Upon my Etsy adventures for unique and fantastic wedding items, I stumbled upon this fantastic site that puts a new twist on flowers.  Paper Platypus (found on Etsy and diecutflowers.com) creates beautiful flowers that I can only dream to hold at my wedding.  Unfortunately, as most elopements go, I can’t afford the beautiful Paper Flower Bouquet I want.

Until now…

As I surfed around diecutflowers.com, longingly staring at Karen’s paper creations, I stumbled upon a wonderful giveaway!  Three lucky readers will receive store credit to her store.  So you can imagine my delight that by chance, I could possibly win the unique and beautiful bouquet of my dreams!

Now I know some of you are getting married soon and might be interested, so I’ll decrease my chances of winning and share the love (technically it kind of even’s out because posting this is actually an entry).  So here is the contest.

My five year old had a big day today: Pajama Day with Show-And-Tell at preschool. She wanted braids, as she gets compliments on the little blond wiry pigtails sticking out behind her ears. New glasses and pink flannel pajamas polka dotted with Disney Princesses completed the look. She grasped the Ball jar in her sweaty little hands, the cocoon inside too precious to go in the school bag. Excited chatter came from the back seat all the way there, “What is he doing in the acoon?” “Is he sleeping?” “Is he dead?” “Do caterpillars go to heaven?” “When is he coming out?” “How will he fly away?” “Can I get another one?” I say, “Honey, it’s a cocoon. Kuh-coon.” After practicing several times, it’s still “acoon”. I give up, smile and hug my chatterbox, wave good-by as she walks up the sidewalk into her school, and smile softly in the blessed quiet of my car.

One of our MWB’s son, Jack, has been diagnosed with Tuberous Sclerosis Complex. He’s the cutest, strongest one-year-old you’ll ever meet. He suffers almost daily from numerous seizures and his doctors have just discovered 3 tumors on his heart.  I have heard of Jack’s (and his parent’s) daily struggles but still cannot even begin to fathom the journey they are partaking in.

Please take a minute to visit the family blog: http://thumbinmouth.blogspot.com

A mutual friend had decided to participate in a walk in May to benefit the Tuberous Sclerosis Alliance in Denver.  Touched by her thoughtfulness many MWB members have donated and/or signed up for the walk all over the US.  We currently are representing Team Jack-A-Roo in Denver, Portland, and Scottsdale!

Any and all donations are appreciated.  If you can’t donate, come join our team and walk for Jack-a-roo. He’s a rock star and deserves to have his story told!

You can donate at the following sites:

• http://www.firstgiving.com/amandastringer
• http://www.firstgiving.com/lynettelewis
• http://www.firstgiving.com/jackaroo_portland
• www.firstgiving.com/jack-a-roo

So, my son’s first birthday was a week ago.

Let me repeat that. MY. SON’S. FIRST. BIRTHday was a week ago.

Can you feel the incredulity in my voice?

Is this why he can no longer wear the cute tiny outfits from Target’s Newborn section?

My son was born 3 months early. When he arrived so impatiently, he weighed 1 pound, 9 ounces; that’s 711 grams for any metric-based readers. Just over a pound and a half. He was the size of a shoe, about the weight of a loaf of bread. I realize newborns are small, but they’re not supposed to be that small.

Given the daily prayers for growth, the celebratory texts and eMails going out to family and friends announcing every gram put on, and the steak dinner in honor of reaching the two pound mark, I thought I would be immune to a Mom’s wish for her child to stay small. The Carter’s tagline on some hand-me-down outfits was, in fact, “If they could just stay little.” When I first read it, I snorted. I literally snorted with contempt for those moms who *don’t* want their child to grow.

He grew. He continues to grow. On his first birthday, he weighed 20 pounds, 12 ounces. He is now the weight of a car tire, an obese cat or a record-breaking fish. HE’S HUGE!

I recently, carefully and thoughtfully, went through Ollie’s wardrobe. It was a daunting process. We waited for two months for him to be BIG ENOUGH to wear a PREEMIE onesie, and now that same outfit looks like it would clothe a cross-dressing Barbie doll. I unfolded a favorite froggy outfit from his first days at home and thought, “AWWW….where did my little tiny baby go?”

I wander through the Newborn department and sigh with mixed emotions. I couldn’t wait for Ollie to fit in Newborn clothes. When he graduated to 3 month size, we celebrated; another happy text to update those who were there for the NICU journey. Now I miss the cuddles of a newborn, the tiny mittens he wore, the being able to lift him without a groan and “putting my back into it.”

It brought tears to my eyes. I cried because my son has grown.

I’m getting like a regular mommy now, aren’t I?

Abby do you believe in God?

No

I do.

Why?

I don’t know?

Well, how do you know? Where is he?

I don’t know – I think he lives with poor people…

There is a monster in my house, well not just my house, it’s everywhere. It’s real. It’s not an imagined shadow on the wall, or hidden under the bed nor does it disappear when the lights go on. This monster instills pure terror into James-z, my 3 year old, and leaves him trembling and sobbing.  I’ve seen it, I’ve even been able to photograph it. Over the last year it has used the happiness it sucks from James-z and fed its evil power to morph. It has become a shape-shifter. It menacingly takes on other shapes, seemingly innocent shapes that make most people smile. But not my little man. It shows up in different forms and different places, always taunting, always terrorizing. It is his worst enemy – his arch nemesis that strips him of his happy go lucky self and leaves him a trembling little boy scared to move until it has been exterminated, at least for the time being.

