Hold On to the Beauty

I always have these grand ideas of getting to write every night when I'm away visiting my mom's, yet somehow I end up more busy and more tired (if possible) than when I'm home. Sort of the reason for my fear of vacation but I'm trying to remain excited about putting my toes in the sand... Even if it's not at the ocean this time.

Anywho, that's not what's been on my mind. A LOT has been on my mind though. Driving in to the Burgh I was going back and forth between many of my mind rumblings, from my long ago promised college year exploits blog to all this talk about kids today thinking the world should be handed to them on a silver platter without actually working for it, but shortly after arriving back in my hometown that chatter settled in on the 'how scary it is to raise kids' ramblings in my head.

The verdict for the Sandusky trial came in Friday night after settling in at my Mom's. You see, I'm from PA, if you missed that about me. But more than that, I'm a PSU alum, if you somehow missed that too! So while I'm well aware most of the country was awaiting this verdict, some anxiously I'm sure, I think it's safe to say those of us in the Penn State family were on pins and needles as we haven't stopped thinking about it all since November. It was difficult to set aside anyway, but with all the changes that have taken place at Penn State to over a 1/2 mil donated to sexual abuse charities by students, alum and faculty and awareness campaigns students have undertaken, it's been the topic or at least a part of every correspondence alum have received since our worlds were turned upside down on that fateful day in November.

We pride ourselves on being a 1/2 million strong and of the family-like bond we all share. That's the bond we take with us into the real world upon leaving our safe haven of Happy Valley. We take the "We Are...Penn State" to heart. It means something deeper, it just happens to be a football chant too. Well, that "We" part does break down a bit when the Steelers and Eagles play and terrible towels get burnt, because we all know Eagles fans can't handle always being losers! Or when Pens and Flyers face off, especially if it's playoff time and a little drunk girl from Pittsburgh (who shall remain nameless) thinks after a mild beer throwing battle it might be a good idea to pour her entire beer on her boyfriend's roommates head. Said roommate/Flyers fan wasn't very happy about this and said boyfriend sort of ended up knocking his tooth out. Like I said, Bonnie and Clyde not Romeo and Juliet. But other than these such times, we are back to our "we are" bond, mostly. Hey, even the closest of families fight!

Thank God we grew up, geez louise. AND I digressed... sorry.

So, I have even thought of retiring in State College, as many retirees actually do. Why the middle of Pennsylvania? Because Happy Valley is well, a happy place to be! (Or was anyway) Who wouldn't want that in their retirement? Happiness, beautiful surroundings and crazy college kids to keep you young! I get that those who can't fathom such a bond with their university and fellow alum and those who think we are just a football crazy party town will never understand how this horrific scandal has rocked us to the core, broken our hearts and stripped away all we believed to be true about our unbreakable fortress of pride and success with honor since this story broke. It wasn't just the horrified, angry, WTF sort of thing like it was for the rest of the country. Though it was that too. When we learned that Sandusky stole the innocence of all those poor boys, under all our watch, because everyone knew someone who knew him or knew him personally, BUT that system after system betrayed them from a local middle school to the governor and it heartbreakingly seems at least a handful of PSU faculty as well, our faith in everything we knew faltered. We can't go back to the worldview as we saw it nearly 8 months ago.

Our hearts bled for those boys and for the first time we were bleeding red, not blue and white. We bled red with anger and betrayal from one of our own (previously) well respected names associated with our perfect world in Happy Valley. After taking all this in for nearly 8 months and everything that I have read about since, from the Duke coach being accused of similar atrocities to the arch bishop in Philly being found guilty (hallelujah) to plain old statistics and awareness information I've come to the conclusion that my faith is now limited when it comes to anyone protecting my children other than me and my husband. And even he scares me with his, "we'll just teach her to punch them in the eye if they tease her about being Jewish or her glasses", oy vey, yes, great idea hunny!

All kidding aside, some days I feel almost paralyzed by all the horrific things out there that can harm my babies, all the terrifying people. So, I try not to think about them all too much while at the same time remaining as informed and vigilant as possible to protect my sweet, innocent little darlings. I keep coming back to, how the hell do I keep them safe AND still let them out of the house before they turn 20?! How do we do this as parents?


I honestly don't know.

It's not like we can ask our grandparents or even our parents because there are countless more ways all these sickos can now come into my child's world. Growing up I was weary of vans with no windows but at 8 or 9 I never thought twice about walking down the street to the pool with my friend where we spent the day on our own. In my school district, the kids from where the school was located (about a mile radius) walked to school, even kindergartners. Now they are bused, even a few blocks. So, how can our parents help us with this terrifying aspect of parenting? I didn't even have email until I went to college and now the internet is like this horror house of child predators!

