WWW.MOMMYEVERAFTER.COM

27 Dec

Mommy EA

My dears,
Like the rest of us, Mommy, Ever After has now grown.
From here on out, you can find us at

www.mommyeverafter.com

I can assure you, it will be bigger and better
(and brighter!)
than ever.
Follow the trail of feathers…

Would certainly make for an interesting campaign…

19 Dec

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When I was 28 years old I got glasses.

Some people in my life would say that this was my dream come true.

You see, I spent my childhood (and possibly some of my adolescence) wishing desperately to be bespectacled.

The Great Glasses crusade began when I was in first grade and my two-year-old sister got glasses for extreme farsightedness, that caused Accommodative Esotropia.

Basically, in order to try to see clearly, her eyes crossed as a form of compensation.

This is exactly the exact same issue that both of my kids have, and also that my mother was diagnosed with at the age of three.

One day, while I was at school, my mom got a call from the school nurse; she was calling to inform my mom that I had failed the eyechart test that they give as a standard;

you see, I was perfectly capable of reading all of the smallest letters, but miraculously unable to make out those in the large print.

Get it? Yeah, so did they. And you know what I did not get?

Glasses.

Last winter, when I went for an eye exam, the doctor told me that I was mildly farsighted and had an astigmatism. I would need to wear glasses all the time.

It was more exciting in theory and in first grade.

And if you’ve seen me around or in photos you will see that I am not so great at wearing them.

I now have to wear them to do all of the writing that I do on the computer, but my husband is constantly reminding me to put them on, as he watches me squint and struggle to see.

Case in point: Tonight I was doing my standard baby bedtime bottle routine, while flipping through my Instagram feed, and I came across photos of a new nail polish collection from Essie.

I was taken aback;

it was the middle photo that caught my attention first – – well, really the caption, which I read as “Double Breastfed” and then some word I could not quite make out.

I am as avid an advocate for breast-feeding as you can get so I was equal parts excited and curious.

I checked out the name on the first bottle.

“Oh my god,” I thought, as I read “Bump up the Pumps”.

Was this really happening? A whole collection of nail polish meant to encourage breast-feeding women?

I checked  out the third and last bottle in the photo.

A bold cranberry red with shimmer.

“Jump in my Jumpsuit”.

that one struck me as odd – – I couldn’t figure out what it meant. Baby wearing? Had Essie really gone this crunchy?

so I looked back at that first bottle, the photo in the middle, and squinted my eyes as hard as I could to focus.

“Double Breasted Jacket” it read.

And then I laughed at myself, realized that now, by some miracle, it is just that old elusive large print that I can read clearly, put my baby down and my glasses up.

I guess my days of faking the eyechart are over…

unless I want to start asking the ladies at the nail salon for polish named for breast pumps.

I would write more but my computer is not turning on so I have been forced to type on an iPad which has been quite a challenge… Because I can’t see the letters…

so I will just go on coming up with my own creative names for now polishes of the future;

starting with “Glasses for Asses”.

A great miracle happened t(here).

17 Dec

There is this thing that happens as you grow up;

your family traditions stop being the rituals you have customarily shared with your parents and elders, but they start to evolve, slowly, into things that are perhaps unique and new.

Last night was the first night of Hanukkah.

Instead of celebrating with parents or family members or friends, as we typically would, it was just the four of us. My little family.

And really, that is how I remember celebrating Hanukkah with my family of four as a chlid. Sure, I remember the big family gatherings, but my most vivid and evocative memories are of chanting the blessings with my parents, wearing matching flannel nightgowns with my little sister, (always with ruffles at the seams) and instead of singing “Az ‘egmor beshir mizmor, Khanukat hamizbeakh.” I thought that it was actually “Azegmore, and hear me snore.”

