What. a. Day.

And that's not to say that it was bad, not in the slightest. It was a great day, full of fun and laughter and a few firsts for One Philly Son.

One Philly Daddy had attended a golf outing today, so I was Solo Mommy today, and of course, I decided to get a lot done.

This morning I put away our winter coats, since we have a coat rack rather than a closet, this is important. At the very least, a rack of winter coats in the middle of July is annoying.

One Philly Son and I went to the Little Treehouse in Chestnut Hill for about 3 hours this morning. It was too yucky to play outside, and I didn't want to be trapped in the house. One Philly Son fell asleep on the ride over, but was absolutely filled with glee and joy when he woke up at the Treehouse. He chattered eagerly to me for minutes and I'm just sure he was saying "oh my gosh, oh my gosh, I didn't know we were coming here! Can you believe it! Look at the slide! The blocks! The books! Wow-o-wow! Hoooray!" At least, that's what it sounded like to me...

He napped when we got back, around 1, and I took the opportunity to wash the kitchen and bathroom towels (separately of course)  and mop the floors. Not Swiffer, but bucket of hot water and PineSol mop the floors. Our room and One Philly Son's are the only ones with carpet in the whole house, so this was an undertaking. Not sure what possessed me, but these floors needed a cleaning!

In a magical moment of timing, One Philly Son woke up just as I was finishing. Phew.

We went for a walk, got some ice cream. Came home and he ate dinner. Since One Philly Daddy would be home late, I wanted to get One Philly Son bathed and ready for bed so that any time they had together tonight could be fun play time instead of bath time. (Which is also fun, but not the quality time I hoped to provide.)

Post-bath One Philly Son made what is swiftly becoming his most common and urgent plea "ELMO????" (As a matter of fact, this is also becoming the last and first word of his days.)

We'd had a plenty active day, so I was ok with a little Elmo. So I placed him on my bed, turned on the TV and Tivo and went to fetch his diaper and pj's. Ppsssssssssssssssssssssss.

DRAT!!!!

Yep, he tinkled on my quilt. Luckily its the winter quilt. Its starting to get too warm to use it and I was waiting for just the right moment to wash it. MOMENT FOUND!

Since our washer isn't large enough, this meant One Philly Son and I (after I managed to wipe the pee of his mostly clean body, applied his diaper and removed the pee quilt from my bed) took a little field trip to the local laundromat.

He was quite the trooper, fascinated with the washers and dryers and walking the stairs outside the laundromat over and over and over again. He charmed everyone there and took it all in stride.

One Philly Daddy arrived at home a mere 10 minutes after we did.

Phew! I am beat! What a day!

Wooohooo summer!

So I know its barely mid-May, but we're pumped and ready for summer!

One Philly Daddy purchased an infant seat for his bike recently and we already went on our maiden voyage! One Philly Son didn't seem to mind the helmet, which was a relief, and enjoyed the ride. I think he's going to love it, especially if we manage to cram the bikes in the car for our annual trek to Wildwood, NJ.

We have a membership to Sesame Place, so we're super excited about Big Birds Rambling River, shows with Elmo, and the Parade of characters. If you live anywhere near the Oxford Valley Mall and have kids, I suggest looking into a membership.  Heck, if you might drive down more than twice in the season, it would be worth it. We went today, and since it was rainy and chilly, the park was nearly deserted. Which means One Philly Son got to go on three rides today, and only waited once. Since he's a whopping 20 months and his patience level is still pretty low, the no waiting was key to a fun day. We also saw Justin Roberts and the Not Ready for Nap Time Players. Very fun!

We also have a day trip to Baltimore, 2 weddings for 2 fabulous couples, a visit to my brand-spankin' new niece. Plus so much more!

Isn't summer great? We haven't hit the sweltering weather yet, so we're still happy with 80 degree days and a few hours in the yard. I'm planning on taking full advantage of the time I have with One Philly Son while he still thinks One Philly Daddy and I hung the moon and stars, so we've got lots of plans!

