All those sheets and blankets...

When L was born, we got about 5 crib sheets and about 95 million baby blankets. No joke. I used to wonder what the HELL I was ever going to do with 95 million baby blankets, and really, do I *need* 5 crib sheets? I mean, really, you need one and another for when you are washing the first, right?

Ummm, yeah. Enter The Flu.

When your 2 year old wakes up puking his brains out at midnight, you quickly find out how handy those 5 crib sheets and 95 million blankets really can be. There was a point where I even thought I would run out. I *did* run out of crib sheets, so the last time he puked, when it was mainly just the few sips of water I had let him have (because he was begging me for some milk), I covered the wet spot up with a towel, rocked him back to sleep and put him on the other end of the crib.

Hey - when it's 5am and you haven't slept a lick since midnight, you've changed the sheets, the blankets and the kid 6 times already,you do what you gotta do.

Needless to say, it was a rough night.

Now, if *I* can just avoid getting the flu...

Faeries, mysteriously appearing trees and suffocating anxiety...

I left the house last Friday morning dreading coming home after work, which is COMPLETELY wrong and unfair...it's simply not right to dread coming home on a Friday, but the house was a disaster. Complete and utter. There were clothes strewn all across the living room, dirty and clean intermixed, hardly a square inch of room visible through the clothing explosion. L's toys had ALL seemed to migrate from his toy room into the living room, and what wasn't covered in clothing was covered in Matchbox cars and ramps and books and balls and tractors; a severe amount of tripping hazards and toe stubbers. The kitchen counter was a mess of bills that should have been in the mail and credit card and refinancing offers and payed bill stubs that should have been filed last Spring. There was a mile high stack of dishes piled next to the sink...the kind that don't go in the dishwasher, that need to be washed by hand; the kind I HATE and will avoid like the plague. The entry/laundry/cat room was nasty; boots and scarves and recycling overflowing, cat litter strewn about (damn cats, are they NEVER going to learn to wipe their feet?!? REALLY.)

So I knew that when I got home, there would be no relaxing on a Friday night after a long week of work. My obsessive self would not leave it till Saturday morning. I would need to address the mess I had ignored all week.

That evening, when I trudged through the door lugging L and bags and purses I noticed immediately that something was not how I left it that morning. The entry was tidy and vacuumed. For a moment, I though that my wonderful husband must have vacuumed before he left that morning (for a weekend of ice fishing with 'the guys'), but that thought immediately vanished when I turned and set my purse on the dryer, which was empty and obviously wiped off.

L and I proceeded into the kitchen, and that's when I knew my cleaning faerie had paid us a visit while we were at work and daycare...the dishes were all washed and put away, save a few obscure pieces that have no visibly apparent home; these were neatly stacked on the stove top, ready to be put away. The floors were swept; no dirt and dust balls sticking to my feet as I crossed the floor. L's toys had all found their way back to his toy room, and were arranged neatly. The clothing explosion had been gathered into some sort of group in one corner of the living room and besides that, the room was SPOTLESS; all of the throw blankets folded neatly, table and entertainment center spotless and dusted.

It was the best feeling...

I love my mom. As much as she can get on my nerves and drive me fucking INSANE sometimes, she has one of the biggest hearts of anyone I know. She has done this cleaning faerie appearance on a few occasions...always seemingly when it will mean the most for me. She has a key to my house, a privilege of which she is way more respectful than I would even expect, but which I appreciate greatly. Even when I tell her to go ahead and stop in tomorrow to drop off such and such while I am at work, she will still call me when she is on her way and let me know she is dropping it off.

I called her right away and thanked her and let her know how much it especially meant to me that day. In her way, she downplayed it, and was just glad that I could relax a bit with L instead of cleaning...She said she felt it was the least she could do seeing as she forgot my 30th birthday earlier this month (Yeah, my mom, the birthday queen herself, forgot her own daughters 30th birthday!?!) and I assured her that this was a gift greater than ANY card or well wishes.

