On How I Became the Warrior Mama

I had another one of those moments today.  The ones where I suddenly realize, again, that I'm on a different path than many of the people around me; a path I never expected to tread.  

Years ago when I thought about becoming a mother I was nervous and excited.  I wanted to be the Ideal Mom.  The one who baked cookies with the children and rolled around on the floor with them,  played games, read books, sang songs, snuggled, giggled, kissed and cuddled, and taught them all of the wonders in the world and out of it.  I had this romantic Super Mom image in my head created from all of my reading as a child about the kind of cool, fun, loving, and Perfect Mother I was going to be.  I thought it would come naturally and easily to me simply because I wanted so much to be that person, I would find a way to make it happen.

When we had a little trouble getting pregnant as quickly as we wanted it was only a little fly in my ointment.  I tried to remain positive as I watched friends bellies swell, went to baby showers, and sat watching these new mothers beam with pride and gloating over their little accomplishments.   The comments about wanting to see us "get started" stung a little, but I tried to brush it aside with the thought that it would happen for us "when the time was right".  And, it did happen, as it so often does, when I had given up trying to remain in control.  When I finally relaxed and committed it to the hands of the Lord, it did come.  And I was happy.  It was exciting to finally begin to plan in earnest.

Fast forward a few months into my pregnancy and all was going well. We had just returned from a fun trip to Disneyland and I was starting to swell just a bit going into my last trimester.  When I walked into my doctor's office that week for a check-up I had no idea that I would not be going home until I had delivered a baby.  The swelling was worse than I knew.  I was dumping protein.  The test at the doctor's office sent me to the hospital for a more conclusive test, which concluded I needed a 24 hour test, which concluded that I had full blown preeclampsia and would be on bed rest at the hospital until I could no longer carry the baby.  For a young couple, embarking on our first parenting experience this was overwhelming and completely new.   In neither of our families did we have experience with this kind of birth drama.  As we navigated the difficult waters of trying to understand our situation, trying to make wise decisions about our situation when we didn't understand it, and trying to reassure ourselves and our families about what we didn't truly understand, I had no idea that this would become a pattern of our lives as parents.

When my precious little girl finally entered this world, 9 weeks early, precariously premature and tiny (3 lbs!), I could only focus on the miracle of her birth and the preservation of her life and mine.  I could only get through one day at a time as we both recovered.  

It was the Mr. who first had to embrace his role as Warrior Dad, to be strong enough to protect me and our child from Too Much of Everything.  He had to deal with doctors, nurses, administrators, family, friends, all who had something to tell us or some decision for us to make, or who themselves wanted Answers from us.  Answers we so often didn't have.  And he did it.  He was our rock.  Our Protector.  Our Knight in shining Adidas.  It was his strength and courage to stand up for us that gave me the strength and courage to stand up for my girl and fight for what we thought was best for her.  The doctors and nurses and administrators didn't always understand or agree with our choices.  I'm sure our families didn't either.  But we did what we thought was best for her, and we did it together because we were a Family now.  Even if it wasn't the ideal picture I had created in my head.  

We had landed in the land of the Preemies, Complications, Developmental Delays, and eventually Autism, and we had a much different journey to take than the one we had planned.  Upon our arrival in this strange new world we had to quickly adjust to new rules, new directions, new skills, and a whole new language.  It's taken nearly 8 years of learning to adapt to this new destination, and I find that I'm constantly making little adjustments all along as our path changes and alters abruptly here and there.  

Today as I sat at the school I felt another adjustment coming upon us.  I felt the drum of my heartbeat as I started to mentally suit up for another battle, another skirmish in defense of my child brewing.  I'm more prepared today than I was all those years ago.  I've got some experience, gained some weapons, and some confidence I wish I had had when this all started.  

At least now I know who I am, what my role is.  

I am the Warrior Mama.  

Bring it on.

A Contest Entry

Being new to blogging I've found that other bloggers often participate in contests, giveaways, and other such giddy madness.  It's kind of like gambling, you know your odds for winning are incredibly small, but a little part of you whispers, "yes, but what if I won?!"  

Well, I've found myself a contest to enter.  Below is my entry.  Thanks to the ladies at TodaysMama!

This is contest entry for those crazy folks at TodaysMama and Cricut. Be sure to check out Cricut's cool new cartridges and the chance at $30,000 in travel for you and your friends at the Great Gypsy Escape site! http://bit.ly/FWcud

Great Escape Meme
1. If you could escape to anywhere in the world where would it be? 

Beachly delights:  Bora Bora, Bali, or Tahiti   

Mountain retreats: Switzerland, B.C. Canada, or Scotland.
2. What song do you play when you are by yourself in the car? 

