Laughter and Lemonade…

What do you do when life hands you lemons? Ok, so I am a self-proclaimed optimist, and since as long as I can remember, have always looked at life’s less than ideal situations as opportunities to learn and grow.  I’m a glass half-full, find the silver lining, look for the rainbow after the storm, kind of girl. I’ve had many doors close on me, but have seen even more windows open.  It is my belief that one’s journey is measured by experiences; the distance of your travel depends on whether you use them to hold yourself back or push yourself forward.  But no matter which direction you find yourself currently going, I’ve found that lemonade and laughter always make the trip more enjoyable. ..

I was at work when Brian called to update me on his appointment with the orthopedic surgeon – thank goodness I have a desk job and was already sitting down. He tore both his ACL and his MCL (this one so bad it exploded, and is going to have to be replaced with a cadaver’s!) and needs surgery. In the meantime, they fitted him for a brace and made a follow-up appointment to check the swelling. After I hung up the phone, and the implications of this prognosis started to hit me, I began to laugh. It was either that or cry, but considering the professional company I was in, mere pride dictated the former. Somewhere in this escapade I knew there had to be something positive, but without a bottle of wine and my favorite pair of sweatpants, it wasn’t the time to look for whatver that may be. It was, however, time for lunch. And this day necessitated the greasiest fried combo I could get my hands on.  Comfort food, the adult’s happy meal.

That evening, as I divided my evening between caring for Liam and waitressing for Brian, I wondered how I was going to handle a cranky, teething baby and a frustrated, handicapped husband for the next two months. I was already wearing thin on patience, but now my compassion seemed to be running low, too. As I crawled into bed, I knew I needed help. I closed my eyes, opened my heart, and prayed. That night was the first time Liam slept until morning.

Now here we are, having survived our first week under these new circumstances. Family and friends alike have banded together to help make this predicament as manageable as possible. Although we have a long way to go before we're back on our feet and moving forward, there's much I have found in this silver lining. Brian is now spending more time then ever with Liam, I am getting more sleep than I have in months, and after surgery and rehab, his knee will be good as new.

So tonight I raise my glass of lemonade and toast to all of life's bittersweet moments - may they remind us to count our blessings and keep us laughing. Cheers...

The Art of Juggling

I have always admired the skill of juggling; the remarkable ability to keep multiple objects circulating simultaneously, for the act itself seems to blatantly defy the law of gravity.  I’ve never been able to get the hang of it, perhaps because I can’t get past the thought of releasing more items into the air than I have hands to catch.  Perception of control is my modus operand.  It all boils down to one thing: mind over matter.  So while the idea of tossing around four tennis balls seems impossible to me, I am right now handling the demands of an infant, an injured husband, and a sick dog.  If you change the context, swap inanimate objects for life roles, it turns out I just might know how to juggle after all…

It was 4:08am; Liam was crying, Brian was sleeping, and I, was up. Like every other time, I started to pull my head off of the pillow, slide out from under the sheets, to begin making my trek to the nursery. But for whatever reason, this Wednesday morning my body decided enough was enough, and demanded help.  For the first time since we had the baby, I rolled over, woke my husband up, and told him it was his turn to tend to Liam. As I felt him get to his feet, I snuggled further in under the covers and began to spread out over the toasty spot he just left vacated.  Just as rest looked to be mine, a light exploded overhead and destroyed the only chance I had gotten at more than 4 hours of sleep in just as many months. Certain expletives leapt to the tip of my tongue as I glared at the perpetrator who stole my sleep.  There Brian stood, less than happy to be awake, completely ignorant to the fact that because of him, I was awake, too. Since I was up now anyway, and he seemed to have his hands full with just the baby, I went downstairs to take the dog out.  As I waited for Tyson to do his business, I thought about how it was going upstairs.  When I had passed by the baby’s room, Bri had on the big light and was entertaining Liam, neither of which is recommended when aiming to put a child back to bed. But as I made my way back up the stairs, all lights were out and silence was all that could be heard. Well, I’ll be darned, I thought, as I crawled back into bed. He did it. Before I got the chance to revel in this glorious novelty, I felt a hand on my shoulder – not the big, hairy, work-roughened fingers of a man, but rather the small, doughy, drool-soaked fingers of a baby.  I rolled over in complete disbelief. Yup, there he was, alright, happy as a pig in mud and wide awake. Not trusting myself to speak to Brian at this particular point, I scooped Liam up and marched us both off to the nursery. Somehow I’ve managed all this time to feed, change, and put Liam back down without waking Brian and bringing him into bed with us. Why couldn’t he have managed it just this once? To add insult to injury, I was facing a weekend of taking care of the baby all by myself so that Bri could go play with his boys.

Two days later, 6 more hours of sleep under my belt, and a dog now diagnosed with an ear infection, my husband was doing everything he could to detract from the fact that he was leaving me in the domestic trenches with canine amoxicillin and cradle cap, while he got to hang around a cabin with grown-ups and alcohol. The bottle of wine and pint of ice-cream he picked up was mere ammunition for survival, nothing close to what would be considered acceptable as a peace offering - he owed me bigtime. When the phone rang that night during Liam’s 1am feeding, I knew it wasn’t going to be the best of news; yet, I still wasn’t prepared to hear Brian’s voice telling me he was going to the hospital. He was ok, relatively anyway, but he did something to his knee and couldn’t walk. Sure enough, there he hobbled crutches and all, into our house at 3:30 in the morning. So, my weekend of playing caretaker just extended to include my husband.  Great.