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Since W was out of town and L and I were all on our own this weekend, I decided to treat L and I to a cheeseburger and fries at this place instead of chowing down on mac-n-cheese or corndogs for lunch. As I was cresting the hill into this little town, I noticed a tree that seemed out of place...an empty branched winter tree sitting just beyond the ditch in the field at the side of the road, all by itself...I could not, for the life of me, recall EVER seeing this tree there, and yet, it was apparently NOT a new tree...it was well established, it had to be a good 20 years old judging by the size. A tree, I could not recall seeing, on a road that I have traveled LITERALLY THOUSANDS of times in my life; riding in the car, driving in the car, on foot, on bicycle. I could drive this road in my sleep...I can name every house along that 2 mile stretch, I can picture all of the fields and barns and silos and hills and valleys in my head...I had passed this spot thousands of times, and yet this tree, which jumped out at me this day, had never caught my eye before.

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I have been feeling the anxiety creeping in lately, trying to break down my walls and wrap it's (ITS, even - damn preggo brain) bony fingers around my neck...I have been beating it back; barely. At times I feel the shortness of breath and tightening of chest starting to overtake me.

I am scared about W's job security, and in turn our financial security. I am nervous once again about how we will afford this addition to our family. I fear how much worse is worse before better comes along? I can't handle unknowns and uncertainties...

I hate that FINANCES can do this to me. WTF. I hate that I feel this way when there are those that are so much worse off than us.

I hate that there is a part of me that knows that as long as we have each other and our love, the rest is all unimportant, and yet, that part of me is not strong enough to overcome the fear and anxiety.

Out with the old...

and in with

Hope. And Accountability. And Responsibility. And Acceptance. And Tolerance. And Serving AMERICA; ALL of America...

I told L last night that when he is in HS they will be learning about MLK and BHO :0)

That was amazing...What a great speech.

I wish him the best...I hope that he can implement his vision...I love that he made it about We the People, once again.

I am moved.

My poor W and how the hell do you make THAT decision??

W has been working on replacing the trim in hour house lately, and his current focus is our little entry hall...I told him the other day to just let me put a fresh coat of paint in there before he does it, as it definitely needs a coat.

He was off work yesterday due to the insane cold, and decided to surprise me by applying the coat of paint himself and putting the new trim up...

Well, I was surprised, alright, to find that he had painted the walls GREEN in lieu of the cream color that was in there prior.

I walk through the door to find him kneeling down working in there...

"OH, you painted it green." OMG, why in the hell did he paint it green??! That is HORRID, there is no way I can live with it being GREEN!! How can he think that looks good?!?

"No, what do ya mean?"

"It's GREEN, honey"

"No it's not, it's the same color as it was before; I compared it to the walls to make sure, I even checked the color composition listed on top and it doesn't say anything about GREEN"

My poor color blind W tried his best, but alas, his eyes could not tell the difference between the cream on the walls and the light shade of green that he was painting over it with! He was so bummed. I was so bummed for him.

It continued to baffle him throughout the evening how that could possibly be a different color. I continued to praise him for his efforts, although I don't think it helped.

I can't imagine living like that and not being able to see those differences in color...

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I watched a show last night and the plot was about a single father and his ± 7 year old daughter and 2 year old son. The mom had died (sometime after the boy was born, obviously) and all three of them (father, daughter, son) had cystic fibrosis...They went into the doctor because the father was coughing a lot...Turns out, the daughter had contracted a highly contagious, deadly (to them because of the CF), incurable bacterial infection that was going to, eventually, kill her. The father, of course, wanted to be with her to console her, etc, but they told him that neither him nor his son could make any contact with her or they WOULD catch the infection and they too would die.

So she is admitted to the hospital, and the closest the father can get is to see her from the corridor through the window and talk to her on the phone. They try some long shot treatment, but find out that it is not going to work. They tell the father this, and he insists that he needs to be with her to tell her, and the continue to tell him no, that then he will die, etc...he is so torn between going to his daughter and being with her while she dies, or leaving her to die alone so that he can live to raise his son.

OMG, how the fuck do you make that decision?

