I just got an email at work, telling us that a co-worker (in another Region, someone I do not personally know) has a son, who went from a seemingly healthy 6 year old boy, to a boy battling a cancerous tumor in his brain in a matter of days.

It is one of those scary stories that we all believe happens to "someone else" but all fear might be us. It started with some vision problems, and with a few short days this woman and her family had been sent hundreds of miles away for hopefully life-saving treatment. It is telling that she shares that one of the doctor knows of "a" patient diagnosed with the same tumor in 1999 who is still alive, but its not the "normal".

Yikes.

Talk about a reminder that life is short, and to make the most of it.

My co-worker, the Mom of this boy, writes with optimism and hope and faith. She speaks of her boy being unchanged in the face of treatments and having his life completely uprooted. She is going to fight, go to the ends of the Earth, do everything and more to save his life.

She will probably fail.

I'm not being a downer, but statistically speaking, he will probably not make it. And this brings me to tears. I don't know this woman, I don't know her son. I can only guess the fear and anguish I would feel if I were in her position.

So I'll send hope and love and faith, and donate some of my sick time for my colleague to use, if my company permits it.

And I'll take the lesson to heart, and focus on moving toward my dreams, the things that bring me joy, the things I know in my soul to be important.

And do my best to let the rest of it go.

Little Foster, my prayers and hope and love are with you, your family, your doctors and nurses. You can do this, buddy, you can do this.

I recently reflected on some of my attitudes, statements and feelings during pregnancy and early motherhood, when I felt that I needed to work to maintain my sense of self and contribution to the family.

Here are some of the things I realized:

1) Everything changes. In one short year the way I describe success, happiness, financial security, family and more has changed.

2) Motherhood is a lot more rewarding / time intensive / hands on / demanding / satisfying than I anticipated. One Philly Son is currently fascinated with doors. Open. Close. For half an hour. And forks and spoons. He will smash a roll with a fork for 20 minutes given the opportunity. I see these now as learning experiences and I want to indulge his exploration of the world and the things that fascinate him. This takes time. Lots of time.

3) I enjoy motherhood more than I thought I would. And I've always wanted and loved children. But I was unprepared for the depth of it. For me, it truly has redefined me.

4) Time has become more valuable than money, and it is not unlimited.
At the end of my maternity leave I considered returning to work early. I was bored. 2 month old's don't do much more than eat, sleep, mess up a diaper, repeat. Now, when I am away from One Philly Son, I feel like I am missing something truly important.

5) When I was pregnant, I worked very hard (especially at work), so that I could convince everyone, even myself, that nothing would change. I couldn't have been more wrong. In the future, I would take even better care of myself and be less concerned with other's opinions of me.

6) A happy house and family are more important than a fancy or even a clean house.

Baby in Mexico

Ok, in a little more than 2 weeks we are headed to Mexico for a family vacation. With One Philly Son.

Originally I had some apprehension about traveling to a foreign country with a 15 month old in my lap, but now I am super-duper pumped.

One Philly Daddy and I have been to Mexico almost every year since we started dating (we skipped the year we were saving for our wedding, a worthy cause for sure!) and sometimes sneak in 2 visits a year. Our favorite is Playa del Carmen .

Its a little less tourist-y than Cancun, and the crowd is a little more mature, if you know what I mean....(our first trip was to Blue Bay Getaway, an adults only resort. Fun, but eventually we decided we wanted to witness Mexican culture, cuisine, locals, art, history,etc instead of just, you know, horny travelers.

Anyway, this trip we're going the All-Inclusive route, which seemed to be cost effective, and simple, since we're traveling with a child.

The resort we're going to sounds AMAZING! The beach gets the greatest reviews, and since One Philly Son is all about waves and is going to love it. Some of our concerns about the timing of the trip were One Philly Son's eating habits and walking ability, but like most things in life, its all working out beautifully.

He looks at me like I'm ridiculous if I cut up his banana in small slices (and then quartered to be safe), so now I just give him a chunk of banana and he does great. He can also handle sliced cheese (even Sharp Cheddar, go figure) and assorted other things.

Today we went to Trader Joe's and they have kid-sized grocery carts. I decided he wasn't "ready", but in the course of grabbing only a few things, he wanted to get out of the seat in the big cart, and did in fact end up pushing the big cart around the store (much to the amusement of the other shoppers).

So Mexico, here we come! Baby and all!

Now that I'm a mommy (and loving it!),something peculiar is happening to my body.

My arms, biceps specifically, are strong, tight, maybe even big! And I don't lift! Oh, wait, there is that 22lb squirming bundle of love that I lift, press, dance, swing,and otherwise lug around...I guess that counts!

The belly, however, is getting rounder and softer by the moment. I still fit in my clothes and I've never had "abs" but toned is NOT a word I'd use!

The good and bad news is I'm not really fretting too much. Yes, I know I should be excercising more and eating better. I even want too. But my favorite method of self-motivation used to be self-trashing along the lines of "you are so fat" (I wasn't, I was just mean.) or something along those lines...

So, I'm hunting for a new form of self-motivation. I'm aiming to teach my
kid healthy habits that include excercise, vegetables, AND NO self-trashing!!!

Dancing with the Devil

This weekend I attended my cousin's wedding.

