Silence, sweet silence.

I love my kids. I chose to be home with them when lay-offs happened at my job waaaay back in March 2011. God, March 2011? Can it really be almost 2 years already? And, wow, what we've packed into those 2 years!

Anyway. I love my kids. But sometimes, a moment happens when one or both are asleep. Or one's asleep and the other is mesmerized by a toy or book or Elmo. And it is quiet. I quite enjoy the quiet.

We're having one of those moments right now.

Aside from sleep, moments of stillness are what I miss most from my pre-Mommy days.

Course, I didn't have raucous laughter, joyful giggles, made up sing-songs or the pitter-patter (more accurately thunder and lightening) of kids playing.

The quiet I miss could never replace the joy that fills my heart when I hear my kids playing and laughing or One Philly Daddy reading stories. And a few years from now, when they've moved on to another stage of life, I expect I'll yearn for the noise and laughter and mess and chaos with an ache in my heart.

But right now, for these 5 minutes, I'm enjoying the peace.

How strong is your heart?

Every once in awhile life, the universe, God gives you a chance, a reminder of just how strong you are, and can be.

My cat died today. She was somewhere around 20 years and was a cranky, ornery cat. Always has been.

I hate revisionist historians, you know, the ones who go on and on about how great so-and-so and such-and-such was? Even though when it was going on it was all bitch and moan?

Well, this cat was not friendly and cuddly. But she had been with my family around 20 years and with me for almost 10 of those. She's moved with me 7 times alone. She's been there through break-ups, marriage, and kids. She defended me from mice, shed copious amounts of hair on every surface of my life and house. She's woken me up with hungry meows more times than I care to remember. She was the inspiration for One Philly Son's first word beyond Mommy and Daddy. One Philly Daddy, though highly allergic , referred to her as our "first" baby, even though I had her ages before we even met.

But the last few days she couldn't stand or eat. I hope she wasn't in pain. I'd been spoon feeding her and using a dropper to give her fluids. Still, she steadily declined.

She started not doing well after a few flea treatments. She's old. I'll never know what caused her to fall ill, or if this was her time all along.

In the midst of this One Philly Daddy had a health scare bad enough to warrant an ER visit on Sunday morning. Luckily, most importantly, way more than my cat, he checked out 100% ok and he's fine.

But, there's been a lot going on before all this went on.

Our car needed an unexpected repair Friday afternoon.

A recurring issue with our bathroom drains meant a recent visit from a plumber.

Following the recent hurricane, we replaced the fence in our yard.

Just days ago, we sent our deposit for our summer rental in Wildwood.

My brother-in-law deploys today.

I've cried. A lot, in the past few days. I've also felt joy, elation, excitement, love, regret, guilt, despair, hope, resignation, concern, relief, and full on fear (nothing quite compares to a wife running through the halls of an ER to find her husband. I pray that's not an experience we repeat often. Or ever.).

To say my heart, mind and soul have had a work out the past few days is an understatement.

And yet.

There is a sense of solidarity. Of strength. Of acceptance. Of love. Of peace.

Lacey, love, you weren't the perfect cat, and I wasn't the perfect cat-mom. But I hope you know you were loved, and will be missed.

Too cool for school

Today, One Philly Son's pre-school teacher very artfully and subtly put me in my place.

As in most preschool classrooms, the young students have cubbies in which they place their coats and book bags.

Today, One Philly Son hung his bag, slid his name in the chart and went off to play.

I got his attention, and started to unzip his coat for him.

Cue teacher, stage left.

"Let's let him take it off himself, it's a new year. Go ahead buddy, just like we do when we come in from the playground."

Good idea.

I admit, on the parenting spectrum of "expects-too-much-of-the-kids to does-too-much-for-the-kids", I am camped closer to the does-too-much end of the scale.

So it's a good reminder that One Philly Son can 1) do more than I ask of him and 2) may even want to do more than I ask of him.

I know that I'm motivated by a desire for my children to feel supported and loved by me. But there are also the other gifts I want to impart.

Empowerment.

Self-reliance.

Confidence.

The guts to try something new.

The self-esteem to be bad at something for a time, work hard at it, and maybe gain some skill.

Ok kiddo, time to hang that coat up on your own. Momma loves you.

Oh, there you are!

A few weeks ago I was given a picture of myself and One Philly Daddy when we were dating. Without thinking I blurted out "you can tell that was before kids, I was highlighting my hair"

Yeesh, who knew that was in my head?

Do not be mistaken. It was with great joy and honor I put someone (my unborn creation, whom I and my husband summoned into this world) ahead of myself.

I ate what was healthy (while totally and admittedly overdoing my ice cream quotient), avoided toxins - including hair dye and nail polish, cat litter and sushi. I took my vitamins, and thought, prayed and dwelled upon the well being of another.

My purpose became to provide the healthiest conception, gestation, birth and infancy I could. I was hardly perfect but my "checklist" ran to what was best for the fetus/nursing baby rather than what I wanted.

Some sacrifices were harder than others.

The ice cream was a nice perk.

But One Philly Daughter is nearly a year. (?!??!!? When did that happen?!?!)

What I do to my body no longer immediately and concretely affects the health of my child(ren). Sure, I still have to provide vegetables, reading, morality and table manners.

