As Long as I'm Living....

Tonight, like many nights of late, Miss M called out in the dark. Her tearful voice full of fear called out to Mommy and Daddy to protect her from the monsters.

Shuffling into our room, hair tousled, eyes bleary, Miss M crawled into our bed to escape the terrors lurking behind her eyelids.

Gathering her into my lap, a bundle of blankets and softly hitching breath, I held her close. I whispered the nightmares wouldn’t get her, that Mommy and Daddy would make sure they couldn’t.

Despite her cries, I carried her across the hall to her room. Hysterical in my arms, frustrated and over tired, her despair broke my heart.  Sitting on the edge of her bed I rocked her. Back and forth, back and forth, I murmured soothing sounds.  Shushing and swaying I attempted to the drive the monsters away.

As I rocked, out of the dark a trembling voice whispered, “Mama, I want to go to the rocking chair.”

With a quiet affirmation I eased off of the bed and carried my life’s love to the chair in the corner of the room. The chair I'd spied in a random thrift store while still pregnant.  The chair I’d purchased on the spot, had the saleswoman wedge into the backseat of my car, and then spent hours painting the perfect shade of apple red.

Approaching that chair, Miss M’s tiny arms around my neck, I felt my heart flutter with excitement. It’d been forever since we’d last snuggled and rocked. My nights spent cradling a sweet suckling babe, were now replaced with a bedtime routine far more busy and boisterous.

Settling into the chair my sweet one leaned against my chest, long legs dangling on either side, now gangly arms tangled in the blankie snuggly wrapped around her shoulders. With our bodies properly arranged, I slowly began to rock, back and forth, back and forth.

My hand, as if possessed of its own memory, silently fell into the well-known rhythm, up and down, up and down, feeling her strong back, and its steady rise and fall.

As we rocked, her solid weight on my lap, my thoughts began to stumble.

“So big, when did my baby get so big?”

With feet moving the chair, fingers massaging her back, I began to hum Brahms’s “Lullaby and Good Night”. I don’t recall this song from my own childhood, but from the moment I brought Miss M home from the hospital, I've been humming this song. To sooth, to calm, to cure, to relax, no matter the situation I have instinctively hummed this tune.

Rocking together, locked in embrace, my little girl who can count to 20 and sing her ABCs. Who helps me feed the cats and insists on brushing her teeth "all by herself." My beautiful daughter, so smart and so independent, nestled against my chest, eyes closed, breathing steady.

Leaning my face over her soft hair, I kissed her smooth forehead. Leaning back, still rocking, still humming, and the realization hit me. Like a stinging elastic snap in my brain, four seemingly innocent little words.

“Not a baby anymore.”

Holding back my tears, I squeezed her just a little tighter, desperate to freeze her in this moment just a little bit longer. Yet, the words repeat.

“Not a baby anymore.”

That swaddled little peanut I brought home from the hospital has grown and developed into a full-fledged little girl. With her own ideas and indestructible opinions, she’s come through the first stage of her life, and is ready and excited for the next.

Not a baby anymore, a big girl now.

The thought repeats, "a big girl now", and yet a small insistent voice inside is not satisfied.  Piping up, it calms me.

“She will always be your baby,” it whispers “always.”

Slowing the rock of the chair, I shifted my baby into my arms, and carried her over to the bed.  For now the terrors are gone, and Miss M is at rest.

My baby, my sweet one, my life’s love, asleep and dreaming dreams of color and light.

Smiling, I turn and leave.

No matter how big she gets, how much she learns, or how many new things she discovers, she’ll always be my little baby, and I’ll always be here to help her keep the monsters at bay.


As soon as I got Miss M back into her bed, I was so inspired that I wrote this post. It was partially influenced by one of my favorite children’s books by Robert Munch entitled “Love You Forever”.  Not that long ago Miss M and I would read it together, and when the mother rocked her baby “Back and Forth, Back and Forth and sang", Miss M. would rock and sing with me.


This book has always been one of my favorites, and could make me teary at the drop of a hat.  Now that I am a mother myself, it holds a new place in my heart. A place of undeniable truth.

"I'll love you forever

I'll like you for always

As long as I'm living

My baby you'll be."

Trying not to blink,
 
Mandy:)

It's a Tough Job But...

Most of the time being a parent is great. Miss M’s kisses and silly stories make Mr. Man and I smile every day. I mean look at this face!