Needless to say, I was BAWLING my eyes out for the entire second half of the show...

In the end, the father hands his son over to the doctors, gives them some instructions on who to contact (he has NO close family) to take his son, and he goes into his daughter's room...

I am going to start crying again...

I don't know how a person is supposed to make it through something like that.

It reminded me of all the things that can go wrong in life and that we never know what tomorrow brings...

It totally made me think about this post by Maggie over at OkayFineDammit, and made me sad for all of the people that are suffering and that endure so much while simultaneously others are celebrating joys...

It made me want to beg and plead with the Universe, or Goddess, or God or my Karma or whatever is out there that I NEVER NEVER have to go through something like that...That I somehow live a life that never knows that type of struggle, because I don't know how it is possible to endure that type of pain, and I never ever ever want to find out...

It made me feel bad, somehow, for living the blessed life I have so far lived while others suffer so much...It made me question, again, why things happen the way they do...

It made me feel so grateful for said blessed life...

It made me so so sad.

It's all good...

My Dr. appt yesterday went well...My blood pressure was 134/65, so actually a titch better than last time at 134/70. YAY! I told the doctor that I had convinced myself that it was going to be really high and that she was going to want to pull me out of work already or some crazy thing...She said she wouldn't be surprised if it does go up later, to which I said later, MUCH later, is one thing, RIGHT NOW is another!

So that was good. I also DID get to hear the baby's heartbeat, even though my uterus is tipped slightly backward, which makes it harder to hear the baby's heartbeat, little bean was being cooperative :0)

Other than that, all they did was ask me 10 pages of questions and take like a pint of my blood.

It seems, though, that Mother Nature decided that I would like a head cold for my 30th birthday...I woke up with a sore throat, pounding head, painful sinuses and a general achy feeling. Tylenol is the only thing I can take right now, which seems to have knocked it down enough for me to work, for now...This probably explains the headaches I have been getting the last couple of days, which I was attributing to possible high blood pressure. UGH, just when I am starting to feel almost normal and getting through a really bad 1st trimester, I get socked with this...par for the course, I guess.

Hopefully I will be feeling better by this weekend and can enjoy going out to celebrate my birthday.

Happy 30th Birthday...

To ME!!

I kinda can't believe I am 30.

30 doesn't feel like I thought it would...

My idea of what 30 is has really changed since I was 16 or 18 or 21 and thinking about SOMEDAY turning 30!

I'm okay with this :0)

I don't have anything profound to say about it at the moment. Like I said the other day; I am looking forward to 30...I am more sure of who I am today and that feels good. I feel more at home in my own skin than I ever have, and that feels GREAT.

I brought doughnuts to work today (that's our thing; when it's your birthday you have to bring something), and my employer's are buying us lunch today to celebrate 3 recent birthdays in our office. I only have to work half a day, then off to see the dr. for my 12 week check up...I am hoping to hear the little bean's hearbeat on doppler today....and hoping that my blood pressure is acceptable. And I think we will have some dinner with some friends of ours tonight. That would be nice, to not have to cook on my birthday :0)

There it is, I have now entered the next decade of my life...I am optimistic that it is going to be a good 10 years.

In honor of my birthday, I thought I would share a glimpse of me with you...because I have actually seen photos of a few of the bloggers I follow recently, and never ceased to be amazed with how we get a picture of someone in our heads, and how weird it can be to see what they ACTUALLY look like and how it compares to the picture we have in our head; here you go...see how this compares...

I never felt more beautiful in my life than I did on this day...I was 26.



And just for the heck of it, here I am NOT all done up and tan, just my usual ole pale and pasty self, LOL...This was August 2007 at the cabin with an equally pale and pasty little baby L...



Don't get used to it, though, I don't plan on posting many pics of myself. Except maybe in a couple of years when I have worked all this baby fat off and am back to where I was in that wedding photo from when I was 26...I AM going to get back there SOMEDAY.

The dreams...ohh the dreams...

I have a love/hate relationship with the pregnancy dreams...

