My Mommy Vacation

So I'm in Raleigh tonight, preparing for a full day of client meetings tomorrow. In other words, a "Mommy Vacation!" (People, beggars cannot be choosers. If this gets me one day of sleeping until 7 a.m. and 24 hours without the Disney Channel, it's a vacation.)

Don't get me wrong. I'm missing my Knight and my Princesses like crazy. Princess E is spending the night with a friend from school, and Princess G is probably curled up asleep on Daddy's chest as I write this (she's the best cuddle-bunny ever). But a break from the usual routine every once in a while recharges my internal batteries faster than anything else.

I used to feel guilty about wanting (and taking) an occasional "break" like this - you don't hear about previous generations of women getting breaks from the backbreaking work and large families that were the norm. But, what they did have that we really don't anymore is a "village" - the extended family and close friends who all pitched in and helped out when one of their own needed extra help. When a woman had a baby, everyone pitched in around the clock for weeks to help. When the kids were old enough to play outside, everyone watched them, and everyone kept the kids out of (too much) trouble.

There was a real sense of community, because there had to be - but I think it was something more. The feeling of "we're all in this together" was tangible - women truly needed each other, and there was no shame in depending on each other. It was simply the right thing to do.

Now I'm not naive enough to think this camaraderie happened everywhere. But it happened a heck of a lot more often in previous generations than now. In my opinion, the camaraderie is a casualty of the "I am woman. I can do everything whenever I want by myself" way of thinking. In an effort to embrace our independence, have we chained ourselves to a lifetime of stress, frustration, unreachable goals and loneliness?

I can't have it all. I don't want it all. Because if I got it all, then what would I do? What's left after getting it all?

Here's what I do want: healthy children who love the Lord, respect themselves and others and have hearts full of compassion; a loving partnership with my husband that includes a lot of laughter; and to never forget that I am (thankfully) not in charge, but am here by God's mercy and blessed by His grace every day, even - no, especially - when things look their darkest.

So in the spirit of not having it all, I'm enjoying my Mommy Vacation, knowing my family is safe and okay without me for one night. And I'm still not missing the Disney Channel.

My Knight In Shining Chocolate

Yes, I know my last hubby post was not the most complimentary. Shame on me - I should have known my knight would redeem himself, just as he has done numerous times throughout our 15-year marriage (which is why we're still happily married, BTW - men, start taking notes now).

Last week was brutal. Picking up from the weekend, Princess G got croup, resulting in several nights of little sleep. I, of course, also got a cold, and as a result of that and the lack of rest, was hit with a major flare-up of the genetic disorder I have, Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. I have Type III (aka hypermobility syndrome), which means (short version) that while I can bend like a pretzel (Yes, I know what you're thinking. My hubby is very grateful. And y'all are so bad.), my joints aren't held together very well because my collagen is weak. Not only am I easily injured, but I sometimes have "flare-ups" which make my joints almost unbearably ache. Think you're worst body aches with a bad flu - it's worse than that. When this happens, I just want to lie in bed in the fetal position and not be touched, because the slightest pressure can make the pain worse.

Of course, I'm a mommy, so lying in bed is completely out of the question. Added to that, I'd like to keep my part-time PR job, and in this awful economy, we've all got to be in there justifying our existence or we're gone. So, I continued as usual with my week, albeit without the rather upbeat disposition I usually have. Sometimes I can fake smile my way through the flare-ups; this one was so bad it took all I had to stay on my feet. Being cheerful was simply beyond my reach, and by the end of the week, I was exhausted from the pain and getting increasingly frustrated with the princesses for no other reason than being spent.