But sometimes being a parent just sucks.

No, I’m not talking about the new wonderland of tantrums and attitude which rear their ugly heads in a child’s third year.

FYI for those of you without children… the terrible twos got nothing on what a dear friend of ours has referred to as the…

Satanic Threes

Oh yes I actually yearn for the “Days of Mo”.

Nope, I’m talking about the times you have to say NO when you really, really don’t want to.

It happened to Mr. Man and I on Sunday.

For weeks now Miss M has been asking us to take her to OMSI (Oregon Museum of Science and Industry).

Miss M has loved OMSI since she was an infant. The interactive exhibits are everything an active and curious child could want, and every parent in the Portland/Vancouver area knows it.

Mr. Man and I hate crowds, and on weekends OMSI is a mad house.

So whenever Miss M has asked to go to OMSI on a weekend when Mr. Man and I would rather have a root canal than fight the crowds our response has been,

“Awww, sorry Sweet Girl, OMSI is closed today.”

Yup, we are expecting our nomination for “Parents of the Year” to happen any day now.

But this past weekend was different. In a fit of working parent guilt, we promised Miss M that if she was a good girl at Gram and Gramps house, we would take her to OMSI.

She was ECSTATIC!

Except, when we arrived at Gram and Gramps the next morning to pick her up, the telltale signs of sick were written all over her face. Her eyes were red rimmed and running. Her nose was congested. She had a cough, and her cheeks were flushed with the beginnings of a low grade fever.

After big hugs and kisses, and announcements that she had been a very good girl she asked,

“We going to OMSI now?”

Well, crap. We both knew OMSI was the last place Miss M needed to be. She needed to be at home, in her PJs, cuddled on the couch, with her blankie watching movies.

Did I mention that sometimes being a parent sucks?

We waited until we were in the car on our way home to talk to her about it. We suggested maybe we should wait until next weekend to go to OMSI, when she was feeling better and could have fun playing.

Familiar with the 5 Stages of Loss?

Denial: “But Mommy, I’m not sick! I wanna go to OMSI!”
Anger: “But Daddy, you said if I was a good girl, we would go to OMSI!”
Bargaining: “Mommy, maybe we could go to OMSI for just a little while, and then go home… okay?”

Then Depression, and this one was the worst, as it completely broke my heart.

Mommy and Daddy had promised, and she was really excited, and she’d been such a good girl… and Mommy and Daddy had PROMISED.

With her little chin quivering with frustration and sadness, and her sweet voice trembling as she insisted she wasn’t sick and she wanted to go to OMSI, we had to be the responsible parents and stick to our guns, because that is what being a parent is all about.

It’s not about your child liking you. It’s not about doing what’s easy. It’s about doing what is BEST for your child, even if it breaks your heart into a million pieces.

On Sunday I listened to Miss M cry with disappointment.

I told her that I understood she was sad, and I was sorry.

I explained that sometimes we get sick and it ruins the things we want to do, but that when we are feeling better, the fun things are still there waiting for us.

Daddy and I promised, with a capital P, that we would go to OMSI the following weekend and play for as long as she wanted.

I did my best to help her understand, but in the end, Miss M is 3, and so she cried.

So, how do you help a disappointed little girl move from Depression to Acceptance… the final stage of loss?

With distraction! We offered Mac and Cheese and a new Scooby Doo movie, instead of OMSI.

Like I said… Parents. Of. The. Year.

With lunch and a new cartoon to veg out in front of, in no time all was right again in the toddler-verse.

Well, except for the nasty bug that got a whole lot worse and that now Daddy has too.

Thinking about investing in medical masks,

Mandy:)

How about you guys? Ever had to be the bad guy, even though you really didn’t want to? Any comments, feedback? I love to hear from you!

My Mom

57 years ago today Ruth and Rod McLeod welcomed to the world their first child, Karen Jean McLeod.

25 years later, she became my Mom.

Then 28 years after that, she was by my side as I became a Mom.

Here she is with the teeny, tiny Miss M.

My Mom is quite possibly the most loving and positive person I have ever met. She is ALWAYS there when I need her, and always dolling out exactly the medicine I need.

If I need a shoulder cry on, her arms are spread wide.

If I need to whine and complain, she’s there to listen. Uttering caring words of understanding, and then giving me the swift kick in the rump I need to take action and fix whatever the problem may be.

