The Second Year

It's amazing how much Will has changed since he turned one. Don't get me wrong; the first year brings an amazing amount of change unto itself: newborn, sitting up, crawling, walking. The physical changes from zero to one are pretty fantastic--but they don't compare to the changes that happen in the second year.

When Will turned one, he was still very much a baby. Yes, he had learned how to walk, but he stumbled around, still took a bottle, couldn't speak (other than mama, dada, and Doug--our cat). He still had that squishy, adorable baby look to him, and he definitely hadn't developed the toddler-esque defiance that came along in full force around 16 months.

Now, he is a fully-functioning little person. He can pretty much say any word (and repeats words we don't necessarily want him to repeat--nothing like a 20-month-old in the house to make you censor yourself), carry on conversations with us, fully understands commands and does them (well, when he feels like it), says "please" and "thank you" and understands when to use them, has an amazing sense of humor, can say his numbers and is starting to recognize colors, knows when we are nearing our neighborhood ("home!"). He understands the concept of peeing and pooing in the toilet (although we are no where near trained yet), and just generally looks like a little boy. Even today at his doctor appointment his pediatrician commented on how much taller and leaner he has become. But it's not the physical things that are the marked changes this second year, especially in the last two months--it's the emotional. He's not only become leaner and taller, he's become funnier, smarter and, well, more human.

I sometimes wish I could bottle up these precious days--times when he seems to change literally by the minute. But it flies by too fast to bottle up, so all I can do is sit with him, play, and try and will my brain to remember these moments forever.

June: The Cliffs Notes Version

Wow. How did an entire month go by without any blog posts? June was an incredibly hectic, albeit fun, month. Here's a summary of what ensued:

First week of June: Drove to Fort Worth for my friend Kendra's daughter's second birthday; went to party; spent night at Billy's cousin's house in Dallas; drove home. Went straight to high school graduation party for another friend's daughter. Got home. Went to work.

Second week of June: Worked; packed for Belize; Billy's mom got delayed getting into town; my mom watched Will the first night we were gone until Billy's mom came in. We left on Thursday; had glorious times in Belize (and for those of you wondering, we did fine leaving Will. We called home a couple of times and he was fine--having a few Belikin beers while lounging on the beach also helped alleviate nerves); came home Tuesday. Went to work.

Third week of June: My sister from Portland, Paula, and her family came into town for a week; my sister from Dallas, Pam, and her family also came into town; they stayed at my folk's place in Georgetown; went back and forth to visit. Went to work; went to Six Flags; went to Sea World, went to work; went to Main Event; went to work. Sisters left. Went to friend's 40th birthday party at Salt lick; had new and old neighbors over for dinner. Went to work.

Fourth Week of June/First week of July: Dear friend Jen's wedding (for which I was a bridesmaid). Rehearsal dinner Thursday night at Lambert's; spa day Friday with the other bridesmaids and bride; Threadgill's and Broken Spoke Friday night with wedding party; wedding, reception and general debauchery until 4:30am Saturday (Sunday?). Picked up Will at my folk's place Sunday; got home; took three Advil. Crashed.

Overall it was a really fun month with great friends and family, but it's nice to be back to a semblance of normal. Here's a summary of the month in pictures:

Our sweet pad in Belize:

Mayan ruins on the Belizean mainland:

Snorkel trip to Hol Chan and Shark/Sting Ray Alley:

Will and Grandma Fanning mugging for the camera:

My almost-sixteen-year-old niece, Kayla, with Will:

My brother-in-law Bruce and Will doing their special "trick" (which sort of gave me a heart attack):

Sea World with all the nieces, my parents, and Will:

Main Event:



The happy couple, Shawn and Jen, at the rehearsal dinner:
Day two of wedding festivities at the Broken Spoke:

People complimented us on our dancing. People have no idea how much we fake it (or maybe they were just being nice):

Wedding day! The beautiful bride with her bridesmaids at Shoreline Grill:

This is basically how the rest of the evening went, hence the need for three Advil later:

If You Like Piña Coladas....

This is where Billy and I will be in three days:

Yes, folks. We are taking our first trip away together since Will was born (the last trip together sans child was London and Paris in May 2007). We are headed to Belize. We leave this Friday and return on Tuesday, so we'll only be gone five days total, but it sort of seems like an eternity. Don't get me wrong--I am looking forward to a "break" from real life for a little while and getting the chance to actually share a meal with my husband without being interrupted by a needy toddler every five minutes. But, I am also nervous to leave Will. We have both taken separate weekend trips away, but we've never left together. My very sweet mother-in-law is coming down from Illinois to watch Will and I'm glad the two of them will get to spend some time together. I just hope she knows what she's getting into! Five days alone with an active, non-stop toddler is enough to drive anyone to the brink...

I have been having ridiculous thoughts like "what if our plane crashes?" or "what if I get stabbed in the chest with a sting ray like Steve Irwin?" (I'm not kidding...I really have had that thought). Turns out when you have a kid, your trips take on an entirely new dimension of worry that never existed before. All I used to worry about was making sure I was packed and had some cute new outfits before I took a trip. Now I'm making sure I have things in place like a will, beneficiary forms, etc. I know the trip away will be good for us and will be an incredible amount of fun, but I'm already looking forward to getting home to my sweet baby boy.

Until then, we'll have a drink for you as we gaze out on the Carribean waters...

Observations and Ruminations

A couple of random thoughts:

1) I'm fascinated by mall walkers. I actually saw a man and a woman at the mall doing "laps" in full work-out gear INCLUDING a full blown hydration system around their waists--the kind with multiple water bottles in a belt contraption that you see very long-distance runners wear. I'm pretty sure the woman had a sweat band around her head, too. Greatness.

2) Have you ever noticed when you're in a meeting and someone is presenting that everyone else in the room listening to the presentation will periodically nod their heads in agreement (whether they agree or not?). I was sitting through a presentation today and every time the presenter looked my way, I felt compelled to nod so as to show my rapt attention and full comprehension of the topic at hand. I noticed everyone else around me was doing the same thing. We were often nodding in unison. I almost laughed out loud.

It's Off to Work I Go: An Update

After having Will, I knew I didn't want to go back to work full-time, but I also knew I wanted to do something. I enjoy work and enjoy having co-workers, being in an office, keeping current with new developments in my field, etc. After working in marketing for more than ten years and being home full-time with Will for ten months, I decided to give my hand a try at contract work--the perfect balance of working with a more flexible schedule.

I was fortunate enough to find a part-time contract gig with a local high-tech company here in town. Since September, I've worked twenty hours a week which means I spend two and half days in the office and two and a half days being home with Will--literally the perfect balance (if such a thing exists). Sure, working and having a child is not always easy--trying to fit in doctor visits, chores, and home projects in between work and juggling child care is a fine balancing act that I think is ultimately pretty elusive. You just do the best you can. But, because I only work part time, attempting to acheive that elusive goal seems a little more attainable.

Will goes to day care two days a week and enjoys it. He likes playing with the other kids and I enjoy the fact that there is structure to his days (art projects, playground time, singing, reading, naptime, etc.). Other than the parade of illnesses that has invaded our home since he started school, I think in our case, it's ultimately been beneficial to me and Will to have some time apart and, even better, more cherished time together on my days off.

After eight months of working for the same company, they made me an offer to become a full-fledged employee--still working part time, but no longer a contract worker. It took me a while to decide if this was the move I wanted to make. I'd be making less money than I would as a contactor, but I also wouldn't be paying the ridiculous amount of taxes I was paying being self-employed. And let's be honest--it's hard to find meaningful part-time work. The company needed to either make me an employee or get rid of me--like many companies in this economy, they were cutting costs, and that included contractors.

After some deep thought and a little negotation, I accepted the position. I really enjoy the team, it's nice to know I have a more "permanent" gig (about as permanent as any gig these days, I suppose), and I still get to keep my part-time schedule (the best part, in my opinion). I'm always working my "network", so I've been in touch with other companies about potential project work down the line--always keeping my options open, so to speak, but for now, I'm pretty content with the option I have.