The part about all this that gets me is deep, deep down I really do believe that people are inherently good. Even most republicans are probably good, I just don't understand them. So how do I reconcile this deep routed ideal, one I want to teach my kids, with this overwhelming desire to keep them by my side, at our home with no TV to strip away their innocent minds and internet to temp them into a predator's hands? How do I keep them safe, keep my faith in humanity and not be some overbearing, crazy, overprotective mom?

I honestly just don't know.

All I've come up with is that all I really can do is what I'm doing, which is give them space to grow, but keep my guard up, but not in a whoa, she's a bit insane sort of guarded way. I mean, the kids have to have normal lives too, their first sleep overs (panic just thinking that) and sports practices (which I may not be able to attend) and Hebrew school and all sorts of times I can't see what they are doing or what others are doing. All I can do is keep adapting as they grow and as the horrors of what humanity is capable of seem to wean and waver, stay on top of the newest ways the sick people have discovered to try to steal my babies innocence or take away my meaning in life.

I can't change that these people are out there. I can't waste my energy attempting to understand why these people even exist. I can't change these things. All I can do is be prepared and do everything in my power to protect my kids from this "other" world. Because in my world, my Happy Valley sort of world, people are good and I can't allow myself to become bitter and scared and well, a hermit just because evil is a real thing. What sort of life would that be? What sort of values would that teach my babies?

Not much.

But, that doesn't have to mean that deep down I won't be just a bit (more) weary and when I get those goosebumps from someone, I'll steer my babies far, far away. That's just commonsense parenting to me.

All this stuff is scary as hell but we still have to be parents, right? Just like my once picaresque image of Happy Valley will forever look different now, we must move on. We learn, we change, we grow. That's the beauty in life. That's what I have to hold on to if I want to be the mom I desire, I have to hold on to all the beauty.

A rainbow over Mt. Nittany, Happy Valley, PA

Vacation Dreams

So, I had another post about ready ("about ready" because lately I'm finding I've been too tired to finish writing a blog in one sitting) yet after driving home today and losing 4 hours of my life to what felt like nothing short of torture, my mind ramblings (my new word for my chatter) took a bit of a detour. A detour to the mental institution!

All I could think as Caleb whined, cried and screamed for THREE AND ONE HALF HOURS straight, nonstop, yes, 3 and 1/2 hours... was how lovely it would be if I could have enough of a meltdown to land myself in a 72 hour hold. What a vacation that would be! At one point I thought I would have to pull over and break a few things just so I could continue on without actually losing my mind. Then I realized I didn't have anything to break. damn. What else?

Oh, many ideas ran through my head but if I wrote some of them people might actually think I've lost it rather than realizing I'm not serious, it's just the insanity part of parenthood talking! Though some of the ramblings did involve shooting myself in the leg so I wouldn't have to get back into my orange torture chamber again. (my car is orange) Sort of have to own a gun for that to work out though. Figured that would probably get me my little vaca to the padded room too. Ah well, next time.

I also thought a lot about a conversation from about a year ago with a mom of three and my husband and I laughing about just how insane it all is. When some of the more crazy things parents have done came up (like the sad and sick and how the hell could a parent do that to their own kid sort of "crazy") and this mom put it perfectly, "I don't condone it, but I understand!"

Yes, today for four hours, which was the total length of my drive, was one of those days that I understood... And was very thankful that I have been blessed with many resources, coping skills, a good upbringing and education, I'm not an addict or teen mom with no help, or struggling with severe mental health issues or any of the other things that drive mom's (dad's and any caregiver) to do unthinkable things. I can understand how 3 and 1/2 hours of incessant whining and crying can drive a person truly insane. And I am thankful... thankful that I know to blast the radio and to tell myself it will end! Eventually. But as I checked the time and only 5 minutes had passed, 10 minutes, 90 more miles to go.... Wait, WILL IT END?!

And then I started begging.

Pleading.

And yes, I yelled. I feel bad as this was first real time it was directed at Caleb because as we all know, he's the good child! He stuck his little lip out, but stopped the whining. Broke my heart though.

