The inevitable Santa question...

A few nights ago the unthinkable happened. My daughter and I were driving to her play rehearsal, when she calmly asked me if Santa Claus was a real person.

I died right there.

I knew it was time to spill the beans and it honestly made me sad. When you are old enough to know the truth about Santa, you pretty much start the crazy decent into adulthood right then and there. Okay, not really, I'm being dramatic. But still, knowing takes some of the fun out of the Holidays and I am not ready for that!

I should have seen this coming when she asked me a few months ago if the tooth fairy was real. She laughed when I told her and she thought it was awfully kind of us to give her money for losing her teeth. She also understands the importance of not ruining it for other children. She insists on helping me with the Elf on the Shelf next Christmas. She does not want Remy to know Santa isn't real.

I don't think I'll ever stop giving Santa the credit for all of those wonderful presents, because the magic is the best part.

Time Machine

I don't know why I'm pulling out the old photos today but I am, and I am probably going to have this nostalgic feeling hanging around me all day, but I can't help it. 

I don't have babies anymore and I am starting to feel incredibly sad again. 

I think looking at the old photos helps more than hurts. They serve as a reminder of how truly blessed I have been and am. These three little people (not so little anymore), will forever belong to me and hold special territory in my heart. 

 Before the littlest brother came along...

 Phoenix enjoys the oldest kid gig, and he does a swell job at it.

 These two will always have a special love/hate relationship. At nearly 2 years apart, they are basically attached at the hip. 

 To my friends with babies: you already know this but...enjoy every second.

 At least he still snuggles with me. At 7, He still willingly gives hugs and kisses. 

 My favorite Christmas card photo to this day. No smiles. :)

...And I had to throw in one of my man and I. 

Every day is better because he is in it.

I feel so blessed to belong to these people.

What the hell happened to shorts?

This is a legitimate question. I always forget why I hate shopping for clothes in the Summer and then I try on a few things in the dressing room and immediately remember.

Clothing designers are doing a disservice to a majority of women by making pants and shorts low waisted and designing them so that if you drop something, you better have on some fancy underwear because the whole world will see it. I just don't remember having these issues in my youth. Pants were not at hip level and I could never tell who was wearing a thong because bending over in normal pants and shorts wasn't the equivalent of a strip tease. And yes, I am pretty modest when it comes to clothing, but I'm not a prude. I don't mind shorts that are above the knees, or a little crop in the top, but when I can't even find shorts for my 9 year old daughter that don't nearly show her crotch, you know something is wrong with the world!

This rant is brought to you by this morning's shopping adventure. I tried on a pair of shorts today that were a little shorter than I usually wear but lo and behold, the back was so low, I would never have been able to wear them in public without worrying I'd be mistaken for a plumber. So, I am now faced with the burden of driving all over town to hunt down shorts that will actually fit me. I tried to do the same thing last year but I guess there is a reason I only own two pairs of shorts...


Ugh.

Summer (not quite) Break...

It is officially our first day of Summer break. That first Monday of doing absolutely nothing and enjoying every minute of freedom we have longed for has arrived! Although I find it funny that anytime I have a break or vacation, my children think it is perfectly acceptable to wake up well before 6:30 am. And for us, vacation usually means big brother has the opportunity to work (for his grandpa), so we are up early driving him where he needs to be. In this case, big brother has Summer School, and it starts at 7:30 am every day but Friday. As you can imagine, sleeping in is not something I'll be doing much of. But it will help me get some things done early out in my garden before it gets too hot, so that is a plus.

I also have glorious plans to exercise approximately 3-4 times a week. This really needs to happen as my thyroid is a big jerk, and refuses to do much of anything. I am hoping to do a spin class once a week (or yoga) or rotate both and add in some running two mornings a week. It all sounds fun, but in order to do these things I must:

a) get out of bed.

b) go to bed at a decent hour.

If I can do those two things, then I got this exercise thing in the bag!

Other fun things I am looking forward to on our Summer break involve a road trip. We are planning a vacation to see family and a friend up in the Pacific Northwest. I have not been to Oregon since I was about three and I love me some trees, so I know I will adore every minute of our trip! We are hoping to make our way up to Seattle to sightsee as well. It will be so much fun! And I am quite sure I will never want to leave once I get there...


In the meantime, M has art camp and a play. My schedule as taxi driver will be full no doubt and somewhere in the midst of it all I must find time for photo sessions, band rehearsals and repainting a bedroom... It'll all get done though. Just hand me a few gallons of espresso (kidding) and put me to work!

I hope you have a great Summer too, filled with adventures and sweet moments galore.

Instant Gratification

Somewhere between high school and the birth of my second child I discovered my intense love for photography. I had always enjoyed taking pictures, whether it was with a disposable, or my beloved Canon. I find pleasure in collecting various photography related items, and coveting nearly everything on photojojo. I even have lenses for my iPhone!

A few months ago I bought a nano block camera, (as in a tiny camera made out of nano blocks) which takes lo-fi pics and video and I am looking forward to using it a lot this Summer! I find myself in awe of the ease in which we take and share pictures because it was not at all like that when I was a kid. I am a bonafide 80's child through and through. I got a Rainbow Brite doll for my 5th birthday and K-Mart still had blue light specials... That right there folks is proof enough. And during a big chunk of my childhood, we did the polaroid thing. In fact, most of the pictures in our family albums are old polaroids.