Believe it or not, ladies, one call to dear hubby to ask if he could take over princess duty as soon as he got home so I could hit the hay was all it took. I got to go to bed by 7 p.m. Thursday night (heaven!), sleep all night long without interruption, and even sleep in a little (OK, 6:30 a.m., but still!). Saturday afternoon I got a nice long nap, and - here's where he really earns his armor - at dinner Sir Knight declares it "Happy Mommy Day" and whips out the most delicious chocolate cake you've ever eaten in your life. He said that if Hallmark can make up holidays, so can he. I wish I had gotten a photo of it, but you know the princesses and I around chocolate - you best just throw it at us and run if you want to remain out of harm's way.

So yes, he does "forget" to take out the bathroom trash until it threatens to bury the potty. And yes, he does sometimes sit there relaxing in his recliner and give me that "huh, me?" look when I ask him to help with housecleaning. And yes, he has the memory of a gnat. Sometimes I wonder how he remembers the way home every night.

But the man does know when to bring home some chocolate for Mama. And he knows how to stroke my hair during a flare-up when that's the only thing anyone can touch on me without screaming. And, despite all his flaws - and, more importantly, all mine - he loves me. In the grand scheme of things, is there really anything else that I need?

Guilty Pleasures

Given the hectic schedule the Royal Family has been keeping lately, I've been determined to make the holidays as relaxing as possible for all of us. (Yes, I know I'm delusional. And yes, the sky in my world is a lovely shade of fuchsia. With chocolate clouds and M&M rainbows. I never do anything halfway.)

Anywhoo, we've been sleeping late, watching fun movies, having tea parties, playing with Barbies and just generally being lazy. By "we" I of course mean me and the King. The Princesses have been fending for themselves - they're pretty resourceful when they need to be. Heh heh.

Seriously, though, I have managed to indulge in a few guilty pleasures amongst the multiple viewings of "Kung Fu Panda" and reenactments of Cinderella losing her glass slipper at the ball. I've been re-reading one of my favorite books, David Starkey's stellar biography of Elizabeth I. (Yes, I'm a big geeky anglophile, and I read Elizabethan history for fun. There's that fuchsia sky again.)

And, I've been catching up on TiVo'ed episodes of one of my favorite shows, A&E's "Intervention," which should be named "The 1,000+ Ways to Screw Up Your Kid So That They're Guaranteed to Need an Intervention." Given the backgrounds of most of the people featured on the show, I think I'd be amazed if they weren't addicted to something. It's the total train-wreck phenomenon - it's awful, but you can't look away. I think I need an intervention for "Intervention."

Or, maybe I just need to put down the remote and go host another tea party. Sleeping Beauty always needs a backup hostess for her parties - poor thing can't ever keep her eyes open.

Daddy Comes Through

For the first time in 13 years of employment, my dear hubby called in a favor at the Midwestern theme park where he lives (sorry, I meant works) to ensure a celebrity encounter for the Princesses. Princess E was speechless, Princess G had the same look she had when she met Cinderella, and I got a moment to thank Vanessa Hudgens for making movies the whole family can see - and let her know we're all looking forward to opening night of HSM3.


For the record, Miss Hudgens is even more beautiful in person, and she was as nice as could be, temporarily abandoning her pre-concert dinner to shake our hands and take a photo. She put on a great concert, too - her very first solo concert promoting her new CD - and it was adorable to see a whole row of her family and friends, just proud as punch, cheering her on.

Thanks, dear hubby - sometimes your job really is cool.

Party Like A (38-Year-Old) Rock Star

I had a ridiculously awesome birthday yesterday. I can't say thank you enough to everyone who made it great. In a nutshell, I:

• woke up and went downstairs to find roses, streamers and balloons on the kitchen table;
• found my email and Facebook page loaded with birthday wishes - what sweet people y'all are!
• got a great 80-minute massage at this spa (thanks to a couple of gift certificates from wonderful people);
• got my annual "Happy Birthday" phone call from my mom precisely at 10:46 a.m. (can't wait to do this to the Princesses - aka "my alarm clock babies" when they're in college - at 12:20 a.m. and 3:11 a.m. respectively. Hee hee.)
• had a lovely lunch with the always entertaining Nancy - and had this dessert;
• picked up a great new book;
• took said book to the pool and kicked back under a big umbrella for a couple of hours of reading (and a short but highly satisfying catnap);
• went home and sacked out on the couch until the Princesses and my personal Prince Charming came in - without a doubt the best way to wake up;
• ate a massive cheeseburger personally (and perfectly) prepared by the Prince;
• topped that off with a large piece of Maggie's Mud cake; then
• had the Princesses roll me upstairs to bed, where the Prince rubbed my feet until I went to sleep - and then he went down and cleaned the kitchen. And didn't want noogie afterward.