Mind you, this was all after running out of things within reach on the back seat floor to throw at the kid, praying it would entertain him long enough to shut up for even a minute, JUST ONE WHOLE MINUTE. That's not asking too much, right? He would simply throw it all back, because he was being a punk like that. So, I began dreaming of my institutional vacation again. I also kept checking to make sure no one was near me on the road because I'm pretty sure I looked like a drunk driver with all the reaching and throwing things. Now, I was lightly tossing them in his seat not jacking them at his head people! But let's face it, knocking his little whiny ass out crossed my mind a few times. Well, it was more my dream that a baby tranquilizer existed, and how rich I would be if I could just develop one. A safe one of course. But I dream of this nearly every night with Rylie anyway.

And people say talking on your cell phone is dangerous while driving. A screaming 16 month old is the real danger my friends!

Then I noticed the music which I had finally cranked up about 5 notches higher than normal. A CD mix Craig made me back in 2000 was on. Remember, we are talking about Craig here, so it was more songs that brought about memories of that year than love songs (though there are surprisingly a couple love songs on it, including Enrique Iglesias, lol) Anyway, thankfully the kids don't know what a thong is, so hearing someone say, "let me see that thong. thong th thong thong thong" won't be all that damaging. I hope. You might be thinking, eh, that's not so bad. Yeaaaah, well, I was so zoned out about how I can get my padded room "vacation" that I didn't fast forward "You gimme your number. I call you up. You act like your pussy don't interrupt. I don't have no problem with you f*!king me. But have a little problem with you not f*!king me..." Oh Good Lord! Well, too late. Gotta love Ol' Dirty Bastard. Seriously, what kind of music did we listen to back then?! 

I looked back to see if they were jammin to mommy's old ass music and found Rylie ready to fall asleep, again, or maybe she was just engrossed in Word World, which had played about 10 times already. And then I saw it... Caleb's eyes were closing. YES, CLOSING! I looked at the mile marker... 20 effing miles from home! Are. you. kidding. me?!? And nearly an hour AFTER he normally wakes up from nap. As I was simultaneously thinking thank you God for the few minutes of quiet and great, how the hell am I going to survive tonight with such a late day snooze, I hear.... "Mommy, I need to pee".

Now this would normally be music to my ears, the best part of my day actually, but with 15 miles to go and no exit in sight I finally accepted today was just one of those days. There was an abandoned trailer off to the side and it had cones up so I figured that was my safest bet and pulled in front of it. I opened the front and back passenger doors and got out the trusty little green potty I just bought a few days before for such occasions. I set it on the ground between the doors and sat Rylie's little butt on it.  I thought she would refuse and it would be a big ordeal  but when I looked at her she was grinning ear to ear and almost immediately said, "I'm peeing outside!" in her little singing voice. She thought peeing on the side of the highway was the coolest thing she'd ever done! Seriously? Whatever, I'll take it!. She even said she needed to pee more as I put her back in her car seat.

Me: Do you really have to pee more (thinking please, please don't mean you have to poop too!)
Rylie: Pee more outside!
Me: Do you just want to pee outside or pee more?
Rylie: Pee outside (still grinning ear to ear)
Me: Let's go home and you can pee outside there.

Yes, I lied to my daughter but to be honest, had she pushed me on it when we got home I was fully willing to let her pee in her damn potty outside in our yard just to avoid anymore whining and screaming torture!

And for the record, Rylie wasn't the only one to use that little green potty. Maybe TMI for some, but it just tops off how ridiculous my drive home was.

stock photo, because I think posting one of
Ry actually sitting on it on the side of the road
may be a bit much!

So, yes, after a long and busy 5 days back in my hometown, it was a hell of a drive home. I've had some challenging ones but this one may have inched it's way up to that #1 spot. I'll have to let the dust settle a bit before the final verdict in in. I'd like to say if anyone wants to see the kids (or me) before Caleb is at least 3 years old then they better plan a trip down here, because no way, no how will I be driving anywhere by myself with them again! But I know it'd be an idle threat... and dream. Though, I think I'll be taking a break on road trips until our vacation... our real vacation, not my dream one in the padded cell.

Night all.
Oh, some positive thoughts welcome that I can continue to use my coping skills with 2 days on my own! At least there are some dishes to break now that I'm home ;-P

Two Dogs? Oy Vey!

Those who know me have heard the endless stories of laying awake listening to my little girl bark like a dog for hours many nights each week. For those that don't know me, I'm talking like 3 hours, not exaggerating, one night was FOUR. She would also practice every word she knew at the time and sing but there's no doubt barking was part of these many nights.

