FeatheredFriendsy.com is officially up and running!
Be aware that I will be tweaking things here and there over the next few days, but from now on, check me out over there

Pre-kids, I was, shall we say…less than patient. I’m a person who likes to be in total control, and when something slows me down or gets in my way, I have a very hard time not freaking out over it. Not one of my most attractive qualities, but at least I realize it and have been working on it.

So fast forward to today when a very fussy baby, very grumpy toddler, and extremely moody preschooler decided  to need undivided attention –  all at the same time. Everyone was  whining and crying and throwing tantrums, and I just couldn’t take it anymore. I raised my voice to my babies.

Instantly, I felt horrible. Apologies flew as tears were shed, and I mentally kicked myself for getting so impatient.

Later, we ventured to the grocery store, where things weren’t much better. Fussy baby cried in his wrap on and off. Grumpy toddler ripped things from shelves and smacked her sister repeatedly. Moody preschooler had an emotional breakdown over my saying “no” to getting ridiculous amounts of junk food.

Ready to cry myself, I hurried to place my items on the cashier’s belt to be checked out. As I bent over to pick up some cheese, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up and a very nice older lady was smiling at me.

“You’ve got your hands full,” she smiled. I nodded. “Well, just remember what my mother used to tell me: kids are people too – they have emotions and they are very  real. They hurt and want and need just like you and me,” she said. “I wouldn’t have made it through raising 6 kids (3 sets of twins!) who were 16 months apart without that advice.”

My heart sank when I heard her words. Kids are people too. They do hurt, want, need, and everything in between. It isn’t fair to get impatient with them as often as I do just because they haven’t figured out how to handle their real emotions.

So the next time my baby fusses, my toddler throws a fit, or my preschooler cries at the drop of a hat, I think maybe I’ll just snuggle them a little bit closer rather than getting impatient with them.

Kids are people too.

This weekend will bring joy to me as well, though, as David and I renew our wedding vows on 9/10. After 5 years of the best and worst that life has to give, a fresh start and rededication is exactly what we need. I am excited to say that we have made it through hideous situations, life changing events, and braved the unknown when so many couples would have thrown in the towel. I am honored to think that despite everything (good and bad) that these years have brought, Dave still wants to marry me – and essentially will do it again on Saturday.

Shortly before my mom passed away, she apologized to me because she had promised to be there for our renewal. I credit a great deal of my how-to-deal-with-marriage-effectively knowledge to her, and I really wanted her to see us celebrate this milestone. She wasn’t present at our first wedding, as we had a very small, unannounced wedding, and this was our chance to have her there. But she won’t be there.

In the same conversation in which she apologized, she also told me how glad she was that I found David. She said, through labored breaths, that he was a living guardian angel sent to me for when she couldn’t be here with me. She often bragged to the nursing staff that she had “the best son-in-law in the world,” and I couldn’t agree more. She told me to always let him know how much I appreciate him (and all my loved ones) because you just never know when it will be too late.

So as this emotional weekend begins for me, for so many families, for the nation, I ask you all to look closely at those who matter to you. Then, let them know they matter. Tell at least one person EVERY DAY how much they mean to you. Every day for the rest of your life.

You never know when a plane will fall from the sky, or when an internal enemy will take someone from you.

Love. Intentionally.
Every day.

In a nutshell, the first story is about a little girl who wants a princess-themed birthday party and it almost leads to her feminist mother having a heart attack on the spot because, well, princesses are not for feminist girls! The second article is about a lack-luster choice of words on a girls’ t-shirt that was being sold at JCPenney. One of the last phrases in that story is “Disney-spawned princess problem.”

Basically, people don’t like the fact that the I’m a princess! girly-girl mentality is being packaged and handed to our little girls on a daily basis. And I get that, I really do. I don’t want my kids to think that they’re only worth something because they’re pretty or if they get attention from someone physically attractive, but as the [feminist] mother of 2 little girls who absolutely LOVE princess movies, books, and stories, I disagree with the anti-princess movement. After looking at the good lessons these princess stories can teach our daughters (and sons for that matter!), I have to wonder if there’s really a “problem” after all…. or if the so-called damage has been blown way out of proportion.

