Conversations with my husband...

I was going to put up a post that's been rolling around in my mind - but, it is not currently upbeat, funny, or all around thrilling.  So?  I'm waiting on that one.  I've had enough posts lately that are all blah, blah, blah, hard parenting, boo hoo, blah, blah blah.

I'm feeling a bit more fun today, so, welcome to this weeks telephone conversations with Tony.

Monday:

Tony: hello?

Me: The iron is broken.  It's not working.  What did you do to get it to work last night?

Tony:  Did you plug it in?

Me:  *insert incredulity* Yes!  Of course I plugged it in.  In 3 different outlets, even!

Tony: Did you turn it on?

Me:  Seriously?  These are your questions?  Of course I turned it on!  It's not rocket science - it's an iron!!!

Tony:  It still isn't working?  It was working for me last night.

Me:  Hanging up now.  I'll go to Target and get another.  Thanks for the great questions.

Tuesday:

Tony: hello?

Me:  I need you to come home from work.

Tony: Why?  What's wrong?

Me: There's a spider on the ceiling.  It's following me around the living room.

Tony: Seriously?  You called about a spider?  Kill it!

Me:  You know that's your expertise.

Tony: Have Olivia kill it.

Me: Um, she can't reach.  We tried that.  What's your next suggestion?  Are you going to make sure that I plugged it in?

Tony: Get a broom, sweep it to the floor stomp on it.

Me: No - too much chance of losing it, or falling on someone's head, namely mine.

Tony: Then just watch it until I come home.

Me: So, you're just going to leave it here until later?

Tony: Yep

Me:  This conversation will be recorded for the divorce hearings.

Later Tuesday:

Tony: What did you do about that spider?

Me, said in my most self-absorbed overly inflated wonder woman voice:  Well, I actually killed two birds with one stone.  I got the small bottle that held Gerber apple juice from when Olivia was a baby that for some reason is in our tupperware cabinet since 2005 and has even moved with us.  I got that bottle and the step ladder.  I reached really high and trapped the spider. But, I was too short to try to push it in with a card, so I had to hope it jumped in on it's own (spider suicide).  I took the bottle away from the ceiling, slowly, and what do you know, it was in the bottle.  I quickly put the top on that bottle, and went and put on my flat soled shoes.  I took the bottle outside, and dumped that spider on the ground.  And then, I stomped that little bastard, (insert re-enactment of stomping), and threw away that bottle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And, just for kicks, here's a picture of Olivia, looking purely evil with the cat that actually seems to adore her, even though he is obviously not having a good time.

Free to be Tonsil-free....

So, as you may remember from a few months ago, Tony had his tonsils out.  I may have mentioned then that Olivia was next in line, then possibly Mia.

Last Thursday, we dropped Mia at the sitter and proceeded to the hospital.  Olivia, Tony and I.  I was freaking out, a little (or a lot, whatever), on the inside.  I couldn't show Olivia that I was scared - she needed to be brave.  Why was I scared?  I mean, a tonsillectomy is major surgery.  (Insert sarcastic expression here).  No, I was more worried because she would do this without me.  She was going to be going through something major, and I would not be able to be right there, by her side, to protect her.  That is what was freaking me out.  There is also the unknowns - again, because I wouldn't be there, holding her hand, watching out for her.  I wanted to cry when they wheeled her away from me.  I was on edge the entire half an hour she was in surgery.  I know it seems silly, but, this kid has been with me for almost everything since she was born.  So, yeah, it's this whole growing up and cutting the cord thing that I can't handle.  She's only 8.  Which is only 8 years from driving.  I can only imagine how many tears, fears, frustrations and advice I will have to repress over the next 8 years as she grows closer to adulthood and further away from my baby.  You know?  People warn you about not sleeping when you have a baby, and they warn you about teething.  They tell you how special that first smile, first word, first step will be.  They warn you that girls will be easier at first, but will be harder during the teen years - and that boys are the opposite (couldn't tell you if this is true or not).  But, they don't tell you that letting them grow and letting them fly is the hardest thing about being a parent.

This is the patient, patiently waiting on the nurses.  She was a trooper though!  She did great!  She got an IV and only screamed a little - after the nurse told her she could.  She was not nervous at all - unless she is awesome at hiding it.  Which is entirely possible.  She freaked out a little after she woke up, but has been mostly fine since then.  She is bored sitting at home with me, but we will endure, and take pictures together. Pictures with goofy smiles.  While she can still stand to be near me, and I can enjoy keeping her close to me.