Now many thought my countless facebook statuses and conversations about the barking and singing was hilarious! Of course there were plenty of nights Craig and I laid there giggling at the insanity of it all, and partially from the delirium of exhaustion. One night in particular Craig said, "She is such an odd child. I hope she invents something cool someday".  In addition to the laughing and pondering what would come of our daughter, I mostly would get frustrated that my barking child was keeping me awake for hours on end and the rest of me simply worried. I mean, this can't be normal, I thought? I have since been told of similar stories of other children doing the same thing so I feel better in that regard. Plus, now going on 3 years old, she seemed to get over her dog stage.... or so I thought.

Lately we've been seeing a return of Rylie the dog. I didn't pay much attention at first since from time to time she would still pretend play a dog, especially while eating. She would bark and say she's a dog. Okay, pretty common for her age, no big deal. Yup, No. Big. Deal.

Did I forget to mention this?
Rylie thought the dog crate at Uncle Gary's was the place to be over Easter.
Perhaps I  should have started to worry again then?! hmmm.

Yesterday while waiting for the trolley we ended up waiting with the same guy and his grown son who helped us get the kids and our big ass double stroller on the trolley on the way to the science center. He offered to help again and asked Rylie her name. As usual she didn't answer so I encouraged her to answer the man. After asking her what her name is a couple times she finally said, "Dog". I figured she was ignoring us and talking about something else so I tried again.

Me: "No, what's your name?"
Rylie: In a more sure tone. "My name is, Dog".
I laughed because, really? And to make the guy think she was just joking and not crazy!
Me: You're silly Rylie, what's your name?
Rylie: stubborn as ever. " My name is, Dog!"

Okay, whatever, this is one of those times when a parent decides if this is a battle worth having and I decided, absolutely not. We'll work on this "what's your name" thing later... AGAIN.

When we got home she told us again that her name was dog and we said, no your name is Rylie Hoosier. "Rylie Oozer" Yes, that's right, Rylie, good job. Oy Vey! It always amazes me how what seems to be the simplest thing is like pulling teeth when it comes to a two year old. Well, nearly three, but whatever.

Today she spent a good amount of time in her pretend dog play, including diving on Caleb sending him sailing backwards to the ground (let the tears begin!) and landing on him laughing. I asked what she was doing and she responded that she was a doggy. To give her credit, Apollo does jump up like that. Though that didn't get her out of her time out, where I heard her barking from the dining room as I comforted my whiny baby who was just made worse by being mauled by our "doggy".

THEN, as if the eating like a dog, barking like a dog, running around with things in her mouth wanting you to play fetch like a dog (yes, that's been part of it too!), jumping and tackling brother like a dog were not enough.... she licked me! I guess when you read to a dog that's what the appropriate response is. Who knew? I never read a book to Apollo before.

No worries folks, the doggy business didn't end there today. I was finally checking out at Wal Mart, as I briefly lost my mind and went during after work hours in my fruitless attempt to find a double umbrella stroller (after Babies R Us was a bust) when she grabbed Caleb (who was being a whiny hiney like he was all day) and she started to LICK HIM! In line. A busy line.

He thought this was hilarious! Of course that's what would make him laugh, why didn't I think of it sooner? Him laughing with the combination of me saying, please don't do that Rylie, was all the encouragement she needed to continue licking her brother as I finished in the check out line. Both giggled like it was the funniest thing to ever happen to them. Problem is I can't help but smile at their giggles. Smiling while attempting to stop an undesirable behavior never ends in success. Parenting tip of the day. 


But to be honest, as I worry again that this just isn't normal, mostly all I an think is... as long as she doesn't start barking for hours each night again, and licking her brother makes him laugh rather than cry, then whatever! Lick away little doggy, lick away. Just don't lick me or keep me up at night.

My kids have some serious issues.

Or my kid and my "new dog" because it seems we are just getting started. Oy Vey.

Yahrzeit

Next week will mark one year since the most influential man in my life passed, my Pap. (Zalman ben Avraham) In the Jewish faith, observing the anniversary of the death of a loved one, called a Yahrzeit, is one of the most important traditions for a Jew (most practicing Jews). In Judaism, life is considered to have supreme value and as such remembering and respect for the dead is of supreme importance. (click link to read more on traditional death and mourning rituals which I have always found fascinating. Though with how different Jews are there are obviously many variations, thus "traditional" being in bold :)

Observing a Yahrzeit also helps those of us who are mourning a loss to remember our loved one, to allow the memories to flood us with joy and to feel the sorrow of their loss and to continue to heal through this remembering. There are various aspects of mourning throughout the first year and after the first year one is expected to "return to a fully normal life", so to speak.