It’s now Sunday; I have found no rest this weekend, and shudder at the thought of having to begin another week in just over 12 hours. But as I look around and realize that Liam is freshly changed, Brian is fed and napping and Tyson just had his medicine, I discovered that it’s never too late to learn a new skill. So no matter what it is you find yourself handling in your life this week, here’s to learning how to juggle  J

All You Need is a Thread to Hang By...

"When you get to the end of your rope, tie a knot, hang on and swing." It's now been four months since I've had a full night of uninterrupted sleep, and I'm beginning to wonder if I'll ever enjoy the doctor recommended, 8 hours of consecutive rest again. I am running on empty and standing by sheer force of will. My rope is frayed, I'm grasping on by my fingernails, but I sure am swinging away...

It's 13 footsteps from our bed to Liam's crib, 11 stairs down to the bathroom, and from there, 3 breaths to the refrigerator. Last night, as I counted my way through this familiar maze, the silent sight of bright, white snow caught my bleary eye. Drawing close to the window, I was stunned into alertness by how utterly divine the view was. It was peaceful and calming, yet exhilarating, too. I couldn't help but think of Liam as I looked at this perfectly untouched, completely unblemished canvas stretched out before me; it reminded me of his brand-new soul, pristine and pure. It made me wonder if parenthood begins with a blank slate, too?

This morning, a dear friend became a mother and began her own journey into parenthood. In seeing that first picture of her newborn son, I thought back to that September afternoon when my own came into this world. The memories came back as if it were yesterday - the overwhelming joy, the all-consuming happiness, the love unlike anything before imaginable. I remembered bringing Liam home from the hospital, and settling in that evening as a family. With each feeding and every diaper change, it sank in more and more that he was finally here, that he was ours to keep. Oh, he was such an easy baby, everything seemed to just fall into place. There's so much I want to share with this new mommy, but these first tracks on this day are hers alone to make. Instead, I'll buy her a rope and look forward to having a swinging partner.

In the meantime, I've caught a catnap and have recharged my battery.  If you're hanging by a thread, here's to a good grip and even better company :)

Happily Ever After...Now what?!

Ok, so we all know that Sleeping Beauty wakes up, Cinderella gets her shoe back, and Snow White remains the fairest in all the land. We're told this happens because once upon a time, Prince Charming held their very destinies in the palm of his hand. In meeting him, wonderful, magical things would happen to the princesses and they both would live happily ever after. Now, I'm not claiming to be a princess, and my husband has yet to be mistaken for Prince Charming, but here we are supposedly living the fairytale ending, to find out that our story has really only just begun. And it seems that instead of those bedtime fantasies written so long ago,  our day to day reality more often than not resembles the sitcom, 'Everybody Loves Raymond.' Of course, their cleverly scripted episodes last 30 minutes and air promptly at 7pm; while our dysfunction seems to never end and strikes at anytime.

There's nothing quite like getting up in the middle of the night to the distinct, acrid stench of dog poop; unless of course, your husband discovered it first, turned on every light he could find, and was yelling profanities as if they were capable of doing something other than waking the baby. Now, as I am nursing, these moonlit hours are no stranger to me; however, since Brian's sleep hasn't suffered the same adjustments, being up at this ungodly time was not taken to kindly. But he dutifully rose to the occasion, and went about cleaning up the offending mess. After I had taken Tyson out to finish any remaining business, I came back upstairs to be greeted by Liam's hungry cry. A bit begrudgingly, I detoured to the nursery to feed the little guy. As always, the instant I peek into the crib and see his cherubic face anxiously awaiting me, I forget how tired I am. Sitting in the rocker with his body snuggly nestled in my arms, I can't help but catch my breath at the sheer beauty of him, this precious child of mine. I close my eyes and drink in every ounce of this moment, savoring every minute of it. As I was laying Liam back in the crib, it occurred to me that with Brian the most wonderful, magical thing did happen.

Crawling back into bed and tucking in close beside my husband, I found myself musing that maybe my life is more like a fairytale than I originally thought - sleepless nights, poop stains, and all. Here's to hoping you discover the happily ever after in your life <3

The Game of Life...

Do you remember playing Mitel's version of Life, the game that let you create an idea of your future by cruising around a colorful checkered boad in a plastic car? Depending on the roll of the dice and the selection of a card, you could find yourself being a doctor, with a $150,000 salary, living in a two story mansion with a husband and three kids. Or, you could wind up being an artist, with a $20,000 salary, living in a two bedroom apartment with a cat. Even in the land of make believe, competition was bred, and you wanted to be the lucky player to draw the highest salary and live in the biggest house, while filling your car with a spouse and children before crossing the finish line. Wait a mintue - this is a kid's game? Then what's life?

Here I am, twenty-seven years old, married and mother to one, and I feel like my car took an unchartered detour down a dimly lit road called reality. While some of this journey has held moments very much like some of the brightly shaded blocks labeled in that game I played as a child, most of the ride has consisted of experiences conspicuously absent from the pile of cards you could pick from within that cardboard box. I guess it wouldn't be as fun to play if disease, debt, and disappointment were thrown into the mix. But isn't that where you learn what Life is really all about?

So, as it stands now, I am an account manager, making a modestly meager salary, living in a newly purchased, century old farmhouse, with my husband Brian, our son Liam, and our Boxer puppy Tyson. Since Bri and I just celebrated our first wedding anniversary, and have only been parents for a few months, everyday seems to be a new adventure, or a comedy of errors. Want to play along? Welcome to my so called Life!