So last night, after dinner, my daughter got dressed in a flannel nightgown, with ruffles at the seams, and I held my son as I chanted the blessings (since I am really the only one in my house now who knows them all). And it was different, but it was lovely. We have a mountain of presents for my daughter, from grandparents, great-grandparents and friends, but last night we gave her our “big gift”: a blanket that has a hood that looks like a cat and glows in the dark. She saw a commercial for it on the television and had been asking for it for weeks, and so when she pulled this 19 dollar gift out of the Hanukkah bag she squealed with delight. And I could tell that she really appreciated her gift. It didn’t get lost in a sea of excitement and wrapping paper. She wore it and folded it and watched it light up. And every time I checked on her last night, she was in a different position in bed, cuddling her new blanket in some way.

It was a strange feeling, to be the grown up in all of this; the one to light the candles and say the blessings and give the gifts. And it stuck with me throughout the night. As I was tidying up the kitchen before bed, a penny fell from the sky. Now, I don’t know that it actually fell from the sky, but it fell from somewhere above and knocked me in the head before landing, face up, on the ground beside me.

A penny from heaven. A 2014 penny, at that, which seemed particularly apt in the light of yesterday’s words about this past year.

We are growing up around here. And that’s ok.

Happy Hanukkah to those who celebrate,

and to anyone and everyone else, I wish you a year of light, love,

and maybe even a miracle or two.

What a sweet way to start the day!

17 Dec

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It is 7 o’clock in the morning, I have not yet set foot out of bed, yet the delivery man has already come to my door with a magical Hanukkah present and I just don’t even know what to say besides:

It is official;

I have a Fairy Peepmother.

Just like I always say,

I have the BEST Peeps.

Thank you, thank you, from the bottom of our hearts,

the middle of our tummies

and the insides of our teeth!

Let us celebrate.

16 Dec

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This morning, I woke up to a pleasant surprise. I got an email from an old high school friend–

Well, really, if I am being honest, she is an old high school friend of my husband’s; to me, she was just this incredibly beautiful and cool Senior whom I looked at and admired from afar. Come to think of it, to this day, I don’t know that she knows this; that my Freshman friends and I would look at her Senior yearbook portrait in awe. She is that pretty. But she’s also nice. And fun. And brave. And my husband’s high school friends deserve a post of their own, so look out for that.

She sent me this article, to give, as she said, “a little bit of mojo”, which is amazing.

The article talks about how 2014, for many, was an awful year; for some, their worst yet.

I would raise my hand with those people. I say it all the time. This has been the worst year of my life. But the also the most meaningful, for sure. And that is what this article is all about. The author could have gone into my brain and taken the words right from inside my head. If you know my writing, you will see.

She writes,

“Because 2014 was hard for many, many people.

For you, it might be going down as one of the worst years you can remember.

For you, it may have brought you to your knees more times than you could count.

For you, it may have left you breathless … hopeless … tired and weary.

But before you eagerly slam the door on 2014, I ask you to look down at your hands.

See that dirt under your fingernails?

My friend, that is beautiful. That is remarkable. That is significant.

You could have let go. But you didn’t.

You could have given up. But you didn’t.

You hung on.

You hung on.

And here’s what I believe:

I believe 2014 was not your worst year, but possibly your greatest.

Your Year of Greatest Strength
Your Year of Greatest Faith
Your Year of Greatest Hope
Your Year of Greatest Patience
Your Year of Greatest Risk
Your Year of Greatest Determination
Your Year of Greatest Courage

Just look at that dirt beneath your fingernails.

That is what you are made of.

Isn’t it beautiful? Isn’t it remarkable? Isn’t it significant?

It was your Year of Greatest Survival.

And you lived to tell about it.

Thank you for holding on.

Let us celebrate.

Let us celebrate.”

Just as I wrote last month, this year, all I want to do is to live and to do so fully. My poor friends; You should see how many emails they get from me about Christmas cookies and Secret Santas and our New Year’s Eve menu. How many screenshots I send with inspirational quotes and love notes. But the fact that I can not only feel but feel excitment? I am holding onto that, I am holding on with every ounce of strength I can muster.

And so it was a normal Tuesday morning this morning and we were up early, and we are supposed to be on a tropical island,

but instead, I was cuddled up on the couch and my daughter was across the room, and my son was playing on the floor and my husband called from the kitchen that we were out of coffee. He would make a run to the coffee shop and get us all treats, he said.