I should note, next week marks the secular Yahrzeit for my Pap. His Yahrzeit was actually last week on the Jewish calendar which is what is traditionally observed. But since I'm the only practicing Jew in my family and still learning it all myself, I missed it. I was so focused on June 19th I didn't even think of the Jewish calendar! I'm not concerned, my Pap understands.

So, we move on after a year.... I've been thinking of this part a lot. As a former therapist I know society has it's own idea of how long is too long to grieve. Doctors are quick to diagnose depression and medication if someone grieving has been sad, or overly sad, for too long. I always wondered who can determine what overly sad is and too long is? I can't say what's appropriate for another in terms of grief. I like that Judaism gives me this frame of reference. It's not a deadline but a way of reminding me it's okay to feel fully okay again. It's okay to move on. It's okay to remember my Pap and love my Pap but not cry, or feel I want to cry every time I really sit and think of him. It's okay.

The thing is, as I type this my eyes well up and I get that feeling of wanting to cry and my emotions return ever so briefly to the anger over feeling he should still be here. And I let that anger go...again. The desperate longing that he experience my children growing up, as I expected he would, returns too. Not to adulthood necessarily but to their bat and bar mitzvah at least. The longing that they could have known him. I breathe out and let that go too.... again. I quickly run through all those "if only" thoughts in my head and try to let each one go...again.

To me, grief is a life long process. I feel it's okay to rework the stages of grief as long as it takes to not feel that anger anymore. To not feel that longing. To not want to cry over what your're missing out on with your loved one, but to just miss them and remember them and smile at those memories. I think this takes time when that person was one of the most important and influential people in your life. I don't think this ever happens if it was your child. As such, grief is different for everyone and every situation but I still like that my faith tells me it's okay to feel okay.

And I do, feel okay that is. The majority of the time I do. I can smile when I look at pictures and when one of my many memories comes to mind. Like the time I had a party while my mom was on vacation. My Pap worked night shift so I figured, woowhoo, partaaayy! Then my Pap came home. Ooops! He said "What's going on?" as if it wasn't clear. "Are you drinking?" Everyone had hid the beer before he walked in though and since many didn't drink, including myself, we had our pop's in hand and a game on the TV. Someone held up their can and said, "just pop" and watching the game! He seemed to buy it since he never did see anything not "kosher", other than the 20 some people in his house of course. He wasn't that naive but he didn't particularly care either. He chatted with some of the guys about sports and no one knew what they were supposed to do. We just got busted and he was sitting there chatting away. People to talk about sports... what else would he do?! Everyone eventually left and that was the end of it, we never discussed it again. I don't think he told my mom since she never mentioned it. Guess she knows now!

I also can't help but laugh at how he would drive down the middle of the road. As I would hold on for dear life in the car with him and say, "Pap, you know you're not in a lane, right?" And he would say, "No one's behind me." Seriously?! No wonder my daughter says, "hold on tight, guys" when driving with me, my Pap taught me how to drive! Lol.

My Pap made me laugh with all his practical jokes. Even though 52 pick up got annoying as I got older. And he made me cry, to see him sad and especially seeing him so angry on his death bed. He also helped build my confidence as a shy child and mold me into the woman I am today. He encouraged me to follow my heart and my dreams, even if he didn't agree. I always knew he was proud of me and I always felt loved.

Do I wish he was still here? No question. More than anything else I wish in life, I wish that. I look at my kids some days and tears come to my eyes because I just wanted them to know him. Am I angry some days? Yes. Will I ever forgive those who I feel were disrespectful to him as he was dying and immediately after? No, never. And no, that doesn't bother me. Sometimes, some things just aren't forgivable. Do I have those "what if's" plaguing my mind once in awhile? Of course. Will I cry from time to time over the years? I'm sure I will. Am I overly sad or grieving too long? I don't think so.

I'm in a good place and I know it's okay to "move on" and to also still have some of these feelings of grief pop up from time to time. I accepted he is gone some time ago. (see God Is Everywhere) I can't change how he died or when or how others responded to it or even how he felt in the end. I can remember though. I can remember him as I knew him and I can smile. I can light my memorial candle and say Kaddish for him every year on hisYahrzeit. I can tell my kids stories and they will see pictures of him holding them and they will know how much they were loved by him too.

Every blade of grass has an angel that bends over it and whispers, "Grow! Grow!"