Belle, from Disney’s Beauty and the Beast, for instance, is a smart and charming girl. She’s polite, she’s intelligent, and she reads constantly. Her ability to see past physical appearances – first by rejecting a handsome but unsavory suitor and later by learning to love the Beast even though he’s rough around the edges and not physically appealing – is a trait I wish more people in real life possessed. So if my girls want to read a lot, learn to be good judges of character, and maintain their behavior in a polite fashion because they want to be like a Disney princess, I’m fine with that. (That falling in love with a critter that isn’t human thing on the other hand….)

And what about Mulan? She faces the strictest sexism by going against laws to join the army and ultimately saves her country! She changes history and  ends up with her man. What’s so wrong with that?

Or Jasmine, who despite being an actual princess, wants to marry a commoner because she loves him rather than marrying a prince just for the sake of getting married. She’s smart and wants to live her own life – a true independent woman. Again, these are all good lessons/traits for my girls to learn.

And Ariel – she’s got her own ideas about what she wants for her life. Long before she meets Prince Eric, she longs to be a human so she can learn and do things above the water. Another lesson in independence.

So I guess I’m failing to see the true problem with these characters. I’m failing to see how liking princesses at all is such a terrible thing. Just because my girls like them doesn’t mean they don’t roll around in the mud, wear pants, play with cars, or pretend to be superheroes. Some days, they do all of those things AND watch  a princess movie. I think that by forbidding girls to see/like princess-themed things, we’re actually working against the feminism I support*.

The next time my girls are twirling around the living room, declaring themselves “Princess Duck” and “Princess Goose, ” and in the same moment pretending to be doctors, lawyers, artists, and teachers – I’ll just chuckle to myself as I think of the term princess problem. As with a large chunk of issues related to child-rearing,  it only becomes a problem when a big deal is made of nothing harmful. When left to their own devices, most kids would rather just be allowed to like princesses – and a billion other things – and leave it at that.

*Feminism, as I see it, is doing everything in our power to open up choices  for women, not limiting them. The choice to be super feminine, the choice to like things that were once off-limits to women, the choice to hold a career or stay home, the choice to wear dresses or pants, the choice to like princesses or cars, the choice to be or like any combination of these things is what feminism represents to me.

Not that I believe that I’m screwed solely based upon family history, but it’s looking like the odds are not in my favor when it comes to serious incurable diseases. On top of it, high cholesterol, hypertension, diabetes, and obesity run in the family too… Oh, and very few people in my family have lived past 65 (the ones who haven’t had cancer have had heart disease related issues). See how I could feel a little uneasy about my future health?

Having to repeat family history to doctors all summer has really kicked my butt into high gear as far as doing everything I possibly can to be healthy. I know a lot of it is out of a person’s control as far as cancer is concerned, but I also know there are preventative measures I can take against it and other diseases.

So here’s what I’m up to:

1. Quit biting my nails. I’ve been trying to stop biting my nails for, oh, ever. This time is it for me. It’s a gross habit and a germy one at that. Yuck.

2. Exercise more. More than what, you ask? More than the nothing I had been doing, I say. With the warm weather still upon us here in Pittsburgh, I’ve been taking my kids on long walks through the neighborhood every chance I get. It ends up being something like 2 miles a day, while pushing a 20lb stroller with 60lbs of kid in it, and another 10lbs of baby strapped to me in his carrier. If that isn’t cardio, I don’t know what is.

3. Count calories. I’m watching what I’m eating, based on what my  nutritionist suggested for my kidney disease. Eating fewer overall calories, much less “bad” stuff, and way more “good” stuff has helped me to have more energy, lose weight, and generally just feel better.