She helps me understand that I am not a super hero, I am not perfect, and that I can’t control everything.

When I begin spinning out of control, rapidly rising off the ground and into the stratosphere of the unrealistic.

Piling on too many expectations.

Being too hard on myself.

Trying to make everything perfect.

My Mom is there, reaching out, grabbing me firmly by my big toe, and hauling me back down to earth.

Whether I like it or not.

She has instilled in me a love of the written word and a passion to create.

Growing up she was never without a good book, and she was always exploring new creative outlets.

Ceramics, knitting, needlepoint, and most recently quilting.

Her creations are gorgeous and I treasure every gift she creates just for me!

Her smile is genuine and her laughter contagious.

I love it when I can make my Mom laugh!

My Mom is beautiful.

She is bursting with a loving kindness that only further enhances her physical beauty.

My Mom's love of her family is unconditional.

She tells me I’m amazing and talented and smart.

She says, I never cease to amaze her with my ideas and goals and dreams.

She encourages me to never give up.

To dream. To believe. To act with the certainty that I have what it takes to achieve anything.

My Mom is my rock.

And today is her day.

So, Happy birthday to my amazing mother!

Enjoy your day, soak up the attention and know you deserve it all!

Wish I could be there to celebrate with you!

Love you!!!!

XO

Mandy:)

A Woman's Prerogative

It's a woman's prerogative to change her mind, and so I am changing mine.

My commitment to post every day, although really putting the fire under my fingers, is not having the result I intended.

I need time to perfect my posts.

Edit, refine, achieve perfection!

Plus, I have something in the works... very hush-hush right now, but coming soon, and requiring my undivided attention.

So, lesson learned.

Quality over Quantity.

See you in a few,

Mandy:)

I've Been Told I'm Crafty...

These days I’m all about projects. Anything I can do to feel focused and productive. I know there are lots of women out there who are 100% fulfilled being wives and mothers, but I am not one of them. I love my little family, but I need more. I need to be constantly moving forward, focused on a goal, and perhaps most importantly for me, coming up with new outlets for being creative.

Yup, I’m a crafty SAHM. I’m fully aware of the cliché, and I’ll thank you for not commenting.

Both my parents are creative people, but I get the full strength of my craftiness from my Mom. As far back as I can remember my Mom has always had her fingers into some form of crafting, often encouraging my brother and me to join in the fun. One of the best Christmas gifts I ever received as a child was a craft kit my Mom assembled. It was a plastic box filled with all kinds of fun odds and ends. Glittering sparkles and fuzzy pipe cleaners, google eyes of all shapes and sizes, yarn and felt and just about anything a young child could want to create and explore. I remembering being so excited. I couldn’t wait to sit down and create.

When she comes to visit we can’t wait to get to a craft store together. To be able to wander the aisles, ooo-ing and aah-ing and getting inspired. Just before Ms. Madeline was born, we took a very special trip to Joann’s Fabrics. My Mom’s current craft of choice is quilting, and I may be biased, but I think she is AMAZING! When I became pregnant, one of her first comments (after screaming in glee, through the phone, and rendering me partially deaf) was she was going to make me a baby quilt. So, when she came to visit, we took off to Joann’s to pick out the material she would use. I wanted primary colours, and wanted it to be different from your regular baby quilts. Something fun, but timeless. NO pastels, NO cartoon characters, NO baby animals.

Here is what she made.



If that’s not squeal worthy, I don’t know what is. EEK! Madeline has since outgrown it, but I think I might just hang it on the wall as art. Maybe, in my craft room where I can admire it all the time. I just LOVE looking at it. In fact, I even painted my pregnancy cast to match the quilt. See,



It was just too much fun finding ways to replicate the fabric patterns using paint and paper. Right now she is working on a Christmas tree skirt for me and I can hardly wait to see it!

I think one of things I enjoy most about crafting is the challenge. Finding a way to be unique and think outside the box. Recently, I challenged myself to come up with a fun and interesting personal calling card. Being on the search for employment, I wanted to have a card that I could give people with my contact info on it, but I wanted something more interesting then just your standard printed business card.

Here is what I came up with using paper scraps and Dymo Embossing tape.



Whatcha think? Does it make a statement or what?!?

If you’re envious and want some personal calling cards of your own email me at lulupumpkin@live.com, let me know the style you’re looking for and I’ll get back to you with some ideas and cost.

