under Andy's cooking control and the taste is exactly what we want, when we want it. And we don't need a babysitter to have it.

No. I haven't been off leading an exotic life. But it's a life I treasure with quite possibly one of the world's best dads and husbands. So don't worry about me when I am on a blog hiatus. I'm spending my free moments from working and mothering sitting outside watching the world unfold in our backyard over a tasty meal with a sweet guy.

ON FUN ~ Better Days Are A Bath Away...

At the age of 45, writer Regina Brett wrote a column for the Cleveland Plain Dealer listing 45 lessons that life had taught her thus far. As a breast cancer survivor, many of those lessons were learned the hard way. Five years later she added five more lessons rounding her list up to 50 and turned her popular list into a book called God Never Blinks. I found her list to be entertaining, inspiring and thought provoking. I thought I would go through each of her lessons learned and write about how that lesson has or has not come up in my own life, now that I am over 40 and feel old enough to have finally learned something.

"The best is yet to come."

~ LESSON #45

Getting to see little Sam experience the world anew every day reminds me how hopeful we begin our lives. Everything is interesting, wondrous and generally impressive. Sometimes things are scary, but those often spur on a determined spirit. I love watching my son's wheels turn. To process the information overload that the world presents and figure out what to do with it all. Every day I ask him what he dreamed about during his sleep and then work to expose him to some new experience on which to build more dreams. I want him to look forward to the start of each day. To the endless possibilities of excitement, pleasure and fulfillment.

Eventually he will whine about wanting to stay in bed, to sleep the day away, to avoid the world or shut it off now and then. We all do that from time to time. I want to do it every time it is cold and rainy - the perfect day to stay in bed with soap operas. But I drag myself out of my comfy covers and into the shower. I scrub the grumpiness out of my soul and start thinking instead of what's on tap for the day. What needs to be done and what places I'll be. I think about whether there will be time to branch out - to go around a corner and see what's there. A way to try something new. It motivates me to allow myself the potential for change.

Do you do this in the shower? Plan out your day? Get your thoughts in order? Dream a little? For me, the shower is like a clean start - physically and mentally. It brightens the spirit and gives me a fresh beginning. When I'm not going so well, it provides a little hope. Makes me feel new and shiny. That today will be different. Today will be better. When I'm going great, it provides confidence and confirms that today will be the best. The only time it isn't a happy haven is when I have an annoying tune stuck in my head. In the shower, I just can't shake it. That damn song hangs over me like the steam clouding the mirror.

Getting from that lazy, sad spot to the fresh and motivating shower is the hard part. But knowing that better things are out there in the world does the trick every time. The cool stuff is not going to come to my room - no matter how many channels my TV receives. The cool stuff is outside, around new corners, with other people. People who appreciate nice smelling shampoo and soap.

ON FAMILY ~ Making It To Mother's Day...

This weekend will be my first Mother's Day with my child to hold in my arms. He was just a Baby-Bumble-To-Be last year when I waddled around in May, trying to get renovation projects around the house and yard wrapped up before all of our finances needed to be devoted to our child. So although he was brewing inside, I hadn't met him yet and so last Mother's Day was more anticipation than enjoyment.

Baby Sammy is now 9 months old. Helping my little boy grow and change hasn't been easy. Many days leave me bewildered and beaten. Thankfully, our family and friends have helped to teach me some valuable lessons. And of course, some fellow moms in the blogosphere have also contributed gifts to help me be a better mom to Sam...

Stacy Helped Sam Learn to Sleep:

Sam has been a good little sleeper from the beginning. He never had confusion between day and night sleep. We worked diligently on creating good wake/sleep patterns and established as much of a sleep routine as possible. The hardest challenge was getting him to learn how to put himself to sleep. Thanks to Stacy @ Stacy's Books, this process became a reality thanks to her gift of a musical "Lullaby Dog" that plays 20 minutes of music and has a glowing moon. This little dog is like a beacon for Sam, capturing his attention and creating a very soothing environment. Best of all, it is portable - meaning that it can be with him in his crib at home or in the Pack N Play on the road. Stacy sent us "Lullaby Dog" before Sam was born, along with some sleep training books that gave us input on structuring Sam's sleep habits. These generous gifts have been a God-send.

Sandy Helped Sam to Stay Warm:

When Sam is with his Auntie on the days I have to go in to the office part-time, he gets to be around his cousins and their friends. This is a LOT more entertaining that sitting around the house all day with me watching the cat steal his toys. He loves learning from his little cousin Grace who thinks he's the only baby in the world. In fact, she simply calls him Baby. Grace's older brothers, Will and Timmy, love to dote on him too. In return, Sammy enjoys going along to their activities to cheer them on. Timmy is a fantastic hockey goalie and his team won their championship this year. Thanks to Sandy @ You've GOTTA Read This, Sam stayed nice and warm in all of the hockey rinks he visited to watch Timmy's games. Sandy sent us this adorable hat from her vacation to Poland last year. The ear flaps kept him nice and toasty and the festive toque made him fit right in.

Kaye Helped Sam Learn to Crawl:

Sam spent the majority of his last two months being extremely frustrated. You see, although he knew how to roll over and sit up, he did not know how to crawl. He didn't find it all that enjoyable rolling all the way across the floor every time he wanted to go somewhere. He would sit there and flap his arms instead, fussing for someone - anyone - to pick him up and move him from place to place. Slowly but surely, he got up on his hands and knees, learned to rock back and forth, and move backwards - then forwards - a few paces before falling on his belly like a beached whale. His falls were made more comfortable thanks to the soft, cushy and beautiful quilt that Kaye @ The Road Goes Ever On made by hand especially with him in mind. Shortly after Sammy was born, we received this amazing quilt in the mail from Kaye, along with a baseball blanket that we love as well. The design matches his nursery theme of Peter Rabbit and is what we use on a daily basis for him to sit on while he plays with his toys. When he finally figured out how to crawl for real, it was on Kaye's quilt.

We have received so many tokens of love and support for baby Sam from family and friends - in our part of the world and through the blogosphere. Some have been books or clothing, toys or gear. Many others have been words of wisdom and humor. They have all made my first year of motherhood easier and more enjoyable. I hope you find a way to enjoy this Mother's Day weekend - as a mom being with her children, as a child celebrating their mother or as a friend honoring someone else's mom. I'll be with my mom, letting her chase her grandson around all day.