Never have I been so acutely aware of the fact that one child outnumbers a set of parents.

Perhaps I should have been alarmed when the doctor said, “She’s the busiest baby I’ve ever seen in all my years of practice!”
But mostly I felt proud.
Maybe I should have known something was bound to be wrong with a child that will eat anything put in front of her – she doesn’t turn her nose up at any kind of food.  It’s all fair game.
But I was just so happy she didn’t have the weight problems that some of my friends’ babies have.

But now.

Now everything she sees is Food.
Those with children are laughing, thinking that that’s how every baby views the world.
But no!  I can assure you!  I’ve done this before.
This is DIFFERENT.

She Jedi mind tricks the world around her into shedding the normal physical rules that define it.
The basket across the room containing all of the things I must pack for our move – because we are moving – what a better time to move than JUST after your baby has become mobile… But that basket?  The one with the Things?  The Things She Cannot Have Without Threat of Death?
You blink and it has crossed the room to her.
There is no other explanation to explain the handfuls of the Things protruding from her mouth.
For she has not moved.
You know she hasn’t.
You’ve been staring at her the whole time.
Except for the involuntary blinking that comes with having eyes and eyelids to blink.
But surely no MORTAL baby could have moved so quickly?

But she has.

Note the paper that she has brought over to her toys.  The blankets in the background that she has dragged around.  The box that she dumped over and unpacked.  And this is just the Mostly Untouched side of the room.

Oh.  Did I not mention that this wonder being was SICK while she was running around so crazily?
Note the snot.
Today was only half speed.

Lord, help me.
I’ve given birth to a Tasmanian Devil on speed.

But!  Before this, there are moments like these that make it all worthwhile:

This child may grow up to be a Holy Terror – but at least she’s fun to play with.

I will be a mom and a wife.
And not much else.
No longer a… whatever I have been these past few years.

Expectations that I’ve had for myself throughout the years are changing daily.
I’m nervous. I’m scared.
I’ve been hired for a ‘job’ that I can’t fail at.
And oddly enough, in this case, I’m the only one qualified for it.

So.
Goodbye, steady paychecks, timecards and filing.
Hello… whatever comes next.

After all, my first child is a teenager and only minutes away from riding off into the sunset with a college diploma in one hand and the world on a string in the other.

Being faced with this upcoming change in circumstances has caused me to question a good many things I know about myself.
My eating habits, for instance.  You could say that I’m a person to whom eating a balanced meal means eating a plate full of junk food balanced properly on my lap.
With the last year addition of my husband, Healthy Hunk, this meandering version of nutrition no longer flies as acceptable behavior.  He wilts if he doesn’t have enough good food in his diet and nobody wants to see a giant Italian man wilt in their presence.
Plus, apparently Italian babies require meat, potatoes AND vegetables in order to grow large, strong Italian eyebrows.  And who am I to stand in the way of the Bert-like eyebrows my child’s heritage so claims as her DNA-like right?

And Laundry. 
Laundry, for me, is a very necessary evil punctuated by bouts of wrangling jeans over door frames for maximum drying capabilities and separating anxiety when faced with the prospect of washing too many new clothes without the salt-filled pre-soak.
Adding this stereotypical notion that Laundry will now be part of my Official Duties as a SAHM has thrown me – even though I rarely will allow anyone else near the stacks of dirty laundry for fear that they’ll do it their way and NOT mine.

How many other stereotypes of SAHMs are there that are waiting to bite me on the toe?

Cleaning?  I’m to take care of a helpless ankle-biter AND keep the house spotless?  Time travel truths must rest in the arms of all of the Stay At Home Moms that accomplish this task, because my memories of newborns don’t include the many hours of inactivity needed to maintain a spotless house with 2 dogs, 1 husband and 2 children.

Regular meals?  People like to eat REGULARLY?  And I’m to cook those?  Have any of you seen what cooking for me entails?  Long shopping trips, fresh herbs, homemade ingredients and 2 hours of preparation?  And I’m to do this over and again?  Not just for special occasions and holidays?  BALANCED MEALS?!!

And I’m supposed to do this and maintain the household without catching anything on fire, chopping my husband into stew, losing the baby in the laundry pile, hanging the dogs by their toes or stuffing a teenager into a trash compactor?

I seriously hope my husband can pay me enough for a post-work-day massage.

If you’re pregnant and drinking water
European.
If you’re pregnant and drinking water
European.
If you’re pregnant and drinking water
Then it goes straight through your bladder
If you’re pregnant and drinking water
European.

http://www.alreadypretty.com/2010/06/down-with-shame.html

“I have spent so long being ashamed of my cellulite, so long feeling like a mutant for getting five-o-clock shadow on my legs, so long convinced that my decidedly non-flat abs were an embarrassment. I have spent so much time and energy trying to measure up to the unattainable standard, tearing myself down for being different, consumed with the shame of being … well, a human woman.