Two days ago, the monster lay in waiting for James. Lying still, it knew he would come -and he did. I was in the hall as James went flying past me laughing hysterically at his sister who was chasing him. In an instant, but almost as if in slow motion it happened, James leapt at the moment he saw it. His blood curdling scream gave him wings to fly over the top of the monster – it’s claws outstretched – reaching for him. I saw it happening and yet could not move fast enough to stop it, to help James before the beast pierced his fun with an arrow of terror. I ran into the room and scooped James up, I knew I had to hide his face, keep him from seeing the grotesque creature. But he was kicking, crying, trying to get farther into the corner away from the beast. I dropped him onto the bed and like a mother bear went after the monster.

I grabbed this thing with a fierceness that only a mother could do, it fought back. He flew out of my grasp and tried to run. I grabbed it again and took it down the hall. Looking around frantically for anything that I could use to send it back to it’s own world. Where is the portal, the magic box that once shut cannot be opened from the other side to let them into our world… I looked around frantically and then I saw it. The gateway portal to this thing’s world, I had to send it away, I had to keep it from terrorizing my son. I grabbed the golden handle and swung open the box, with a rush of part adrenaline, part “don’t mess with this momma” attitude I flung the creature high and far and slammed the portal shut.

My knees were weak, I slid down to the ground as my high from adrenaline dropped and left me drained. I realized that there seemed to be peace in the house, I had done it. My son was going to be free from the terror this horrific creature brought to him. My son was free, I was free.

Hailey, my 5-year old ran to me. I knew she was going to see me as fierce and brave; her mom, the hero. Her mouth opening I waited to hear her give me the praise I deserved;

“Uh, Mom, why did you put my singing dog in the closet?”

I just stumbled upon this site, Saving Moms Money.  From my brief venture through it’s pages, it seems really great.  And of course, how could I not share this wonderful giveaway they’re having!

Giveaway: $50 Picaboo Photo Books Gift Card!

I have heard of the term “spirited child”, but in all honesty I always thought it was a nice way of telling someone that their kid was an evil terror.  Now I am beginning to realize that there really is such a thing as a spirited child, and I believe that I have one of my very own.

Cyler has always been active.  From the time he was still in utero.  I remember during an ultrasound the technician was having a difficult time getting a good shot because he was moving around too much or blocking with his hands.  I remember nights when I would toss and turn because the little guy was doing back flips in my belly.  Once he was born, it continued.  He was always extremely alert.  Always staring intensely at whatever he was studying in that moment.  As he became more mobile, his energy levels were through the roof.  The kid never stopped moving.  And still doesn’t.  He loves to jump and can sit and bounce in his jumperoo for more than an hour straight.  If he’s on your lap, you had better hang on tight.  Diaper changes have become nearly impossible as he twists and rolls in acrobatic poses as I beg him to “hold still for 2 seconds”.  I find myself constantly having to distract him with a new toy or activity.  He will not sit contently with one object for more than a minute, before he’s onto the next.

He is intensely aware of all of his surroundings.  When we are somewhere new, his head is on a swivel taking in every little detail.    He cranes his neck to see the person around the corner, or practically jumps out of my arms to get a better view of something colorful or flashy.  But while this intensity and energy has left me exhausted and at times a little frustrated, I can’t help but giggle to myself on occasion at his blossoming personality.  I have a feeling that there are many silly moments ahead.  I smile to myself to think of the cute little Cyler-isms yet to be.  I know he’s going to be an entertaining little guy.  I look forward to those moments, but in the back of my head I just know, I’m in for it!

… from an ex.

My last ex was/is a really amazing guy.   I would never trade my Fiance for any other person in the world, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t other great men out there.  Nor does that mean any of my exes were not great, they just were not for me.  So why is it seem so wrong that I care that his life is going well?

I just don’t understand it.  After a serious relationship, how do you just cast the other person aside like they never existed?  How are you not supposed to remember their birthday or hope they’re doing well?

Yes, I decided our relationship was over.  Yes, I thought we should go our separate ways.  But where in there does the love we had just disappear to?

I hope he’s doing well.  I hope he likes his job, has fun with friends, is dating around or has a great girlfriend/fiance/wife.  I hope things are running smoothy and that he’s happy.  And damnit, there is nothing wrong with that!

So why is so hard to write a email, “Happy birthday, hope all is well.”?  Why do I feel like the only socially acceptable thing is to pretend like he never existed and pray I never randomly see him out in public?

Who knows.. The fact of that matter is I’ve never cared what is or isn’t socially acceptable and that’s why that email is in his inbox right now.  Because I do care and there is nothing wrong with wishing someone well.

My head was pounding so I grabbed the throw pillow and blanket off the couch and curled up on the floor. Brody was playing at my feet and Jake was playing on the computer. Jake turned around and saw me on the floor and asked what I was doing. I told him that Mommy’s head hurt and that I just needed to lay there for a minuet. He got a big grin on his face and said “Oh I know what will make you feel better” as he jumped off the couch. “If I lie down and cuddle you it won’t hurt anymore!” so he put his little head on the pillow and got under my blanket. After about 30 seconds he got patted me on the head and said “See? Does that feel a little better now?” My head still hurt but my heart felt pretty damn good.

These are the moments I cherish.