Amazing

Do you know someone who is amazing? I don't mean someone who is perfect or all knowing or beyond reproach even. Just someone who knocks your socks off with how incredible they are? I had time to think about this tonight and I asked myself the question "Who is the most incredible person I know?"

It was easy to answer. Her name is Gretchen. She's just, well, amazing. You can read her blog http://www.adventureswithgretchen.blogspot.com/ and you might think "OK. She's a mom with a blog. So?" But you'd be underestimating her amazingness if you did that.

See, my friend Gretchen took in a little girl, who was in no way blood related to her and made her her own. She had 2 kids of her own, little ones at that, and never even blinked about giving this little girl a family. She loves her wholly. She hurts when her girl hurts, cries when she's heartbroken and is making a safe, loving place for that baby to grow. How many people do something that cool? Not very many. She is making the biggest difference one person can make in another person's life. The number of lives she has touched with this is already exponential, I suspect and, as is true to her amazingness, I doubt she knows it.

And then there is my childhood friend Dani, who joined the Peace Corps and went to West Africa and lived without running water or electricity for a year to be a health volunteer. A blond, California girl, left all the amenities of home to go help others. Amazing.

See, the thing is, I want to be amazing too. Not in a "Oh, you're a good mom" kind of way, but in a "Holy Crap, she's amazing!" kind of way. I want to make a difference too. I want to be selfless and giving and open and, well, amazing.

The problem is, this is not how you become amazing. These women didn't do what they did in an effort to be special. They did it because it felt right. It was in their heart to take these big steps. I have not found my opportunity yet, I don't think. That thing, the one that pulls you so hard towards it you can't say no, has not presented itself. At least I hope not. I don't think it did. Maybe it never will. But I hope it does. I'd like to make a big difference somewhere. And I don't want to do it because it will make me amazing. I want to do it, whatever it might be, because I am able and willing and loving and open. And I want the experience to be amazing.

But if someone wanted to say I was amazing too, I'd be cool with that.

So three cheers to my heroes, Gretchen and Dani. Ladies, you are amazing! I hope one day I can measure up.

It's rampant

The nasty cold that started with Stinkyman, that is. He's still got it, complete with crusty eyes and a cough that sounds like he was born with a pack a day smoking habit. Peanut has it as well, without the cough, but with green snot and likely an ear infection. Curly just has the runny nose and the crappy attitude of a kid who is about to get sicker. Husband is stuffy, but went to work, of course, suffering greatly, as only a man can suffer...which is to say, exaggerated.

But in a game of ultimate one-upmanship, I win. I have the cold too, but it is all stuffed up in my head, which has triggered a 3 day migraine that comes and goes as it sees fit. And of course I cannot be sick because I am Mommy amd mommies don't have the luxury of crawling back into bed and waiting for the yuckiness to pass.

Fingers crossed that BabyGirl escapes.

6 years ago

It was 6 years ago today that I went to my doctor, 39 weeks pregnant, expecting to hear that nothing much had changed, go home and wait. We were supposed to go to a birthday dinner for a nephew, so we went to the late appt hungry. But we were not told to go home and wait. We were told "I don't like your blood pressure. Let's have this baby today."

We went to the hospital, got all settled in, made the appropriate phone calls and waited.

It wasn't hard. I thought it would be. It probably would have been harder, but I was all for the epidural. I was so excited to meet my baby, to hold her, kiss her, see her face, count her fingers and her toes, that any misery fell by the wayside.

She was born at 5:24 in the morning. She was perfect in every way. I was awed by her. I still am.

Happy Birthday, my Curly Girlie. Mommy loves you.

Whew!

Curly's party was big success.
And I am tired.
Pics to come soon.

what?

I have grown to, not dislike, but hate, the word "what". It seems to be my kids new word of choice, replacing the ubiquitous "why?" for most annoying question in a child's repertoire.

"Please put your shoes in the closet."

"What?"

"Did you brush your teeth?"

"What?"

"Where'd you put your backpack?"

"What?"

"What did you do at school today?"

"What?"

"Did you put up your crayons?"

"What?"

"Open the door."

"What?"

"Want a cookie?"

"Yes, please."

Woo-hoo

Curly turns 6 next week and her party is this coming Saturday. It's going to be a helluva shindig. She invited all 15 girls from her class (no boys, thankyouverymuch) and one from another class. Add in the daughters of friends of mine, whom she's also friends with, and we have a total invitee list of somewhere around 24.

In my wildest dreams I thought we'd have maybe 12 girls. The total lack of RSVP's the week after I sent the invites home kind of validated that thought.

But then the RSVP's started rolling in. We are now at a total of 18 little girls for sure, plus 2 who told Curly they were coming, but have not phoned or emailed. There are 3 we simply have not heard from and only 1 no.

And today, thanks to my imaginary friend Claud and the pull my husband has within the shipping company, the most perfect and amazing party favors arrived on my doorstep. (Did you know imaginary friends could ship things? It's true!)

And so it is all coming together. Tables have been procured. White chairs have been rented. Pink tablecloths, white doilies, china teacups and pink and white streamers have been purchased. Curly's honorary Auntie L is baking a phenomenal cake. Her Auntie M is going to paint 180 little toenails and her Auntie C is going to paint 18 darling little faces. Grammy will bring the balloons. Daddy will remove all traces of Stinkyman and general boyness from the festivities and we will be having the ultimate tea and beauty party.

It is hard to know who is more excited, me or Curly. I'm so thrilled for my baby that her party is turning into all that she was hoping for.

But next year, we'll be paring DOWN the guest list.

mostly for me

I'm bad with dates, so this post is just so I can remember that BabyGirl started rolling over from back to tummy at 4 and a half months.

She's growing too fast. :(