- The Talmud





Death is a part of life, plain and simple. Honoring the dead, respecting our lost loved ones, is how we remember not only their lives but where we came from and where we want to go in our own lives. It reminds us to remember to appreciate where we are and what we have right now too. I believe that living our lives to the fullest is the best way to show respect for our lost loved ones. So, I can live my life the way he wanted me to. I can "use it in good health", as he always said about any new thing I showed him or told him about. But most importantly I can be happy, because that's all he ever wanted for me was happiness.

Man did I love my Pap like no one else. Still do. Always will.

Favorite pic of Me and my Pap, I'm 2 years old

I pray you're at peace, Pap. I love and miss you so very much.  ~ Jaci

Top 20 Baby and Toddler Toys

If every parent would simply accept this as true prior to having their first child and remember it as birthdays and holidays roll around then Toys R Us would be out of business and all parents could afford college! (Not that I'm encouraging Toys R Us to go out of business, just sayin')

Some of these are new to the 21st century while others have withstood the sands of time. And I promise, all of these fabulous "toys" have been tested and approved by these two harsh toy critics....

A box AND a rock. Nice! (see list below)

Mind you, some of these exciting things to play with may drive a parent a bit nutty, though most kid toys do anyway!

1. Empty water bottles. Fun crackling sounds!

2. Or 1/2 full ones. shake, shake, shake, oh so fun.

3. Toilet paper. Nothing like killing extra trees for a fun filled day of streamers around the house.

4. Bags. Try to stay away from the plastic ones!

5. Dirt. Plain old dirt. A shovel makes this more fun.

6. Or Rocks. Make sure you have the pediatrician on speed dial to ensure the occasional one that gets by you is safe for passage.

7. Or Sticks. Better than a BB gun but they can still poke their eyes out! Or the dog will simply mistake it for play time and knock the little one on their ass.

8. Wooden cooking spoons, preferably with an oven range or pot nearby to bang on. Or in our home the metal baby gate supposedly blocking the kitchen.

9. Curtains. Peek-a-boo with curtains apparently is so much better than hands or a blanket which don't run the risk of pulling the whole rod down on their head.

10. Boxes. Very versatile, any size will do. If you have more than one child you might want to have one out for each or let the box war begin!

11. Laundry basket will suffice.

12. Screw driver. Yes, a screw driver. Every kid likes to "help" mommy or daddy fix and build things!

13. Dog bowls. Preferably with water in them. Or food, because I guess I starve my kids to the point that dog food is essential to eat for their survival.

14. Water from ANY source. Fridge water dispensers, hose, pool, baths, doing the dishes, and as previously mentioned, dog bowls.

15. Blankets. Another extremely versatile item for more than just keeping warm. They make fine tents and tunnels too :)

16. Furniture with drawers or doors. Preference if they are full of clothes, DVD's, dishes, magazines or toiletries. Keep those cleaners locked up!

17. Clothing items. Belts, shoes, underwear ...so long as they do not belong to said toddler.

18. Cell phone. While your old one may work for a short time if you keep it charged they are quick to catch on to our little game and ultimately only mommy or daddy's will do. 

19. Same goes for Laptops or i Pads. Leap pad is for the birds!

20. TV remote. No, one without batteries will not do. No, one with batteries not set to work the TV will not do. No, pretend ones are not the same. Your two year old is smarter than you, always remember that!

Now you can go have a fun filled day with you little ones!!!

But first... remind me again why we have all this other stuff?

I'll give the toy company this,
balls, legos, bubbles and crayons are quite popular too! 

Here's a selection of some pictures of my little toy testers in action over the past couple years!

The Yogi in Me

I've always been a bit of a thinker, a dreamer, a searcher. My head always seemed to get away from me, still does. A simple thought turns to a long drawn out miniseries playing out in my mind.  Hence self talk insanity! I spent a great deal of my life searching for ways to get out of my head, mainly because endless chatter is exhausting. So I searched and I searched, often in all the wrong places. Because lets face it, blacking out isn't the healthiest way to escape your head for a bit and neither is numbing yourself. I realized I needed a healthier way to escape from myself, to find peace within... so I wouldn't have the desire to escape from myself. I found yoga.

That was about 11 years ago.... and I fell in love. I remember doing those Rodney Yee videos a coworker lent me and thinking, hey, I'm pretty good at this. We all know, I'm not exactly a fan of continuing with something I'm not good at. Yoga seemed to come natural to me. More so than dance which I spent my childhood practicing, not very well I might add. And even more than karate which I was decent at but struggling too much with chronic fatigue at the time to handle the physical demands. Yoga was a perfect fit for this mind wanderer!

