SGK 3 Day for the Cure DC. (Part 2)

Sunday morning I lay there in my sleeping bag, in our coffin of a pink tent, listening to the rain fall on nylon. To my left, in his own tent, Joe was snoring away. I could hear others outside breaking down camp. The sound of zippers and whispers filled the air.  Anticipating the day ahead I knew I would not be able to fall back asleep so I got up to get a head start. I figured I would need it, and I wasn't wrong. I crawled out of my tent with a towel and my toiletry bag in hand and high stepped it through the wet grass down to the showers. After showering I hit the medic supply tent to grab a fistful of moleskin and head back to my tent to assess the situation. While I was sitting in that tent alone covering my toes in moleskin and listening to my brother telling my sister she needs to get up because he's not pulling her in the tent 20 miles, I glanced over to the corner of the tent where my day pack lay. Pinned to that day pack was a list of 25 names; mothers, sisters, daughters, aunts, cousins, and friends.

These names were my people's people.  I may not know them, but someone I love does.  In that moment, thinking of the people who supported me so that I could be here, I decided I wasn't going to allow some nurse to tell me what I can't do.  I downed some Motrin put medical tape and extra socks in my pack and broke camp so we could go grab some food.
After breakfast we hopped in line to leave camp.  It was a perfectly overcast 70 degree day as we stood in line with hundreds of other people.  There was a buzz about,  an electricity that comes with anticipation.

While in line we got chummy with this guy:

He was walking with his family in memory of his mother.  He was a favorite among walkers and everyone around him quickly formed a line to get a picture with him.

 This is Dave. He parked his mini cooper at several locations along our route each day and sat on the tailgate with a big pink bucket of candy.  He was always smiling, always encouraging and he fast became someone we looked forward to seeing.

Joe with "Leotard Larry" as my sister dubbed him. 

By now we were adept at deciphering between between the "Angry City Driver" car horn and the "WE LOVE YOU DC WALKERS" car horn. And when we heard the latter all hands instinctively went  in the air in acknowledgment and gratitude.  

This is Marshall Moneymaker.  I have a very special place in my heart for this guy.

Marshall is a firefighter with Montgomery County Fire and Rescue and can be spotted by his pink fire helmet.  His intersections always had the best music and after the last of the walkers passed through his intersection he would roll by (on the way to his next intersection further down the route) blasting music and serenading us. It wasn't until I got home and found him on facebook that I came to know the story of how he became a warrior in pink. Marshall lost all 3 of his sisters to Breast Cancer. You can find out more about his promise to help find a cure on his website For3sisters.com

Once again, Duckman. He touched my arm and it was hard not recoiling.

These ladies were right behind us for most of the walk Sunday. They sang out songs like "let me see your tootsie roll" when we passed by Dave and his bucket of candy. They were either a really upbeat and fun bunch of girls or they were delirious with exhaustion, like us.   Likely a little of both.

About halfway through the day we rounded a corner and this was the view.  Our final destination.

Seeing that monument in the distance, knowing how far we had come and what little distance we had left to go, well its hard to describe but I think my heart leaped. 
As we were approaching DuPont Circle, where a huge cheering station waited for us,  I received a text from a dear friend of mine, Jitka, from back home in NC. She asked if we were anywhere near DuPont because they were dining there.  I was still 5 minutes, maybe more, away so we never got to connect but they got to see the procession of pink, my fellow walkers, And just knowing that they were there somewhere in the crowd was comforting.  Love you mama!

We came across this gal in the last 5 miles. She was one of many supporters that lined the sidewalk who clapped, cheered and most importantly called out "thank you!"

The last few miles of our 60 mile journey brought us into the heart of DC.  The streets are laid out in a grid pattern and walkers stretched out in front, and behind of us for miles. Arrows were posted on every sign and street lamp, reminding us to stay the course, despite the imerging temptation to veer.

As we trod down the road, heading north, we crossed an intersection and looked to the east to see walkers (leading us by a half mile or more) heading southbound.  They waved to us in sympathy.
I'm pretty sure I dropped an Eff Bomb at that point.  The route is just snaking through the city and though the monument is close,  just hidden behind the high rises, we haven't any idea how close, or far, we actually are.  That is, until we come to a sign that reads: 

NO SWEEP BEYOND THIS POINT.

No matter how far behind you are, you're close enough to make it the rest of the way.  And again my heart leaped. 

