Hurt Like Mine

     Well looky here, I've been inspired to write again.  And it may take the turn of a rant, but sometimes that's just the way it goes.  You need to be passionate about something to fill up a bunch of paragraphs, right?  

     I got an email last night.  An unexpected, pointless, out-of-nowhere one-liner from my ex-fiance.  You know, calling him that just turns my stomach because he has no right to be put on the same level as Mr. Current (and final) Fiance.  So he says to me, he says, "You gotta check out the new Black Keys Album."  Oh really? You interrupted my really wonderful, normal life to drop that nugget on me?  Let me tell you something about the Black Keys, sir. I was listening to them long before you came along and sent my life on a downward spiral, and you did not know who they were until I began to enlighten you on many, many, many things that your tiny little existence filled with wasted space and thoughts had not even come close to discovering.  "You gotta check out the new Black Keys album." Because I must be reminded.  After no contact for several consecutive, glorious years, he needs to pop up out of nowhere and fill me in on something very publicly promoted.  What irks me is that it is my own fault this gets under my skin. It is my reaction that, yes, HE caused, that is now getting on my own nerves because I am allowing myself to be bothered by someone so incredibly unworthy of moment in my brain. So I'm turning it positive. Take that, ya giant parking lot-sized 1-inch deep puddle.  (I'm saying he's shallow, in case you're dumb). 

     Once upon a time I was at the heaviest weight I had been in my life, when suddenly one month, I dropped 10 pounds, seemingly for no reason.  I was excited about it, but also somewhat concerned because 10 pounds do not just fall off of your body for no reason, and I was not giving them any healthy reason to.  I decided to start eating better and working out.  A couple of months later, I was laid off, so I had time to fill, and spent more and more time hiking the trails at the nature preserve near my house.  My weight loss increased to 18 pounds.  I was happy, and I had found something I loved doing, and I loved the feeling of my muscles getting harder, my clothes fitting more loosely, and just looking in the mirror and not hating what I saw.  It was around this time, I met DA. (I'll protect his name because he tends to internet stalk and I wouldn't want him to know who I'm talking about - that would just be rude).  DA seemed to share my recent experience of dropping a significant amount of weight, and my passion for hiking.  He even suggested we start running as well.  And so we did - every single day, for hours at a time.  In the heat of August in Texas, we would arm ourselves with a giant bottle of water, run and hike until we were drenched, and my weight continued to come off, although more slowly as I built muscle.  He wasn't the most exciting person I'd ever met, but it was nice to be with someone who was willing to move, which I was not used to. Over the next few months, we continued our routine, but then I found a job, and long daily hikes were no longer an option. I ran on my own after work, but we were not eating so well and I wasn't getting much sleep, so the weight loss hit a plateau.  

     Now THIS part is just the highlight of my life. We stayed up way too late one night and drank way too much, and found ourselves arguing.  Then fighting.  Over what, who knows? I probably didn't like the same song as him or something earth-shattering.  It ended (or started, however you want to look at it) when I stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind me. But not before I heard something that stopped my heart.  I could not have just heard that.  I opened the door, and quietly asked, "What did you just say?" He said, "I said, you're a fat ass."  I waited for the part where he says he didn't mean to say that, and he's sorry, but instead, he just kept going.  He told me I was fat and that he couldn't understand why I had been running all this time and stopped losing weight.  He told me the whole reason he went running and hiking with me all those months was to help me get in better shape because he was embarrassed to be dating a fat chick. My heart broke.  Not because it was him. He didn't matter to me that much.  But because I felt like a total fool for believing someone else was seeing in me what I saw in myself.  Improvement.  Beauty. Strength.  And because he had just stolen from me.  He stole running.  

     I didn't run for days.  I couldn't.  I couldn't make myself do the thing that he had just ripped all meaning from. I felt like if I did, I would be asking for his approval, which I had thought I already had.  Suddenly, it was something that belonged to him, was FOR him, and every time I took a step, I would feel his judgement. This is the part where I left him, right?  I tried.  I really wanted to, but at the same time, every ounce of self-esteem I had ever had was gone.  So as I drove down the highway with everything I owned in the back of my car, his mother called me.  She wanted to know what had happened because he had just shown up at her house, sat on the couch looking miserable, told her only that he had screwed up really bad and probably lost me.  I told her what he had said, and she talked me into staying.  She had put up with the same thing from his father.  It was terrible, but he didn't mean it, so she always stayed.  That's just what you do.  You love someone during the bad times too, and you stay.  So I stayed.  
   