And it dawned on me recently that a lot of the messages that cause women to internalize body hatred are shame-based. Shame is a slow-growing, timed-release kind of emotion that can linger in your system for ages. It’s a fantastic tool for lording undeserved power over people, or manipulating them into uncomfortable or unnatural action. Shame works on us like a virus, and can be just as hard to eradicate. Especially when it comes to messages about how bodies “should” be shaped, sized, and configured. Shame is what we feel about our bodies when someone else decides that they’re not good enough. And damn it, they’re ALWAYS good enough.

Bodies are natural, living, changing creatures and no two are alike. The differences in our bodies enable us to procreate and thrive as a species. The differences in our bodies define our life paths, our abilities, our choices and tastes. The differences in our bodies shape and mold us in infinite and untold ways. The differences in our bodies should never cause shame. They should be celebrated daily.

I can’t say I’m quite prepared to jiggle my cellulite in public or wear head-to-toe spandex, but I AM prepared to begin fighting my own feelings of shame. I’m a work in progress, and I’m working hard. When that sick feeling starts rising up, I remind myself that nothing my body does is shameful, nothing about how my body is formed is shameful, and nothing that my body will become will ever be shameful. And the more I pound out that message, the more I feel it, right down to my shame-free bones. So maybe someday, I will be prepared for a nice public cellulite jiggle …

Next time you feel that sick feeling rising up, fight it.
Never let anyone make you feel ashamed of your body for any reason.
Never.”

I almost cried reading that post.
I needed this more than I need oxygen today.
When I move to Minneapolis – IF I ever see this woman, I’m going to hug her for this post alone – though she deserves it for so many others.

And I really hope she doesn’t mind me posting all of this – I couldn’t post just part.  I couldn’t.
What if one of you didn’t go to her site and read the whole thing?  Every single woman I know needs this as much as I do.

Tax prep and daily bumps in the road have served to show me just how much better my life would be with him around from a pragmatic reasoning… but the grin on my face and nerves in my stomach tell me that I just need him around as a woman needs her man around – I’ve not ever dated someone that still gave me butterflies almost 6 years into it!
He confounds me and unnerves me.   Angers me and humors me.  The days may sometimes be the same but they are never boring with my Dr. Husband.

He would laugh if he could see me trying makeup and clothes on in the hopes that he’ll think I’m beautiful – as though we had just started dating.
I’m ridiculous.

But, it’s a great feeling.

Abbey’s a bit jealous that she can’t go see him this week – I feel so bad that she hasn’t gotten a chance to spend time with him lately.
He and I will have to make plans to change that – she misses him terribly.

In the meantime, for her, summer visitation is rushing up to greet us – only it greets us with a kick in the nads – we hate this time of year.
Oh, she’s excited to get out of school, but says she ‘needs her mama.’
Her mama needs her too.

Still, I am lucky that visitation started when she was 2 – that means that I rarely face any screaming fits and refusals to go anymore.  She’s used to it – it’s all she can remember.
It’s hard to think that, but hopefully her life with me has convinced her that a slightly abnormal family in the sense of the traditional definition isn’t so bad.

She’s a good kid and I adore her.

Still.  I’m going to enjoy crawling into bed with that man of mine this weekend.
Time is taking forever to pass before the 4 days of Nick time – 4 days that will feel as short as 4 hours.

He better be over the moon to see me, damnit. 

My life has been full of accomplishments lately.
I’ve moved back in with my parents – which would be a sign of failure in most families… or a sign of hard times… or really… technically… a sign of logic.
If they can handle it and your family can handle it, it can really be an awesome solution.

In my case, it’s part of planning for the big picture. 
I didn’t want to give up my apartment, but the truth is that my husband and I don’t need two rents when our savings can go towards a down payment on a house.
A buttload of money for a house payment.  He’s more comfortable with a buttload down.  Thank goodness our salaries support our endeavors.

And so the four of us – my parents, my daughter and me are all squished inside our totally normal-sized house and making the most of our individual need for independence.

I’m lucky that my family is close.
And that I can go to the bathroom and pee in peace if I need a moment’s quiet.

I’ve managed to buy most of my Christmas presents – this won’t seem like much to you guys, but you’re talking to a woman that leaves work at noon on the 24th each year to finish her shopping.
Only having two or three people to shop for is AMAZING for me.
I feel as though I’m Superwoman and I want to brag to everyone I see that I’ve accomplished something this Christmas.
WITH spirit for the season!

An accomplishment that’s much, much bigger than any of the aforementioned accomplishments.

I’m a Grinch.
The Queen of the species, actually and to feel even moments of sparks makes me wonder if part of me is coming back to life after being buried for so long under single parenting responsibilities and multiple jobs and everything else that comes along with adulthood.
And I’m not saying my grinchdom has ever had anything to do with my daughter – if anything, she’s the one that kept me from ditching the holiday completely – her excitement is infectious in all things that affect her.
But.
I find myself, this year for the first time since my own childhood, becoming excited when I’m away from her, when I’m buying for other people, when the songs come on, when I see the decorations.