Alot of women report having especially vivid dreams during pregnancy, which is (for the most part) one of the nice side effects of pregnancy. I DO dream much more and much more vividly during pregnancy, and for the most part they are of the good variety, which is great.

Especially the sexual ones...hmmm...Seeing that at this point I have no energy left at the end of the day to do the deed, and yet still have some *desire* to do the deed, those sweet sex dreams fill the void ;0) Poor, poor W has to fend for himself on that front, hehehe...

But then there are the bad ones...the tame ones are usually dreams of parental inadequacies; leaving the baby in the car, forgetting them at home, etc etc. Those aren't so bad, but it's the not so tame ones that really make it a love/hate relationship...although they haven't been very numerous (at least for me, yet), they are so horrible that they weigh so much more heavily on the average than even the really good dreams.

The REALLY bad ones are about death and loss and are the kind that have you waking up to find that you have literally been SOBBING in your sleep. They leave you feeling sad and completely out of sorts, and not just for a few minutes...usually for the day, at least. Amazing that a series of thoughts, images and emotions created by our mind during sleep can have such an impact upon our waking lives...

So last night brought a very awesome happy dream and a fairly tame bad one...In the good dream I met up with a guy from my high school life that I haven't seen since HS that I think about and wonder about on occasion. Our relationship was...well, we were friends, but more than friends, but I have no delusions about the fact that it was definitely a little more one sided than a relationship should be...I 'loved' him, at least in my teenage mind, and we hung out alot, and he payed attention to me, and we were definitely friends, and we had sex (only once), and there are still some letters from him in my little (big) black box, but I knew then, and I know now, that he definitely used my feelings for him to his own benefit. It's okay though, it didn't leave lasting damage, and I still remember how nice it was when he wrapped his arms around me and kissed me on top of the head...**SIGH**

So in my dream I ran into him, and it was FABULOUS...it was obviously supposed to be in the present, because I told him I had one child and am pregnant with another, and yet, all the details of where we were don't really match up with the here and now, but that seems to be a common occurrence in dreams...in mine anyway. He looked great; healthy and CLEAN, which, as much as I'd like to believe is true, I am not sure would be the case were I to ACTUALLY meet up with him now...I heard a while back from a mutual HS friend that he was having some issues with meth, which didn't surprise me in the least. In the dream, we caught up on each other's lives, but the best part was when he wrapped those arms around me, towering over me like he always did, and it was just like I remember it...**SIGH**

It was a great dream, and I am left with warm and fuzzy feelings from it. It was one of those dreams that played out much better in my imagination than I suspect it would in real life. I'm okay with that...I have thought a bit more about him today, which has made me feel good, with just a touch of melancholy mixed in...probably mostly just a bit of longing for those worry free days of teenage-dom.

The not so good dream was about the baby...In it I was having some cramping, and some spotting and was angry and scared that I was loosing the baby...I woke up to some ACTUAL in real life discomfort down there; not cramping really, but probably more just uterus growing discomfort. Pretty mild on the bad pregnancy dream scale. Today I have no pain and no spotting, and I am sure all is well with the little one inside me.

I hope that is as bad as the bad ones get...Maybe it was that it was balanced out by such a good dream in the same night, but it didn't leave me feeling icky today, which I am grateful for. I am hoping for none of those wake me in the night sobbing ones about loosing L or W...

On being true to myself and my journey

I started this blog as a place to put down all of the thoughts that roll around inside my head, to be forced to put them together into a coherent grouping, which would hopefully help me figure some stuff out...

At that time, I had all these thoughts and questions about religion and spirituality and the like rolling around. I had recently read "Dance of the Dissident Daughter" by Sue Monk Kidd and "The Red Tent" by Anita Diamante, and was currently in the midst of another one of my periods of intense focus on my spiritual journey and trying to figure out what the hell I really DO believe and what the hell am I going to teach this child?

I was born and raised Catholic, baptised and confirmed...Both my father and mother grew up in homes where they went to mass every week, and their parents were very faithful followers. I believe we went on a regular basis when we were younger, but I remember that as I got to be 7 or 8 or so we started to become more of the "Cheaster" variety. We went to Religion classes on Wednesday nights until we were confirmed (around 8th grade, maybe?)