It's a Zoo Out There

Last weekend we went to visit my sister, her husband Eric, and their two kids (Hayley, 13 and Kara, 10) in Dallas, and then we all went to the Fort Worth Zoo (which may be one of the best zoos around--defintely check it out if you haven't yet). This was perfect timing because Will is very interested in animals these days, making all the sounds upon command (arf! meow! roar!)

The weather was perfect: overcast and cool, which was a nice respite after the 95 degree weather plus 100% humidity we've been having. Will loved feeding birds and fish, and especially loved the train.

One of the best parts of Will getting older is getting do to these types of things with him and watching how much fun he has--pure joy.

Other than Will terrorizing my sister's cats and getting into everything at her house (including digging his hands in the cat box, attempting to eat pee-laden liter), we had a great time.

Here are some pics from the zoo:

Feeding the fish...

Feeding the birds...(although some of the birdseed made its way into Will's mouth, too)

Brushing the cow...


Riding the train...
Eating his first ice cream cone (well, it started out as mine, but he took over)

First ice cream headache?

It's the Little Things...

You want to know how your life changes when you have a kid? You get excited when they tell you they pooped and they actually did. They are learning! The first steps to potty training. Excitement all around...big time evening at the Fanning household...

Did You Ever Have to Make Up Your Mind?

Will and I were playing outside today in our front yard. It had rained earlier in the morning, so there was a little puddle of water that had collected on our driveway. Of course, I wanted Will to push his little John Deere car up and down the neat and tidy sidewalk, but he would have none of it. He wanted to run up and down our (muddy) yard and splash in the puddle 0n the driveway.

The moment he bent down to splash in the puddle is when it hit me: almost everything in my life has become a question of is this good for my child or not? Should I allow him to do this? Is it safe? What's the best course of action? Am I being over-protective or not protective enough?

The puddle was a little dirty and of course he wanted to rub his hands in it-- and I knew those little hands would eventually end up in his mouth. My first reaction was to tell him "no". How unhygenic was that water? Is it possible the swine flu was swimming around in that murkey puddle?

I finally concluded that 1) he's a kid, 2) he's a boy, 3) it was okay for him to splash around a bit. But it was more than just a decision about playing in the puddle. It was the fact that since having a child, everything has become more difficult, more thought provoking, more challenging. I never would have noticed that puddle before I had Will, but now it became a decision for me to have to make this morning. The way everything I do now becomes an important decision that can have a positive or adverse affect on my son.

So the battle was waged in my head and ultimately, Will came out ahead: he had a hell of a time in the water. But you better believe I washed his hands--twice--when we went back inside.

Isn't it Ironic...

...when you are at the grocery store and see someone using the "green" bags instead of plastic bags upon check-out, yet they have purchased a family-size carton of bottled water.

Update

Well, it's been a while since I last posted. Things have been busy, and unfortunately, keeping up with my blog has fallen to the bottom of my "to do" list. Here's a quick recap to catch you up on the last couple of weeks:

Travel: We have been going non-stop. Billy went out of town on a fishing trip; I went to Vegas, we went to Houston to say goodbye to our dear friends, The Carls, before they move to Australia (lucky dogs!); we went to Atlanta to visit family for Easter; Billy's out of town again this weekend for another fishing trip; then we go to Fort Worth to take Will to the zoo and visit family. Whew! Then, later in May Billy and I are planning on taking our first trip alone together since Will was born (we took a babymoon to London and Paris when I was five months pregnant--that was in May 2007). We're not sure yet where we are going to go, but regardless, it will be fun.

Work: I have been in the middle of a major deadline at work. I'm working part-time for a local high-tech company. I was hired to create new messaging, branding and content for their Website, and the project is drawing to a close. We are "soft launching" next week, which means I have been working more hours than I normally do the last couple of weeks. I'm excited to see the end result, and I have been so happy to have this job, but working these extra hours the last few weeks have made me realize how much I DON'T want a full-time job. Part-time is perfect.

Will: When I started my job in September, he started going to daycare two days a week (which he loves). But, he's also been sick non-stop since then. Before he started daycare, he had one ear infection. Since daycare, he's had eight. That's more than enough to win him a trip to the ENT and have tubes put in his ears. He's having the surgery next Thursday. It's literally a ten-minute procedure, and hopefully this will prevent him from getting more ear infections and more importantly, prevent long-term hearing damage.

There's plenty more I could go into, but that's a high-level update on the Fanning household. More to come soon...

Vegas Baby

Turns out Will was well enough for me to go on my girl's weekend to Vegas after all. It was touch and go for a while, but after a doctor visit Friday morning (where we found out his lungs were free of pnuemonia) and postponing my flight until that evening, it was clear Will was on the mend. Off to Vegas I went....

There were seven of us that met there for my friend Jen's bachelorette party. We had a fun weekend that included great meals, cocktails, dancing, relaxing by the pool, a tiny bit of gambling, and watching Twilight (yes, watching Twilight, the teenage vampire movie. Yes, we are all in our thirties. And actually, we watched it twice. Don't ask...).

Anyway, it was a nice mini-vacation and most importantly, Jen had a good time and Will was back to 100 percent by the time I got home Monday night. Billy did a great job taking care of Will--he is a good daddy indeed!

Here are a couple of pics from the weekend. Enjoy!

Really Sick Baby

I came home last night to a baby boy with a 103-degree temperature. He's had a cold for the last couple of weeks, but has been fine other than a runny nose. But yesterday, he took a turn for the worse: high fever, coughing, and lethargy.

When we got up this morning he still felt hot, and when I took his temperature, it was still 103 degrees. I knew it was time for a trip the pediatrician (which I swear feels like we do about every other week or so). I honestly don't know how I'd manage all of that if I was working full time--I'm very thankful for my days off.

Three hours, several tests and a chest x-ray later, Will was diagnosed with pneumonia. PNEUMONIA. Poor baby is very sick. They gave him a shot of antibiotics to kick-start the healing process, and then I have to take him back to the doctor tomorrow to see if he's improving (and he'll start a course of standard antibiotics tomorrow, along with a rotation of Infant Motrin and Tylenol). If he doesn't get better and his fever doesn't go down, he may be the big winner of a trip to the Dell Children's Hospital.

I am in the middle of a MAJOR deadline at work (and obviously, I need to stay home with Will), and I'm supposed to go out of town to Vegas this weekend for my dear friend Jen's bachelorette party. I'm still planning on going, as long as Will is on the upswing over the next couple of days. But that's the thing about parenthood: you can make plans, but you can't count on them. Things change and your number one priority is your child, not your personal desires.

Here are a couple (very sad) pictures of me holding sick Will while we waited for the pediatrician (so not my boy--he's usually running laps around that doctor's office).

A Continuation of Graces

Many of you know about the car accident I had on January 1st, and how lucky I am with the way everything turned out. More importantly, I was shown a series of God's good graces throughout the whole ordeal. This past Sunday, I probably received the biggest one yet.

Billy was out of town on a fishing trip, so I braved mass by myself with Will (not an easy task these days...sitting still is not his idea of a good time). After ten minutes, Will had decided he'd had enough, so I made my way to the back of the church.

I was located at the main entrance of the church, but Will decided he wanted to run around to the other side of the church--and I was glad he did. When we made our way there, I found an enclave for parents with small children. There was a row of seats for the parents, and there were several kids toddling around--a much better place for us to be.

Will and I sat down and as I looked up, I saw Paul, the nephew of the man I hit with our truck, come out the door directly in front of me with his six-month old son (I was in the vestibule, he had been in the main area of the church). I hadn't seen him since the day I ran into him at church a couple of months ago. He immediately saw me and smiled. We both said hello but it was the middle of mass, so it was a quick exchange.