     I could barely take a bite of food in front of this man for weeks.  I couldn't laugh, I didn't want his hands on me, he couldn't give me a compliment, both of us knowing that we wouldn't believe the words anyway.  It was horrible.  But I pushed through and kept at it and stayed, because that is what you do.  I ran again.  I didn't stop for long out of fear of gaining a single pound.  But I loathed it. I felt obligated to it.  I felt like I was being watched, even though he was usually gone when I ran.  I would run alone in the dark, through the empty streets of the brand new neighborhood and I would cry, but I wouldn't let myself stop running.  When I had to walk, I'd curse myself.  I overdid it sometimes and when I just needed a break, and felt like I wasn't allowed one, I would turn the treadmill in the living room on and let it run on its own while I rested on the couch.  Then I'd leave my run stats on so that when he got on the treadmill next, he would see that I had run, just like I said I did.  He is the worst person I have ever known. 

     For him to steal 5 minutes from me last night is inexcusable.  He took enough from me before, didn't he?  I had already planned to go for a run last night.  I'm getting back into it again, and it's been for me this time.  And for P, and for my kids.  But not so I can have their approval.  So I can be healthy, and energized, and so I can live a long, active life with them.  Yes, I want to look good for P, but he's never once complained at any point during my roller coaster ride with the scale these last few years.  Maybe I'd like to fish some compliments out of him, but he doesn't give them freely, and I'll know that when does, he means it.  And if it boosts my self esteem, great - he has my respect and my love and is my best friend, so he has the right to affect it.  So I ran anyway last night, and a couple of times my mind did drift to places it shouldn't go. I found myself feeling watched again, but I was able to push it out of my mind, and focus on the thing I am doing for myself.  

     So how am I turning that ridiculous little mind-game of an email into something positive?  I'm letting myself remember what I should never, ever forget.  That when I don't love myself enough, anything at all that is important to me can be stripped away at any moment.  If I let myself believe I am not worthy of something or someone, there are terrible things and people just waiting to pounce.  Miserable people want other people to be miserable.  It has taken a while, through several years of having babies, finding a rhythm, learning to be thrust into situations and a life I never got to decide if I was ready for, but I am finally finding myself again, loving who I am, realizing my potential and seeing that I have a lot to offer this world.  I don't have to be in perfect shape to be loved, or to love myself. But I want to be in perfect shape, that's my goal to pursue and no one else needs to give me permission.  I am so incredibly grateful for the life I have now, because I in no way thought I deserved it when started raining blessings on me every single day. The only person I'm not good enough for these days is God, and I know He loves me no matter what.  I am proud of who I am, I am proud of giving birth to two beautiful boys, stomach pooch be damned.  My kids are beautiful, and I know part of that came from me.  I am proud that I finally decided to love myself enough to walk away from a situation that tore me down every single day.  I wouldn't change the way I handled it at all.  The timing was perfect to set the stage for what was to come and I am light years wiser for having been through it.  

     My health is important to me again, more so than ever. It belongs to me now, and to the people that matter.  People who want me to be healthy so I can LIVE, not so I can look good on their arm.  And the funny thing is, DA was the ugly one all along.  Not wasting another thought.  

Can't wait to run tonight. 

P.S. The blog title is a Black Keys song, of course.  I just had to be ironic. 

Who Knows Where the Time Goes

I have to laugh after reading my last post.  Which I actually just hit "post" for, even though I wrote it last November, it looks like.  And that one was written a million years after the one before that.  That's life now. Blogging was something I did for me, and now showering is something I do for me.  So forgive me for skipping a shower today to finally post another blog.  It took me three tries to just log in, I couldn't remember what email address it's under, and then I was greeted with a picture of 9 month old Harrison and thought "Awwwww...I miss that little baby!"  