Enjoy your summer, and seize your moments!

A painful lesson in growing up...

Yesterday was a rough day for my 10 year old niece, as is today and will be tomorrow as well.

She received a ferret for Christmas, whom she adored, and on Wednesday, in a terrible accident, her ferret died. He was accidentally caught in a closing car door and died from his injuries, but the details aren't important.

A young person whom I love is learning some very grown up lessons in loss, pain, blame, forgiveness, regret, sorrow.

And no one can take that away for her. She is an energetic, loving force and she was so proud of her pet and taking care of him. I can not stop thinking about her and the literal heartbreak she is feeling now.

Sure, there are likely to be bigger, worse ones later in life, but I so wish I could wave a magic wand for her and take her back to when things were right. When her friend could snuggle with her, romp with her on the yard, greet her after a day of school.

Sweet girl, if I could hold that pain and carry it for you, if just for a moment, I would. I love you.

Priceless...

Today One Philly Son and I enjoyed some of the priceless side effects of my lay-off.

This morning we drove to Allentown (a little over an hour away) to visit with an old neighbor of mine. I lived next door to him when I was a child, and he retired the year we moved in, also the year I was born. He is currently 94 years old. He lived alone until recently, and has never married or had children. He was by far the single healthiest influence on our lives. He has a heart condition and is recovering from the shingles. Our visit was a few hours. He gave One Philly Son a ride on the walker he's only recently started using.

We went to a McDonald's. My neighbor loves it, especially because there's a fantastic playland for One Philly Son. We had a great time, and I am always struck by observing two people on such opposing ends of life's journey. I want to take the moments and lock them up, preserving them forever. I'd like a Star Trek holographic thingy so I can relive them over and over and over again.

One Philly Son has two middle names, and my neighbor is one of those namesakes. So these moments are especially poignant to me.

I do not know that he realizes the incredible affect he had on my life, by simply being a healthy, consistent, honest prescence in my life.

After our visit, One Philly Son and I went to the park and he swung on the swings. He loves the swings, and today was probably on one for half an hour. Somewhere around 15 minutes in, he started leaning his head back, and I could see him testing how comfortable he felt, leaning back farther and farther. At some point he totally relaxed, head back, eyes closed, the breeze blowing his hair. I could see he'd totally relaxed and was not afraid to just swing. It was a moment that took time to accomplish and I'm so blessed I had the time to spend.

So yeah, I lost my job. I'm not sure I'd trade it for moments like today.

Self control

Sometimes self control is important for honoring and respecting another person.

Ugh.

My sister/best friend had a baby Saturday, 15 full minutes before Mother's Day. She had a beautiful daughter, and went home yesterday. Aside from the appropriate exhaustion, everyone is great.

I injured my back during delivery, so the first few weeks home with One Philly Son are a blur, but I remember they were busy, full of wonder, and the creation of the bonds of our family.

So I want to honor and respect this new family and their time.

BUT I also want to call 5 times a day to ask what the baby did, how she slept, if they slept last night, how much she eats, if she coos yet, if her thumb finds it's way to her mouth, and on and on. Wahhhhhh! That's me, not the baby.

Wah!!!!!!! I want baby time!!!!!!!!

Maybe soon....for now, I'll just give One Philly Son some extra love. He'll love that!

Yoga on Mother's Day...a bath for the soul....

Sometimes the answers come to questions unasked, for fear of the answer.

I attended a special Mother's day yoga class yesterday, and nearly immediately the tears started. I can't say that they were the result of anything more than not being able to physically contain all that was going on inside me.

A mother attended with her disabled son, a beauty of a boy with a great smile who appeared to have no control over his physical body. She lovingly whispered to him as we prepared for class. I was filled with a feeling of gratitude for all my blessings, and wonder at this woman's strength. At one point in the class, we did a community (group) exercise, with a circle of men, women, and children..families, all standing shoulder to shoulder extending our legs together in front and in back, trusting each other to hold us all up. This boy lay in the center of the circle while a group of strangers pushed and pulled for physical balance and I marveled at the beauty of trust.