Paul went back into the church with his son. As mass was ending, I saw him lean over and talk to someone next to him. They both turned to come out the same door Paul had walked through earlier. As they came through the door, I immediately recognized the person with Paul: his uncle, Tim Luna. The man on a motorcycle I hit while driving our truck.

I hadn't seen Tim since he was whisked away in an ambulance the day of the accident and he had been covered in blood and full body motorcycle gear. But I still recognized him. I was nervous, but immediately drawn to talk to him. They walked right over to me.

"Here she is," said Paul.

I wasn't sure what was going to come next, but the first thing out of Tim's mouth was "I am so glad to meet you" with a sincere smile on his face. What? This coming from a man who I could have killed. A man whose wrist I broke, causing him to have two surgeries and ultimately, lose income (I found out later that he remodels homes for a living.) He proceeded to tell me how sorry he was that my year had to start that way, and that he was grateful that I had such wonderful insurance coverage--he thanked me for that. And he also told me how much God has blessed him; he has a friend who's been staying with him, helping Tim with some of his jobs, so he still has some means for making income.

I was stunned. I am the one who should apologize and thank him for being so gracious. I stumbled over my words as I tried to tell him how sorry I am, how thankful I am that he's ultimately fine. But more importantly, how grateful I am for the opportunity to meet him, be forgiven by him.

Again, I walked away humbled by God's grace. If Billy hadn't been out of town, if I hadn't gone to mass alone with Will, if Will hadn't run to the other side of the church, if, if, if....all I know is I'm thankful. And reminded again of how good life is.

Guilty by Association?

Billy's out of town this weekend, so I took Will to the mall to buy a friend's birthday present. Running an errand with a toddler (particularly shopping) requires nerves of steel, eyes on the back of your head, and an arsenal of tricks (snacks, toys, etc.) to distract when said toddler starts to get fussy.

Will was in his stroller as I made my way through Bath and Body Works. He was getting antsy (these days, he'd rather be running in full-out sprint mode than sitting in a stroller), so I was trying to hurry and make my purchase---needless to say, I was a little distracted.

After my purchase was complete and we made our way back to the parking lot, I pulled Will out of the stroller to transfer him to the car. When I picked him up, I noticed a tube of lip gloss in the seat---he'd been sitting on it, and I hadn't seen it. Obviously, it was a little something he "swiped" while I was trying to pay and leave the store.

Will was pretty much done with our outing at this point and so was I, so I guiltily put the lip gloss in my car, promising to return it the next time I visit the mall.

Does this make me an accomplice?

Sorry if this makes you groan, but I can't help it...

Since Will started saying a few words, he's called me "mama". Lately, he's advanced that to a sweet sounding "mah-mee". Seriously cute--makes my heart melt every time he says it (even when he was throwing a fit yesterday at the Walgreen's checkout line: mah-mee! mah-mee! mah-mee!). Who knew one little word could mean so much?

A Quick Observation...

I am supposed to be working on an article that's due this week, but I needed a quick break and wanted to comment on something I've noticed lately. My son has just learned in the last month or so what a rooster is. He points them out in the books we read, and laughs when I imitate the "cock-a-doodle-do" noise they make. He also points them out any time we see an image of one in public. And this happens in more places than you'd think. Roosters are everywhere. They abound as a decorative item in people's homes, are used aplenty in restaurant wall decor, and I've even seen an image of one in a church bulletin. Will's little finger points them all out, so I've become aware of the plethora of roosters in every day life. Take a look around--you'll be amazed at how many red-headed fowl you'll see.

Not Again

Well, it happened again--Will injured himself. Fortunately, this time it was minor, but it's visible, nonetheless. This morning we went to eat breakfast at a restaurant around the corner from our house. The restaurant was playing jazz music, and Will was be-bopping to the tune while sitting in the highchair. Many of you fellow parents know how low some of those restaurant highchairs are, and how high the tables are that the highchair has to be pulled up to. As a result, Will's head wasn't far from the table-top, so he be-bopped his head (mouth, really) right into the side of the table. One minute he's jamming to the tune, the next minute he's smacking his face (and I mean SMACK) into the table. Turns out the little guy chipped his front tooth. Seriously? How is it possible that my sweet, pure baby boy already has so many marked signs of injury and scars (hands, eye and now, snaggle-tooth). The good news is that the tooth will eventually fall out (in about six years…sigh), but it's still upsetting.

98 Percent Perspiration...

In addition to the contract marketing work I've been doing the last few months, I've started freelance writing for a magazine called Horn's Illustrated. As the name suggests, the magazine focuses on all things University of Texas sports-related (although it's not an official UT publication).

A couple of things I've learned from this experience: 1) It's pretty funny that I'm writing about sports. I mean, I like to PLAY sports, but I don't necessarily like to watch them or follow them closely (other than the occasional UT game and the Superbowl). 2) Journalism is tough!

I have a lot of respect for journalists now that I've gotten a taste of what this career is like. I started out writing short profiles on up-and-coming UT athletes for a column called "Young Guns". Even these 1000 word articles required research on the athlete, their sport of choice (you have to sound knowledgeable about the sport), and their team's performance. And, it's important to interview a variety of sources, so even for those short articles, I would interview at least five other people--family, friends, coaches, teammates, etc. Trying to find time to do the research, draft questions, contact the sources, agree on a time that worked for both of our schedules (which is tough given my work and kid schedule--it's not really professional to have a source on the phone while Will is ma,ma,ma-ing in the background), do the interview, record it, and listen to it again...and again. And take notes.

Then comes the writing process. It starts with a review of the notes and the recorded interviews, re-checking your facts, and then starting a draft. From there, many more drafts are created, and eventually you get a final version that will more than likely be redlined by your editor. Then, more changes, more fact checking, more digging into the interviews to find the quote your editor really wants to see.

I estimate to complete one short 1000-word article, I spent around 25 hours in total. Now I'm working on a longer, feature article--one that will potentially be the cover story of an upcoming issue. I'm profiling a coaching legend at UT, and given his history with the university, let's just say there is an endless amount of sources that need to be interviewed (many of them professional athletes with agents that have to be dealt with), oodles of facts to be researched, and countless hours getting this story 'just right'--all under deadline. The pressure is on, but it's also fun and rewarding to learn about a topic that I had little to no knowledge of, meet some incredibly talented people, and work on honing my writing skills.

Let's just say I have a newfound respect for journalists who do this on a full-time basis. It requires more time and attention to detail than I realized--if you're going to do the job right.

Call Me Lucy

Further proof that I am, at times, like a living, breathing sit-com character:

1) I opened a can of black bean soup for lunch at work. As I opened the pop-top, it splattered all over my light khaki jacket. I walked around w/ brown, poo-poo color spots all over the jacket for the rest of the day (I had a revealing cami on underneath the jacket, so I couldn't exactly take the jacket off).

2) I couldn't find my mouth guard for several days. The mouth guard is a retainer-like device that sits in my mouth when I sleep, covering my top teeth so I don't grind them to a pulp. I had no idea where the mouth guard had gone. I finally found it in my computer bag while I was at work. Seems it fell off my nightstand into my bag, and I'd been carrying it around for days.

3) The other day I had on a cowl-neck shirt. Late in the day I looked down and noticed there was a pretzel caught in the folds of the cowl neck. It was placed such that I couldn't see it from my vantage point, but everyone else had a very clear view of the pretzel. I had pretzels for lunch...by the time I noticed it, it was dinnertime

Big Boy

As many of you know, I started working part-time doing marketing contract work for a local high-tech company back in September. Since then, Will has been going to daycare two days a week. He started out in the "older infant" classroom with babies that ranged in age from about 8 months to 13 months or so. I'd been thinking about moving him up into the toddler classroom because they have a large playroom they get to frolick in, they do arts and crafts projects, and they go outside everyday to the playground.