To this day the best yoga class I ever went to was a true Ashtanga class in Miami, when I was living in South Beach. While it was also one of the hardest workouts I've ever done physically, I left that class with so much energy pulsating through me I thought I could run a marathon. I'm not a runner, I don't even enjoy it. That energy was like a drug, I've craved it ever since. I realized over the years that I often went to a class with the sole intent of stealing other's energy desperately looking for that feeling again. Yes, I'm a positive energy seeking addict. That's what it feels like anyway. I figure it's far better than the number of other ways I could have become addicted in my quest for peace.

The problem is I often go through periods of time in my life when months go by before I find an opportunity to roll out my mat and become mindful of that automatic life sustaining thing we call breathing. I feel it, those times I can't practice (or make excuses why I can't). It's like being too tired or too hungry, but for months! I'm more irritable, less able to manage my anger, less patient, more anxious and depressed. That antsy feeling inside is always there... searching... longing. That search, the craving to quiet my head, to find peace, is all consuming. That moment I sit on my mat is like someone shoots a bit of life back into me. This moment happened after a longer than normal laspe in practice a few months ago. I haven't missed a week since.

Since I know I'm there to steal everyone else's energy, considering I very rarely have any to offer, I sometimes worry that my stress and negative thoughts will pass on to other yogi's in the room as I soak in all they have to offer. I used to feel like I was cheating everyone somehow. Sometimes this thought still crosses my mind but over the years I've learned that as I reach a place where my mind clears, even if just a bit, it's like that yoga energy just swarms around the room sucking up everyone's negativity. I realized I'm not the only one searching for peace. I'm not the only one who had a stressful day or who has negative thoughts and energy to expel. The yoga is the energy source I crave. I can practice alone and feel it. I just prefer to be around people. I've never been a big fan of alone.

Being the thinker, dreamer, searcher I am I tend to forget to actually act on all these thoughts and dreams swirling around my head. It took some time to act this time too but in about 10 weeks I am finally taking a stroll down a new path in life, one I've been wanting to take for about 5 or 6 years. I start my yoga teacher training program! Not only will I get to learn about this beautiful way of life that helped save me from my own self destruction but I get to practice five times more than I am now. Just imagine how much more at peace I'll be with myself, with life?!

While we will be running around like crazy people (that part isn't exactly new I guess) so I can make my 6 hours of class each week and then a full weekend (16 hours!) once a month for four months, it's all good because I can almost feel the energy already. And not just from the yoga energy, relaxation and peace I crave but the energy that comes from pursuing a dream. The energy that comes from doing something more, more than the same thing day in and day out, which for me has been mind numbing. I realize many mommy's will think I'm a crappy mom for saying that but I mean, singing ABC's, making peanut butter sandwiches, and trips to the park are great and all but I definitely feel like my IQ may have dropped off a bit these past two years at home, mostly from shear lack of adult conversations and learning beyond a preschool level.

But that's all about to change. Not only will I get to do what I love BUT this means I'll get to bring this love, the peace of mind, body and soul through meditation, through yoga, to others! I may not ever go back to being a counselor, but I'll still get to help people and maybe in an even more meaningful way. Not many can say they love what they do but I'll get to continue to fulfill my dream of staying home with my kids AND working (hopefully) doing something I would be doing as a past time anyway. Can't get much better than that!

Namaste! (and goodnight)

Officially Our Anniversary

Tomorrow marks two years since Craig and I "officially" got married. I say "officially" since we didn't tell ANYONE for months. I only started telling people, including my mom, who I talk to everyday and who knows pretty much everything, after posting Caleb's 1st ultrasound picture and realizing it had "Hoosier" on the picture, oops! Even then, we didn't announce it for nearly a year with the hopes of having the "real" wedding we both wanted but decided to postpone so we could have another baby (Mr. C love) sooner than later. Once we realized that kids suck every last drop of time, energy and money out of you, all essential to planning your dream wedding, we accepted that wedding we talked about for over a decade probably was a long shot. I changed my name, we told those who hadn't found out or been told yet and really made it official by announcing it and changing my name on Facebook. But tomorrow is officially the official big day.

My busy little head has been full of all those "real" wedding things I wanted, saying our vows in front of all our family and friends on Old Main lawn, if that's allowed, with a Penn State style reception at the Nittany Lion Inn or Atherton, and all the trimmings in between from what song we would dance to and what my dress would look like. Swirling in between this childlike dream that most women my age have long moved past, especially if they are actually married, are what feels like the endless struggles we have faced since we reunited over four years ago, which are no secret here.