During I continued to tear up, wiping the tears away, but not attempting to end them.

I was occasionally inspired to (but didn't) bust out laughing.

The lessons I'd learned in an abusive childhood of me being not good enough, broken, somehow poison to those I loved began to seem more and more absurd.

The tears continued to flow. I wouldn't say I was crying so much as I was "dripping." The more I moved, the more the tears flowed.

Then became clear how deliberately and often I sensed greatness and complete love in and for myself, but said "Oh, no, step back. Don't ever let yourself suspect that you or your life could be good, complete, whole, based on love. The higher you let yourself fly, the more you will hurt when you fall. And you will fall. And you will fall hard. Don't fly too high, don't ever fly too high." I've done a lot of work combating these thoughts, and most of the time do pretty well at keeping them at bay. Sometimes, it can be hard to ignore.

Suddenly, and in that moment I was unafraid of my height, of feeling love without the but's, unless's, until's, and if only's tacked on at the end. I could be all those things I'd dreamed, and more.

The tears really began to fall.

I stepped out of class to let the tears flow. I was pretty sure people had noticed the tears, but the rate the tears were falling now would disrupt class.

I know that simply moving through yoga poses can be therapeutic, and there are even people who seem to believe yoga an option to psychotherapy. I know that in either setting, even in life, the real challenge is being open to whatever comes. And I managed to do that in class yesterday, when often in the past, I'd swallowed those tears, perhaps ended up being too busy for yoga for a few weeks.


I found a quiet space, and let the tears continue to fall. When I was composed, I re-entered class.

I felt fabulous, just overwhelmed, filled up and overflowing with the truth of my inherent goodness. Maybe those tears were the lies, secrets, hate, fear, and pain being wrung out of my soul. It sure felt like it.

Happy Mother's Day!

Tomorrow is Mother's day, which is cause for additional reflection now that I am, in fact, a mother.

Being One Philly Son's mother is, by far, the most important and amazing thing that has happened to me. Becoming a mother has caused me to see some of my own mother's actions in a kinder light, some in a harsher light. Not unusual, I would expect.

It has caused me to have greater empathy and awe for those parents ('cause really, when there's only one, you're both Mother and Father) who go it alone. It is astonishing to me now (even though from 12 years on, I was raised by just my mother) the fortitude and perseverance and dedication it takes to raise a child alone.

My own sister and best-est friend will join the ranks of motherhood, virtually any moment now. I can NOT wait to share another amazing journey with her. I am sending her thoughts of a healthy labor, delivery, and newest addition to our clan.

I feel such pride in and gratitude to One Philly Daddy as well, that we chose each other as partners in parenthood, forever uniting us in what is currently a 27 lb, 2 foot tall miracle.

It seems such a simple thing. We all have a mother, and many of us are mother's, biologically or otherwise. And yet, the grandest thing lies in the simplest thing, being a mother.

A very happy, blessed, joyous Mother's Day to all of you, whether you be a mother or not.

After yesterday's post, I hope you don't think I walk around telling myself how awful I am, cause I don't.

I can easily tell you I am strong, smart, capable, caring, nuturing, etc, etc, etc. I know I have many great qualities. In many ways, all my wildest dreams have come true, and I have a wonderful life as a result of my hard work and the choices I've made.

What I'm talking about are the far dark alleys of my mind where there's still some creepy guy asking "are you sure!?!" I've indulged that guy and his creepy questions because I thought ignoring those fears would leave me unprepared if and when those fears came true.

So now, I suppose the biggest difference is that I'll answer that guy "yeah, I'm sure. And, dude, don't you have something better to do?" instead of "well, gee I think so, but I don't know, I could be wrong, what do you think?"