Even at a young age, so much of what they were teaching me didn't sit right...Even at a young age there seemed to be so much contradiction; contradiction in the teachings, contradiction in how the 'pious' in our congregation portrayed themselves and how they REALLY conducted themselves in day to day life. Some of the stuff I could just not swallow, for reasons unbeknown to me at the time, like the second class stature that women seemed to be meant to hold.

Things like: God is everywhere, but we have to go to this building in order to best communicate with him? (To take that one a bit further, our priest refused to marry anyone at an outdoor ceremony...if God is everywhere, why not?) God is all forgiving, but in order to be forgiven I have to confess my sins to some mortal man first? God is not man nor woman, but HE is God the FATHER? Only MEN are qualified enough or can be close enough to God to be priests or to serve during mass (such as being an alter boy)...

And the atmosphere that *I* grew up in at least, there was the understanding that if we questioned what we were taught that we were being unfaithful and that we just weren't good enough followers of Jesus Christ.

(I realize now that the way my young mind perceived some of the doctrine of the faith may be incorrect, and that I may find *some* acceptable answers and explanations should I take the time to sit down and talk about all this with someone who is knowledgeable in the faith and it's teachings...It's just a little too late for that with me...)

As I got into my teens, I started to refuse to go to mass, even on Christmas. It just didn't feel right. At that point I wasn't interested in figuring out why or what didn't fit, I just knew it had never felt right, and I didn't want to go.

I had met and was becoming friends with a woman at that time who is a Pagan, who by just being herself, began to introduce me to new things and ideas that intrigued me, and seemed to awaken something in me...for the first time in my life, I was hearing ideas and thoughts that felt *right* in my heart...we used to talk for HOURS, literally.

And yet, even though I could feel deep in my heart, in my SOUL that I had found something 'else' that rang more true with me than anything ever had, I still had the ingrained FEAR and DOUBT that came from things being pounded into my head for years...

In my early 20's I began to actively pursue my spiritual journey; to try and figure out what exactly I believed and where was I to go...I started to learn that there are soooo many belief systems out there (I know, that sounds ignorant, but all I was ever exposed to was Catholicism and a wee bit of the Lutheran faith...I mean, I knew there was other stuff out there, but we were always taught that those 'others' were wrong, and we were 'right'...and atheists - WHEW - what evil people THEY are...)

Through my friend I became more and more exposed to different people who defined themselves within the Pagan spectrum...

Eventually, through the internet, I became introduced to people of ALL different faiths, who believe in all different 'Higher Powers' and those who believe in no higher powers, and those who believe we just can't know one way or another. I began to learn that there are good people all across the board, and that just because something fit right for someone doesn't mean it is right for everyone, and that is OKAY. I began to accept that I CAN take a different path, and ultimately, it will be okay...

Throughout my 20's I have had phases were I was actively searhcing, seeking, questioning, and then times where the whole journey fell to the wayside.

When I got engaged, to a man with my same basic religious background and upbringing, who has claimed at times to be an atheist but in truth is more agnostic than anything, there was just no question that we would get married in a Catholic Church. It's what we knew, it's what was expected. Had we gotten married a few years later, I don't know that we would have done it just because it was expected. But alas, we did. Even then, I knew I had no intention of keeping the promises I was making in regard to living within the church and raising my children in the church...I will admit that there were times I felt guilty, because I knew I was in essence lying in the presence of God, and even if I didn't quite believe in their doctrines or their god, I can still respect their religion and their reasons, not to mention I felt guilty for being untrue to myself...So yeah, there was and is some guilt over that. But like I said, it was what I KNEW. My whole life I had dreamed of the day I would walk down the aisle on my daddy's arm and get married in the fashion that I had seen over and over growing up. That was definitely a time of searching and questioning and spiritual floundering for me.

After that came a short period of spiritual hiatus for me...I was going along, focusing on other things, and it wasn't at the forefront.