I'd been a little hesitant because the toddler classroom requires that the child only take one nap a day, they sit at a real table and chairs for meals (no highchairs), and they sleep on cots for naps (no cribs). I spoke to Will's infant teacher about it, and she felt it was time to move him up, too. They started slowly, letting Will play with the toddler group but come back to his orignal classroom for meals and naps. Eventually he started eating with the toddlers and then last week, the big test: taking a nap with the toddlers. I was convinced there was no way Will would lie down on a cot and go to sleep at the exact same time all the other toddlers did, but sure enough, he did just fine. Didn't try to get up once and fell asleep for two hours. The transition was complete.

So now he's officially a "toddler". Other than a little mishap the first day when he fell trying to get into his chair for lunch (and said chair fell on top of him, leaving a nice bruise on his forehead), he's done great. In fact, the other day when I went to pick him up he took one look at me and started hoofing it -- in the opposite direction of me. Kid didn't want to leave. It stung a little that he didn't run up to me like he normally does, but I guess it's a good thing he likes daycare so much. (Full disclosure: I was secretly just a tiny bit happy the next time I dropped him off and he was a little upset--albeit momentarily-- that I was leaving. Of course then he found a ball and bounced it off some kid's head, and he was off and running again.) Sigh, I guess he's growing up.

Touché

Yesterday I was at Babies R' Us picking up the one-year photos of Will we had taken there (ER trip #2 precluded us from getting them the day of the actual photo shoot). While I was standing in line to pay for them, I noticed a young, pregnant woman in the line next to me who kept sneaking glances in my direction. I stood up taller, imagining she was looking at me with the pictures of my son, thinking about what an experienced mother I must be. She was probably wondering what it was like to have a child my son's age, and longing for the day when she would have the same level of "motherly" knowledge.

As these thoughts were running through my head, I happened to look down. That's when I noticed my pants were unbuttoned and gaping open. Explanation for the staring. So much for my wisdom...

The Day I Became the Luckiest Girl in the Unluckiest Way

2009 started out with a bang for me, literally. On the afternoon of January 1st, Will and I headed to the local HEB to do some grocery shopping. The store is about one mile from my house, so it's a route I travel frequently.

The sun was shining high in the sky and was directly in my eyes. As I pulled into the left-hand turn lane to turn into the parking lot, I was having a hard time seeing the oncoming cars. That, combined with Will crying in the back seat (he also had the sun in his eyes), led to me turning left when I thought the road was clear, only to see at the last minute a man on a motorcycle. I hit him with the passenger side of our Chevy truck.

The thud I heard as he bounced off the side of the truck made my stomach turn. I tried to pull into the parking lot to get out of the road, but the car was scraping something on the bottom--for a moment I feared I was dragging the motorcyclist's body. I stopped immediately and turned around to make sure Will was okay, which he was. I heard myself saying over and over again "please God, no". I begged Him not to have had the worst happen: that I killed someone.

I tried to open the driver's side door, but it was jammed. I hopped out of the passenger side, fearful of what I would see behind my truck. To my extreme relief, the motorcyclist was conscious and ALIVE. A man of about 55, he was on his knees and bleeding from his face, and it was clear he had broken his arm or his wrist. He cursed at me (as I would have expected him to do) as he was crawling to the side of the road (he was still in the middle of the road at this point--how another car didn't hit him is just one of many miracles in this story).

I called 911 and before I knew it, EMS and the fire department were on the scene. The rest is sort of a blur to me as I talked to the police and watched from the sidelines as the EMS strapped the man (whom I later learned was named Tim) to a body board (typical protocol they told me, for this type of accident) and took him away in the ambulance. I was crying at this point, saying how sorry I was, how much of an accident it was, but the man couldn't hear me.

The man's nephew showed up on the scene (somehow, the guy had enough presence of mind to call his nephew after the accident--apparently the nephew lives just down the road). I heard the nephew asking the police what had happened, and I jumped in to let him know it was irrevocably my fault. The nephew turned in my direction and when he saw me crying, holding my son, he immediately told me it was okay. He introduced himself to me (Paul was his name, and he looked to be about my age) and I saw that he was wearing a shirt with a bible verse on it. I was thankful this was a man with compassion for someone who didn't really deserve it.

By this point, Billy had made his way to the accident site and was there with me. They had to tow our truck; it was not drivable. Off went the ambulance, off went our truck, and I was free to go home. Later that day, we talked to Paul and he said Tim was in the hospital with a broken arm but otherwise seemed to be doing fine, thank God. Of course, I was still feeling terrible about the whole thing, replaying in my mind how things could have been so much worse, how my life could have changed in an instant. I pondered, and still do, why I was spared this fate when others, who have just as innocently gotten into this kind of accident, have fared so much worse. Was it all so random?

This thought was still on my mind when I went to church that Sunday. I couldn't shake the thought of this being a random incident in which God had no part. That's when I saw Paul, the nephew, walking up the aisle of the same church to receive communion. What are the chances that he would be at the same mass at the same church? I hadn't seen him since the day of the accident and I was nervous and hesitant to have him see me now. I decided that I would try and sneak out of the back of the church after mass in order to avoid him.

Well, seems God had other plans. As I snuck out the back and opened the door, there was Paul. He hadn't intended to run into me, but we were literally entering the hallway at the same time. He was surprised to see me, but he was very gracious and walked me outside of church--turns out he was there that day for his four-month old son's baptism. I asked him how his uncle was doing and Paul said he needed to have surgery on his arm, but he was home and would be fine. I again apologized and told him how horrified I was that the entire thing happened. Yet again, he told me that he knew it was an accident and said how awful it must have been for me; to have Will in the car with me when it happened. Here I was, the person that could have taken the life of Paul’s' loved one, yet he was showing me compassion.

Finally, I came to my car. This mass was extremely full and I had to drive around multiple times to find a parking spot--and where I ended up parking and entering the church is a side of the building I never go to. However, on this day it turns out I was parked right next to Paul. We both commented on the coincidence...or was it?

So, on January 1st, 2009 I became the luckiest girl:
--Tim, the motorcyclist, was wearing a helmet and full leather body gear that ultimately protected him.
--Will was safe.
--Another car did not run over Tim even though he was in the middle of a busy road.
--A compassionate nephew eased my fears and guilt.
--Tim survived.
--My life would go on as normal.

Although it hasn't gone on as normal. I am more thankful, more aware, more blessed. Life is a tenuous thing that can change in an instant--and mine did--but in a way that made me more full of grace than ever before.

Holly Jolly Holiday

The morning of December 23rd we woke up at 4:00am to make it to the airport in time for our 6:30am flight to Portland. Ouch. I have never liked these early flights and doing it with a one-year-old in tow was even less fun. Will was a little (okay, a lot) dazed when I woke him up, practically in the middle of the night, to get him dressed. He looked at me like I was out of my mind.

We made our way to the airport, preparing for a long day of flying. There are no direct flights from Austin to Portland, so it required a hop to Dallas, a two hour delay at DFW, and then a four hour flight from there. Will did great on the first flight, and did well during the two hour layover. Then came flight number two; mayhem began. By this point Will was tired and wanted to either sleep or walk around (traveling with Will now that he is completely mobile is more challenging than it used to be). Poor kid has a hard time sleeping in our laps now that he's bigger, so he opted to cry (read: scream) for most of the flight. We tried everything to distract him, but no luck. Fortunately there were about 20 other babies on the flight with parents in the same predicament, so that was our saving grace. Three hours later we touched down in beautiful, snowy Portland and our Christmas holiday with my family began.