Because it is our anniversary, I've tried to flip that anger switch to the smiles I can't help but let escape when I recall some of our first memories. My very, very first being my sophomore year as my friend and I were 1/2 waiting in the long line for beer, 1/2 debating if it was worth it or to move on to the next party when the always smiling and in the middle of everything little freshman "Hoosier" came bobbing down the stairs at DTD and asked if we needed beer. I expected him to go behind the counter and get some but instead he pulled what seemed to be an endless supply from every pocket on him and gave them all to us and disappeared (I assume to reload). That yellow vest he was wearing, which I often donned 2 years later at tailgates, is still hanging in our hall closet, for sentimental value.

After that, I seemed to see him everywhere; every party I was at and even crossing paths heading to class. Pretty phenomenal if you think about it in a sea of 40,000 plus, considering he was a frat boy and I didn't do the whole sorority thing. I also can't help but think of fate when I think of why Craig ended up at Penn State to begin with. Or me for that matter. Everything happens for a reason, I've said it before and I'll say it again, everything.

So, we never could figure out if this first memory of mine was before or after he remembered meeting me. I say before just so I can be the one to lay claim to noticing him first. Either way, his memory goes like this... "I'll never forget when your little ass came walking into the Pugh Street house and I thought, I'm going to marry that girl someday". Now, knowing Craig like I do I'm pretty sure "marry" was substituted with a much more crude thought that would make me want to load the shot gun if a boy ever thought such a thing about my own little girl BUT, regardless, his story has never wavered over all these years and as such this is the single most romantic thing he has ever said to me. So, whoever noticed who first... I think I can admit he wins with the first impression story anyway.

I think of this story on the days I forget... on the dark days, the ones that make me question everything because that is the Craig I married. When I feel unloved I remember, that is his disease not the man who knew he wanted to marry me from the moment he met me.

We were apart for about five years and during that time I always felt he was still my best friend, even when we only talked once a year. I always thought no one would never love me like he did. It's probably why no one ever did, in my eyes anyway. But in the end, I came back from Israel ready to move on with my life, to start fresh. As fate would have it, I was driving back home to live for the first time since I graduated high school and I realized it was Craig's birthday. I had a long drive 1/2 way across the country so I called to wish him a happy birthday and found this Philly boy was still living in Pittsburgh, a place he moved "figuring I would end up back there eventually" as he would say. Which is probably the second most romantic thing he's said. Are you figuring out he's not a romantic type yet? Anyway, he had moved on like I had over those years but was in a place where his life was also in the midst of major changes.

Six months later we had a house in Lancaster. Just under a year and a half later we had our little Ry monster.

 
I truly, with everything in me, believe that Craig and I were born to be together. As angry as I am many days, frustrated that I know we are better than this, I also know God had a plan for us. I believe God still does. I don't know what that plan is exactly but we keep fighting for it. We fight for the love we have. We fight for the love we remember. We fight for the love that's buried behind a lot of anger, guilt and resentment. We fight for all those smiles that come from the countless memories of when it was us against the world. Many people in college either hated me or hated him so together, well, oh boy. Together we were trouble. But as long as we were together, we just didn't care what anyone else thought.

My most embarrassing Penn State moment happened two years before Craig and I started dating. I told him about it, I will not share it here, ever, it's that bad. Turns out, he knew the girls involved and when they saw me (I had no recollection of them) they so kindly told him the story. He laughed and said, "that's my girl" and walked away. Yup, that kind of trouble. Bonnie and Clyde not Romeo and Juliet. We grew up, thankfully, but we had a hell of a start!

We had our ups and downs then too, every relationship does. While we have more serious issues to work through now, that also goes along with growing up; grown up problems. It was us against the world then, I see no reason why it can't be again. Perhaps if I start seeing it as us against this nasty thing called alcoholism rather than me against him, we'll find what we've been fighting for.

Some things are just meant to be, no matter how damn hard they are. This may only be our 2nd anniversary but it feels like our10th. Some may think that's not a good sign, I thought so at first, until I allowed myself a glimpse back over our years together and even those apart. That's when I realized that, in reality, our story began with those first memories from some fourteen years ago. There's easily a decade of "marriage" we have loved through and fought for. Life's not easy, that includes marriage and parenthood and everything in between. But if you're lucky enough to find the person you're meant to share this life with what else can you do but fight?

Our first "date", sort of.

If you're reading this, Happy Anniversary, Craig! No, it's not June 6th :)