4. Cut soda. I’ve tried this almost as much as I’ve tried to quit biting my nails. Instead of trying to do it cold turkey this time, I’m weaning myself from the soda I’ve made a habit of drinking daily. So far, so good. In its place, I’m guzzling water like a champ – and I’m already noticing a decrease in acne breakouts and stomach sensitivity.

5. Lose weight. Now that we are done having kids, it’s time to get super serious about losing weight. Since Harrison was born 5 weeks ago, I’ve lost 21lbs. with about 50 more to go for my goal weight. My “goal” is what I weighed before we started having children, nearly 5 years ago. And writing that out makes me feel suddenly very self conscious. But that’s motivation, baby!

Aside from these things, I’m also decluttering physical things from my life, ridding myself of toxic people/relationships, and upping my effort to take time for myself – even if it’s only 10  minutes a day – to recharge.

What healthy steps have you taken lately?

On Friday of last week, at mom’s memorial service, someone came up to me at the end and asked how I could possibly still have faith in God “after all I’ve been through this summer.”  I didn’t get into detail there, mostly because the question itself didn’t really make sense until after the fact, but I guess I feel the need to address it now.

I am, by faith, a Christian. My husband is as well, and our children are baptized into the Christian faith. And while it would be easy, I suppose, to abandon my faith right now, to get really angry with God, etc. I can’t because He actually made this as easy as possible on us, even though we didn’t see it at the time.

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2 years ago, we were building a brand new home 300+ miles away from the town where I grew up, where my mom lived. 3 weeks from closing, we got a frantic call from the builder saying the loan company had given us misinformation and we’d need WAY more money at closing than we were prepared for. Our options were to go through with it and bring that money, or receive a full refund for our deposits made and back out of the deal. After a lot of crying, panicking, long talks with each other and my mom, and some fighting with my husband (yes, we do fight!), we decided for option #2. We hurried into a not-so-great renting situation because we had such short notice, and life was really, really miserable for a year while we were stuck there.

About a month before the lease was to expire on our bad rental, Dave’s cousin sent him an email about a job opportunity in Pittsburgh, where both of us grew up. Dave wasn’t actively looking for a job but….This job would be easier than his then-current job, pay way more, and be closer to our families in an area we loved. He jumped on the opportunity, and less than a week later, was offered the job.

They wanted him there in a week to start. One week. So we hurried and packed, gave our notice to move, and were able to leave as quickly as we came because it was a rental property. If we had owned the house we were building, we couldn’t have moved so quickly and we may still be stuck there, especially in this housing market.

In one weekend, we viewed something like 20 potential places to live (rentals, of course, because there was no time for the buying process) – most of which were less than worth the  money asked. The very last place we looked at appeared to be too good to be true online, but when we got there,  it delivered. We put down our deposit and moved in the following week, and still live there. It also came with amazing neighbors, so it was twice worth it.

My mom started having gall bladder attacks in early March, right after we had gotten settled in our new place. She tried to ignore them, but as the month went on, they got worse. When the first week of April rolled around, she admitted herself to the hospital and they determined her gall bladder had to come out.

That night, as we left from visiting her, I told Dave that I had a terrible feeling about it, even though gall bladder removal is pretty commonplace. I cried and cried that night, with this terrible feeling looming over me. Everyone told me that I was being dramatic, but I still couldn’t shake it.

When the doctor came out to talk to me after mom’s gall bladder surgery, he started with the good. “It went well,” he said. “She’s in recovery. However, I have to tell you that the gall bladder looked…odd. It’s really rare, but we’re sending it out to be analyzed because sometimes, there’s cancer when the organ looks strange.” I nervously giggled and barely regarded that last part because the surgery had gone well and she was in recovery. And because “it’s really rare” apparently meant in my mind that “nothing bad will happen.” The bad feeling was still present, though I pushed it to the back of my mind.

It was cancer. And in a whirlwind, mom ended up with a second surgery and a third surgery – both revealed what I felt in my bones from the get go. It wasn’t good. Not even close. The cancer had gone from gall bladder to liver to lungs in a matter of 2 weeks. There was nothing more the doctors could do. They gave her approximately 6 months to live.