We stopped by the Obama's to say hi but Leslie and Chris didn't want to go in. You know, them being republicans and all.

And then there it was. Laid out beyond the hot dog, and merchandise carts was The Final Intersection. We crossed the street to a sidewalk lined with people, fellow walker's loved ones waiting to embrace them and high five-ing us as we pass.

As we stepped over the threshold from sidewalk to the grass of the national mall I was overcome with emotion. It was bittersweet to say the least. Amid thousands of people and with tears streaming down our faces my sister and I embraced with the understanding that we were not alone in our journey.  To be there in that moment with my brother, sister and niece is an experience that will tie us together for always. In alliance for two sisters with breast cancer.

As the walkers were organized for the processional into the closing ceremony they separated us from the
survivors.  Walkers went down to the stage area first.  And lining our path down was every single member of the crew and route safety. As always cheering us forward.

This photo was taken after the ceremony.

When the survivors began to make their way down the path to the 'survivors circle', a platform stage at the center of where the walkers were gathered, all 2000 of us raised a sneaker high in the air to salute both the survivors and those who have lost their fight.

                                                  What a powerful moment that was.

Team 3 sisters, after having walked every single step of 60 miles.  

This walk was an incredible life changing event for me. I have to admit, before we began I had the attitude:  'I raised the money, that's all that really matters.  If I don't finish, no biggie...' 

I was, in fact, wrong.

What really matters is being present for something bigger than you had ever imagined. Connecting with strangers, inspiring each other to go farther, to do more.  For Someone Else. We all have our reasons for being involved in the fight against breast cancer but the 3 day leaves you with an immeasurablee sense of pride and accomplishment.

That weekend, I was a warrior in pink; a part of a community of people who understood my grief and share my hope for a world without Breast Cancer.

 60 Miles.  I can do that.

SGK 3 Day for the Cure, Washington DC. (Part 1)

Its been a year and a half since we lost my older sister Kim to breast cancer.  Last September, right on the heels of our loss we decided to take her ashes to the Outerbanks for a long weekend of family, celebrating her life.  This year my sister Leslie, a breast cancer survivor, upped the ante.  She decided she wanted to participate in the Susan G Komen 60 mile 3 day for the cure. So my niece, brother, and I responded with: "Where do we sign up?"

Along with Leslie's good friend Joe, Team 3 Sisters set out to rock 60 miles in 3 days. 

This was, no contest, the hardest, most emotional thing I have ever accomplished.  Harder than giving birth, even, because every night as I lay my head down to sleep I knew I had to get up and do it all over again.  And much like giving birth, now that its over, I understand that the reward at the end of the journey is far worth the pain it takes to get there.





jackie, lara, leslie, chris & joe : day 1 mile 0.

In true Hammer Style we arrived to the opening ceremony late and missed the whole thing. I probably would have just cried through it anyway... By the time we got our luggage on the trucks the first of the walkers were exiting Nationals Stadium and beginning their 60 mile journey. With Katy Perry's 'Firework' filling the air we took our first steps too. The sidewalk was lined on either side with spectators cheering us on. They were a marvel in pink and  we had no idea how much we would come to need them.   It was a hero's farewell and I felt strong and proud.

We wound our way through DC passing by the capital, the monument, botanical gardens and the Smithsonian.  Along the route we were met by Komen Crossing Guards, big burly men dressed in pink Tu- Tu's and tights and biker chicks blasting music from their motorcycles parked on the curb.  Every intersection was a dance party complete with stretching.  After a few intersections you stopped caring about bending over and bearing your bottom to the DC traffic or your fellow walker.

Then the rain came.  At first just a light misting, then a sprinkle and by lunch a down right pouring rain.  Surprisingly we maintained our enthusiasm.  

This is Lida, also known by my team as "four blocks"  On our first day, before we had caught on to the "Komen mile" being equal in distance to an actual mile and a half  We approached her intersection and she shouted out to us: "only four blocks to lunch!" This was encouraging.  We loved her for this message, this promise of something better laying in wait just a few blocks away.   As it turned out it took us another 35 minutes to make it to lunch. Longest four blocks I've ever walked.

After walking  10 miles we couldn't wait to sit down, rest and eat some lunch. Only, we didn't realize there would be no shelter or chairs even.  So we sat on trash bags pooled with water and ate rain soaked turkey sandwiches.  And we laughed.