Ah, it's good to be the Queen.

My Dad Has Cancer

Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma, to be exact. His prognosis is very good - two to three months of chemotherapy, then a bone marrow biopsy and PET scan to make sure it hasn't spread. His doctors are very positive, as is he. My dad is otherwise healthy, exercises every day and eats well - heck, he's probably in better shape than I am. He took the news hard at first, but then he rallied, and now he's ready to get going ASAP and whip this thing.

My mom has researched the heck out of lymphoma (under better circumstances, I'm convinced my mother would have gone to medical school and been a fantastic doctor), found one of the best oncologists around to care for my dad, and has already started her compilation of notes from doctor visits, taken - as all her important notes are - in shorthand. (She may have been a better spy than doctor.) :-P

My 16-year-old sister (yes, she was a surprise baby!) is taking it in stride, wanting to go to all the doctor visits with Mom & Dad and stay on top of everything. (Yep, she's planning to go premed in college.)

I think I'm still in the stunned phase. I think it's just because this week was so completely overwhelming I'm just now starting to process things. Last Sunday I had to jump in on a massive and fast-moving new business pitch that dominated the first part of the week - lots of working day and night on this one. Monday afternoon came the news about my dad. Tuesday night Princess G began running a fever that would only get worse as the week progressed, resulting in no real sleep for several nights...which just makes your brain hurt.

Beyond hurting for my family, I'm hurting for my friends. One has just lost her mother. Another is about to lose her dad. Yet another is in a great deal of emotional pain - I don't know why, and she doesn't want to share yet. And another just tried again to reach a goal she's tried to make several times, and she didn't make it. There's so much pain going on around me right now, and I don't have arms big enough to hold everyone....and maybe that's the lesson God is trying to teach me. Humility is a difficult lesson, especially for someone whose usual M.O. is always to say, "I can do that!"

But I can't. I can't save my dad from the harsh reality of cancer, no matter how positive the diagnosis, or the pain of chemotherapy. I can't save my baby from fever and chills and sickness. I can't save my friends from the pain of losing their loved ones, or whatever is hurting them. All can really do is get down on my knees and pray to the One whose arms are big enough to hold us all - pray that my dad will continue to fight, that my mom and sister will be supportive and will ask for support when they need it, that my friends who are losing their parents will find peace, that my friend who can't talk about her pain yet will open up to God, if to no one else, to soothe her aching heart.

So I pray...and I cry...and I depend on my faith, which some people may think is stupid and naive, but which, at the end of the day, is really the only thing we truly have to hang onto in this hard, cold, imperfect world that sometimes seems as though it's spiraling out of control. It may be, but He is not - and when everything around me is swirling, all I can do is get on my knees and hang onto Him.

My dad has cancer - and whether on earth or in Heaven, he is going to be okay. Thank you, Lord, for that knowledge and that comfort. I pray that my other friends who are hurting so much will find that comfort, too.

DIRECTV, You're Killing Me

So I decided to switch cable TV service from Charter Communications to DIRECTV. Why? Besides being just stupid expensive, Charter has really bad customer service - almost as bad as Ameren, Missouri's electricity provider.

Side note: Yes, that's right, St. Louis is proud to be the headquarters location of two of the worst customer service companies in America. Is it that whole "Show Me" concept gone bad...or just a coincidence?