I'm feeling a pictorial coming on...

Splashing!

Feeling a little lost right now, gonna work on helping Tara back to the forefront this week.  Instead of writing, enjoy some fun in the sun pictures from father's day.  We gave Tony the gift of time away!  Much needed time to himself to go crazy biking (my term).  Olivia set up and filled up our little pool, then they played while I took pictures.  This lasted all of about 20 minutes.  Then we went inside to continue the never ending laundry and watch Goldmember, together.  It was kind of funny watching this movie with the girls - ewwwing, and laughing, and enjoying the colors, and ewwwing some more.

Jumping!

Smaller splashing!

Together Splashing!

Sister fun

More pool fun

Baby MJ!  Luv the tongue!

Random picture from dinner in Chicago.  Remember - we love our pets, but we don't LOVE our pets. 

Liv and Daddy

Mia and Daddy

525,600 minutes...

How do you measure a year in your life?

Good question, right?

In case you hadn't guessed from the title, I saw RENT last weekend.  Yes, I know it's no longer 1996, but the story stands up.  Also, my brother played Roger, so, I was really eager to go see!

I have always, always, always wanted to see Rent.  Outside of Grease, it's the only musical that I was really interested in seeing.  This was finally my chance, and I wasn't going to miss it!

I talked to my grandmother about this play and she said it was depressing - so depressing, in fact, that she actually walked out of it.  So, I was not thinking this was going to be a happy go lucky musical version of whatever the story was.  That's right - I didn't know the story - just that it was darker and apparently depressing.

Can I tell you something?  I LOVE LOVE LOVED this musical!  I have never before cried (or dribbled some saline) at a play/musical.  I cried about 3 times, or was trying to hold it in, at least three times.

The story takes place in the late '80's/early '90's.  The setting - New York.  The characters are poor artists, trying to make their own way through the life that they have been given.  The characters have problems, such as drug addictions, depression, and mostly - AIDS.  You remember those days, right?  When it seemed like the whole world was stricken with this disease?  It was in the news, all the time.  Safe sex was preached over and over.  You talked about the repercussions of sharing a needle, sharing an open mouth kiss, sharing a toilet seat.  Granted, some were myths, but, the country was scared.

This story was not as dark or depressing as I had thought.  On the contrary, I found it to be optimistic and universal.  The story centers on a young group of people, in their twenties and possibly thirties.  It centers on their ideals, and art.  But mostly, it's about life.  It's about the different ways we muddle through our own lives.  It's about how we deal with the problems, traumas, and gifts in our own life.  It's about accepting love, and giving it in return.  It's about accepting people.  It's about how groups of people (friends and family) can come together, but also how they can come apart.  It's about life.

I just loved this musical, this story.  Watch how these people deal with their traumas, with their hardships, with the unexpected, with love and with loss. Watching the characters as they deal with the life that they are living, and getting up each day, and loving each other and how difficult that can be.  Watch how brutally honest we can be to each other, but lying to ourselves.  Watch how we can hurt those we love, as well as to embrace them.

This show was so easily relateable.  How can you not relate to unexpected love, knocking at your door, or offering a scarf?  How can you not relate to losing a loved one?  Can you relate to making the best of a not yet lost situation?

Congratulations to my brother - so far, this is my favorite theater experience!

Me, Cari and Jory.  Apparently it was too bright for my eyes.

Cari and Jory again

Jesus Christ Superstar (JCS for short)

My super cute hubby

Cari and Jory (Cari was in town)

Cari, Jory, Tony

The "will you stop taking pictures?" picture

All of us

It must be summer, because my cameras out...

Getting ready

I curled her hair - I swear!

It just didn't stay curled.

Today, we had the big dance recital for the girls.  Yay!  They did GREAT!! I mean it!  Olivia is a natural on the stage - she smiles, she recovers from mistakes, she loves that spotlight.  And, I'm pretty sure she saves her best stuff for the stage.  Mia, was great as well.  She wasn't smiling, but she did her routine really well.  And, in true toddler fashion, came and sat with me and fell asleep for the second act.  Not only did she drool all over me (looked like a lactation overload in the worst way), but she was snoring so loudly, people that were across the aisle from us were looking and giggling.  But, here are the pictures, I know you will love them!  P.s. If any family wants copies (edited or un-edited), call, email, facebook and let me know.