A gentleman business owner nearby saw the patheticness of the scene and opened his two-bay garage to us.

And it was like the Ritz.  I've never been more thankful for the kindness of a stranger.

Towards the end of the day I was in need of a major pick me up so we hit one of the many Starbucks on the route and I ordered myself a salted caramel latte.  It was the best coffee I have ever had and it did just what I needed it to.  With only a few miles left to go the guys started getting restless at the thought of a dry campus. So when we came upon a hole in the wall liquor store, we made a bee line for it. There was definitely something shady going on in this joint. When I asked if the shop owner had any mini airplane bottles of vodka he lifted a burlap sack that appeared to be covering the window and fished out a few nips. Offering them to me the clerk says "whatchoo want?  I have tequila.  You want tequila?"   "No, vodka" I say "Do you have vodka?" He fishes around under the curtain again and pulls out a couple of Smirnoff's and says: "Here tequila, have tequila." Taking the vodka I say "Thank you, yes I like this kind of  tequila."  He smiles and tells us they are 1.50 each.  Then he pretends to ring up the nips and pockets the cash.  With booze in our packs and a better outlook on life we finished the day strong but soaked to the bone and very, very tired.

As we crossed the finish line of day one we decided, as a team, to head back to camp for dinner and drinks and call Devon and beg her to come and get us and take us home for the night.  Not one of us could bear unloading our already mud covered bags and pitching tents in the pouring rain.  So we didn't.

Devon, being the hero of the day, came and got us Friday night and then promptly brought us back the very next morning at 7 am to begin our 21 mile route.

Day two was actually kind of boring.  We started our route in Potomac Maryland and walked all through Montgomery County including Bethesda and Chevy Chase.  We were in suburbia trudging down the side walk but at least it wasn't raining!   Here are some Highlight photos from Day two:

DuckMan. An old codger of a crossing guard.

Boobs.



The Sweep Van.  circles the route over and over waiting for walkers to GIVE UP  request a ride.

So each day before you set out on the route you get a 'schedule card' it gives you the mileage between pit stops (resting places to refill water bottles, grab snacks and seek medical care if needed) and lunch. On Day Two the last pit stop was called "grab and go" and it was stationed 3 miles from camp. After walking 18 miles we crossed over a bridge to find a small convenience store located on our route. This was the scene we came upon:

Walkers spilling out of the store onto the curb and into the parking lot with adult beverages in hand. It looked like a 'grab and go pit stop' and our fellow walkers called to us:   'COME ON OVER!!!'

So we did.

and we fit right in.

Chris would yell across the street to walkers: "Come to the dark side, you wont regret it" And you'd see them in their decision process, they would slow down to a saunter looking across at us, a group of strangers having fun together. They wanted to cross the street and join us but weren't sure it was a good idea with 3 miles still left to go.  In hindsight, the skeptics might have been right.  Leslie practically sprinted back to camp just to get to the port-o-potties.  Once we hit Avonel, which was the mile long street where camp was located, my feet were throbbing my calves were tight and I too had never been more eager to get to a port-o- potty.

3 Sisters having walked 40 miles.

Saturday night we pitched our tents and settled into camp.  I hit the medic tent to have a professional look at the two very large, very painful blisters that had taken up residence under my big toenails.

I wont gross you out with the details of what happened in that medic tent  but the nurse who was seeing me told me very matter of factly: "You wont make it very far tomorrow and you'll likely loose both nails so once you leave camp walk as far as you can then raise your arms for the sweep van. They'll pick you up and transport you the rest of the way."  Then she patted my head and handed me a sucker.

Okay that last part didn't happen.

But seriously, when she told me I wouldn't make it very far, all the wind let out of my sails.  I felt very defeated as I walked back to the tents to find my family.

 Under the big tent in the common area there were keynote speakers and people talking about how breast cancer has touched their lives.  There are only two kinds of stories: those that end well and those that don't and for me, neither are easy to listen to. Jackie and I ate in silence. It was hard being there, listening.  I lost my appetite. We quickly decided to head back to the tent. I was asleep within minutes of climbing into my bag.

I woke Sunday morning to the sound of rain on our tent. it was 4:50 am.

Part 2 continued here

Fear, detailed.

I hear a cry, a piercing, terror inducing shriek coming from just outside our front door.
Its Liam.

