Sleater-Baby. Here's Maddy rockin' out to Sleater-Kinney, her mom's favorite group. 

Here's our sunflower, Madeline Jayne. 

Yo Estoy Inferno

I haven't felt much like doing anything lately, thanks to Christmas and this sickness. We all have it. Hopefully it won't last much longer. I can't stand hearing Maddy bark like a dog. How long does this stuff last, anyway?

Christmas was wonderfully busy. It was great to see everybody, but like every year, it went by too fast. I don't have the post-Christmas blues yet. Why does anyone get that anyway? I mean, the season's really tiring and stressful. I guess it's just the post-climactic feeling. All the presents are gone, relatives are traveling back to their homes, but at least there's always something to eat. I can't tell you how many varieties of pie we have.

I need to take down the Christmas tree. It's a zombie, it's so beyond dead. I'm afraid to turn on the lights anymore. I fear it will ignite. I guess that's one way of getting rid of it.

Gotta go. I love you, though.

What you don't use...

Here's a random post about nothing, really. I know every blog has one of these posts every once in a while. It seems pointless to write about nothing, but as a writer, I know that sometimes writing nothing can turn into something. It's just the process of getting your brain out of sludge mode. The holiday season can be an introspective time of year, but this year with the baby, I find little time to even sit down on the couch and catch up on my reading. Here I am right now with her next to me, my trusty sidekick and honestly, I'd have it no other way. Spending time with her is better than writing or reading. Again, like a broken record, my family is everything to me.

Every year, it gets harder to buy things for people. That's how blessed we are. We have so much stuff that nobody knows what to get. We've resorted to the gift card for the kids because they are running out of room for presents. What an overindulgent life! I feel simultaneously blessed and guilty. 'Tis the time of year for that good ol' guilty feeling.

Ok, ultimately, it appears that my typing nothing really amounted to nothing. Did it spawn introspection? Did it get the sludge moving? I'll tell you after my morning coffee.

Thankful for Everyday

It's that time of year when people realize that they have it pretty good, but then, after the holidays, they resume their everyday routines and forget they have anything to be thankful for. I'm not saying everyone is like this, but it appears to be the majority of people.

Today isn't even Thanksgiving, and already I know I'm thankful that in about twenty minutes or less, I get to rescue my daughter from the prison of her crib and she will hold on to me and I will believe that her arms resting on my shoulders is a hug. I'm thankful that today is my sister's thirty-sixth birthday and that I get to see her laugh. I'm thankful that my son will be with me in three hours and we can go get a hot drink together and make jokes about how much money we have to buy ridiculously priced drinks (Thank you, Starbucks!). We know we're fortunate. We have the extras right now. We realize there might be a time when we don't have the extras. We made it through those times before and kept the smiles on our faces because we knew what it was about.

I know even more now than ever. I have my husband who values me more than anything or person. He would give me his heart if I needed it and metaphorically, he has done nothing but that. He's amazing and we have created a family together. And I've never been more thankful for anything than this.

This one's for Daddy. We love you. 

You Can't Pick Your Friend's Nose

Allergy season is here and our daughter, Madeline, is just as susceptible to being irritated by molds and pollen as the rest of us. She's been coughing at night and sneezing during the day. She wakes up with her nostrils sealed shut by mucous. It's not only not pleasant to look at, but I would imagine that it impedes her breathing. So, I took it upon myself to dislodge the boogers with my own bare hands.

This, of course, wasn't received well by my daughter, who shook her head profusely in order to derail my attempts. I tell her it will be ok, but she doesn't understand me or what I'm doing. I've been trying to catch her by surprise, but she's so intuitive. It's like she has the force. She knows when I'm heading for her nose regardless of my tactics. I'm one step away from the hot washcloth trick. Then she'll see who's the boss. That's right, it's Tony Danza.

I miss you and the Dawg.

Richie and Christian. Of course, Rich is wearing shorts even though there is snow on the ground.  

Four More Years...

Of incompetence. I can't believe that the majority of people who voted for the incumbent told pollers that the most important issue to them was morality. I'm sorry if I've never seen him as a moral president. I kind of think that's an oxymoron. I guess, just like anything, morals are subjective. What are morals to one may be vices to another. I'm just venting and making little sense.

Although this whole thing is disappointing, I still have my family and my health. I've been very fortunate in that respect. Madeline's taking her morning nap in the quiet darkness that this rainy day's provided. She looks beautiful in the soft, blue light. I get my Richie back today after his excursion to the nether lands, and Christian will be with me. I really am lucky.

I love you and I can't wait for nine o'clock in the p.m..

Richie, remember this moment? I will never forget. I love you and will miss you while you're away. 