It sounds like semantics, but the best way I can describe it is going from thinking something to believing it. Believing requires faith, without evidence, trusting without proof. And really, where was I going to find the proof I was seeking?

Nowhere. The faith will come from me, and the proof will be my life. Check back in 50 years or so...I'll show you!

That's it, it's over!

I'm ending an unhealthy relationship.

Sometimes this person is great, but sometimes awful. This person remembers all my mistakes and brings them up when I am feeling my worst. This person is constantly reminding me of how I don't stack up to others; in the way I dress, act, think, feel, and act as a sister, daughter, mother, wife, and friend. This person has unusually high expectations of me and doesn't seem content with anything I've done. This person knows all my most frightening fears and likes to remind me of them often, while under the guise of being "realistic" and "protecting", or worse, "motivating" me. This person can get so angry with me and keep me from the people and things I love. One word from this person can cut deep, leaving me wounded for days. Sometimes all I see is disappointment in this person's eyes.

I've tried reasoning with this person, ignoring the hurtful words.

But I'm not going to listen anymore. I'm  going to build myself up when this person tried to say something negative. I plan to laugh at this person when they accuse me of being selfish, awful, stupid, ugly, fat, a terrible person.

I hope you don't have a voice like this in your life, I hope you have someone to encourage you, love you, pick you up when you are down, who believes in you when you need it most.

It may be a silly way to make the point, but have you guessed who I'm ending it with?

Yep, its the nasty voice in my own head. I'd never tolerate being treated this way by someone else, why accept it by myself? How about you? Are you treating you well?

I'm feeling great at the moment, getting over a funk. I wrote about said funk yesterday and didn't post because, frankly, I think I sounded a whee bit nuts.

Maybe someday soon I'll re-read it and post a selection as a frightening peek into the darker side of my mind. A nice side effect of getting all those crazy thoughts in my head out of my head is that I can realize how nonsensical and unrealistic and irrational some of my fears are.

I'm not sure what broke the spell of my latest "I suck, I'm ruining everything, why do I even try?", but One Philly Daddy's sage advice of "laughing them off" seemed to be a success.

Try it, even if you don't believe it. Next time you tell yourself you suck, follow it up with a "that is the funniest, most ridiculous thing I've ever heard! Hahahahahahahaaa! Cause ya know what? I ROCK!!!!!"

It may not work, but if nothing else, it may make you smile!

Twice in the past 8 days I attended a yoga class.

I love yoga. I imagine that yoga is to me what church can be for some. When I do yoga, I feel in touch with something (someone?) bigger than myself, bigger than my comprehension. I revel in the mind-body connection. I spend a lot of time "living" in my head so deliberately focusing on stretching down with my tail bone while up with the top of my head can start to feel spiritual.

I am drawn to the ideals of yoga, and some of my most valued lessons came by way of a yoga class. When attempting a new, challenging, "impossible" pose (crow, head stand, hand stand, etc) I've been told it is only my mind holding me back, that once my mind believes I can do it, the body will stop resisting (also known as "being afraid of falling on my head"), and I will in fact be able to do it. I loved the teacher who encouraged us to push our poses to new places, encouraging our stumbling, falling and slipping by telling us that falling was our sign that we were growing.

But I sometimes let months go between classes. They are expensive, life gets in the way, I dm busy. And if I am truly honest, sometimes it can be too much. Not physically, I am fascinated by the strength that can be achieved be leaning, stretching, holding up my own body.

No, rather it is tapping into that greater power that sometimes scares me. I was attending the same class with a teacher I really responded too, and she pushed me. She said I could extend my arms and hold cobra with just my core. She was probably right, she was very aware of my physical strengths and abilities. But I didn't. Couldn't or wouldn't, whichever. My body listened to my mind saying "you can't do this!" and I didn't attend classes for a few months.

There's also an aspect, for me at least, of getting answers. At church, it would be called God's voice, but some would say it is my truest self and I'm "hearing" what I already know.