I drop the dishtowel and run, full speed, slamming into the front door with both hands before pulling it open with alarming force. Just off the porch and to the right, about 25 feet, he is crouching, shielding his head with one arm and flailing his other arm as something, two somethings, encircle him almost playfully. One yips and swipes at him as the other takes a nip at his frantic little arm. Taking in the unbelievable scene I realize they are mountain lion cubs. Grabbing the broom by the door I jump from the porch to save my little boy. Before my feet even touch down something hits me, slams into me. A wall of beige fur and muscle knocks me to the ground and I tumble in the dirt swinging the broom at the advancing jaw and claws. Its the cub's mama and she is as pissed off as I am. Her jaw snaps the broom rendering it useless and after a quick glance at Liam still crouching, still whole, I realize what I have to do; I retreat back into the house.

I'm frantic as I tear up the stairs and into my bedroom closet. With one sweep of my arm I brush everything from the shelf as I reach for the long leather case. I drop to the floor and pull open the the unlocked zipper as I hear my fathers voice in my head ("If ever you need to use this gun you wont have time mess with a lock"). I peel the case away from the shotgun and stand to grab a box of buckshot from the shelf. It feels like I've been gone for hours and as I run back down the stairs panic begins to cripple me. What will I find when I open that door? Please God. I push the thought out of my mind as I reach the door. I crack it open and I can hear Liam crying. He's calling my name. I call back to him: "Its gonna be OK baby, just stay still, I'm coming." Laying the 12 gauge on the floor I rip open the box of shells and they fly everywhere. I grab a handful and turn the shotgun over to load the magazine, I get two shells in but my hands are shaking so bad I fumble with the third shell and it skips across the floor out of reach. Two will have to do. Standing, the gun at my side, I open the door fully and step out onto the porch. Liam is now laying face down on the ground with his arms covering his head as the cubs nip at the back of his neck. His shirt is shredded and he is bleeding.

Upon seeing me reemerge from the house Mama mountain lion hisses at me. Its a warning, shes telling me to let her cubs hunt. I call to Liam again: "Mommy's here Liam, stay very still now. Try hard for me OK?" Hearing my voice mama lion takes more interest in Liam. She begins to circle him, slowly, her head low. I take my position on the porch, one that keeps Liam out of my line of fire. She is watching, her eyes trained on me. Griping the gun so tight that my knuckles are white, I pump the action to chamber the round and raise it to my shoulder. With my index finger resting on the trigger guard I wrap my middle finger around the gun to release the safety. Closing my left eye to take aim I wait for her to circle back into my sight. The gun is heavy, my arms are shaking. I hear Liam whimpering with his face in the dirt and I am scared.

Suddenly she is there. And now I have to shoot her. My finger squeezes the trigger and I flinch as the explosion jolts my body and rings in my ears.


When I open my eyes I'm staring at the ceiling... I'm groggy. I feel breath on the side of my face and slowly turn my head to find Liam standing at the side of my bed his face only inches from mine. "G'mornin mommy" he says.

5 Things

5 things you probably didn't know about me:

1. I hate talking on the phone. There are only a few exceptions. One is my mother. I will always talk to her at length about everything and nothing. Another is if I miss you and am feeling exceptionally chatty. And finally, if I need something from you, ring, ring. Other than that I'm probably going to stay on the line only long enough to share or receive information. Its nothing personal. My dad is the same way; I blame him.

2. I love mayonnaise. Really. I use way more than I should on a sandwich, burger or wrap. I even dunk my fries in it. But I feel guilty about it, shameful even.

3. I own a gun. Again, when your father is a firearms and toolmarks expert it just sort of happens.

4. I have a very short fuse. I may have mentioned it before but I think it bears repeating. Due to my mostly shy and quiet exterior its actually quite comical if not a little alarming when I turn into the hulk. A few examples of me going off the deep end: If I bang my head or bash my elbow I will immediately proceed to slam my fist into the nearest unforgiving surface (I'm not patching any Sheetrock just because I hit my funny bone). Another time, I slammed an ashtray into a table which in turn shattered the ashtray into my palm. Stupid right? I know. I am not ignorant to the fact that I am now the role model to a strong willed, stubborn little person watching, absorbing my every move, every outburst waiting to make them his own when frustration strikes.

God sent me Liam, to teach me patience and humility... and he tests me everyday.