But hey, no worries!  I have a new one to play with!  Harrison got a little brother for Christmas last year, (early gift, 12/3) and his name is Declan and he is Harrison's total opposite.  Looks, personality, sleeping patterns, eating habits, you name it. Some days he is Harrison's best friend, and others, his biggest enemy. Like if Declan comes anywhere near a toy that Harrison has given any thought to in the past week.  "Nooooooo Deck-win!...Nooooo....Mommmyyyyyy!" *sigh*  I'm so tired.

Our little family of four is now complete, and even though Dex has been with us for almost a year, it feels like we are still working on settling into this whole work/life balance thing.  Some days are perfection, and some take every ounce of strength to get through, but every day is fulfilling and a gift.  I don't really know where I would be right now, had these beautiful boys not fallen into my lap, but it couldn't possibly be as fun.  I would be in better shape and my floors would be clean, but definitely not as fun.  Besides, I feel like the day might come when I actually have time to work out five days a week, sweep, mop, AND be a good mom...so it is possible to have it all, I'm sure.  Just not yet.  

So right now we are in a good place, the house is looking pretty good, only a couple of major projects we want to do, or the other option is to just pick up and move...I'm kind of for it, actually.  Peyton's in the same job and doing great things, and I just started a new one.  I'm 3 weeks in and I haven't done anything yet.  Like...at all.  But I'm told I will have an avalanche of work soon, so that's something to look forward to during the holidays. Other than that, we have nothing going on.  No announcements to make, no more babies on the way (for once).  Hopefully this small amount of information will tide everyone over until next year, or the year after when I have a minute to write again.  I actually plan to write more from now on.  But hey, I also planned to be skinny by this past summer and that turned out to be a big bust.  (Real big).  So don't hold me to it.  

Hey guess what, I'm pregnant...

Yeah, so that's pretty old news at this point, since I'm due in December, but apparently I lost the blogging bug during this pregnancy.  What can I say?  Harrison is a toddler.  And that should pretty much explain it all.  My little man is quickly approaching his second birthday, but before that, he's getting a baby brother.  Two under two.  We're nuts.

This pregnancy has definitely not been the same as the first.  Mostly, I have not had the time on my hands to sit and reflect about what could be going wrong at any given point of the day, and so I don't spend the days between doctor visits thinking my baby has died and I'm going to be given the news at my next appointment. This poor kid.  Not being neurotic has made the last few months a lot more relaxing for me and those around me than I was with Harrison. But I also feel like I barely give this baby a second thought on some days.  He kicks and I'm like, "Hey, watch the the bladder..." and then start thinking about what's for dinner.  That is pretty much the thought that follows anything I do or say..."what's for dinner?"  I never knew I could be so hungry!  I'm already predicting Baby#2 will be 9lbs.  Any takers on that bet?  I could use the money on something nice for myself.  Yeah right.  Those days are far behind me.

In the meantime, we are somewhat trying to prepare Harrison for not being an only child (our first broken promise to him).  It's not like it's all that easy to have a really in-depth, informative conversation with a toddler who knows approximately sixty-five words.  So he can point to his tummy and say "bah-bee" and now thinks everyone has a baby in there, I'm sure.  He also recognizes what a baby actually is, so that's good.  Now whether or not he wants to share a house with one is anybody's guess.  We have moved him to his new big-boy room, complete with a twin bed, and brand new decorations.  He loves it.  I don't know how he's going to feel when someone else takes over his baby room, though.  I just need to focus on making his room ten times cooler than the nursery.  Since we (meaning me) are in nesting mode right now, we're also in the middle of turning the basement into a playroom/guestroom.  The basement is our previously-unused second living area, which has been home to all things homeless in our house until now, and it is one step down from the rest of the house, which is about as close to being a basement as you can get in Texas. Now, if people decide they really want/need to stay with us, they will have the pleasure of sleeping on a mattress on the floor in a room with no door or bathroom, and will be sharing space with a circus tent and a motion-sensor pony that could scare the pants off you in the middle of the night. I'll be testing that theory when #2 is here and waking up in the middle of the night, because we will heading straight for that room every time, in hopes that Harrison's sleep doesn't get disturbed.  I found out recently that Harrison really, really, really needs a good night's sleep.  Really.