This phenomenon fascinates me, but can also can something that scares me. What if I hear an answer I don't want to hear? Of course, those answers come only from a place of love and honoring of my truest self, a place of peace and love. So the answers shouldn't scare me.

But, I do feel better when I practice regularly - physically, emotionally and mentally. So I should probably just stick with it,huh?

Fancy Schmancy!

I did some cleaning and laundry recently, and when I put away our kitchen towels, I found something.
The set of napkins and tablecloth we registered for when we got married. The tablecloth is still in the original packaging, and I don't think we've ever used the napkins either. I also have a full set of china that has never seen the light of day. We registered for many household items on whims, planning to use them in a house we hadn't purchased yet. As usual, things worked out for us, and the towels, dishes, and sheets all matched the home we ended up purchasing and now live in. Probably better than if we'd done it on purpose.

But while I'm very grateful for the generosity we received all those years ago, I am also somewhat embarrassed that I still have unused wedding gifts. We've been married for almost 4 years, so I would think we'd use a tablecloth in that much time! What am I waiting for?! But the truth is, I'm probably saving it until. We have a dining room. Or a table that fits the table cloth. Or any number of other ideas. I'm certainly not alone in this.

I've done this in the past too, saving stickers back in middle school when stickers were the thing to collect. My favorite shirts were saved up for that special day when they could come out of the closet. Of course, many of those stickers and shirts went unused and unworn, dried up or too small by the time the perfect day came around.
So its time to use the finest and nicest, instead of waiting for the "right" day, mood, party, etc, etc, etc.

Go ahead, break out your China! You're worth it!

For happiness, just add dirt

The longer One Philly Daddy and I are parents, the more our parenting philosophy becomes clear to me. Somethings are a bit of a surprise of me, in that I'd never considered some aspects of parenthood, not so much that I expected to feel differently.
I wasn't raised to be wary of germs, and some of our best times involved streams, mud, dirt, trees, sticks, leaves, climbing, etc.

So I suppose it shouldn't be a surprise that I've concluded "A Dirty Kid is a Happy Kid."

Since I've been home full time recently and the weather has been warmer and nicer, we've been outside a lot more. Recently (sadly, my last post) I confronted One Philly Son wanting to play outside in what is essentially, our dogs' potty. Yesterday I was confronted with this once again.

One Philly Son LOVES to be outside. He whines at the doors to go outside often, and I can tell he's just thrilled to be outside whenever we're outside, whether its a walk, the playground, or throwing a ball off the porch. (Which is especially fun for One Philly Daddy and I since we do not live on a flat street and end up chasing said ball. Sigh.) He loves it. I've been visiting one of the three playgrounds within walking distance of my house every day that the weather cooperates, but it doesn't always work out. One Philly Son sometimes falls asleep on the walk to the park and the other times he falls asleep on the swings, ruining play time AND his nap schedule. Beyond that, it can get to be a drag to have to pack a diaper bag, snacks, sunscreen and lug the stroller.

Plus, One Philly Daddy spent a lot of time and effort last year commandeering various play things from Craigslist and the like to set up the perfect outdoor play area for One Philly Son. We have a small slide, 2 swings, picnic table and sand box. To top it all off, One Philly Daddy ordered a custom sign to hang over our door announcing that the backyard is One Philly Son's "Playground". Way too much love and effort went into that yard for it to go to waste because of a little dirt!

So, dog poop notwithstanding, I want to spend as much time in our yard as humanly possible. And I'd like it to be the most enjoyable and usable for One Philly Son. Which means, I imagine I'll be doing a quick poop run every day that the weather will allow One Philly Son to play outside. A small price to pay for the joy it brings him.

Today, we were playing outside when One Philly Son remembered the hose (yesterday while he played, I did some yard work, attempting to clear plants, poop and other unmentionables that inhibit his play), and stood under the dripping hose "washing" rocks and pieces of mulch. He'd already played in his sandbox, so adding water was a messy proposition.

