Thinking About...

Just thinking about...

That pig in the Geico commercials, you know the one that drives a convertible and a jet ski.
He always has a witty comeback and gets the hot skinny blonde.
He uses the Geico app to make faster claims when his car gets damaged.
NO WAY would his fat pig "hands" be able to use that app!
I'm not buying it.
At.
All.
Pigs are smart, don't get me wrong.
But use the little app features with those hooves?
Not never.

Currently my children believe in Santa, the Easter Bunny, mermaids, Bigfoot, the Tooth Fairy, and the man in the moon.
The jury is still out on God.

We have seen life and death on the farm in the past few weeks.
Wrens have grown and left the nest in the barn.
Tadpoles are using the animal water trough as their growing grounds.
The neighbor's cat who comes over to bully our cats was found dead at the edge of our yard.
A toad (that Gigi had named Toad- Toad) was found dead in the water trough.
A large male rabbit was found in our pasture fence.
Stuck with one half of it's body not able to get through the small wire squares.
Saddest thing I've ever seen.
We held two funerals.
One for Toad-Toad and one for that poor rabbit.
Life and death on the farm.

Zoe participated in the third piano recital of her piano career.
I was a nervous wreck.
I told her after it was all over that I get sooooo nervous before she plays.
She didn't understand why since, "I'm the one playing with everyone staring, mom! Not you!"
I told her it's the mom-gene.
Can't be helped.

Shows I don't watch and have zero desire to watch...
Modern Family
Duck Dynasty
Fox News
How I Met Your Mother
American Idol

Shows I do watch and can't get enough of...
Call The Midwife
Mr. Selfridge
River Monsters...just 'cause I have a thing for extreme sporting guys with accents who are tan and have silver hair.
Good Luck Charlie
Roseanne reruns...as I've gotten older and married and become a mother I've realized something.
I'm Roseanne Connor.
Wow.

Take Me Out To The Ballgame

Part two in the series "Music Mondays in May" from my

blog group Homesteaders & Homeschoolers.

I have been going to major league baseball games since I can remember.

My dad is a huge St. Louis Cardinals fan.

I don't know how that happened really since his mother (whose home I live in) was an even bigger Chicago Cubs fan.

I guess he wanted to root for a team that didn't have it's fans in tears at the end of September, every year.

So, because of my dad's unwavering love for the redbirds of Missouri, I spent many days and nights at Busch stadium.

Eating cotton candy from a bag and scouring the seats looking for Fredbird.

Doing the wave and then begging my dad to leave "because it's the 11th inning and this tie is never going to end!"

And always singing from the top of my lungs during the 7th inning stretch to Take Me Out To The Ballgame.

The quintessential "Baseball in America" song.

I moved to Chicago in 1994.

I started going to Cub games.

It's what everyone does.

Wrigley Field.

It's a passage of sorts.

To sit in the confines of the ivy covered walls.

To get a seat behind a pole so you can't see a thing.

To get a SRO ticket (Standing Room Only).

But it didn't matter when the 7th inning stretch came up.

After the visitor's at bat and before the home team had their turn to bat in the 7th inning, he appeared.

Harry Carey.

It was a momentous thing to sing along to Take Me Out To The Ballgame with this true American symbol of baseball.

I thought of my grandma every time.

He would hang out of the booth and was such a huge presence and it's a memory I won't forget.

But, we too got tired of losing.

Of hanging out with a group of people who didn't really seem to care too much about the game before them.

Who instead were more interested in taking pictures of themselves with their friends, talking on their phones, and of being obnoxious under the beer stupor they were in...mind you, this was not everyone at Wrigley field. But it seemed to be that way everytime we went.

We then moved our allegiance to the south side of Chicago.

To the White Sox.

I think it was in 2002.

Zoe was born in February of 2005 and her first baseball game was in May of 2005.

It was dog day at the park, so we took our two kids...Zoe and our dog Madison.

The Chicago White Sox won the World Series that year and we took in the ticker tape parade the city threw for them downtown.

We had made the right decision to move.

We also made sure that Zoe knew every word to Take Me Out To The Ballgame by the age of two.

Both girls have been to numerous major league baseball games.

Gigi went to her first game at the age of 6 1/2 months.

It was in Cardinal territory, though.

We do go with grandpa to St. Louis.