Hug Your Babies.

I was heavily drugged and not even a little bit clear-headed when Harrison was put in front of me for the first time, so I didn't have this explosion of emotion and love that everyone talks about when they see their baby for the first time.  I loved him, of course...I just didn't know how to form a word or a thought in that moment other than, "don't barf, don't barf."  And that was taking everything in me.  A few hours later when they woke me up and had him with them to hand to me for the first time, they didn't even give me a minute to wake up a little and hold him before it became all business.  This is how you nurse and you want to shove this here and do this right now and hold his head like this!!!  I really got robbed of those first moments.  I'm not bitter though.  Over the next couple of weeks, I really got to fall in love with Harrison and get to bond with him for the first time. I thought I couldn't love anyone more than I loved him right then.  I was so wrong. 


I love this boy more every day, and when I wake up every morning feeling like it couldn't even be possible to love him more, and then go turn on his lamp and watch him groggily roll over, sit up and reach for me with his eyes barely open...I just get knocked over with an even bigger dose of love than the day before.  The tiniest, most insignificant things make me so happy.  Watching him sit on the floor of the kitchen and eat a popsicle.  Watching him play for a minute when I pick him up from daycare, and he doesn't know I'm there yet.  When he eats his dinner and says, "Mmmmm!" after every bite.  When he gets home from school and immediately starts asking for the dog.  "Ah-yer?  Ah-yer?"  Which is the best prounounciation of Oliver I've ever heard, by the way.  The way he walks around hugging a stuffed animal and patting it on the back.  His dance moves.  I have to catch my breath sometimes when I think of him or watch him do something new.  He is far and away the best thing I have ever done and the reason my life now has life in it.  I want nothing more than the priviledge of watching him grow up into a happy, beautiful man.  


Today is April 19th.  The anniversary of the Oklahoma City Bombing, in which nineteen young children and babies were killed.  When I think of how much I love my son, and how much he has given me in just one year, and then think of how it would feel to lose him like that...my heart hurts for everyone who lost someone that day, but it's agony to think of the ones who lost their babies.  My heart goes out to them, because I know that even after all this time, they are still hurting...especially today.  


Lately, I am reminded more and more to never take for granted this gift I have been given, and I make it a point to thank God every night for my son and ask Him to watch over him and protect him.  I may still have some traces left in me of the selfish person I was before Harrison, but he has softened my heart and taught me what it means to love.  I pray I get to tell him that every day for many, many, many years to come.  

Torn.

I was raised a certain way, to believe in certain things and how they should be, and while there are some things I outgrew or decided against as I became and grew into my own person, there are some things that stuck with me and still hold true for me.  I am currently in a situation that causes me to go against one of those beliefs, and it is becoming less and less comfortable for me as time passes.  But what do you do when one person believes one thing, and the one person believes another, and there isn't a "middle of the road"?  There isn't a compromise on this one.  It's just one person getting their way, while the other one doesn't.  


And how does this translate into my parenting?  How do I tell my son to never compromise his values, when that is exactly what I am doing?  I get this horrible pit in my stomach when I think about it. I don't know how to be anything other than myself...but pretending that things are ok that I don't think are ok is not me.  But complicating things definitely is, and so why should it come as a surprise that I find myself here now?  


I love my little boy more than I've ever loved another human being and there is nothing in this world I wouldn't do for him.  The last thing I want is for him to grow up using me as an example of how not to be, like I did with my parents.  People always tell me I turned out so great for coming from the situation that I did.  First of all, I'd like to just be told that I turned out great for once and leave it at that.  Not to have my successes be measured against my parents' failures.  And secondly, it's sad when someone has a decent life only because they made a decision to not be like their parents. God forbid I ever put my own son in that situation.  


Anyway, this is mostly me venting and definitely getting a little more personal than I like to, but welcome to my diary.  I had to be able to say it to someone. 