The weeks that followed were full of ups and downs. I was able to take care of her accounts, pay bills, make final arrangements with her before things got so bad she couldn’t express her wishes. For the first time since we’ve been  married, Dave and I were making enough money to pay bills AND save. The kids got to see their grandma a lot. She got well enough to be able to go to lunch/dinner, festivals, and parades. Those weeks were magical memories for us – ones that we wouldn’t have had if we’d gotten that house, if Dave had blown off that job opportunity, if we hadn’t been able to find *the perfect rental* when we moved.

3 weeks before I was due with Harrison, I woke up in the middle of the night on a Sunday, feeling like someone was stabbing me in the liver. I was violently ill and in terrible pain. After 3 hours of dealing with it at home, I went to the hospital, where they admitted me to labor and delivery. By 4pm, they decided that both Harrison and I were very sick and needed to be separated. By 5pm, he was born via c-section, 3 weeks early, and completely healthy. By 8pm, I was back to healthy too. Mom was able to come to the hospital to visit us.

A week after Harrison was born, mom’s health slipped downhill significantly. She slept a large chunk of the time, and even her hospice nurses seemed concerned. If Harrison had been born “on time,” she wouldn’t have remembered meeting him, and she certainly couldn’t have made it to the hospital. During that week, we also found out that Dave’s union was going on strike, leaving us with no income, and leaving him at home.

Because we had been able to save  money with this new job, we were able to pay our bills. And because of the strike, Dave was home to help me with the kids and house, and was able to be there when I got the 4am call that my mom passed away. He was able to be there to help me make funeral arrangements, to be there for the entombment, and to be there at the memorial service itself.

The day after the memorial service (just this past Saturday), we got word that the strike is over.

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I believe because God was definitely present in all of this. Like most anything else, it is easiest to be a fair-weather Christian, and it would be very easy to be angry, hurt, and disconnected from my faith. But I honestly feel like God’s hand was at work in this, even starting 2 years ago with the house falling through. And that’s not to say that I didn’t grumble and complain and question things along the way, but on the other side of it all, I see why it came to be.

I’m not one to think that God will prevent bad things from happening to good people – and I actually prefer to look at it as good people happening to a bad world anyway. Death is inevitable for all of us, but in losing my mother and best friend, God handed us quality time on a silver platter and let us run with it for as long as we could.

And I am so thankful for that.

I watched from the window of a friend’s house as the streets became small-scale rivers. Debris hurried down alleys, as though it were late for a rendezvous. And in the uproar of the moment, there was a sense of peace to the chaos that has been swirling around us.

We’ve had a pretty good weekend around here, filled with sleeping in, playtime in our pjs, slow paced days full of baby snuggles and picture books. Just soaking in family time that we wouldn’t have if Dave hadn’t been home due to the union strike.

In one of the last coherent, intentional conversations I had with my mom, she made me promise that I’d enjoy days like this.
Mom: It isn’t a cliche, you know.
Me: What isn’t?
Mom: That you shouldn’t wish your life away. That you should enjoy the time you have while you can. That tomorrow isn’t a given. Look at me, I was fine just a  few weeks ago. Now I’m dying – fast. Promise me that you’ll do  all you can to live your life. Don’t just stay alive, but actually live.

I promised. And I think that’s one promise I won’t have a problem keeping. My life is full of beautiful things:

-3 wonderful children, who despite their faults and ability to drive me insane at times, are healthy and bring so much light to the world….
- a loving husband who is quite possibly one of the most selfless and wonderful people I have ever known….
- amazing friends who have surrounded us with their love, generosity, and kindness during the best AND worst…..
-and of course, storms…the kind who violently shake the sorrow from the soil of life and bring renaissance when they leave as quickly as they came.

All of these things heaped on top of one another and added to the day to day of running a home and finding a new family groove finally snapped in me and I shut down.