Miss Liv

Playing and posing

Just being gorgeous!

Luv this pic

Together

Mia's face is priceless in this one!

I  can't tell if she's posing, or scratching her feet

I think this makes her look like an old-timey salon girl.

Sassmatazz!

Beauty improved, self-esteem takes a hit...

Have you ever noticed that these beauty treatments that we go through, to help us look more beautiful can often be hurtful physically and to our self-esteem?

Three of us from work went together today to get our eyebrows threaded on lunch.  One was asking if she should get her lip threaded as well.  I mean, really?  Lips need to lose hair now too, I guess.  Plus, her lip hair is highly non-noticeable, so it seemed like an exercise in torture to do this.

We get there, and I warned that I would cry.  My eyes/skin are very sensitive, and the tears had started almost immediately.  Please try to understand for all those that do this regularly, the area that used to have hair is usually bleeding, they have to rub the gel on, my eyes are watering and I truly feel that this is a special torture.  BUT - the bonus is that I really only need to get this done once every three months. So, four times a year, I endure.

Today was different though.  After the torture monger finished my brows, she offered to do my lip.  Not my co-workers lip, but MINE!  WHAT?!?!?!? 

Are those hairs really that noticeable?!?!?!  Crap on toast.  Now, I must go home and pluck so that my new found upper lip warmer doesn't get too comfortable for the summer.

Seriously - what's a girl to do?  I had no idea that I had a mustache, just a few stray hairs.  And by a few, I mean less than four.  AND, these are blond hairs, hard to see.

That crazy woman saw them though. Oh God.  I'm not even 34 yet.  I don't have many gray hairs, but the offer is there to thread my lip.  Can you imagine what that would look like?  My lip would be bleeding, red, raw and it would be highly noticeable to all that come around me that my mustache was just treated.  So, instead of graying early, I get to look forward to facial hair.

If I'm getting facial hair, shouldn't I be rewarded with menopause too?  Sometimes, being a girl sucks the big hairy mustache. 

What it means to me...

As I sit here in my darkened bedroom, contemplating my evening of fighting/helping my oldest to bathe herself - not playing, but actually bathing and soothing my youngest as mysterious pains in her knees cause her much pain.  After providing relief in the form of ibuprofen, while rocking her in my arms, worried that this is juvenile arthritis and hoping its just growing pains, I sit in my bedroom wondering what this means to me.

I started thinking about this earlier today - what it means to be done with the baby phase.  I really never planned to have two kids, I always wanted three.  I choose, however, to have a life that is good and happy for my little family of four.  I choose to be able to retire at a normal time of life.  I choose to pay for my mortgage and hopefully keep my lovely little home.  I choose to be able to support my kids as they grow older and go to college, get married, and have kids themselves.  This means that I choose not to have a third child.

I would love to have another baby.  I wish that I could not think about the fact that to work a third child into our lifestyle, we would both need bigger cars.  We would need to start all over again with car seats, clothes, diapers, formula, strollers, play pens, blankets, diaper bags.  We would be giving less attention to Olivia, and less to Mia.  We would have less time to ourselves.  We would be giving up going out, and giving gifts, and visiting family.  We would strap ourselves down for even more payments to child care.

I wish I could forget about all this, throw it out the window, and fulfill my hearts desire that there really is another member of this family waiting to join us.  But....I can't.  These are the hard choices that we make as adults, as parents, as dreamers.

This choice means something to me.  It means that I will never again get to have a baby all to myself.  I will never again get to be the person that baby runs to when they are hurt.  I will not get to be that special person that makes a baby smile as they get up in the morning, or be the person to comfort them as they try to sleep at night.  I will get to be an aunt (I hope), and a grandmother (I hope), but, and this is a HUGE but, I will not get to be a babies' mom again.

I always thought that I would know, before the last baby was born, that this baby would be my last.  That's not how it happened for me.  I thought Mia would be my number two, on the way to three.  But, Mia will be my last baby.  Not that there is anything medically wrong, by the way, this is the choice we have made.  The choice we feel is right for our family.

Being a mom is the best and most fun thing I've done in my life - through the crying nights, and worries about sick kids, through the accomplishments of growing up.  But saying goodbye to dreams, and wishes, and plans from a younger time is just one of the harder parts of growing up in my own right.

Linking up with Shell for PYHO.