And then I did something crazy. I called One Philly Daddy who was on his way home from work, and he picked up a small inflatable pool for One Philly Son so he could REALLY play with water.

Between the water, sand, dirt, dogs, pollen, mulch, and Cheerio snack (lovingly provided by me, and happily dumped into the pool by One Philly Son) we had quite a mess going.

But I can't stand to stand in the way of the moment when One Philly Son fills a cup of water and splashes his own face, realizing "hey! this thing holds water!" or the moment he sticks a sandy hand in the pool and realizes "this stuff washes off!" or the first moment he successfully steps over the edge of the pool without help and looks up with the "WOW, did you see THAT?!" look on his face.

More of a wonder is that watching One Philly Son has brought back some long buried but happy memories from my childhood about the wonder and glee of exploration and adventure and imagination.

Maybe a dirty kid is a happy Mommy?

Mommying where the poop meets the playground

What a day!

The sun is shining again here, and One Philly Son loves, loves, loves to go outside to play.

As a matter of fact, we have a playset, picnic table, swing and slide set up for him in the yard. I want him to play outside. I know exploring his world is a crucial and exciting experience for him.

On the other hand, we have two dogs who see the yard as their, well, potty.

Enter internal debate #1. To play or not to play? Well, I went with play, and hovered over One Philly Son to try to avert any collisions with doggy poo landmines. (One Philly Daddy did a pick up yesterday, but toddlers seem drawn to the one thing you hope they don't find.)

One Philly Son loved being outside. He drug the rake around, laughed at the dogs, threw a ball,and yes, walked directly into a densley populated poo depository.

Internal debate #2. Cut short play time or manage the poo situation? I decided to manage the poo. Out came a plastic bag, and the poo scoop and shovel. Which was tricky because One Philly Son loves all things grown up cleaning related. So while I scooped I kept up a steady stream of "don't touch that" and "icky" and we luckily avoided THAT mess. He continued to play and have a great time.

Then he heard the trash trucks out front and went to investigate.

Internal debate #3. I spotted some neighbors and kids playing down the street and had to decide whether or not to wander down the street, knowing One Philly Son would head straight there. The debate was entirely motivated by the fact that I hadn't showered and had just thrown sweatpants over my jammies to head out to play. Sigh. I must be a sucker, cause down the hill we went. Again, he had a great time.

Once playtime was over, we headed home. Internal debate #4. I wanted to give One Philly Son a bath since he'd been in Poo Palace Playland, but also needed a shower myself. So what to do? Shower while he fusses? Bathe him and hope I'm clean from our play outside? (to be clear, he only stepped in one small poo and had just the tiniest bit on the sole of his shoe. But since I had to carry him, and he often gets down to crawl/climb on things, I really wasn't sure where exactly that sole had been.)

So I did the most effective, safest, fastest thing I could think of. Drew a bath and plopped the both of us in there.

By this time, One Philly Son is getting really really tired and cranky. He'd had an eventful Sunday, and played hard all morning. #5. Lunch then nap or nap then lunch? I threw together a quick lunch, which he ate enough of, and promptly nodded off in his booster seat. So off to nap he goes.

In the midst of this one of my most prolific poop producers shred a pillow on the spare bedroom, presumably because I wouldn't let him off the lead while we were in the yard. Trust me, this dog can be quite deliberate in his spite. So that was another debate. What are we up to, 6? To blow up at the dog, clean up the mess or carry on with my bath, lunch, nap routine? I went with the latter.

I'm working hard to accept that much of my day is not under my control. I can influence certain things and control my reactions, but that is really all I can do. While in our yard my critical eye and mind made a mind-numbing list of to-do's. Flower pots and boxes, weeding, raking and on and on. I asked that voice to just shush a minute so I could enjoy my son laughing at the dog. My grossed out self wanted to be irritated, angry and fed up about the poop. I focused on seeing the value of the play, reminding myself there's poop in everyone's (metaphoric) yard, so it's not so much about being upset about the poop as it is just doing your best to play around the poop.