5. Prior to having Liam, I was a bully. no lie. Whenever I would drink, there would come a point in the evening of consumption when I would have one too many and become... volatile. To the point where something (anything) Chris would say would upset my precariously unbalanced emotional state and BOOM, I'm all:

"You're going to bed? Oh, so what, you're tired and you're just going to leave me down here? Fine GO AHEAD I don't give a... wait, where are you going? DON'T WALK AWAY FROM ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU! You don't respect me!" And then I'm following him upstairs crying because I cant stay in a relationship where I'm not respected. Knowing the drill, Chris just shakes his head at me and pretty much ignores my ranting until I pass out. End scene.

Listen, we all have a little bit of crazy in us. Thankfully, I outgrew mine. sort of.

wasn't me.

He was supposed to be sleeping...

...instead he was tearing the place apart. Busted!

Confession

You'll need to forgive me, in advance, if what I'm about to share is insensitive or even offensive but I'm having a rough day. Maybe its because its Valentines day or maybe its because I'm feeling stressed about my job search or maybe its just because I really, really miss my sister but I don't ever want to see this commercial again:






Because every time I do, I want to scream. Or shout at the t.v. YOU'RE TOO LATE. I look at the faces of the people celebrating one more birthday and I think: why you?

Pretty horrible, right?

So instead of facing the bitter, selfish person I become over a television commercial that is meant to inspire and motivate, I just turn away. Before the tears well in my eyes; before I begin to count the days she had until her next birthday (23) or the days she has been gone from our lives (280) I change the channel.

But not before I think: Official sponsor of birthdays, psh... if you're lucky.

TOP 10...

...reasons losing your job sucks:

10. Unemployment is more of a pain in the ass than its worth

9. Not getting to hang out with your friends at work

8. Not getting to hang out with your friends at the pub after work

7. Feeling useless

6. Daytime TV is HORRIBLE

5. You're the reason your toddler is a Gymboree drop-out

4. Being THAT women in the grocery store shuffling between the coupons, and the list and the
flyer and the calculator, Its ridiculous.

3. Filling out job application after application and then playing the waiting game

2. Having to shop at wal-mart because it really is cheaper

1. Saying goodbye to a place you called home

...reasons losing your job aint so bad:

10. My house is always clean

9. Having time to learn how to use my camera properly

8. Having all the time in the world to plan and prepare meals

7. Not being too tired to read at the end of the day

6. Having the time to catch up on all my DVR'd shows

5. Making cookies and brownies with Liam

4. Play-doh, hide and seek, stories and nature walks

3. Play dates with other SAHMs (aka: out of work moms) that include copious amounts of wine

2. The inspiration the comes when considering the endless possibilities the future holds

1. Being home, every night, to tuck my baby boy into bed

The high cost of making memories..

This is Liam's second Christmas. I had it in my head that I'd like to try and get a picture of him with Santa every year until he refuses out of fear or pre-teen embarrassment. So it was with this goal in mind that we headed to the mall yesterday evening to make a memory.

Now I know what brand of crazy I am to be braving the mall only 5 days before Christmas. All the same I rationalized, we've got no where to be tonight, so we'll just take our time, get a bite to eat and roll with the punches. Little did I know how very foreshadowing that thought was.

So Chris, Liam and I get to the mall about 4:30. We park three quarters of a mile away in the only open spot in the whole lot and proceed to trek in. We make our way to the "North pole" and find that the line isn't long at all. I'm thinking: this is a Christmas miracle! There are, maybe, 5 groups ahead of us in line and I've estimated a 20 minute wait in line. With both Chris and I here, that is do-able. One of us waits in line while other chases after Liam as he runs through the mall dodging and weaving through the masses. Its fun. really.