He's tried brainwashing them to become St. Louis fans, but it's not working.

They have both Chicago and St. Louis apparel and banners in their rooms.

Baseball is a big deal in our house.

And as long as they love the game and love singing at the top of their lungs during the middle of the 7th inning while their faces are covered in ice cream and cotton candy, I know we have done something right with these girls.

Lets Go White Sox!

Viva Las Vegas

Part one in the series "Music Mondays in May" for my blog group Homesteaders & Homeschoolers.

Music has always been a big part of my life.
My father is one of those young dads.
He was twenty when I was born in 1971.
Because of his young age, my young life was submerged in the music that he loved.
One of those music loves was Elvis Presley.
My mom's sister, Jeanne, was a huge Elvis fan as well.
She even saw him live in concert not too long before he died.
Something I was always jealous of...come on, ELVIS! She saw THE Elvis!

In college my group of girlfriends were huge Elvis fans as well.
We knew the words to all of his songs and weren't afraid to belt them out at large decibels from our house on 916 Hovey Ave.
Graceland has been visited by all of us.
Las Vegas has been a travel destination for many of us since it's the land of Elvis Impersonators.
It's always fun to ride in an elevator next to a guy with huge sideburns and extra wide, dark sunglasses while trying not to snicker because Elvis is standing next to you.

I met Chad in the Fall of 1999.
We had a quick courtship and knew we wanted to do something out of the ordinary for our wedding.
We didn't have a lot of money so we knew we wanted to combine our wedding with a honeymoon.
A two for one deal.
Las Vegas sounded like the right place for us.
And when you think of Las Vegas and weddings you usually also think of Elvis.
It was decided.
We would get married in July in Vegas by Elvis.

Why we decided on July is beyond me.
Wait, I do remember...
my mom kept telling me "this date and that date won't work for me because of work."
Sigh...
So, the middle of July in the desert it would be.
I later remember declarations of "MY EYES ARE BURNING OUT OF MY HEAD!" from wedding guests because of the intense heat of the day.
Don't get married in the desert in July people.

This being the era before smart phones, we had to use a fax machine to get copies of restaurant menus from various places in Vegas for our "after the ceremony dinner."
We called and emailed a few different Elvis wedding places.
We picked the right place.
It was off of the strip and seemed like a real genuine place.
It was family owned and as I sit here and write this, I know we picked the very best spot.

Viva Las Vegas Wedding Chapel was where our wedding was held.
Thirty members of our family and friends made the trip to Las Vegas to be with us on our big day.
My niece was five years old at the time and since I wasn't going to have a flower girl, she instead became the camera girl.
She was in charge of handing out disposable cameras to each guest...remember this was before smart phones.
My girlfriend Tina stood up with me and Chad's brother Chris stood by his side.
I wore a black dress, 'cause I'm unconventional like that, and Chad wore shorts.
Elvis was great! (Elvis was the owner, Ron, and a super great guy.)
He sang three or four songs ( I forget the exact number now since it went down in 2000 and the heat of that day melted some of my brain away.)
He ended the ceremony with Viva Las Vegas and had the arm swings, lip curl, and leg lunges to go with it.
His white sequin suit filled the room with sparkles and was only overshadowed by the large amount of laughing, singing, and cheering by our guests.

It was a fantastic day and the start to a great journey with my hubbie Chad.

My best friend.
My source of support in what has become a difficult journey in our days as parents.
He makes me laugh and doesn't care when I fart in bed.
Well, he may care about that.
But all I have to do is starting singing Viva Las Vegas and all is forgiven...

Read more "Music on Monday" from...
Carla
Melissa
Laura

Going To Be Normal

Zoe is doing really well.
Her hair seems to be growing.
Her energy is way up.
She has normal sized bruises on her legs from playing out in the yard.
Any kind of bruising makes me nervous for her.
I look at the bruises and then keep looking at them to make sure they are going away in a traditional bruising kind of way.
For those that don't know...what peeked my curiosity about her in the September of 2010 were the large bruises she had developed on her legs and lower torso.
I'm talking 2 inch long bruises.
That were very dark.
And that never got better.
She is allowed to see her regular pediatrician now (all hail Dr. Benjamin Brooks!) if she has a sore throat or a sore ear or a sore anything.
Fevers still need to be addressed by the oncologist because she still has her port in place.
I just saw Dr. Brooks this morning (Gigi has a pussy red, pus filled, sore ear- poor girl) and I told him the news and we were both grinning like a couple of cats who spotted a fish flopping on the grass by the pond.
He saved her life and it's been a long time since he has been able to treat her.
She's a success story (knockin' on wood!) and we are fortunate that her cancer was caught when it was and that our pediatrician is a rock star.
I truly believe that if I had waited another week or two to take Zoe into the pediatrician in September of 2010 her outcome wouldn't be what it is today.
She more than likely wouldn't be here with us.