As we speak a pile of dirty play clothes are laying on my kitchen floor where I stripped us as soon as we came in from the yard,the guts of a pillow are piled on my guest bed, a half eaten lunch sits on my counter.

I'm so glad I'm learning to play around the poo.

Sigh. Scary stuff.

Today, we applied for life insurance. In my mind this is a simple, essential way to take care of my family in the heart-wrenching case that I'm not here to do it myself.

Of course, that's always the reality, no one lives forever, I'm just more aware if it today.

I've never given death much thought. It happens, and I hope mine is as late and dignified as possible.

The difference now is that I have a family I love more than the air I breathe, the ground I walk on. Death doesn't particularly scare me, but not being with my family does.

With a little luck, some smart decisions and being blessed more than I already am, I won't have to worry about that for a long, long, long, long time.

Out with the old, in with the new!

So yesterday One Philly Daddy and I put out 9 (count 'em nine!) bags of clothes and books to be donated to a local charity. And our closets are still remarkably full. But that's a story for another day.

For some reason, donating clothes can sometimes have an emotional component, and it certainly did for me this time. I've been stashing clothes in a bag in the bottom of my closet as I come across thing that don't fit, I don't like, or just don't make me feel great. I got rid of things that just didn't fit my style. I'm a simple gal. Solid T's, an occasional stripe and lots and lots of earthy "grounded" colors, as my style was once described to me. Now, that's not to say that I don't appreciate the look of a nice leopard print or tried on a few occasions to pull off said print or bright color. I admire the look on others, but end up fidgeting and fussing when I try to wear it myself. So I finally am giving up the "maybe I'll like it one day" fantasy, and am just keeping the clothes that I forget I'm wearing. You know, the ones I feel so comfortable in that I forget what I'm wearing. That to me is comfortable and right. If I'm more aware of what I'm wearing that what I'm doing I'm just not comfortable and I'm probably not rocking the look anyway.

So, away go things that don't make me feel grounded, comfortable and happy.

One Philly Daddy's donation style was different, and involved going through each drawer and his closet in one night. Quite the undertaking, and much more observable. Since, you know, it was a giant pile in the middle of the bedroom.

For me, One Philly Daddy's donations were emotional too. A lot of it was stuff he just didn't like anymore, and he often said "I just don't need this much stuff!" A sentiment I support more and more.

But more significant was the fact that most of his single-funny guy-very humorous-occasionally offensive t-shirt collection got donated. (Not sure how that will go over, but hey, maybe they have a young male volunteer just dying for these T's!)

Now these are shirts that I told him would have to go once we started a family. No one wants to see a man at the park with his kid in a shirt about drinking! (Right?!?! Back me up here!!!)

But once they were in the pile to go away, it suddenly felt like the passing of an era, a milestone, a real moment in our lives. Like we were shedding yet another layer of ourselves to become more of what we are now, and to make room for what we will become.

Which makes me so excited! I'm more and more excited and comfortable with our roles and excited for the life we're living and planning.

All that from a donation of our old clothes!

Love, can it ever run out?

I've been thinking a lot lately about a conversation I had shortly after One Philly Son was born. The crux of the issue for the other woman was that she was pregnant with her second child and worried that she wouldn't love her second child as much as she loved her first.

At the time I scoffed at the idea. Love is one of those amazing phenomenon that grows the more you use it or give it away. The more I love the people in my life and the more I love my life, the more love I receive and feel. Ain't that awesome!

But, I've conjured up an alternate Mommy worry. (Which I know is nonsense, but worth voicing.)
What if I love my second (still unconceived) baby MORE than my first baby!?!??

As in, will this amazing, adored, fascinating creature I've been blessed with become old hat? Will he seem droll and boring? Or worse, an irritating distraction from the new and improved amazing creature I hope to be blessed with?