So after we snake through the empty roped off maze we take our place in line. Someone raising their voice immediately grabs our attention. Its the woman second in line, she is angry. The elf in charge of ushering children in to see Santa has just spoken to the group of people waiting at the head of the line. I couldn't hear what she said but whatever it was, it made the woman in line IRATE. She begins yelling at the elf in a thick accent I cant quite place "I have two children who have been waiting already for 20 minutes!" the elf nods her head knowingly and just points to the cardboard sign she is holding. I try to get a glimpse of it but there are too many people ahead of me blocking my view. As the woman's protests get louder families start ducking out of line. I'm totally oblivious and think, keep on yelling lady, you're scaring everyone ahead of us away! I've moved up considerably in line and can now see Santa sitting in his big throne of a chair surrounded by beautiful poinsettias both large and small. In my head I think: those are poisonous, but not enough to kill you. To the left of the throne is a tall green Christmas tree with twinkling lights and a shiny gold star. Scattered around the foot of the tree are decorative boxes wrapped in glittery paper and big colorful bows. Its really quite pretty and not make-shift at all. Santa's got a little boy on his lap and is trying desperately to ignore the commotion that's happening just a few short feet away from him. But he cant focus on the kid, not when there's a crazy lady flapping her arms and pointing in the usher elf's face. Santa's eyes keep wandering in our direction. He cant help it. As the camera elf attempts to get keepsake picture of this kid with Santa a security guard approaches. He's older than your typical mall guard, I always think of kids in their early twenties but this one is maybe 50. The uniform is ridiculous though. He's got a badge pinned to his shirt, a utility belt with only a flashlight, walkie-talkie and a log book. And the Pièce de résistance: a stetson hat. I'm ALWAYS reminded of a Canadian Mountie. Sans horse and dignity. It just looks silly in a mall. He asks what the problem is and before usher elf can open her mouth the lady begins her rant again. "WE HAVE BEEN WAITING IN LINE FOR MORE THAN 20 MINUTES AND JUST NOW SHE INFORMS US THAT SANTA IS GOING ON BREAK, ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" The stupid security guard totally misses her point and replies: "20 minutes is not a long time to wait to see Santa." This only pisses the lady off more. "20 MINUTES IS A LONG TIME TO WAIT FOR TWO YOUNG CHILDREN, BUT WHAT IS INFURIATING IS THAT THEY ALLOWED US TO WAIT IN LINE ALL THIS TIME WITHOUT INFORMING US THAT THEY WERE NOT TAKING ANY MORE VISITORS UNTIL 6 PM.

Wait, what?

I look at the clock, its just about 5. That means if we want to keep our place at the front of the line we'd have to stand here for an hour and wait. No friggen way.

Suddenly, with all the information put into perspective I get it. I mean, don't get me wrong, I certainly wouldn't have made a scene, but if I had been waiting for 20 minutes before they told me I'd have to wait another hour, I too would have been frustrated. Chris and I left the scene at the north pole before seeing how it wrapped up but I'd bet a fair amount that that women got her kids in to see Santa before he went and got himself a number 3 combo at china express. But at what cost? When she looks at her keepsake photo from Christmas 2010 what will she remember?

We wont have a 2010 picture of Liam with Santa but when I think back, my memory will be that instead of waiting in line to see Santa we ran through the mall and played in the play place.

Well, that and the grown woman who threw a temper tantrum in line waiting to see Santa.

Favorite things

Because I've always wanted to, this year I decided all of the gifts I give will be wrapped in brown paper and tied up with strings, among other decorative things!



And they turned out so pretty and festive I couldn't resist sharing my ideas here...


Felt ribbon with some small sleigh bells I picked up at a craft store.



I saved blown Christmas lights in my junk drawer for years, thinking they would be pretty to decorate with, but never really knew what to do with them until this year. Love this!



Again with the felt ribbon, and some festive evergreen, berries and a pine cone from our yard. I secured everything together using a garbage bag tie then covered it with another snip of red ribbon to hide the tie.


Another pretty jingle bell with curling ribbon.


And a last minute addition! I wonder what it could be...


...just a little peek.




Ok, so in my defense, It came yesterday by mail. I was home. It says what it is right on the outside of the box! (smooth, amazon.) So when Chris gets home he pretends he doesn't know what it could possibly be and I'm all Mhmm, right. So about an hour later he just hands me the package.

YOU CANT DO THIS. EVER. not to me anyway. I'm a spoiled little brat who loves presents and can hardly stand waiting to open them.

Before it even registers, I'm opening it. All the while Chris is giving me this look that's a cross between disgust and utter disbelief. Although I know he's just playing. He's no different than I am. Except that I can hold out on the giving, he cannot.
So I mess around with it a while, download a book or two (so I'll have something on it when I open it FOR REAL at mom and dads) and tada, now its wrapped and pretty.

Do I regret spoiling both the pleasure of plucking it out from under the tree Christmas morning and the surprise of opening it to find the only (material) thing I wished for?