The Day of the Ladybug

Last night, my son asked me to help him clean out his back pack. I do this occasionally anyway, so I was pleased that he was the one suggesting it for a change. There were lots of scratch paper to throw away and three days of sack lunches he had failed to finish. I was reproaching him about eating all of his lunch when I came across something that was a bit disconcerting.

In his blue folder, the "folder of secrets" apparently, I discovered a sheet that contained more than twenty names for common street drugs. Rock, ganja, and windowpane were just a few of the words that I read aloud. After reading each, my son told me the corresponding drugs: "Crack...marijuana...LSD."

At first, I admit, my heart was pounding. What was my eleven-year-old up to at school? How did my kid know these words; words I've tried to shelter him from for years. The answer is D.A.R.E..

I guess it's a good thing that he knows the different names of drugs so the next time someone asks him, "Hey man, you want some ice?" He can say, "No thanks," and possibly suffer from the ambiguity of the names of today's drugs and pass out from the sweltering, August heat. (thanks Richie)

I miss the day of the ladybug. When my son was four, he was obsessed with ladybugs. He would scream like a swooning girl in the front row of a Beetles' concert everytime he saw one of those little red specks on a blade of grass. I bought him everything ladybug: beanie babies, puppets and books. He couldn't get enough ladybug. Now it's: here a crank, there a crank everywhere a crank crank. They grow up fast, don't they?

I love you, Boots.

This is Richie's song for me

THE GIFTS THAT SHE GAVE ME

She sits all alone, with her feet in the water
Trying so hard not to smile
She knew I was watching, and desperately wanting
For her to sit with me for a while

It took 15 years, or shyness and fears
For us to finally go on that date
Little did we know, how well it would go
It was the night that sealed our fate

CHORUS:

The gifts that she gave me
She's so amazing
She's the best thing in my life
The gifts that she gave me
She's having my baby
I'm proud to have her as my wife


I've watched her become even more beautiful
I've loved her for so many years
Now she's my bumble, she makes me humble
One look at her brings me to tears

We went to the ocean, exchanged our emotions
I vowed to always love you
So I thank you baby, for all the gifts that you gave me
A chance to be the father of two

Richie and I. 

This is a song I wrote for Richie

FOR LIFE

These bands on our fingers
Stand for something bigger
That neither of us
Expected to find.

This bond between us
Means more than a name
Of husband or wife.
This love's for life.

Can you take out the trash, Dear,
After I cut your hair?
Doesn't matter what we do
As long as I'm with you.
When we're holding our child's hand
Or playing in the sand.

Wherever life takes us,
I know we can make it.
No matter the weather,
Let's stay together.

Our Family 

Dreams Realized

Last night, in my dream, I saw a plane crash. When I woke up this morning I checked on the internet news to see if there was a plane crash and there it was, a commuter plane crashed somewhere in Missouri. I remember feeling devastated in my dream, as if I knew someone on that plane. Fortunately, I don't have to experience their pain. I hate when dreams resemble so closely everyday disasters. I wish my dreams were more like fantasies than realities. I could close my eyes and ease into a world where turqoise water lapped at my feet as I held hands with my husband. We would watch our children build sandcastles that were impervious to the tide. We would live in a place where the only thing we needed to shelter them from was the sun. We would pull down palm fronds and build a hut where we would fall asleep while listening to the cadence of the ocean.

With all my love.

Snoring Up a Storm

This morning, I heard snoring, which was weird considering my husband was already at work. When I realized that it was coming from Madeline, I smiled. It sounded like a real snore, not a little kid breathing heavily. I hope it's not an indication she's getting sick, though.

This is the perfect weather for being sick. It's dark, rainy and the wind is moving probably around thirty mph right now. That's nothing to Floridians, but to Californians, that's significant.

I was sick this weekend and Richie took care of everything for me. He would have wiped my bottom if I needed him to, he's that thoughtful. I wish I had a better bedside manner. I'm no Florence Nightengale like he is.

Today's entry is kind of weak partially because, when I'm sick, I don't think as much. My body was using all of its energy to heal me. Now that I'm well (or good), trying to get the rusty wheel spinning again is going to take a lot.

Think thoughts today.

I love you...

El Sol Rojo

For the last three days, the sun has been an orangish red. According to Legolas from Lord of the Rings, this would indicate that "Blood has been shed this night." The sad thing is, in our reality, we know no other sun. When has blood not been shed?

Really, the red sun is just a product of its environment. The ash filled sky is filtering out some of its dangerous beauty, making it appear like something out of Revelations. Who are the four horsemen of the Apocalypse? Are they hiding in caves? Are they running for office?