As tears stained my cheeks, and Dave wrapped his arms around me, I reached for my phone to do what I usually do when I’m overwhelmed: call my mom. She always has some perspective-changing advice or at least a sympathetic/empathetic ear to lend. I dialed her number and waited for the phone to ring when I realized that she wouldn’t answer.

Although as of this writing she is still with us on earth, she is no longer the mom I know. She is emaciated and weak, completely wiped of her physical strength from the cancer that is now shutting her body down. She sleeps much of the time and cannot stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time. She doesn’t know much of who she is, who others are, and she is often confused from the pain medications. Hallucinations have started to rear their ugly heads – the other day when I was visiting her, she insisted that she could levitate things with her hand from across the room. I just smiled and nodded, when I really wanted to cry. This is not my mother. This is a shell of who she once was, and “thanks” to cancer, the mom I know is gone forever.

It’s harder than I’d ever imagined it would be to lose someone you’re so close to. When I was a little over a year old, my father died. I don’t remember that, so it doesn’t affect me much. In 11th grade, a good friend of mine died suddenly in a car accident and in a way, I think the quickness of her death made it easier to deal with (not that it was easy by any stretch of the imagination). She didn’t suffer, no one had time to think about it. It just happened.  Nearly 3 years ago, Dave and I lost our 2nd daughter, Peyton, and it tore me apart inside. It was a different kind of loss, but a loss of someone close just the same.

Losing my mom is yet another experience because she’s the person I’ve known the longest of all the people I know. She gave me life. She raised me. She loved me when no one else would have.

From the time the doctors said the word “cancer” to my mother in mid-April until right now, it’s been one hell of a fast downward ride. It’s hard to believe that in March, we were having Friday night dinners and making plans for this summer of going to the zoo and beach and spending lots of time together. 17 weeks, a diagnosis, and several surgeries later…and here we are, saying our goodbyes.

Aside from my husband, my mom is my best friend. It hasn’t always been that way, but when I was a kid, I needed a mom not a best friend. We got close when I went to college a mere 30 miles from home…but those 30 miles were just what we needed; just enough distance to see each other as equal adults rather than mother and child. From August of 2004 to now, there have been very limited days that we didn’t talk at least  once on the phone.

So here I am, at 25 years of age, and I feel like an idiot because all I can think is how much I want my mommy. Like a preschooler on the first day of class who won’t detach herself from her mom’s leg. I reach for the phone for our daily talks and am promptly kicked by the invisible foot of cancer that says “oh no, not today!” in no uncertain terms.

Somehow, I will get through this. I have to. I have to be strong for my kids, who will be heartbroken when their grandma is gone. I have to be strong for friends and family. I have to be strong because that’s what mom wants me to do. She has always encouraged me to live my life and do things, see things, be someone of worth. Not to waste away being sad or lamenting her loss. She would want my life to go on with fulfillment. And because of the way she raised me, I know that somewhere inside of me I have the strength to do this. It won’t be easy or fun, but I can do it. I think.

When I first started this blog, I did it because I wanted a place to keep memories and share ideas. I did it for me because I needed an outlet of my own to help me release some of the stress that comes with, well, living. Somewhere along the way though, I got it in my head that I needed to be the next Kelle Hampton or Kristen of The Frugal Girl. That I needed to be on everyone’s “Must Read Blogs” list or have a billion and five readers.

When that didn’t happen, I sort of became disenchanted by blogging and that’s where I’ve been teetering for quite some time now. But recently, I’ve realized that an outlet is what I really needed all along – not a huge readership or fame.

So I’m going to start writing for me again. To capture memories, feelings, thoughts. To share recipes that I love, to upload my mental pictures into words. And I’m sorry if that doesn’t sit well with some of my readers. But I need to do this for me.

After a rough day of labor and battling with a quick and severe onset of pre-eclampsia, our beautiful little boy, Harrison, was born on Sunday via c-section.

We are both doing much better now as 2 separated individuals than we were right before delivery, and I am absolutely in love with the little guy.

So while I recover and adapt to life with 3 kids under 4, a small break will occur. I hope you are all well and life is most excellent