Nope, not one bit. :)

My two cents

I came across this blog post titled "My son is gay" via facebook. Since its posting it has received millions of web hits and national news coverage. If you've not heard about it you can read it here.
After sharing the link on facebook I received some feedback from friends and family expressing their opinions on the matter. After a few days of thinking about it I've got an opinion of my own.
Here is what I think:
This is a mother whose love for her son is obvious. I think we should all give her a break as she has, apparently, lost her copy of the "how to be a perfect parent" manual and is now winging it.

If I were in her shoes (I very well may be one day given my son's infatuation with Dora and her backpack) and given an identical set of circumstances I don't know that I would do things much differently. I think, certainly, I'd try and sell him on other costume choices but in the end if all he wanted to be for Halloween was Dora or Tinkerbell or whatever I'd allow it.
My brother, after reading her blog post, stated that he would never allow his son to wear that costume and that he believes this mother has made her son a target for ridicule. Perhaps, but ridicule by whom? At the age of five, the boy's pre-K classmates weren't the ones pointing and making faces. It was other mothers. I think this is shameful. Being a mother (parent) is hard enough with out having other people pass judgement on your decisions.

As a relatively new mother I am constantly second guessing myself; worrying over how the decisions I make and the actions I take or fail to take will effect my son. When Liam was a baby we were told that co-sleeping was bad, that if we didn't roll over and crush him in his sleep then the sheer act of sharing a family bed would render him dependant and unable to sleep alone. I made the choice to have Liam sleep in the bed with us because it worked for us. And then at six months, when it stopped working for us, we transitioned him to a crib in his own room.
When we chose to use The Ferber Method of progressive waiting to help Liam to fall asleep on his own I was told it was cruel and neglectful and Liam could grow to be a man with trust issues because I didn't pick him up every time he cried from his crib. Yet in three nights he learned to go to bed and fall asleep on his own without throwing a production complete with tears and hyperventilating. My point is I did what I thought was best for my son. and it worked for us. which is all that counts. I would wager a guess that my nephew, (now a college athlete in love with a beautiful girl) looking back would be glad that his father didn't allow him to wear a Daphne costume for Halloween when he was five. That choice would have been the right one for his son.

I don't know this woman or her son. All I know is that I am in no position to judge her for doing what she believes is best for her son. When he's in college and he brings a date home to meet mom, he'll either be mortified at the prospect of her showing off his 5 year old self in a Daphne costume or he'll be grateful that his mother knew that acceptance breeds self-confidence and even at 5 encouraged him to be himself. With all the media attention bullying has be getting lately I think its important that as role models we take a good long look at how we are treating each other. Our children are watching.

Halloween 2010

As most of you already know Liam has been in an exclusive relationship with Nemo for about a year now. So when my sister-in-law asked me what he would like to be for Halloween there was only one right answer. And being the Halloween Queen she found the cutest most ridiculous Nemo costume on the market and got it for Liam.
Honestly, I didn't think we would ever be able to top the Lobster costume from last year... but we did!

Liam took some time warming up to the costume. By which I mean we spent weeks putting it on him only to have him shriek and kick and pull at the shoulders until we took off of him. Then one day we put it on him and to our surprise, he was delighted. And the kicker, once in costume he insisted on being called Nemo. Wouldn't answer to "Liam" no, no. But "Nemo" Yes, mother? You called?

We had a very busy day on Halloween. We spent the afternoon at our friend Noelle's 2nd birthday party which was a blow out party, as far as 2 year old birthdays go. Lots of great food, balloon animals, a bouncy house, craft table, bobbing for apples..
And of course a pinata! It was decided that hitting Dora and Diego with a bat would be too upsetting for the littler ones, especially Noelle who had a special place in her heart for Diego. So instead they make them with ribbons to pull. Pull the right ribbon and the candy is released.
In theory.
In practice, when you pull the right ribbon it decapitates Dora. The kids didn't really notice because they were too busy frantically looking for the candy that was still safely inside Dora's torso. That was now on the lawn. Still connected to the ribbon Liam was holding.

After the party we hit a nearby neighborhood for some trick or treating!

We had some issues coming to an agreement regarding the consumption of candy immediately upon receiving it... Finally we worked out an m&m payment plan

Shortly after the m&m's ran out the sugar crash arrived and squashed Liam's will to walk. That was our cue to call it quits and head home.I Hope everyone had a happy and safe Halloween. I, for one, am glad its over simply because now that November is here we are officially entering the Christmas holiday season! You can't subdue my joy. Consider yourself warned.

He who is not with Me is against Me. (Luke 11:23)