Enough of my chatter. I must feed the Dragon, a noble profession at Best.

I love you with all my heart.

Too cool for school: Christian's preschool picture. 

The God of Thunder

It is Thor's Day, the god of thunder. I wish I could dislodge the little trivial knowledge I have and replace it with important stuff, like, how old was my son when he got the chicken pox? I sure as hell don't remember writing it down and if I did, I don't know where I put it. I remember he got it from one of his cousins on his father's side, right? Who am I asking? I certainly am not one to ask, these days. My memory's not quite as stellar as it once was and now I'm kicking myself for not taking advantage of the time when it was good. Why didn't I try harder in Spanish? Why didn't I practice my scales in Piano? Why can't I remember what we ate for dinner last night?

Is it in the water? It could be. I don't want to get all "conspiracy theory" because the government is most likely reading this, but doesn't it seem like everyone's memory is getting worse. Or maybe it's just because, like myself, most adults I talk to are getting older. I don't want to attribute poor memory to age. I'm only 31 for heaven's sake.

That's why it's important to talk to children. They can remind you of what it is like to have a good memory. Christian has a fabulous memory. He remembers all the things I don't want to. The people I dated, the colors I dyed my hair, my mental condition. I'm glad that I'm creating new memories for him. Memories that I'm proud of. Memories that only he will remember.

I love you! And don't you forget it.

The Awakening

Last night, I mean, this morning, Madeline woke out of a sound sleep and began screaming. It's one of the most disturbing sounds, a child in pain. I ran to her crib and saw that her tiny arm was wedged in between the bumper and the mattress. My first worry was dislocation. I unfettered her and picked her up. She continued to shriek for close to a minute and then settled down, but appeared to be wide awake. Although I had sympathy for my daughter, I didn't necessarily want her to begin waking every night/morning at 1:18am. Babies are the ultimate creatures of habit, as both Christian and Madeline have proven quite well.

I managed to soothe her with soft strokes on her cheek and whispering to her as I did to her brother before her, "It's nighnigh time, go to sleep." Though still awake, I placed her in her crib and let her fall asleep on her own. It took close to an hour.

One thing you gotta love as a parent is the unpredictability. Sure, they have their general schedules of when they like to eat and when they get tired, but you never know when they're going to wake up at the witching hour and create a memory. One of my favorite movie scenes is in the movie Parenthood, when the grandmother tells Steve Martin's character about life being like a roller coaster. Of course he rolls his eyes at the cliche, but later cries when he's hit with the realization that there hasn't been a more accurate and beautiful description. That's how I feel at 1:18am. I feel like crying because I'm so tired, but I'm also crying at how amazing my child is when she is sound asleep on my chest, or when she is wide awake, with her beautiful tenacity, fighting sleep with life and limb.

Tuesday Morning

It's one of the most insignificant days of the week, but somehow, today feels monumental. Maybe it's because I see my son tomorrow or maybe it's because I'm holding my daughter in my arms while I type this. She smells like spilled milk, but somehow, even when her scent seems sour to some, she smells succulent. Also, she sells seashells down by the seashore.

I realized that 75% of my two days of blogging was photos. I guess I just wanted to show off what I'm most proud of. I'm not really blogging to meet new friends to IM or whatever. This is kind of an online diary of sorts since I type faster than I write. Of course, this is also a public diary, so I'm sure I won't delve too deep.

I have to start the pork, but I wanted to share a quick story. Yesterday, I had to go to the bathroom. When you have a baby that's close to crawling on the floor, you know you need to move fast. Unfortunately, nature doesn't always obey the likes of man and so it took me a little longer. I was listening with the bathroom door open and I noticed that Madeline was quiet. I finished up the best I could and ran out to the living room (didn't even wash my hands) and there was Madeline playing peek-a-boo with the ceiling fan. She had pulled the sheet she was playing on over her head and then she flung it off when she heard me approach. There she was silently saying "peek-a-boo" with her radiant little smile. The sacrifice of my personal time was definitely worth the reward.

Sorry I didn't tell you this story, Daddy, but you're reading it now!

Here I am with my everything, Rich Furry. 

Christian Matthew 

Madeline Jayne 

Boring Templates and First Posts

This my first post on this boring template. I picked the polka dot one, but some how got some sterile, patriotic looking thing. Maybe this is just how it looks in the creating mode. I know looks aren't everything. And I also know you can't judge a book by it's cover; although, this one book I read had an interesting cover and turned out to be an interesting book with lots of cool hand drawn pictures inside. So much for overused phrases. Hopefully, on this blogger, I will create some of my own phrases that most likely will be seen by my family, which is the most important audience that I am lucky to be seen by.