After we had been trying to conceive for awhile, it started to creep back in...I started to think about how I wanted to raise this child we were trying to conceive, what I wanted to teach him or her, all across the board, including in regard to religion...The question of baptism started to arise. All of the guilt and doubt I had felt during my journey away from Christianity came to the surface and it was something I never wanted my child(ren) to have to feel...I decided I never wanted them to feel guilty about following something that felt true to their SOUL, regardless of if it is what I believe or not. I wanted them to know that there are SO MANY MANY different beliefs out there, and that NONE of them are any more correct than the other; what works for some does not work for others.

I didn't want to baptize L. I knew it would be 'expected' and that to buck it would mean upheaval amongst 'the family'. W was adamant that although he didn't really want to do it either, that we HAD to do it, because if we didn't, we would alienate his grandmother and freak out his parents. I knew that not doing it would also probably set my parents on edge. But I knew that doing it would bring more guilt. I knew I would be standing there, once again making promises that I had NO INTENTION of keeping...promises that really meant something to those family that would be there witnessing it. My niece was born 6 weeks before L, and I was 8-1/2 months pregnant, sitting in church to witness her baptism, my gut turning, thinking more and more how I just would not be able to do it. How could I stand there and make those promises?

Well, I did. I wasn't strong enough to stand up to everyone and tell them the truth. Although my family knows we don't attend church, I don't think they know the extent of my journey away from the faith that they know. I am sure I don't give them enough credit, but I fear how they would look at me if I said "I don't know that I believe that Jesus Christ is the son of God...I don't believe my baby needs to be baptized to be forgiven for some 'original sin' that the first woman brought upon us all".

So I did it, and I felt guilty while doing it; mainly I felt guilty for making those promises to my brother and my friend's daughter, whom we asked to be L's Godfather and Godmother. I feel like I lied to them. My friend L (the pagan from earlier in this crazy novel of a post) made me feel a little bit better about it...She convinced me that doing it to appease the older family members was not ALL bad, and that I could take the things away from it that I wanted and leave the rest behind.

After that came another short hiatus. Then I read "Dance" and "The Red Tent" on the heals of realizing some very feminist things about myself, and the wheels got to turning again..."Dance" is a book about a woman's journey away from her Southern Baptist roots and the patriarchal Christian society she grew up in and was surrounded by to the Sacred Feminine tradition. It spoke to me SO STRONGLY. So many of the things that had NEVER sat right with me were right there on the pages I was reading, being expressed by another woman. She laid out her story which relayed the same exact feelings of guilt and fear and anger and questioning that I had felt. It really helped me to accept the fact that what I was feeling and the journey I was taking, was okay, and that I was not the only one who felt as I did.

This pregnancy is once again bringing my journey and my desires of how I want to raise these children to the forefront. I do not want to stand in front of those people again and make false promises. I have wanted for a LONG time to be truthful with my family about my beliefs or lack there of...I wanted to let them know that I am not sure what I believe, but that I want my children to know that there are many different paths, and they are (mostly) all okay.

I decided on my way home last night that I need to talk to my brother about it. As I said, I have felt guilty since L's baptism, have felt I misled him. I want to sit down with him and be completely honest about my journey and let him know that although I was not fully honest, I still VERY MUCH want my son to be exposed to his faith; I very much want my brother to be a guiding light in his life...My brother has found a renewed faith in the Catholic church through his wife and her family, and I am VERY HAPPY for him that he has. I want L and this baby to see it working for someone, even if it doesn't work for me. I want him to pass on the knowledge of and faith in the teachings of Christianity without the jaded slant that would no doubt come with them learning the same from me.

I was wishing for a night beside the fire with him to sit and talk, just the two of us; or a cruise on the backroads, like in the old days, but I know that neither of those are going to come to be anytime in the future, and so instead I emailed him last night and requested that for my 30th birthday he give me the gift of his time. I asked that he make some time in the next week or two to go out to lunch or dinner with me, just that two of us, because I miss him and just want a chance for the two of us to actually talk. And that is 100% true. I DO miss him, something fierce...although we see each other at least every couple of weeks, and talk sometimes in between, it always with all the kiddos running around, and his wife there and W and we never really get to talk. I told him I also have been thinking about something for a LONG time that I want to talk to him about.