Portland doesn't usually get much snow, but this year they had several inches and it was literally a winter wonderland. It was so nice to get out of the 70 degree Texas weather (which I love, but for Christmas, bring on the snow!) and have a white holiday. We stayed in Portland for five days at my sister Paula's house, and she did have a houseful indeed: my parents; me, Billy and Will; my sister, Pam, her husband and their two kids; and Paula's family of four were all under one roof. Somehow, it worked out and we had a great time. My four nieces range in age from 10 to 15, and it was a joy watching them interact and play with Will. Needless to say, the little guy did not want for any attention. Over the five days, we ate copious amounts of good food, went bowling, played a lot of Wii, frolicked in the snow, watched my niece's basketball game, went to the science and industry children's museum, and just generally had a really nice time with my family. Rough plane trip aside, we had a very Merry Christmas.

Fortunately, the plane ride home went much smoother. Will fell asleep for most of the trip to Dallas, so we were spared the drama of the first flight.

For New Year's, we went to a party at our friends' house (thanks, Jen and Shawn!). We took the Pack N' Play and Will with us and after charming several ladies in his footie pajamas, he went to sleep while mom and dad hung out with friends. It was a nice way to ring in the New Year. Mom had a little much to drink (I am a bit of a light-weight these days, and well, mixing vodka, champagne and wine is generally not a good idea), so I was a little "tired" the next day. Fortunately, Billy was a trooper and took care of Will so I could sleep in.

Here are a couple pictures of us playing in the snow. Hope your holidays were merry!

Gluttony

Can someone PLEASE take away the vat of ranch dip in my fridge before I consume it all....pants were tight this morning.
PS: More to come soon on Christmas and New Years recaps...

The ER Diaries: Installment #2

We had trip number two to the emergency room tonight. Yes, that makes two trips to the ER in one month. We were at Babies R' Us this afternoon getting Will's one-year pictures taken (we were a month late getting that done due to ER trip #1 and the wrapped Q-tip hands that weren't suitable for photos). After the photo shoot was finished, I was sitting with the sales person deciding what pictures I wanted to purchase when I heard the indistinguishable wail of my son echoing through the store. I looked up to see Billy holding Will, blood running down Will's face. Turns out Will tripped and fell into a clothing rack, hitting the area right above his eye. The result? A nice gash that deserved an ER trip and several nervous glances from the store manager as we ran out, fearing that a law suit might be pending...

Fortunately, we got into the ER pretty quickly and Will was in good spirits. The good spirits lasted until they put him in a baby straight jacket to prevent him from moving his hands and head while the doctor was doing the stitches. Needless to say, Will didn't care much for that. Oh, and he also didn't like the fact that the doctor didn't numb the area well enough, so the last stitch that went in basically went in without any pain or numbing medication at all. The doctor apologized, though, so that made it all alright (insert sarcasm here).

We have to get the stitches removed on Christmas day, but fortunately my oldest sister (who's house we will be staying at in Oregon) is a physical therapist who specializes in wound care (a whole other story), so she should be able to handle that task.

Yet again, I am amazed at what a tough, strong, happy-spirited little boy I have. Yes, he cried during the anesthesia free-stitching session, but otherwise he was happy and joking with the hospital staff. I can't say I would be the same if the proverbial shoe were on the other foot.

Now here's to wishing for an ER-free 2009--and here are a couple of pics from the hospital (yes, in that last picture he is laughing...see what I mean about good spirits?)

All I Want for Christmas is....a File Cabinet?

I have the broken window theory in full effect at my house. The broken window theory basically states that once a window is smashed or broken in a neighborhood, it leads to other broken windows and other broken things and eventually, the entire neighborhood goes to pot. Right before Will's birthday, things were especially hectic: work, writing, school, daycare, planning for the first birthday party, etc. My house slowly got more and more unorganized. It started with an errant item being placed in the wrong drawer here, a shirt tossed on the floor of a closet there. Eventually, more and more things were out of place and disarray began to take over.

It is driving me crazy. I am craving the Container Store. I long to organize my closets and drawers. When I was pregnant with Will, I had a serious case of "nesting" and frantically cleaned and organized everything (case in point - I remember being on bed rest and having an unrelenting urge to wipe down every window sill in the house. I was supposed to be "lying down" so I basically lay down next to each window and proceeded to wipe each sill clean. It was sort of a crazed time for me...). Anyway, I'm feeling a "nesting" urge now (no, I am not pregnant). I pine for clean cabinets and organized files. I long to behold the beauty of an organized-by-color-and-season-closet.

Unfortunately, "winter cleaning" is going to have to wait a little longer. Between preparing for Christmas and wrapping up work, there's just no time. We leave for Oregon on Tuesday to celebrate the holiday with my family, but when we get back, the whirlwind of organization will begin. So this Christmas instead of sugar plums, visions of alphabetized file folders and dust-free kitchen cabinets will be dancing in my head.

A Time of Firsts

We've experienced so many firsts with Will over the last month. First birthday, first steps, first molars and...first trip to the ER.

Billy's family came into town to help us celebrate Will's birthday (which was wonderful: Granny, Pam and Bill, JC, Brandy and Kiley, Ellie, Max and Riley - thank you!). The evening before Will's party, the family was gathered and we were making homemade pizzas for dinner. Billy went to pull a pizza out of the oven and little walking Will snuck up behind him and put his hands flat down on the open over door.

Screaming child, frazzled nerves and one trip to the ER later, Will came home with second degree burns and hands wrapped like Q-tips to prevent the burns from getting infected. It has been almost three weeks and he still has wrapped hands. The wounds are healing well and it doesn't appear that there will be any scarring. I have to say the little guy has been amazing - quite a trooper and in great spirits! I feel lucky to have such an adaptable little boy (and we are thankful the burns are healing so well).

As much as I would like to say I think this will be our last trip to the ER, I'm afraid it's only just begun. Dear God, help us...

Here are a few pics from the party and a couple (warning: gross) pics of the burns when they were still blistered (click on picture to see larger image).

At the party, still in good spirits, despite the Q-tips and Codeine

Mitts and cake don't mix


The morning after, still partying on...


Left-hand burn, ouch!


Right-hand burn, really ouch!

Gratitude

In this season of giving thanks and holiday spirit, I am grateful for so many things. Yes, I am grateful for those typical things like family, friends, and health, but I wanted to give a shout out to my mail lady. Thank you for continuing to stuff mail in our mailbox even though it is overflowing with catalogues, junk mail, bills, letters and the like. Forgive us for only checking our mail once a week (or so). We appreciate your determination and patience.
PS: Our mailbox is not attached to our house; it's in a group of mailboxes down the street. We aren't THAT lazy...

Immaturity

I went with my husband, Billy, to a follow-up doctor appointment he had this week. The doctor was going through a long list of symptoms and asking my husband if he had experienced any of them, and when he got to "chronic diarrhea or constipation", it struck my funny bone for some reason and I had to stifle a chuckle. Seriously, Michele? You would think I was three, not thirty-three...

Will Turns One

Today is Will's first birthday! I can't believe how quickly the last year has flown. I have to admit, when he was first born and I was in the throes of exhaustion and the endless work that comes with a newborn, it felt like time was in slow motion. But as the year went on, time just went faster and faster. He is so much fun these days - walking, talking, and getting a sense of humor - and I am so blessed to be his mama. Yes, motherhood is hard. Yes, it's exhausting in ways I never imagined, both physically and emotionally. But it's also sweeter and richer than I imagined, too. So today at 12:51pm, I will say a little prayer of thanks for my baby boy. Life will never be the same - and neither will I.

He Walks, He Talks...Well, He Walks Anyway...

Will is walking! He took his first steps last night in the middle of our kitchen. I was holding out a piece of cheese and it was alluring enough for him to take a few steps towards it (sort of like a Pavlovian dog). Billy and I got him to do it a few times, so we knew it was no accident! Tonight while I was in class, Billy "practiced" walking some more with Will. Here's the outcome:



Can't belive my little boy is walking already....granted, he looks like a drunken, stumbling sailor, but walking, nonetheless.

Where the Wild Things Are

I'm convinced my neighborhood is the wild kingdom. We live on the western edge of the Austin hill country where there tends to be more wild life than in other parts of the city. That, combined with the fact that our house backs to a nature preserve, has led me to witness more "nature" than I care to see outside of a zoo.