On a lighter note...maybe I'm not the best person on the planet, but my family sure is!  My aunt and three of my cousins came to visit this weekend and we had such a great time!  Especially Harrison, who absolutely adored the boys and was so sad to see them go.  There is nothing better than having a house full of people that leave a void behind when they go.  We miss them already.  My dad may be wasting a spot on this planet, but I definitely lucked out with the rest of my fam, they are truly my home.

Unbirthday

Harrison's birthday came and went and unfortunatly, no party took place.  He ended up with a terrible cold and pink eye and gave the cold to both of us, and as of today, March 1st...we are still getting over it.  TERRIBLE cold.  It was the worst not having a party for him, although we did celebrate a little bit the night of the would-be party with some friends and family.  After H went to bed, of course.  Thankfully, he is now over it and soon,  I'm getting him a cake and balloons and we're singing "Happy Birthday" and he's wearing his birthday shirt.  I don't care if it's a month late, you don't miss your child's first birthday!


Last week, our little man transitioned to the next class at his daycare.  He spent a little more time in there each day.  It's been sort of a struggle because his very favorite teachers are no longer his all-day best friends and it's obvious he's a little sad about it.  He loves to play with the "big kids" but then he loves to go back to his room and cuddle with his teachers and run the show.  His new class has a daily routine, that includes naptime on a mat - which he thought was the dumbest idea ever at first, but he has now napped with them two or three times. He even got to go play on the playground outside and ride on the bouncy horse, and he sat still in his teacher's lap to listen during storytime.  No one wants to accept it right away, but he's definitely not a baby any more. So bittersweet.


The one thing about his growing up (too quickly) that is turning out to be so much fun, is feeding him table food for every meal.  Oh, and not buying formula or baby food has put a little cushion back in our bank account. Not complaining about that either! This past weekend, Harrison went out to breakfast and had his own plate of pancakes, then a turkey sandwhich for lunch, a few bites of cake (his first ever) at his friend Dillon's party, and chicken fingers with fries at dinner.  I think we were so excited about him eating with us that day that we forgot all about healthy.


Oh, and one more thing.  He took his first steps.  ON my birthday.  What a great kid!  He has taken many more since then.  It is his new favorite trick to show off.  So much so that when we would not allow him free run when we went out to dinner last night so that he could show all of his fans at the restaurant how talented he is, he decided we were idiots and threw a giant fit and dinner quickly became a "to-go" order.  He's so cute :)


As for me, I've decided, a year after giving birth, that it's time to get rid of the baby weight and get back to my fighting weight.  Getting prepared to chase a little boy around too.  It's going to require a lot of stamina and a smaller butt, so Peyton signed me up for a 5k in April and I've been training for that and supplementing with workouts with my favorite girl-body, Jillian Michaels. I told her I would be back, and I am!  But you know...last time I got in really good shape, I ended up pregnant.  Just saying...

Big Day Tomorrow!

Tomorrow, little Harrison becomes a man.  He turns one year old.  Clearly, he did not ask my permission to do so, but I suppose a man his age doesn't need his mother's blessing quite as much as he used to.  That's proven every time I tell him not to do something and he gives me a big cheesy smile right before he does it again.  Turns out "NO" is a pretty funny word.  To him, at least. And to the dog.  


Speaking of the puppy, Harrison's first birthday gift has turned out to be a huge pain in the arse, but somehow, we love him.  He's pretty cute when he's not peeing on the floor after giving us 3.2 seconds to get to the back door to let him out, or chewing up Harrison's favorite toys.  He's very specific in his preference.  It has to be a favorite toy, or it just doesn't taste the same.  He also likes useful items, and shoes.  So yeah, he's just like every puppy on the planet.  Oliver has some real selling points, though.  Like the way he just sits there and takes it as Harrison tries his hardest to remove his ears with his bare hands.  Or when Harrison takes his bones right our of his mouth (they both prefer the other's toys).  Oliver just lets him.  That was the hope we had when we got such a young puppy, that he would grow up with baby Harrison and just think this is the way the world works until they both get a little older and grow out of torturing each other.  So far so good.  