Perhaps my heart is growing in size, though I really don’t see how it could be any bigger.  I’m already the biggest sap I know.  Just ask my husband.

If it’s not obvious, I’m back on the meds.  The insurance has been straightened out and it’s even better than mine could PRETEND to be, even on the travel program.
Sure, it’ll take a little more work on my end – the waiting and paperwork is a nightmare, but considering the insurance is local in MINNESOTA I guess I can be a little patient.

I feel bad for feeling so steady now. 
The lives of those around me aren’t.
Some of them have made their own beds.
Some haven’t.
I’m trying to learn the fine art of shutting up.
Trying being the operative word, but I hope they appreciate my attempts.

Learning that you don’t have the right answer for other people HAS to be one of the most difficult things to learn.  Especially for an overprotective mom figure such as myself. 
But the need to scream the answers I feel so concretely on the inside is fairly easy to overcome at the moment.
I don’t see the need to alienate the people I love – too many splits recently from ridiculousness.
I’m not going to be the cause of any.
At least not.
Today. 

Today I shall just be grateful that I’m feeling better.
Grateful I can hold my tongue.
Grateful that my daughter can still laugh over silly things like a girl, even as she grows into a woman.
Grateful that I have the most wonderful man in the world – and I can call him husband. 
Grateful my Christmas tree is up and decorated and I didn’t have to do any of it.  (My least favorite part EVER.)
And grateful. 
So grateful.  Of the hope that is poking its head into my life.  Small, beautiful hope.  The holder of my prayers and my future.

Blessings.  All of it.

Why was I so stressed?
This is the part where the ‘this is big and irreversible’ started sinking in.
Why so late? Well, I’m a procrastinator about everything else, why not realizations?

A wedding day is crazy. We couldn’t find anything. We couldn’t find everyone. We couldn’t get everywhere.
All through the day people kept protecting me from the little things going wrong and I am so grateful now -
You hear all of these noises around you and feel much like a deer in headlights. You can see this big thing coming towards you but can’t really react much.
I was aware that Nick seemed to be fine – the reports back and forth were clear on that. I figured he’s pretty good at faking it – how could he feel normal?!!?

The day continued. We got ready on opposite sides of the same hotel, the boys with beer in hand, the girls with champagne.
I know now why girls have attendants on the day of their wedding.
Support is good, but an extra pair of eyes are better.
I couldn’t have found my head if they hadn’t been there to assure me it was still attached.
Not to mention my shoes, earrings and other paraphernalia. I’m half convinced I would have walked out naked!

So. I will share with you the beginning of the ascent to THE event. Keep in mind that I find the photos of the boys ABSOLUTELY yummy and there may be a plethora of them.

First the girls.

Krista started on my makeup. I guess it's pretty obvious I'm not used to the process!

And the dress came on... I love this picture. It shows that it takes a village on the big day.

Abbey did her part - apparently you stab yourself with earrings if your hands are shaking.

Krista's still working on my dress back there - but look at my sister's face. She is GLOWING for ME.

Just so everyone knows? I LOVE my veil.

On the way to the church, my nerves were still nuts so I reminded myself just why we women go through this hullabaloo.

Dad needed a little help and Allie was happy to assist.

I just can't help but think they're adorable.

During the guy’s morning… (all storylines are TOTALLY my own invention – it just LOOKS this way…)

Brady was feeling a bit devilish and needed someone to distract Nick. Jesse was happy to come to the rescue.

The challenge.

And the competition started... both determined to win.

Jesse: Mwahahahaha. Nick: I won't let you win this!

Jesse: Ha! Your wedding day excitement isn't even enough to give you superhuman strength, you mere MORTAL! I have NO MERCY!

MEANWHILE... on BRADY's side of the room...

Okay, Okay. Back to real life.
I’ve decided to wait on the guys photos a bit to do them as group shots… and so will only add a few more of their getting ready bits.

OH MY GOSH. She got the eye crinkles. These make me weak in the knees. I want to lick them. I go all fuzzy when he gives me an eye crinkles smile.

Jesse, with a total lack of respect for the fact that it's MY DAY, tries to hog the camera to celebrate his win.

Look, ladies! Look at what's about to walk down the aisle toward ME!

Ah well, the casual work is over. Time to get the man leg-shackled!

Today is the details – little tiny things that just catch your eye.
Not all of them, because there were tons.
But some.

I'll give you three guesses on who set this particular shot of my wedding ring up...

Gotta show the family loyalty - even on the big day.

Okay. So I was slightly nervous...

Buh-lingity bling.

Flowers my girls carried.

Flowers I carried.

Because they are gorgeous, more of the girls' flowers.

The traditional cry for help - that the boys neglected to tell Nick about...

Every groom needs a little reminder on his wedding day...

Krista made sure to help out with the decor...

And all I wanted was some awesome champagne and cake!

The day was gorgeous.
And little things like this are what really made it.
Plus.
The cake really WAS good.

I want cake.