Here's an unabridged list of some of the critters seen in and around my neighborhood (and some, eek!, in my house):

-Ring tail (I know....I didn't know what it was either until I looked it up)
-Tarantula
-Scorpions
-Rattle snake (Okay, I didn't actually see this one, but my neighbors had one in their backyard)
-Coral snake - two of them (Yes, red then yellow, not friend of Jack...)
-Mouse (Which I swear made a purposeful beeline at me while I was running)
-Coyote
-Fox
-Raccoon
-Armadillo
-Lizards (I'm not talking your average gecko..)
-Panther (Well, not really, but I had to throw that in for drama's sake)

To give you an idea of what I'm talking about, here's a picture of a lizard my friend, Trina, found in her yard (Trina doesn't live in my neighborhood, but she does live in the same part of town):

See what I'm talking about? Wild kingdom in suburbia. Where is Jack Hanna when you need him?

Adventures in Haircutting

Today I took Will to get his first haircut. He's only 11 months old and doesn't have a lot of hair, but for some reason he sprouted a mullet. A thin, wispy baby mullet. I decided it was time to chop off the party in the back.

So, we went to get his haircut. I took him to my salon. My hairstylist, Erica, cuts most of her clients' kids' hair and she does a pretty good job at it. And, she only charges $10 - can't get much cheaper than that at Super Cuts.

Will did really well - he didn't cry and he sat still for most of the cut. This primarily was because there was a random guy sitting in the chair next to Will getting his hair highlighted. Yes, I said highlighted - with foils and all. Will stared at him the entire cut. It was the perfect distraction.


The result? A perfect baby haircut. Erica didn't cut Will's hair too short nor did she shave it up too much in the back. She wanted to keep it "natural" looking, and I think the mission was accomplished.

All in all, it was a fun milestone (note highlight guy in picture below).

Good and Busy

Life has been especially hectic lately, and that's just the way I like it. Between going back to work part-time, taking a class at UT, launching my freelance writing career (first magazine article is due in one week!), volunteering at the Children's Shelter and training for a half marathon - oh, and taking care of my sweet baby boy - things have been busy, to say the least. The crazy thing is I really am enjoying it. Sure, I complain sometimes and find myself stressed to the max at others, but honestly, I like being busy. I'm still learning how to juggle all of my commitments, both personal and professional, but I wonder if you ever really do master that feat. I think it's a seesaw of feeling like you have it down one day and feeling like a frazzled wreck the next. But I'm enjoying the ride. Oh - just remembered I have to plan that one-year birthday party for my son...and finish that assignment for class...and do the laundry...and I couldn't be happier about it.

Pressure

As I drove through the McDonald's drive-thru the other day (yes, I sometimes actually eat McDonald's...guilty pleasure), I got asked "Do you want to donate a dollar to the xyz children's fund?" I seriously did not even catch the name of the charity because I was already sweating. I knew I was going to be asked this question and I knew how I would respond: yes. Of course I am happy that corporate America is doing its part to help charities in need, and of course I support several charities on my own. But I have begun to dread trips to the grocery store, through the drive-thru etc. because I know I'm going to get asked the $1.00 question. And do you know why I respond "yes"? Partly because I want to and it's the right thing to do, but partly because if I don't, well, I look like an a-hole. Who wants to be the a-hole that says no?

Decision Made

After months of wondering what I am going to do career-wise, I have decided to give contract work a try. While it's harder to find steady work and I will be self-employed (so no benefits, vacation time, etc.), it enables me to pick and choose jobs, work part-time or temporarily and, best of all, allows me to be home with Will at least part of the time.

A good friend of mine works for a local tech company here in Austin and introduced me to her VP of Marketing (it's all about networking). After several conversations and meeting the entire marketing team, they decided to hire me for 20 hours a week indefinitely. I am excited to have found something relatively flexible and still in my field of expertise. However, now I have the joy of trying to find childcare for Will. I think I've found a day care that he'll go to two days a week and a babysitter who will watch him a half day a week. It's not exactly fun to hand him over to someone else's care, so this is a big change for our family. The next few weeks will be a whirlwind, I'm sure, as we adjust to our new schedule.

Now we'll see how I do juggling a job, school (I'm taking a class at UT this semester), volunteer work at the Austin Children's Shelter (I'm doing some marketing projects for them), training for a half marathon and most importantly, caring for my son and husband. More to come on how this story goes for the Fanning family...

Pride

On the anniversary of September 11, I am reminded how those awful events brought our country together. Unfortunately, since then, our country seems to be more divided than ever. Partisan politics, unconstructive criticism and ridicule of differing thoughts pervade our country. It often makes me sad to see how divisive we have become, how angry.

On my way into town today, I saw a horrible car accident that must have just occurred on the side of the road. A car was flipped upside down, smashed and crunched, with the passengers still inside. There were probably 15 people, random strangers, who had stopped to help and provide aid until police, ambulance and fire trucks arrived. One man dressed in a business suit was standing in the middle of the busy road in 90-degree heat directing traffic around the accident. Another had parked his truck in such a way as to protect that man and the accident site from being hit by an oncoming car. Several men and women of all shapes, colors and sizes were kneeling down in the dirt at the side of the car, speaking to the trapped people inside, trying to help, comfort and ease fear. I have no idea how injured the passengers in that car were, but I do know that the entire scene brought a tear to my eye. It reminded me how the people of this country, regardless of political, religious or other beliefs, band around each other in time of need. It reminded me that Americans are a compassionate, empathetic, eager to help people that rose to the occasion seven years ago amidst national disaster as they did today, amidst personal tragedy, on the side of the road in Austin, Texas. This is what our country is about. This is why I am proud to be an American.

Tales from a Dance Floor

I have been working my professional network lately and have had several work opportunities come my way. These opportunities range from contract work to owning my own business to full-on, full time positions. I'm still trying to decide what I want to do from a work standpoint, given that I'd ultimately like to be home with Will at least part of the time, but I've noticed that this job search has become analogous to me being on a dance club floor. Now mind you, I have not darkened the door of a dance club in years, to the benefit of everyone attending dance clubs. Me, my dancing skills and a dance club floor do not mix (Side note: An even scarier, yet slightly more hilarious sight is my husband and I dancing together in any environment. I once saw a video clip of us out on the dance floor at a friend's wedding reception. We were sort of in the background of the clip, but you could clearly see us, limbs awkwardly flailing to some 90's hip-hop song. Hilarious, yet humiliating at the same time.)

Back to the dance club analogy. I remember the phenomenon of dancing with a gaggle of my girlfriends and there would always be that one guy with the gold chains and baggy jeans that would approach and try and sidle his way in to dance with one of us. It was never the cute guy that would approach.... the one you REALLY wanted to dance with. So, you would be resigned to dancing with Mr. Gold Chain, at least until you made up some lame excuse to get out of there, like needing to use the facilities. So far my job search has resembled this scenario. I've come across many opportunities, yet the ones I REALLY want and am very interested in don't come my way, or at least, they come slowly. The ones I am not as interested in seem to swoop in and make an offer to "dance" immediately. This leaves me with wondering: Do I go ahead and dance with the "gold chain" companies that give me their promises of job security and money, or do I hold out, hoping my "Prince Charming" will come along? I'm still waiting to see how this fairy tale will end...let's hope it doesn't involve any dancing.

An Honest Mistake

I was bathing Will tonight and noticed that he had a little bit of diaper rash. I reached for the Balmex to help soothe the rash, but noticed as I was applying it that the consistency was different than I remembered. Upon closer inspection, I realized that I had applied strawberry banana infant toothpaste to his rear. They really need to make the packaging look much more different for those two products.

A Face only a Mother...