Just knowing that I am going to tell him has made me feel lighter. I realized that the weight of this has been greater than I had thought. It's not that I am lying to them, really, but just not really telling them everything, and really still putting on a show to a certain extent does not feel good. I just want to be able to be free. And I don't feel that I need their approval, per se, but I feel like I need to know that they still know that I am a good person, even if I don't believe exactly what they do from a faith standpoint. I mean, I am still the person they know, and I AM a good person. So, maybe I DO need their approval in a way.

I can tell you right now that I still don't know exactly WHAT I believe, or where I fit in, or where exactly I will go, but I have gotten to a place where I know that's okay. And that feels good.

I am hoping that spilling my guts to my brother will open the doors for me to let at least my family know about the path my journey has taken, and will give me the courage to not do things just because they are expected. I do not want to baptize this baby into the Catholic church, I would like to have a welcoming ceremony instead. I wish for the strength to be true to myself and the courage to tell others that this is what is going to be, we would love them to join us, but if they cannot deal with our decisions, it will be their loss, not ours.

Head first into 2009 and the big 3-0

I just read this from Maggie over at Okay. Fine. Dammit., and all I can say is WOW, and that is so true, and okay, I accept your challange, Maggie.

I have really come to like her.

That being said, I am not going to apologize, but I will say that I will probably be more absent than usual in the next couple of weeks...work is getting busy (YAY!) and evenings haven't really been finding me in the mood to blog, so I may just be finding time to keep up reading my blogs that I can't live without.

But, no worries, I will keep updated on the important things :0)

Thankfully, the Holiday season and lots of days off couldn't have come at a better time...I am starting to feel MUCH better, which I am SO thankful for...I don't know how much longer I could have continued making it to work all day, every day if I had continued to feel the way I did...somehow I would have, but thankfully I don't seem to have to figure that out. Especially with the large, important projects I have coming up in the next couple of weeks, I just don't know how I would have done it...

The Holidays were great...L had so much fun, although after 5 days in a row of opening gifts, he had NO DESIRE on the last day to open any...I felt bad for my MIL, because L actually went and hid in the kitchen, saying "I don wanna, mama" when we tried to get him to open them...Poor kid. So, it was more ME opening presents with L standing there...after they were open he was excited to play with them, he just didn't want to have to be the center of attention anymore and open anymore presents. Can't blame him. He got way more 'stuff' than I wish he would have, but how can you tell grandparents not to buy? My MIL did put money in his savings account for his birthday in lieu of a present, which is AWESOME.

Other than that, *I* am glad the holidays are over as well. I guess next is my birthday...WHEW, the big 3-0 this year...How can THAT be? Not sure. I am not afraid of 30 like I was even 5 years ago. I am going to embrace 30. I honestly have never been happier than I have been the last couple of years. W and are in a good place. He has grown by leaps and bounds and I think he is just getting started. Being a mom is definitely something I was meant to do in this life, and it is a joy. L has brought more love to my heart than I ever thought possible and this new baby will bring that much more (although I am still trying to figure out how my heart will not explode!). My career is in a good place. Even with the economic instability, I feel pretty safe where I am at...at least for now. But even still, *I* have grown too, and I know that no matter what happens, we *WILL* make it through, and somehow, everything will be alright. As long as we have our love and each other, the rest is just 'stuff'.

So, yeah. Looking forward to 30 and 2009.

I have my 12 week check up on my 30th birthday...Hah, good way to celebrate; with my doctors hand up my who-ha...LOL. It will be good as long as my BP is at a tolerable level. And we will (hopefully) get to hear the heartbeat that we saw at 6 weeks, which ALWAYS is exciting, and helps to alleviate worried pregnant minds and help convince me that this is indeed really happening :0)

So here's to a new year, and a new decade.