Anyway, my DIRECTV installation was set for Saturday, Aug. 11 from 8 a.m.-noon. No problem. The princesses have an inability to sleep past 6 a.m., so 8 a.m. is like mid-morning to us. Here's how the day unfolds:

• We're ready and waiting at 8 a.m. - and at 9 a.m. - and at 10 a.m. (are you seeing a pattern here?)
• 11 a.m. - I get a call from the local DIRECTV contractor asking if I had heard from the technician. Nope, nothin'.
• 11:45 a.m. - another call from the contractor saying that the technician's truck is broken down somewhere, and they're working to get a replacement out ASAP.
• 12:30 p.m. - contractor's assistant calls asking me if it's okay to reschedule me for a 1-6 p.m. installation time slot. I say fine, but as soon as possible would be great. She says I should hear from the technician soon with an ETA.
• 3:30 p.m. - give up on hearing from the technician and call the contractor to see what's up. They sound surprised I haven't heard from the tech (yeah, right) and promise to track him down ASAP.
• 3:45 p.m. - the tech team leader calls to tell me he's frantically calling the tech trying to find him, but he's not responding - promises that either he or the tech will call me back ASAP. He's very apologetic - good to know he was paying attention during that part of his training.
• 4 p.m. - tech team leader calls again to say he's left messages on the tech's voicemail and has emailed the tech supervisors, who theoretically have Blackberries in the field and usually respond quickly. Again, very apologetic - I'm beginning to think this guy deals with drama like this all the time.
• 4:55 p.m. - the contractor's assistant calls to say that they have no one available to do my installation today and can they reschedule for Monday? I say no, since hubby and I both work on Mondays - it'll have to be Tuesday, but it better be 8 a.m. Tuesday. She apologizes - I don't buy it.
• 5:05 p.m. - After digesting all this (I'm a step back and plan my next move kind of gal), I call DIRECTV to let them know how incompetent their contractors are and to express incredulity that there are no available techs in the St. Louis area. DIRECTV, like any responsible corporation, apologizes and then passes the buck back to the techs, transferring me back to the local tech office. I go through the whole incompetent/incredulity spiel again - they apologize and vow to call the supervisor immediately to try to fix the situation. I get a name and number to call in case I haven't heard from anyone in ten minutes.
• 5:10 p.m. - the contractor's assistant calls again, a smidge snippy that the situation she thought was resolved has reared its ugly head again. She says that all their techs are working in North County (for those unfamiliar with the 'Lou, we've got sectors - West County, South County, North County, - that I swear sometimes rivals Berlin's segmentation after World War II) until 9 p.m., all the scheduled customers of the broken-down truck tech had to be rescheduled, and there was absolutely nothing she could do. I explain (in a slightly snippier voice than she had) that since I have two small children who have played in every room in the house multiple times and would literally melt if I took them outside (98 degrees, and it ain't a dry heat, people), I need the Disney Channel pronto. She apologizes again (big whoop) and swears she'll have a tech here at 8 a.m. Monday morning (thank you, Standing Partnership, for work-from-home privileges). She also promises to pass along my comment that having no backup for a broken down tech truck is a really stupid way to run a business.

Will the DIRECTV technician show up Monday morning? Will I resort to crashing a friend's house Sunday after church for a change of scenery to avoid an all out Princess War? Will I end up telling DIRECTV where to stick their satellite dish? Stay tuned...

My Daughter the Cat Burglar

I'm so proud.

Princess Grace (the almost two-year-old) has had cat burglar tendencies from the moment she started crawling. She is apparently blessed with a complete lack of fear coupled with the fold-yourself-in-half skill of a Cirque du Soleil contortionist. This is not a good combination. We've found her in a number of strange places through the house - the top of the pantry, on her way to the top of the refrigerator and on top of a bookcase, to name a few. Her older sister, Princess Elizabeth, finds this hysterical and encourages the baby princess to climb as many things as possible. Then, like any good sister, Princess Elizabeth runs and tells on her.