But if I subsist on crappy food there is no immediate, tangible harm to my offspring. (We can debate the value of example, and my health another time. You get the idea.)

Then, a few days ago I saw another picture if myself with a cute bob hair cut, post birth of One Philly Son.

Instantly I wanted it.

Last night I cut my hair. Tonight I dyed it.

I adore my one Philly kids. They are, unabashedly, the primary focus of my life.

But that doesn't mean I can't soak my head in toxins once in a while, just for me.

A grateful nation...

My brother-in-law deploys next week. He's a medic in the Army and this is not his first deployment. He and my sister have a darling 18 month daughter and a new-ish puppy.

This is not a post about politics, the Army or war. This is a post about family and perspective.

Regardless of the location, details, ease, or danger involved, those serving and their families sacrifice a great deal.

This deployment is scheduled for 9 months. That's about 270 days. 270 breakfasts, bedtime stories, and lunches. I'm guessing 40 - 50 loads of laundry. 3 seasons. 2 well-baby visits. A daughter's 2nd birthday. A wedding anniversary. Valentine's Day, 4th of July, Labor Day.

This family has to discuss things most of us are happy to pretend don't exist. They have to think about, anticipate and manage how a father's absence will impact a little girl. How to help her remember his face, his voice until he returns. A wife will become a single parent for a time.

And, they will do it with pride, honor and dedication.

And they do it to protect you, your family, your country, so that you never have to worry about what most of the globe worries about.

Recently, if I'm overwhelmed by keeping the house, undecorating from the holidays, finding places for all our treasures from Santa, working and raising my two babes, I can't help but think that thousands of people give up the privilege of being annoyed by their spouses or children's messes so that I can take for granted my freedoms and security.

I want to say that again, as simply as possible.

My sister and niece give up their husband and father for 270 days so many of us can blindly go through our days never realizing what they've given up for us, so we can take for granted what they voluntarily sacrifice.

If you pray, please pray for our Armed Services and their safety. Pray for their families and children, to give them strength and peace. Pray for the days at home to go fast, and the deployment to be safe and boring.

To all of you deployed or about to be- I thank you for your service. To the families, I am humbled by the sacrifice you make for the rest of us.

Be safe. Be well. Come home soon and safe.

One quick year later....

Eeee gads! Its been nearly a year since my last post. How...poignant. disappointing. surprising. stunning. And yet, not surprising at all.

This past year has been.... amazing, surreal, busy, high paced, blessed, trying, tiring, and, well, fast.

My daughter is nearing her first birthday and I couldn't be more proud.

At her 2 week check up, One Philly Daughter was diagnosed with torticollis. Barely in this world, she was confronted with a word One Philly Mommy couldn't spell and could barely pronounce. In one year I got laid off, got pregnant, found my dream home and listed, but failed to sell out first home. After all this, and moving into a new home when 8 months pregnant and becoming a reluctant landlord, I was hardly eager to take on another challenge. I think I wanted to hide under the covers. With Ben and Jerry. And Chardonnay. For a long, long time.

I agonized over my poor, sweet little girl and all she'd have to endure.

But it is a majorly MINOR issue with her neck muscles that has resulted in physical therapy, chiropractor visits, and even a few months in a helmet (to address asymmetric facial features as a result of her neck problems).

What started as scary and uncertain has become...normal. A no-big-deal-way of life. Sure, she gets physical therapy twice a week, and had to wear a helmet for 23 hours a day for her first summer on this Earth.

But, this girl, has she got a smile on her!

And that smile has been there through most of what I agonized over, worrying she would be in pain, unhappy, or at the very least uncomfortable. But she handled it better than I ever anticipated, and certainly better than I did. And no. She does not love her Physical Therapists. But we know when her cries are real and when she's being a "faker, faker, belly-acher." And we know she's working hard, a fighter, and progressing all the time.

It doesn't matter that she had this issue. It doesn't matter that this issue is supremely insignificant compared to those facing much harsher realities. Horrific diagnosis. Terminal diagnosis. Chronic diagnosis. Chronic poverty. Unforeseen catastrophes like Newtown and Colorado. Yet another deployment for a young family to defend what the rest of us take for granted :Freedoms. Opportunities. Safety. Security.

What matters is that we're together, no matter how bumped and bruised or shiny and new we may be feeling, we're together. If something bigger, scarier, "worse" had been presented to us, I have no doubt we'd still find a way to be us. To face it together, make it our own, put our spin on it, add our smiles and go on with our lives.

In many, many, many (did I say many?) ways, this life is so much more than I ever dared hope for, and in some ways it asks so much more of me than I ever expected to give. But, either way, it is mine, and I am blessed to the very last fiber of my very last cell and eternally grateful.

One Philly Daughter is nearly a year old, which means she's nearing the end of physical therapy. That we've survived a year of this new life in this new house. That nothing awful has happened, that we've been blessed with another year of relative health, happiness, love, laughter, joy and prosperity.

I wish for you, and all our sons and daughters, a year of exceeded expectations, granted wishes, dreams come true and rapturous joy.

And maybe it won't be a year 'til I write again.

All the best,
One Philly Mommy