We were at dinner Saturday night with some friends and there was a 10-month old girl at the table next to us. We had Will with us so we all did the obligatory "Oh, how cute! How old is he/she?" thing that parents do when they have kids around the same age. As we were leaving the restaurant, my friend turned to me and said "I didn't really think that baby was that cute, but I said it anyway". When I asked why the response was "that's what you are supposed to do." This got me thinking: If my friend is telling complete strangers that their baby is cute but doesn't really mean it, how often is that happening to me? Of course, I think my son is adorable, but I am his mother and I'm supposed to think that. Are we all walking around, bolstered by the comments of other people who tell us our children are the next Gerber baby when it's really a lie? I suppose it would be strange to have someone tell you "Your kid? Yeah, not so cute". So, I guess the myth will continue to be perpetuated for parents. Good thing MY kid really is cute....er, right?

Lessons in Parenthood #658

Will is on the move. He officially is crawling now and while this is great fun to watch, it also takes this parenthood thing up to an entirely new level. Gone are the days of putting him down in one spot and expecting him to stay there. Now we have to keep a constant, very watchful eye on him so he doesn't cause bodily harm to himself or to the family cat.

This past weekend we decided it was time to baby proof. We went to the mother of all baby items stores, Babies R' Us, and picked up a variety of baby proof items that bare a strange resemblance to Medieval torture devices. Outlet plugs, cabinet locks, coffee table bumper...and this is where we ran into lesson #658. Billy and I enjoy our house looking neat and nicely decorated but we quickly realized, after pulling the coffee table bumper out of its package, that there is no way to look couth with a ghetto, rubber, gray bumper pad lining your nice Pottery Barn table. Oh, and our nice limestone fireplace with a ledge would need one of these gray beauties, as well. In addition, it was time to remove any decorative item that could come within baby's grasp and this included removing a relatively unstable three-legged round table with a pretty lamp perched on it. A moment of sadness came upon us as we (temporarily) said goodbye to our nicely decorated, adult-friendly house when we realized we will need to live like this for a few years, particularly if a baby #2 comes along. However, the sadness was quickly replaced with resignation and an understanding that keeping our son safe and happy is more important than any Tiffany-replica lamp adorning our living room. This is the lesson learned: having a child makes you more selfless than you could have ever imagined. So while my son is only 8 months old, he already has made his mama a better person. Who needs nice furniture? I say bring on the gray tubing...

Love to the Doctor

I had my annual "female" doctor appointment yesterday, and it was the first time I'd been back to my doctor's office since my 6-week postpartum check-up after Will was born. When you are pregnant, you visit this doctor way more than you ever dreamed possible. It starts with monthly visits and progresses to weekly visits towards the end of the pregnancy. All of this equals much time spent at your doctor's office and with the cast of characters that works there.

Since it had been almost seven months since I had been there, I found myself downright nostalgic about the whole thing. Seriously. Here's how my thought process went while I was there:

Pulling into the parking lot: "Hi, parking lot! Remember how I used to come here and drive around endlessly until I got a spot close up so my big, pregnant self didn't have to walk far? That was fun!"

Getting into the elevator: "Hi, elevator! Remember when I could never remember which floor my doctor's office was on and how several times, if there was another passenger in the elevator with me, I'd get off on the wrong floor but pretend that's where I intended to be? That was fun!"

Getting off the elevator: "Hi, hallway bathroom! Remember all those times I used your facilities right before my appointments even though I knew I was going to have to give a urine sample during my appointment, but I knew it didn't matter because my big, pregnant self was going to have to pee again in 2.5 minutes? That was fun!"

At the doctor's office: "Hi, nurse! You and I were pals. Remember all those moments we shared, with scales, blood pressure cuffs and funky gowns that bare all? (Note: not even sure the nurse remembered who I was, but she played along with my "So GREAT to see you!!"). That was fun!"

Leaving the doctor's office: "Hi, lady that works in Accounts Payable! Remember how my insurance company was so messed up and we spent countless hours on the phone trying to get bills paid? That was fun!"

Most disturbing thought of the day, while leaving the doctor's office and driving by the hospital (no joke): "I sure love that hospital.” Seriously? Seriously?! This coming from a woman who had to be given morphine to prevent her from ripping off the contraction monitor belt and running down the hallway screaming after spending a week on bed rest at said hospital.

So the lesson learned is if you want to enjoy going to the doctor and actually feel like you miss the doctor upon leaving, have a baby, get a little loopy from sleepless nights and let seven months pass by. You will love your doctor, too.

Bruxism, anyone?

My son has four teeth and is getting two more. This is sort of on the early side for a baby his age to have this many teeth (most kids get their first tooth around six months and my freak of nature son - and I mean that in the most loving way - already has six at six months!). These new and facinating chiclets in his mouth have led him to grind them together to enjoy the fun noise they make! Have you ever experienced nails on a chalk board? Let's just say that lovely sound pales in comparison to the noise of baby teeth being scratched together, sounding like they are about to crack. I've decided that I'm going to call the CIA and offer up my son's services. If they are looking for a new form of torture to get the bad guys to speak, all they need to do is put Will in the room with them. They'll be talking in no time.

Indecision

It's a typical situation, in these typical times; too many choices.
-Dave Mathews

Do you ever feel like you have so many options, you just can't make a decision? That is precisely how I am feeling lately. Since I had Will, I have been home with him and have not been working. I must admit I didn't think I would be out of work this long (he'll be seven months old next week). I originally thought I'd stay home for a couple of months or so, but now two has turned into seven. Not that I'm unhappy with the way things have worked out. I realize how lucky I am to have the option to stay home and spend this precious time with Will while he is so small. But why haven't I made any decisions about my future work situation? Is it because I have too many choices?

It seems I have so many options as a mother in the new millenium that I end up getting overwhelmed and doing nothing but thinking about the options, particularly because I don't necessarily want to work full-time (and it's hard to find part-time work that doesn't involve the mall). Here is a sample of the internal dialgue I have on a daily basis: "Maybe I can start doing contract work? Or what if someone would actually pay me to write? Perhaps I should start my own business? No wait, I should go back to school! Learn sign language! Become a lion tamer!" This continues until I end up where I started: no where. When the sky's the limit, how do you know where to begin?

So I end up frozen, not with fear, but with possibilities. It almost seems like things would have been easier back when my mother and grandmother were raising children. For the most part, the only option was staying home with your kids. Although I may not have been happy with that being my only option, at least I would have had some finality! I guess I just have to remind myself to be thankful that I do have options and that there is no time limit on making a decision. Yes, I would like to make a decision and move forward sooner rather than later, but the beauty of being a mom today is that decisions can always change, career choices can always be redefined. Until then, I'll keep dreaming about what I want to be when I grow up...

Recap

Since it has been two weeks since my last post, I decided to provide you with a snapshot of what's been going on in my life in the interim:

1) Trip to Illinois: We went to Carlinville, Illinois over Memorial Day weekend to visit Billy's parents. His cousin was getting married (well, technically his cousin is already married with two kids, but they had the party over the weekend). Billy's brother from Atlanta, J.C., and his wife and daughter (who is 5 months older than my son, Will) were there, as well, so it was a lot of fun to see the kids together. Granted, they can't really play together yet, but it sure is fun for the parents to make it look like they are playing together for the sake of photos. All in all, it was a good weekend, sans the plane ride home when Will decided to scream for about 20 minutes straight. There's really nothing you can do in an instance like this other than continually look at the passengers around you and mouth "sorry!". That, and pray for a good dose of turbulance to hopefully bounce the baby to sleep.

2) Interview: I had mentioned in a previous post that I had an interview with a company called Boundless Network for some potential contract work. Since then, I have gone back for two more rounds of interviews and they want me to come back one more time and meet with their CEO. All good times, but I'm getting the feeling this is going to turn into a full-fledged, full-time job and I'm not sure I'm ready for that right now. More to come on that...