Of course not! I plan/hope to adore all members of my family for their own amazing uniqueness.

But it also seems worthwhile to ackowledge that nonsensical worry, as it will hopefully provide awareness and motivation to make sure amazing baby #1 doesn't feel dumped should amazing baby #2 come along.

Unfortunately this concern did not work for our dog, who definitely got demoted when baby came along! Oh well, we got her another dog to love her!

When I moved to be with One Philly Daddy, I left a town I loved. I had an immediate connection to the town, attended college there, returned there after a few years in Colorado.

I love the town One Philly Daddy and I live in, and have nothing against it, I was just leaving a town that felt so much like home. Many streets had stories, memories of friends, cutting class to eat Ritas Italian Ice in the park, long winding walks home from the neighborhood pub.

The town we live in now has a lot going for it. A train station to the city, lots of restaurants and bars in walking distance, a real town feel with plenty of community activities. But for a time I still missed my old town.

Lately though, this town feels like home. I don't know if it's simply time, or starting a family, or accumulating memories, but I am getting fabulously wonderful warm fuzzy feelings.

I know and love people here. I have taken miles of walks with my dogs, husband, son and friends over the years. I can see the school One Philly Son may go too. I look forward to building more and more of my life here.

It's good to be home.

I think I just caught a glimpse of the side of me that terrifies my husband a bit.

It's just me, the dogs, cat, house and One Philly Son for the time being and I plan to take my time sorting out a good balance of housework, errands, educational field trips, play dates, down time and naps.

Today I changed and washed the sheets and they didn't feel grimy yet, so that was a victorious luxury in itself. The top sheet of the set I washed sat in the dryer too long ages ago and the thick hem at the top edge of the sheet has been a wrinkled mangled mess for years. It's bugged me for ages, but who has time to do anything about that?

Well, said sheets were done in the dryer while One Philly Son napped, so I did something crazy. I ironed that stupid hem!

Which is amazing since I haven't ironed, you know, clothes in months!

Part of me is really excited to not have that wrinkley hem any more and the other part of me is a little afraid of how happy that flat hem makes me!

Don't worry, there's still dust, and toys out in the livingroom. The list of things to fix or mend is long and (like everyone's) ever growing.

Working out is working out!

I've observed this time and time again, in my own life and the lives of friends and family members of mine.

Remove something that is not "working" for you, and SHAZAM! everything else seems to improve as well.

It could be a boyfriend, friend, way of thinking, client, way of life, city, etc, etc, etc. It is almost as if the weight of either trying to be something you're not or the effort of trying to make something work that just isn't holds you back. And once that weight is lifted (sometimes quite literally), the possibilities get greater and greater. The air is cleaner, the sky bluer, the grass greener, well...you get the idea.

I don't know if its spring, or my recent life-change or my recent post on just doing what you know needs to be done, but I attended one of my One Fit Mama classes today...and it ROCKED!

I've only taken a few classes, and while I loved them all and they were all great work outs, I didn't feel like I was leaving it all "on the court", so to speak.

Then there are those days when I can run the stairs, do lunges, push harder and harder, One Philly Son enjoys class (instead of escaping from his stroller), and I feel pumped. Today was one of those days. Yes, I was short of breathe and really felt winded sometimes and didn't love all the stair work...but I did it all. And I didn't hold back, I just kept pushing. Which felt great, since during my first class a few short weeks ago, I felt simultaneously like passing out and throwing up. I love the feeling of feeling powerful, capable, strong. Its addictive. So now rather than thinking the efforts to get in/be in shape are "wasted" if I get pregnant, I'm going to focus on maintaining that feeling THROUGH pregnancy, if and when we're blessed with another.

I know. Duh. So simple. And yet, I was too busy, tired, had too much to do, was stressed about this and that, and holding on to that idea of it being a waste, and I could not do it.

And that's ok. Cause I'm gonna do it now.