Harrison's other birthday present is his party.  The giant, over-the-top party that I swore I would never waste on a one-year-old?  It's happening.  Just sort of took on a life of it's own and I'm not really big on confrontation (especially with a powerful, unseen entity) soooo....here we are.  Thirty-ish guests and a few dozen balloons.  What are ya gonna do? He's my only child, will probably always be, and even though I'm already planning next year's no-one-is-invited family dinner at home with a cartoon movie, it's probably going to somehow end up like this next year too.  So I'm just going to sit back and let it happen and take around 468 pictures and have a great time watching Harrison have a great time.  


Feels a little weird though, celebrating that our little baby boy is growing up.  I guess that's the whole point of having a child - to raise them and help them grow, but I just think the baby stage could last a little bit longer.  But no one asked me, so it is what it is.  He does get cuter every day and keeps surprising us with things he's learning.  It gets better and more fun all the time, so I guess my aging child isn't such a bad thing.  He just better NEED ME until I say it's ok not to.  Don't hold your breath, Harrison.  Mommy's not giving permission for that in this lifetime. 


Happy early birthday, little man.  How old are you turning tomorrow??  Yep.  Genius.

The Lost Art of Kindness

I don't think I remembered to make any real New Year's Resolutions this year, which is fine.  It ends up being a list of things I never got around to anyway.  And in the same way that  romance can happen on days that aren't Valentine's Day, I think that change can happen on days that aren't New Year's.  Which brings me to my actual point.  


On Christmas Day, while attempting to nap between the many Christmases we had scheduled that day, the TV was already on in the bedroom and I left it on for no reason at all. Even after realizing that I was trying to snooze to the tune of a Joel Osteen sermon, I left it on.  I was being that lazy.  Incidently, after relaying what I'm about to tell you to my grandmother, her response to me was, "Oh, that Joel Osteen...he's not a good man."  Way to miss the point, Grandma.  But I digress.  And in case you feel the same as she does, this is about the message, not the messenger.  


Joel was talking that morning about something that turned out to be interesting enough to keep me from being able to fall asleep, but something that is also not a new concept in any way.  It's just completely ignored.  I noticed it being ignored in a huge way this morning, which is what reminded me of this, and is why I am thinking about it and writing about it now.  MAN, I am rambling today.  On with it.  


When a stranger is rude to you, when someone flies off the handle for what seems like no good reason...when a person is throwing negative energy like daggers in every direction, most people's first reaction is to give them the same thing right back.  It's the easiest thing to do.  Then you end up with two pissed off people, who are probably going to walk away from that situation and spread the attitude around.   Ok, so basically, this is "How To Be a Jerk and Take the Rest of the World Down With You 101." (Obvisoulsy, I am paraphrasing - figured it would seem more natural than UH POWUHFUL SUTHUN ACCEYENT, MY BRUTHA).  But the thing is, no one seems to take a moment to think and realize that they really don't know that person's story.  You have no idea what is going on in that person's life, how they got there, what put them in this horrible mood...so why take part in antagonizing that person with your own horrible attitude and bad reactions?  What if the girl ringing up your groceries is being a sourpuss because she found out her mom has cancer but her boss wouldn't give her the day off?  She'd probably feel better if you ignored her bad mood and smiled through your two minute transaction than if you reciprocated her unfriendliness.  What if the overweight guy who is putting away an entire cheesecake at the next table is celebrating because he's lost 100 lbs so far?  Do you think he needs your judgement and ridiculing?  Or does he deserve a congratulations and a high five?  


I guess it boils down to "You can't know a man until you walk a mile in his shoes."  And yet, we act like we know everything and everyone.  We know that person shouldn't be doing what they're doing, we know they don't deserve what they have, we know a person in their occupation has to be happy at all times.  We know that person isn't having a bad day, she's just a bitch.  And she has no right to be a bitch because we know there's nothing going on in her life that would make her that way.  Don't we just know it all?  


Except we don't.  At all.  Apparently, we don't even know how to treat people anymore.  We fight fire with fire on a daily basis and don't wonder why it doesn't get us anywhere.  We yell at other drivers and give dirty looks to struggling teenage mothers and laugh at fat people.  I'm as guilty of all of it as anyone else, and I really find it disgusting.  


So my new "resolution", for lack of a better word, is to try to be nice.  Try to be above all the anger and rudeness.  Try to be sympathetic.  Try to make things better.  And more importantly, to teach my son the same things.  