So, in honor of her life and the fact that she's doing so well now, I have a big treat for her...
I'm going to let her be a normal kid again.
I'm going to stop worrying so much.
I'm going to join her on her school field trip next week and we aren't going to worry about germs or fevers or "Hey, stop running!"
We are going to be like all of the other girl/mom groups that are out and about next week.
And the week after that.
And the week after that.
And the week after that...

Keeping Our Lives Upside Down

Part Two in a series from my Homesteaders & Homeschoolers group blog topic..."When and Why to Start a Family--Highlights and Lowlights"

We were only going to have one child.
It's easy to get around with just one child.
We could drive a small car.
Vacation would be that much cheaper.
Zoe was such a good kid.
No problems ever.
Then it happened.

I was so tired the spring of 2008.
I would tell Zoe (who was 3 years old) that mama was just going to close her eyes for a bit.
Two hours later I would wake up.
Remember, I said Zoe was a good kid.
She completely kept herself busy while I was zonked out on the couch.
Something felt "off" and I told Chad to pick up a pee stick for me on the way home from work.
Silence.
"Just do it!" I bellowed.

I peed on that stick, ate dinner, then went to check on the pee stick's status.
Sigh.
Positive.
I didn't want to be pregnant.
At all.
When did this conception even take place for gosh sakes?
Well, if I was going to be pregnant it had better all be for another girl.
Since I was over 35 years of age (another reason I didn't want to be pregnant) I had to go to a Maternal/Fetal Specialist.
The ultrasound tech that day was a man.
As was the doctor I saw.
Manness was ripe in the air that day.
They both declared that the fetus within my over 35 aged body was a male.
WHAT?!
I called Chad as I was leaving my appointment.
I paused on the skywalk when he answered.
"Thanks a lot."
He knew by those three words that there was a boy in my belly.
He knew that the sperm determines the sex of a fetus and he apologized.
Again and again.

I did come to terms with the fact that a wee penis was forming in my body.
I bought boy type clothing.
I bought boy type bedding.
We even discussed names and after some thought we decided our son would be named Oliver Ash and that he would grow up to be a MLB player.
I was good with things now.
I had conceded and had accepted that I would have a daughter and a son.
Zoe and Oli.
I had no morning sickness...again.
I received zero stretch marks...again.
It looked like a super-duper, extra-large pumpkin was stuffed under my shirt.
All was good.

Another planned c-section.
I was not going to do that VBAC crap (vaginal birth after cesarean) that the OB was pushing on me.
I had never felt a labor pain and was fine going to my grave having never felt one.
We picked the date of November 14th.
I had a real gung-ho doctor and she scheduled things bright and early.
So, Zoe went to grandma and grandpa's house for breakfast and Chad and I headed to the hospital to welcome our new son to the world.

So, as I'm strapped down in the crucifix position with painful gas bubbles rising up into my shoulders and a barf bucket next to me when it happened.
The baby was plucked from my uterus and the nurse standing behind me declared "that's not a boy."
Well then what in the hell was it?!
I'm supposed to be having a boy!
Was it really a cat this time?
Or was his hardware so mangled that he was going to need surgery to repair his stuff and he may look more like a mangled her?
The doctor then said "Nope that's a girl!"

After much explaining to my parents, the new big sister, relatives and friends whom Chad called, we were elated to have another daughter in our family.
We had to come up with a name quickly.
Oliver then became Gigi.
That's not short for anything, folks.
Just Gigi.

I'll never forget for as long as I live what my girlfriend Kelly told me later on..."I never knew anyone who could will away a penis like you did."
"If you want something bad enough, you can make it happen" was my response.
And I'm very thankful toward Chad's sperm.
I'm not mad at him anymore...