So, a few days ago I was browsing the interwebs and set my sights on the Instax Mini 8. The husband graciously allowed me to purchase it and now I am obsessed with all things polaroid! Because, well... polaroid! Sure, it isn't amazing quality, but it is fun and gives me a taste of my childhood in all of its instant camera glory! And, it will allow me to complete a few fun projects in M and R's room, which we plan on repainting and redecorating this Summer. And yes, I will be documenting the room redo!

Be more colorful.

When my daughter Mazzy was born, she was probably the grumpiest baby I had ever had the pleasure (ha!) of spending time with. Seriously though, I can't convey into words the amount of exhaustion I endured the first few months of her life. She hated baths, diaper changes, being held for too long, tummy time, etc... It was definitely a trying time for me and my husband. I remember having so little sleep I was hallucinating. But we pulled through and I managed to long for another child despite the colic and unrelenting mood swings of my infant.

Fast forward to a 12 month old Mazzy and it was like night and day! She was generally happy and elated at every simple thing she experienced. She was so snuggly and lovable and it almost made up for the previous bipolar baby she had been. And at around 18 months, her language skills exploded into four or five word sentences and words that were two and three syllables were clearly intelligible. It was quite the entertainment! And from that moment on, she has been a very loving and devoted daughter. She has been such an incredibly kind friend to everyone she meets and a wonderful example to myself, that a child's mind is a marvelous place. She constantly reminds me that magic still exists. And if you can't find it, you create it. And that is what she does.

A couple of Summers ago, Mazzy had a small growth removed from her lower cheek/ upper chin area. It was found to be an angioma. Around the same time, we discovered a few spots of lost pigment on her skin. It didn't alarm me but I kept a close watch on it. Within a few weeks, the pigment loss increased and I noticed a symmetrical pattern. In other words, if one spot of lost pigment was on her right arm, it was also in the same spot on her left arm. We went to her doctor and got the official diagnosis. She had vitiligo and there is no cure or any particular reason for her to have it. It could be genetic or just an autoimmune response. I have yet to take her to a dermatologist but that is mostly because at her young age, treatments are limited and I am not sure if the benefit outweighs the risks. We tried a gluten free diet but it didn't seem to make a difference. After reading up on the disease, I am sure we need to get her thyroid checked. I have a thyroid condition and I wouldn't be surprised if she has one as well. As I continue to look for more answers, I always make it a point to help her realize how incredibly beautiful she is. My husband and I are always reminding her that she is absolutely perfect in every way. And on most days she is a very confident young lady. She gets a lot of stares (mostly from adults) and she always handles questions or comments from other children with grace. It wasn't until recently that she started telling us that she "sometimes wished she didn't have vitiligo." Yet she remains positive through it all. So in an effort to further reinforce her amazing and unique beauty, I set out on a fun little photo shoot, just me and my girl, and we captured her true spirit, right before the sun was setting for the day.

My only wish for her and my other two children is to realize they are truly beautiful inside and out. That beauty isn't a size or a hairstyle, or flawlessness. Beauty isn't someone else's definition.

Guilt

I've tried to write this post several times over the last few months. And it always gets erased. I cringe at the thought that someone will read this and in turn, know how absolutely wrecked I am (and have been). It is absolutely false that time heals all wounds. Some wounds only get deeper as time passes. If there ever is an end to what I am going through, it seems very distant and that sort of frightens me.
In my mind, I am still struggling with how I am supposed to feel and how others will view my pain.
And if I actually made it a point to be completely honest, would I offend someone?

Clearly in my mind I feel as if my current battle with infertility is insignificant. How can I be such a big whiny baby when I have already brought three healthy children into this world? I have come so close to mentally breaking down and I am realizing most of that has to do with how alone I feel. I know what I need to do most is allow myself to cry and talk through it, but I have no one to really talk to about it. So here it gets written. As if everyone and no one will see it. As if someone will understand or no one will.
This is me, guilty for being sad over my infertility.

I would believe it is just my age keeping me from conceiving, but I can no longer count on my hands how many friends around my age who have just given birth or are about to. I am reading about my thyroid condition and how is can cause a woman to stop ovulating but really? I just stopped cold after years of normal cycles? While I realize my thyroid condition is likely the source of my troubles, why can't I regain control of my levels after months of changing my medication dosage? Why is my body working against me? Why, why why.....

I am also a firm believer of timing. Not my timing but God's. But at 35 I can't really keep thinking optimistically. I can't just keep trying to have a baby at 40. That isn't really what I want to do. So I constantly ask myself why I am even trying after a year of no success and many, MANY tears.
Why am I putting myself through this over and over? Wishing that I could "unfeel" the feelings that lead up to wanting another child. Hoping that something would click and I'd be over this "baby fever."

Sometimes I tell myself that I'm not having more children. I just want to prepare my head and heart for the ultimate disappointment. Then I start listing the pros and cons off in my head. Even if the cons list is longer, I feel an unbearable sadness and then I eat another bowl of ice cream.
This is not how I want to live.

This place in my heart that hurts isn't how I want to feel.

I love my friends who are having miracle babies and long prayed for babies. I am rejoicing with them.
But I need to understand that I am not a bad guy for feeling broken.