On the surface that seems like a pretty simple thing, but she is my father's sister's daughter. While my father's family remained amazingly present and generous in my life following my parent's 4 year acrimonious divorce, I have had only limited contact with my father since I was 12. (that means I've not talked to him for longer than he was in my life, by a long shot)

His influence on my life was pretty twisted and unhealthy, so I expected to feel anxious, nervous, perhaps even afraid when actually in the same room with him. My strongest feeling was that under no circumstances would One Philly Son be in the same room as my father, but beyond that I wasn't experiencing much stress or worry leading up to the wedding.

Once at the wedding, it became apparent that my father is old, tired and rung out by life. He appeared to be tired, afraid and unhappy.

Breaking the cycles of abuse, undiagnosed and untreated mental illness and poor emotional coping skills takes a lot of crying, work, soul searching and facing the ugliest truths.

I am proud and honored to know many people who have taken that journey and aided me on mine.

What I faced when looking at my father was a man losing that fight, not a monster who could terrorize. What I saw was a man run by his demons instead of facing them. What I saw frightened me because it is only by the grace of something much larger than myself that I do not look like him. Sad and dead in the eyes, with fear and lonliness.

He and his current wife and children only lasted a short time through the reception. My heart breaks for how that family felt that night. Family members told me he doesn't talk to anyone but his sister (who is a truly amazing person).

I thought I might feel fear or anger even, but I felt pity, relief (that my path went a different way) and compassion.
His actions make it impossible, senseless, unhealthy and dangerous to my well being for me to interact with him, but as a fellow human observer, I know he is in pain and unhappy. And I wish his journey was different.

Well, its official, we have a walker!

One Philly Son started walking last week, to the complete delight to his father and I. He's not proficient as of yet, but it is THE coolest thing to glance over and see One Philly Son standing, completely on his own, in front of his Fridge Farm. Or to see him turn from the couch and walk to the table to get his chalk or car or chase the dogs.

We've said before that he's not a "baby" anymore, but a "kid" or "toddler."

It is true what they say, that time goes fast, so fast and too fast when watching your child grow up.

I just did something a little out of character.

First, let me set the scene...One Philly Son is playing with his activity table, one of those with the play telephone. And he is SCREAMING. He's frustrated because he can't get the phone to his ear, because the string is too short. (I realize a longer string would be a hazard to young kids, but it was really ticking off my kid!)

I'm generally a "change yourself to life's circumstances" kind of person, but I am beginning to see the value of changing life to fit your needs.

So I did the first thing that came to mind.

I cut the damn string!

One Philly Son is loving his toy and for some reason I am feeling a bit freer today.

It is recommended to wean a child off the bottle and to sippy cups at a year. Prolonged use of bottles can lead to cavities and tooth decay.

But One Philly Son, at a whopping 13 months, is still using his bottles, in addition to sippy cups. I mentioned this to a fellow Mommy recently and she said "you just have to put them away, get rid of them"

How wise, how simple!

And it occurred to me that this is probably good advice in many of life's situations. Of course we've all heard varying forms, but I guess I just needed to hear it one more time.

So today, One Philly Son and I took a trip to BsbiesRUs and bought 8 sippy cups, as well as a Gerber suction plate and utensil set, a pumpkin sweatshirt, and training toothpaste. Luckily Sesame Street (and some other) sippy cups were buy one get one half off. Also good was the gift cards we'd recieved for One Philly Son's birthday...

I've boxed what bottles are clean and rearranged the kitchen cabinets yet again. I remember arranging these cabinets when it was just One Philly Daddy and I. I remember packing up
frivolous things like our wine, margarita and pilsner glasses to make room for bottles. And someday soon I'll need to move something out to make room for something else.

Learning not to compare at storytime...

I recently attended Storytime at my local library.

(Sidenote: Many, if not most or all libraries offer free story times for various age groups. If you are a stay-at-home-Mom/Dad or just have some time during the day - I've found they are scheduled on weekdays most of the time - its a worthwhile experience.)

Storytime is great. My local library coordinates it by age, so One Philly Son is in a group with children his age, doing activities that are appropriate (read: short and exciting - you know, anything to keep their attention) for his age group.

And while I was there it dawned on me #1 how easy it is to get into the game of comparing our kids, ourselves, etc #2 how dangerous comparing can be, and  #3 how pointless comparing is.

I saw a Mom and Son at storytime who I'd run into in the past. And immediately began the mental checklist. Her son is taller, more verbal, and walking. Heck, he even has more teeth and hair than One Philly Son. Geez! So I immediately switch to the is she working or staying at home? line of thinking. Maybe because she's home she has more time/money to talk/teach/sing up for classes/whatever with her son? And that's why he's, what, taller?

What exactly was I trying to figure out?

So it became pretty clear to me pretty quickly that this sort of comparison is silly and pointless. I know nothing more about her than her son's name and his approximate age. I have no idea where she's from, whether she works or stays home, if she's married, where she lives, how she lives, etc, etc, etc.

So what the heck am I doing trying to figure out if she's better than me or if I'm better than her? Cause really, what other reason is there to compare all that stuff? Clothes, car, house - who's is bigger or nicer? Husband, kids, dogs - who's are better looking and better behaved? Body, hair, face - who's is skinnier and prettier?

Well, I'm gonna tell ya, none of that s**t matters! Because, as we all know, none of that is what's important!

What do you think of your life? Not as it compares to someone else's, just yours. It may be interesting to compare to the dreams you had for your life, or what you're striving for your life to be, as sort of an interesting comparison. But really, no comparison makes sense. Because it'll never be apples to apples, you'll always be comparing your bruised apples to your perception of someone else's perfect oranges. (or vice versa, but you get the idea)

So today, don't worry about how you stack up to someone else.