Thanking my Momma,

Mandy:)

The photos of the calling cards are by my own personal photographer, Jessica (of course).

And Finally There Was Dancing!

So, when we last left our heroine she had survived her close call encounter with evil hair products and was on her way to the hotel with her loyal best friend, a fistful of Chicken McNuggets and a smile on her face.

We checked into the hotel, and I swear for the first 5 minutes we said nothing at all. We just sat in blissful calm silence, on the beautifully crisp beds, in the serene and uncluttered hotel room. Nothing was sticky. No one was whining, or asking when dinner would be ready, or commenting on the household chores that the royal “we” needed to complete… everything was just calm and beautiful.

Well, all except for the giant pile of crap sitting in the corner. Honey, what can I say? Moms come prepared! Try looking in a diaper bag sometime. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if you found rations and a gas mask inside. You know, just incase World War III kicks off while you’re at a playdate.

What? It could happen.

Here is a picture of my suitcase. During our escape from Jessica’s we shoved EVERYTHING into it. As you can see among the party essentials such as adult beverages and the perfect shade of pink nail polish, we still had not entirely kicked our hair dye habit. Yes, that is a box of L’Oreal Excellence 4AR dark brown. I guess we brought it in case we were jonesing for a fix later on. You’ll be happy to know, however, that Jessica and I have since joined a 12 step program, and are on our way to kicking our home dye habit for good.



After basking in the silence, it was time to get down to business. First nail
polish…



Awwww, too cute, right?

Then the real nitty gritty, hair and make up. At this point the other members of our crew had arrived and we had a full on salon setup. All that was missing was a stack of trashy magazines. There was also enough make up for an army of drag queens. Being extremely organized and on the ball kind of gals we kept everyone’s make up and brushes completely organized.



Pretty impressive, huh? Maybe this is why I can’t convince an employer that I am an organizing savant?

And of course we remembered to stay hydrated. Beauty transformations are REALLY hard work! We wouldn’t want to get dehydrated and ruin the whole night!



Skip past the drive in the blazing heat, where we sweated off almost all of our beautifully applied makeup, because we couldn’t put the windows down (Heat stroke or a destroyed perfectly coiffed do? No brainer, right?) and finally we arrived and couldn’t wait for the free drinks, free food, air conditioning and fun, fun, fun.

Except…

The air conditioning must have been on the fritz. It was hot! Our hair was sticking to our necks and threatening to burst into frizz and curl any second. Strike One.

The free food consisted of salad and cookies. I guess that’s how models stay so thin. Strike Two.

Standing around for an hour and a half in shoes that were really only meant for about 20 seconds, waiting for the show to start which we were supposed to have front row seats for (except they were filled with the butts of other people). Strike Three… we were outta there!

The upside? There WERE free drinks! Well, two per person, anyway. Hello Mr. Pinot Noir!!

After the disappointing offering of sustenance, we needed food, stat, and we also wanted to get our groove on. So, Stop #2, “Crush”. Bar, restaurant, and Saturday night hotspot.

Except, as our luck was holding strong, on this particular night, this spot was definitely missing the “hot”. We got a prime spot to sit, the food and drinks were GREAT, but sadly they were having some serious malfunctions with their tunes. The music was HORRIBLE!! And dammit, we needed to dance! But at least we got some drinks…



YUM! Thank goodness for designated drivers!

So, onward and upward to Stop #3. The E Room, is a lesbian dive bar located on the east side of town. One look at this place and most people would run the other way. It is definitely on the rough side, but the music and lack of sleazy lounge lizards more then makes up for the grungy décor.

And so finally we danced, grooved, bopped, popped, got down, jived, head banged and any other dancey type noun you can think of. Here, I am rockin out.



At 2:30 am, the DJ put it on autopilot and it was time to head home. With sad faces we arrived back at the hotel, but they didn’t stay sad for long! Oh how crazy and hilarious EVERYTHING becomes when you’ve indulged in a few! I wish I had been more sauced. Jessica and my fellow sleepover girls were laughing so hard and so long about nothing in particular, that all Jessica could repeat over and over again was, “OMG, my sides hurt! My sides hurt!” *Sigh*, good times.

And, what was I doing during this over the top hilarity besides thinking “Am I this crazy when I’m drunk”?

Recording all the memories to relay back to you, of course.

Bringing you all along in spirit,

Mandy:)