Yeah, I know - the whole family loyalty concept is a work in progress.

Anyway, earlier this week Princess Grace escaped from her crib. Instead of doing it the usual way - climbing over, then falling to the floor and shrieking hysterically - our baby cat burglar somehow manages to quietly scale the crib side and lower herself to the floor, then walk silently over to her closed door and begin rattling it. She greets her daddy, who has gone to free the dog he thinks is stuck in the room rattling the door to get out, with a huge smile and a giggle.

Needless to say, the crib railing has been replaced with the transition railing, and two baby gates are stacked up in her doorway - they'll hopefully slow her down a little.

Since I'm all about being the supportive parent encouraging the development of my child's natural talents, I have to ask - anyone know the best school for advanced cat burglar training?

God Has a Sense of Humor

Rule #1 regarding sick children: If they can both get sick at the same time - especially if upchucking is involved - they will. You'll know God's going for a belly laugh if mom is similarly afflicted and dad is out of town.

Rule #2: The moment you manage to drag everyone to the doctor (after a harrowing car ride where you're audibly begging everyone in the car, including yourself, not to upchuck), fevers will magically drop and the kids will begin asking for milkshakes. The doctor will give you the "I'll put up with you because you're paying me to check out your non-sick children, but you're a hypochondriac" look and send you home with instructions to rest, push liquids and Advil - and maybe schedule a mom-only vacation sometime soon.

Rule #3: At least one of the kids will throw up in the car on the way home.

Rule #4: The horrible smell will force you to pull over on the way home so you can throw up.

Rule #5: After you get them all home, cleaned up, tucked into various comfortable positions on the living room couches and asleep, you'll collapse in a chair thinking you just can't do this anymore. Then you'll flip through TV channels and catch a late night running of "Oprah" - the one with the families of autistic children talking so eloquently about their daily struggles and sacrifices just to get their children to put a shirt on or say "hi." You'll get down on your knees, thank God you have two (usually) healthy children and ask God to forgive you for griping about the occasional barf.

Rule #6: You'll wake up the next morning to the sound of "She's taking my puzzle!" and "She hit me with the book!"...and you'll smile...partly because your kids are now back to normal, and partly because your husband is now home, so you can kick him out of bed (gently and with much love, of course) to handle it. :-)

Welcome to the 21st century

I've finally taken the plunge...I'm officially a blogger. My friend Marijean will be so proud!

Now what do I do? Oh, yeah...write. Be witty, but succinct. Sound intelligent, but not pretentious. Be entertaining, not annoying. And remember, anyone could read this:

• My co-workers at Standing Partnership - who I think already believe I'm way too opinionated and slightly...ahem...off. (Southernese alert: If you're not Southern, you may not recognize that "off" is our polite way of saying "just plain crazy.")
• My friends who blog - in particular the aforementioned Marijean (who's probably really regretting right about now that she ever encouraged me to blog) and Maria (who's also Southern and thus very forgiving of a fellow Belle - thank you, sweetie!).
• My peers in the public relations industry - this list is beginning to make me nervous.
• My family and friends - and since I cannot live without my mother's Thanksgiving Day stuffing, be assured that there will be no mom-bashing on this blog (love you, Mom!)
• Ex-boyfriends, high school divas, and college friends who all knew me when I was an incredible dork - and who mostly ditched me because I was such a dork.
• If our dear Lord Jesus doesn't finally throw in the towel anytime soon to come back and rescue us from the mess we humans have generally made of things, maybe even my little girls (who I'll ever-after in this blog refer to as Princess Elizabeth [the four-year-old] and Princess Grace [the two-year-old]) may someday read this. Girls, my dreams for you include happiness, peace and the need for only limited therapy after being raised by me.

Yeah...wow...okie-dokie...what a list. Uh, gonna go rethink this whole blog idea now over a very large bowl of something chocolate. If I get my courage up again, I'll try to waddle back soon.