Check out my fellow Homesteaders & Homeschoolers "second in the series" blog stories on motherhood...
Laura @ Where Love Starts
Melissa @ Teach Academy
Carla @ Our Happy Chaos

Starting Life Upside Down

Part One in a series from my Homesteaders & Homeschoolers group blog topic..."When and Why to Start a Family"

Starting a family is something some girls dream about from childhood.
I was not one of those girls.
I didn't play with dolls.
During my early 20's I would emphatically state that I was NOT going to have kids.
I met my husband and we had a fast courtship (10 months).
After 5 years of hanging out with just him, traveling, enjoying each other's company, it happened.

I was in my early 30's and we were at Ravinia in Highland Park.
An outdoor music venue where you can sit on a blanket, drink beer, eat goat cheese and listen to Lyle Lovett, Elvis Costello, Peter Paul and Mary, or whoever happened to be making music that summer.
I don't remember who we were there to see, but I do remember what Chad said.
A young girl, probably 5 years old, ran by us on the sidewalk.
Chad said "isn't she cute?!"
And at that moment I knew that we needed to have a child.
And I hoped it would be a girl. 
We didn't have to try too hard.
We easily got pregnant (I now think I am one of those ladies that could get pregnant if my man looked at me and I wasn't on birth control.)
Pregnancy was easy, too.
I had an infatuation with Sour Tangerine Altoids.
I would eat them by the tin full.
I didn't get morning sickness (I think I barfed once or twice only at work, much to my co-worker Sarah's disgust!).
I didn't get stretch marks.
My skin looked FABULOUS!
The only issue occurred in the last trimester when Chad said I snored so loudly that he thought the neighbors were going to start complaining and he was forced to sleep in the other room.

Then about three weeks before my due date, I was told by the doctor that she thought this baby girl, still residing firmly up against both my lungs and my bladder, was upside down.
An external version was briefly talked about...briefly because once my OB started talking about trying to turn the baby around from the outside of my belly and that it had to be done in the hospital in case of trauma and they would need to get the baby out stat, I firmly said nope.
So a c-section was scheduled for February 11th.
Great.
Now I had to go back into my baby books and read about c-sections because I had skipped all of those chapters!
We arrived around 11:00 or noon and then proceeded to patiently wait until about 5:00 to go into surgery.
When you have a scheduled c-section you get bumped back when those ladies who are trying to vaginally deliver a baby suddenly can't.
So after the emergency c-sections were taken care of, it was our turn.  
I was getting super hungry since I hadn't eaten anything all day.
It was an easy procedure.
She came out kicking, really she did.
My doctor declared, "she just kicked me!" as she reached in to get her from my uterus.
I thought she sounded like a kitten mewing when she stared crying.
All I knew at that point was cats and dogs.
Now I had a person who sounded like a cat. 
I was beyond overwhelmed that a person had just been pulled out of my body.
And even more overwhelmed when we had to take her home and do this human rearing ourselves.

We named her Zoe.
Zoe is a Greek name that means LIFE.
And she is our life.

We have had to help save her life.

We have had to watch her little body and mind endure so much stress and trauma in this short life she's only begun to live.  

We can't wait to see what her life holds for her.

To be continued...

My interweb group of friends (Homesteaders & Homeschoolers) and I decided to do some posts together.
This month's theme (the rest of April anyway) is about our journey into motherhood.
Check out their stories, too.
Laura
Carla
Melissa

In A Funk

I've hit a wall.
I'm in a funk.
A goin' nowhere fast blog rut.
I think this hits all writers sometime (Shirley, is this really true?!) and I'm hoping it goes away soon.
Moves to another zip code.
Hails a cab uptown and gets drunk and forgets it's way home.

I've written about the farm.
Seasons.
Lists of things I like about both of those.
Cancer.
Love.
Loss.
Hope.
Gigi'isms.
Cats.
Dogs.
Pony and goat crap.
Crap in general.
My past.
My hopes for the future.
My today.
Nature.
Food.
Hair.
TV.
Friends.
Dreams.
Family.
Pie.
See, what now?!

I'm in a funk about what to blog about.
About what to talk about.
Anyone listening anyway?
Maybe not.
But if you are reading and listening and have an itch to know about something I haven't divulged yet, let me know.
Maybe you're the inspiration that I need.