3) Will: Not my son, this time. I'm talking about the legal document. Billy and I have finally gotten in gear and have met with a lawyer to discuss "our affairs", so to speak. A very strange thing to discuss such fun and light topics like what you want to have happen to you in certain medical situtations, who you want to be the guardian of your child, etc.

4) Sex in the City: I went to see this flick with a few of my lady friends last weekend and I have to say it was the strangest movie experience of my life. First, the theater was filled with women except for about three men who either had to feel horribly out of place or feel like they were in exactly the right place. Second, 95% of the attendees were dressed like Carrie Bradshaw. I'm talking cloth flowers pinned to their clothes, high heels that shouldn't be legal for walking and flashy jewelry. Third, I saw a group of girlfriends show up in a LIMO for the movie. Yes, I said limo. And no, this isn't New York City.

And that, my friends, gets us up to speed...

Happy Birthday!

November 20, 2007 to today. You've come a long way, baby!

It's true what they say: Kids grow fast and it goes by quickly. My son, Will, is 6 months old today. Six months ago I was a childless, pregnant woman wondering what this whole parenthood thing would be like. And so far, so good! I was not one of those women who took to motherhood immediately. I definitely loved my son from the get-go, but those first couple of months were a blur of exhaustion, education and survival. Once I got passed that, I really began to enjoy my son and being a mother. And I think going through those first couple of months of "mommy bootcamp" made the moments that came later even more of a pleasure. Now I can't wait to get up in the morning and have the privilege of spending the day with Will. So happy birthday, baby boy. Thanks for making life so sweet.

Tips for an Interviewing Mother

I just found out I am scheduled for an interview tomorrow with a company called Boundless Network for some potential marketing contract work. In light of that, I have put together a check list of things for me to remember as I prepare for the interview:

1) Find an outfit to wear that does not have spit up stains.
2) Find an outfit that does not consist of running shorts and a tank top or pajamas.
3) Shower.
4) Use a real purse, not a diaper bag.
5) Try not to talk in a voice that is 3 octives higher than your normal pitch.
6) Remember to shake hands, not play patty cake.
7) Don't seek out the "family" bathroom at the office.
8) Don't ask the interviewer if he's "doing a poopy".

Any other tips?

Lessons from a Storm

For any of you that live in the Austin area, the storms that rattled through town last night probably woke you up. At 12:15am, I awoke to "beep, beep, beep...". The digital baby monitors we have went 'offline' after the storm caused our power to go off momentarily, leaving them to beep and not work (as a side note: If you are in the market for a baby monitor, I don't recommend the Graco digital monitors. Nothing but beeps, crackles and irritation). Shortly after the monitors woke us up, my husband and I were snapped to attention by the loud cracks of thunder and firey lightening that illuminated the sky. The storm was upon us.

I honestly can say that was one of the worst storms I have witnessed. After the initial lightening and thunder, you could feel the house start to shake and sputter as the high winds whipped around us. Our house is situated high on a hill and backs to a wilderness preserve, so the winds were extreme and the trees were dancing like wild banshees in the backyard. We have bay windows all along the back side of the house, in the living room, our bedroom and our kitchen, that rattled as if they might break under the pressure. We tried to turn on the television to see what kinds of weather warnings were facing us, but the power was still out. With no radio, TV or Internet to inform us, Billy ran to the garage to locate our American Red Cross radio that is meant to keep people updated on emergency conditons in such situations.

My heart was racing as huge chunks of hail were pelting the windows. All I could think about was my baby. I ran to his room, sure that he would be frightened and awake from the madness around us, but to my surprise he was sound asleep. As the wind continued to howl, I had a deep urge to pick him up and cradle him in my arms, but my mind was telling me the best thing to do was to let him sleep. The compulsion to protect him came from deep within my belly and rose up into my throat until I could almost taste it. My mind could not stop thinking about mothers before me who had faced similar situations and, unfortunately, faced disaster: The tornado that devastated Jarrel years ago, the cyclone that killed so many in Myanmar recently, the crushing earthquake in China last week. If I felt this fear during a passing thunderstorm, how did they feel during a life altering situation in which there was nothing they could do to protect their babies? The thought of it made my throat begin to close and I continually checked on Will, watching his tiny chest rise up and down, his downy hair gently resting on the sheet. My precious son was calm in the eye of the storm. His mother was not. Is there a lesson to learn here?

Eventually the storm passed, and I began to calm down. My mind was still consumed with visions of natural disasters rendering mothers unable to save their children. I know my husband sensed my fear, my quietness. But I could not bring myself to verbalize what I was thinking. It made it too real. And as I watched the two of us, parents for the first time, jumping with nervous energy around the house as the storm passed over, I knew that he, too, felt some sense of a need to protect that didn't exist before we had Will. Before, I probably would have watched the storm with curiousity and possibly some concern. But this time I felt nervous, anxious, ready to act at a moment's notice. And I think Billy felt it, too, in his own way (he expresed it through finding a flashlight, getting the American Red Cross radio, putting on boots and a raincoat, just in case, all to be prepared). I expressed it through watching my baby, ready to scoop him up in an instant if I needed to. This is how life changes when you have a child. It's not so much about the sleepless nights, the diaper changes, the temper tantrums. It's about a deep, instinctual, heart-crushing urge to protect your child at any expense. It's also about knowing a fear you never knew before, worrying about the times you can't protect them. And this morning, after the bad weather has passed but the thought of it hasn't, I bow my head in prayer for those mothers that couldn't protect their children during a strorm, whether it was a natural disaster or some other situation. I know I have many more storms to face as a mother and protecting my son may not always be possible. I hope, at least, I can provide some shelter, some comfort. For today, he is safe. And I am thankful.

Epiphany

Just a quick post before the evening routine of bath, bottle and bed. Sunday at church I noticed that Will had a hunk of ear wax hanging off his ear. Pre-child, this would have grossed me out and in this case, it had no effect on me whatsoever other than piquing an interest in keeping my child groomed, much like a monkey. I proceeded to stick my finger in my mouth, lick it and wipe said ear wax from his ear. I looked over to see my husband gaping at me in horror (and I'm sure the immediate innocent bystanders around us were, as well). It was then I realized: I have officially become my mother.
NOTE TO READERS: I love my mother so, so dearly. I just had not suspected I, too, would end up using saliva as a cleaning solution.

May I introduce...

This is my first official foray into the world of blogging, from a personal standpoint anyway. As former Director of Marketing for a technology company, I have been hearing about blogs for years now. They can be a unique public relations tool and well, nightmare, too. Nothing puts more fear into the heart of a PR professional than an errant blogger comment about your company that spreads like wildfire on the Internet. Learning how to deal with situations like that - and using the Internet to your advantage to spread the "good news" about your company - really is a new art form in the world of marketing. I have a friend whose college-age son is majoring in Communications (like I did) and minoring in New Media (something that did not exist back in the dinosaur age when I was in school). Having an official title to an area of study just goes to show the power and prevalence of Web 2.0 in our brave new world (blogs, social networking sites, etc.) But I digress...

Let me get down to the business of introducing myself. My name is Michele Fanning and I am a 32-year-old female who recently became a mom in November 2007. Up until that point, I had a 10 year career (as aforementioned) in marketing. I always defined myself through my job. I think most of us do without even realizing it. Think about how often you have been asked "what do you do?" Or, think about how often that has been one of the first questions you ask upon meeting someone. Until November I was "Michele, the Marketing Director". Now when people ask me this question, I tend to mumble something like "well, I'm at home with my son now, but I'm trying to figure out what I want to do, I've looked into some options and..." and by this point, the person asking has lost all interest or just can't understand me because I'm mumbling. Bottom line: I love being a mom, but what's my next move? Go back to school? Find part time work? Attempt to freelance? Regardless, one thing I've learned is that I can't be defined by what I do. None of us can. We are our character, our family, our values. We are not our jobs. Now, what does that mean? Not entirely sure what it means for me at this point, but I intend to find out...