And to maybe spread the message to you as well.

Harrison Takes a Stand

Harrison can now ride a surfboard!  I know, I know, we've been waiting for this day too!  Also though, he can stand in the living room, on the bed, at daycare and outside.  I'm sure there are other places, but these are the ones I've witnessed.  My little punkin' is sticking right to the schedule I gave him on Day 1, and is on track to walk at one year.  No sooner than that, though.  Because that would be off mommy's schedule and Harrison loves his mommy.  

I am truly greatful that I have not been chasing around a "toddler" the past few weeks or months and that I have been able to hold on to the baby stage this long.  Now that he's making some strides (ha. pun intended.) towards being even more of a little human, I have to admit that I'm a little excited.  Harrison does, after all, have a precious pair of legs and an adorable tush, and once those things are on display all over the place, his cute meter is going to burst.  Along with my heart.  Just when I think I can't take much more cute, he goes and does something new and I find out what I'm made of.  

I can't even imagine what this is going to add to his dance skillz.  He displayed some pretty sweet moves this morning to Billy Joel's "Piano Man".  Gah...he even has good taste in music.  

Silent Treatment Over.

Several months ago, I got my feelings hurt and just shut up.  I had written a short story a long time ago, and submitted to a writing contest.  When they published the winners, which I had zero expectations of being a part of, I read the top three winning stories and was a little surprised to find that they really weren't all that good.  Not bad...just not very good.  So I decided to print them out, along with a copy of mine, and I let a couple of people read them and tell me what they thought.  I didn't mention that I had written one of them.  One lady brought the stories back to me, and asked what they were.  I told her they were part of a short story contest and I had just wanted her thoughts.  She said, "Well I hope you didn't write any of these, because they were all pretty bad."  


Yes, really. 


In the meantime, and pardon my French, I have come to learn that this woman is a real nagative bitch and a complainer.  Since then, I haven't heard anything positive come out of her mouth at all unless it's in regards to herself....she's one of those...so I've decided, finally, to get over it.  Pouting session over.  


This does not change the fact that life is ridiculously busy and sometimes exhausting, so the updates may still be few and far between. 


I'm not sure I can take the time to fill in the blanks, but let's just say Harrison is bigger now.  And has more teeth.  He also has grown quite a bit of silky, curly blond hair, is getting ready to walk, and is the most beautiful little boy of all time.  The past few months have been filled with firsts...first Halloween, first Thanksgiving, first Christmas...all the fun days.  First pair of shoes, first bump on the head...he plays games with us, he dances better than most people I know, he gives the best hugs, kisses with his mouth open, has taken to cuddling with his stuffed animals, and knows how to use a phone. And how to use random objects as a phone.  He has some favorite TV shows, knows how to pat-a-cake, and becomes very flexible and acrobatic when diapers and clothing are being changed.  He loves to people watch, would rather ride in the "stuff" part of the grocery cart than the seat part, is not a huge fan of sharing Mommy or Daddy with anyone else, and he's never met a food he doesn't like.  He ignored the wrapping paper and boxes at Christmas, fully appreciating every single gift he received, he only says "Mama" and when he's really, really mad at me, and well....we love everything about him.  


Most nights, we fall into bed exhausted but happy.  And then we wake up bright and early before the sun comes up, still exhausted, but we get greeted to Harrison standing in his crib giggling and smiling and ready to jump into our arms.  


It pains me to think that his first birthday is right around the corner.  This year flew by and took forever all at the same time.  It feels like a lifetime ago that we were bringing him home from the hospital and our old lives without him are just a faded blur.  It;s hard to comprehend that this little ball of energy that can move faster than we can chase him and looks more like a little boy than a baby has only been here for a matter of months. When the world rang in the New Year, I saw so many people bidding good riddance to 2011 and cheering the opportunity to close the door on it forever.  I'm sorry for those people and whatever it is they went through, but I am happy to say they 2011 is when my real life started, when it found meaning, when I learned what love is, and when I realized how important the little things are, and how umimportant so many things I cared about before were.  Harrison is the best adventure I've ever been on, and I can't wait to see what he has in store for us.