And when he left, I called my daughter over to me. “I want you,” I said, as I held out my arms to her and then wrapped them around her, kissed her face, and snuggled her close to me.

“I want you to be happy,” was her reply.

Let us celebrate, indeed.

(This morning’s coffee was sponsored c/o Twin and Go Go)

Could be a whole heck of a lot worse.

15 Dec

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Well, it may not be our thwarted big family trip to St. John, but I’m cozy, under a blanket, listening to my main man’s music,

working on THE NEW WEBSITE

and OMG do I have a story for you as my big premiere.

I literally could not make this stuff up.

Stay warm and stay tuned.

Stay Tuned and Get Pumped! (is what I was going to say.)

14 Dec

Patience, my dear ones. For I am off to a happy place, where I will be celebrating my 8th Engagemaversary in that very same spot.

…is what I had written, yesterday,

prepared to publish today,

as I would now be off to St. John, via St. Thomas, with my entire family; Parents, siblings, kids…

It’s funny. Just last week, Jordan said, “The way to virtually guarantee that a child will get sick is to schedule something that you really want to do.”

And it has been no secret that we have been sickie little chickies in my house for the past month.

But weeks of sick days and doctor visits all kind of came to a head yesterday when I crashed, unexpectedly, at 3pm, woke up two hours later in excruciating ear pain. I have been suffering from TMJ on my right side, but this pain was on my left. And I couldn’t hear out of my ear. Weird.

So, I shook the sleep out of my head and rallied to give the baby his nighttime bottle, give my daughter her kiss goodnight, and I told my husband that something wasn’t right. All of the local urgent care facilities were closed and all my doctor besties were stuck without otoscopes (I just wanted to see if I was crazy), so we found a Care Stat location a little ways away and I got checked out.

I told the doctor about my TMJ. “First let me look at your right ear, or your ‘good ear’,” she said.

“Yup, this ear is infected.”

Then she moved onto my left.

And all she said was, “Whoa.”

That’s never what you want to hear from a doctor.

So I have a double ear infection, but on my left side it is pretty severe, and I am prohibited from flying for a week. Which means that we had to cancel our trip to our happy place.

It’s ok. I was most disappointed for my daughter and parents, but we have made alternate arrangements so that my kids will be taken away on a fun family trip, just the four of us, that involves driving, and no change in elevation that will perforate my eardrum.

I walked out of the urgent care office, into the Krispie Kreme two doors down, and ate a hot glazed doughnut right off of the conveyer belt. Because, really, what else was there to do?

So, I will continue where I had left off yesterday before this all went down (when I thought I would be leaving you for St. John):

Please don’t think I would leave you hanging. Oh no.

Because we have some big changes on the not so distant horizon; my home for the past 4.5 years,

http://www.mommyeverafter.wordpress.com,

just got quite the makeover. We are moving on up people.

Very soon, this blog will be located at…

http://www.mommyeverafter.com

Mommy EA

You can visit the site to countdown to our big launch on December 22. There will be ads! There will be new categories! There will be a feathers! This is forrealz.

And I realize that my audience here is mixed; some of you have been here from the beginning, while others are newer to the land of mom. So I am leaving you with some old favorites. And the fun thing is, they lead you to other old posts. You have almost 900 of ’em to wade through as I wade through the ocean. (Editor’s note: I don’t even have to say it. Frowny face.)

Let me take this opportunity to say thank you.

This past year (and I am getting choked up) has been the hardest in my life; I am so grateful for the support I have received from YOU. You have empowered me to tell me story and motivated me to help others. Thank you. I would not be here without you.

So here you go. I’ll be popping in here and there over the next week, but to tide you over:

Something motivational

Something sweet

Something musical

Something nostalgic

Something comprehensive

Some Important Insight

The craziest call to the pediatrican ever. (Really, ever.)

The second craziest call to the pediatrican,, ever. And it’s a close second.

Something Happy.

Something Hard.

Something Hopeful.

See you on the flip side at http://www.mommyeverafter.com,

the home of everything ever after.