Right now I'm totally hooked on "Hot Air Balloon" by Owl City.  Funny, it's a bit about escape too!
3. If you had a night to yourself, and money was no object, what would you do? 

If it's just me I'm heading to the spa for the works: massage, mani/pedi, maybe even hair & makeup too.  Then I'd grab the Mr. and we'd go out: dinner at our favorite place,  the Melting Pot (mmmmm, fondue), theater of some kind, find some stars to gaze at and just talk.

4. What is your guilty pleasure? 

OK-I'll come clean.  I'm a TwilightMom.
5. What is the farthest place you have traveled away from your home? 

Farthest East: Berlin, Germany

Farthest West: Oahu, Hawaii
6. Last book that you couldn't put down? 

The Actor and The Housewife, by Shannon Hale
  7. When you want to escape into another time, what movie do you watch? 

Pride and Prejudice (BBC version please) OR Lord of the Rings/Pirates of the Caribbean.

8. What is your favorite local escape? 

Zuma Beach or Griffith Observatory if I don't have a lot of time, Huntington Library & Gardens if I have more time, Disneyland or Big Bear if we have a whole day.
9. How do you escape on a budget? 

I have a library card.  A whole universe of adventure and escape that fits in my purse!  It's like magic.

(Beaches, Griffith, local gardens and open space is all free here!  I know - SPOILED!)

Best food you've ever had while on vacation. 

Single Best Dish:  Huli Huli chicken at Duke's, Waikiki Beach, HI.  Someday I WILL get back there.

Best Overall Food Experience: Disney Cruise Line.  My family would cruise with them again just for the food.  YUM.

And, true to form I can't seem to narrow it all down to just one answer.  Life has too many exciting options, I want them all!  It's good to have dreams, right?!

Sick Bed Sweetness...

I've spent the last week and a half coughing until everything hurt, and then coughing some more.  As I watched the toys, papers, and laundry pile up around me while I sat helplessly gasping for air, I was reminded of my dominant feeling about being sick.  Anger.  The Mr. sat chuckling at me the other night after I ranted about the vagaries of being sick.  

"You're funny when you're sick."  He said.  "You get mad at being sick.  It's funny."

I wanted to shout, "Look around you!  This is what happens when I'm sick; we drown in a wasteland of our STUFF!  We eat chicken nuggets and cereal for dinner!  I forget Important Papers that come home from school!  You have no clean socks or underwear!"  

Instead I had a coughing fit.  

Somehow, in my hyperventilating state, I was able to find some beauty in life, even though I myself was far from being able to provide it.  And, since I'm a big fan of lists (I love lists like Kermit loves Miss Piggy, I could probably write a whole paper on why I heart lists), I shall provide my bits of beauty in list form:

1.  After a particularly bad night of coughing and sleeplessness I woke up with a "feel better" card on my tummy and a bright smiley Big Sis delighted to see me and give me a hug first thing in the morning.

2.  Good friends who showed up bearing delicious food and good wishes just because they heard I was sick and wanted to help.

3.  Ahhhh, Nyquil.  My friend.

4.  The girls both being in school so I could drop them off and come home and go back to bed.

5.  The Mr.  who slept on the couch for 5 nights in a row so that I could be comfortable and get some sleep without worrying about my coughing fits waking him up.  He must love me.

See?  Life is good.

What's in a name?

In my previous post I mentioned Cherry Hill House.  

“What's that?” you say. 

It's the name I've decided to give my house.  

“Why name a house?” you say.  

I'm tempted to flippantly answer, "Because I can."  

Or more accurately, "Because it's mine."

I've always been attracted to the idea of living in a place so distinct that it has its’ own unique name.  Being an incurable anglophile, I swoon for estate names like Althorp, Chartwell, Osborne House, and Kedleston Hall.  As a lover of books, I dream of places like Pemberley, Mansfield Park, Thornfield, or yes, even Hogwarts.

But, I've decided that even though it's not a noble estate surrounded by gracious grounds, or the setting for great events, my little house is actually quite special. It's a special place because we have made it so.  

When we purchased this house a few months ago it was a bit of a disaster.  Abandoned and neglected for more than three years, it was dirty, dilapidated, and seriously outdated. We looked past the exterior flaws and fell in love with the layout, the yard, the location, the trees, the sheer potential of it all.  We spent a month cleaning, scraping, patching and painting, carpeting and planning.  We didn’t finish all the projects we had planned, nor do we have the time or money to get it all done in the immediate future, but by our own sweat, blood, and yes, tears, we have truly made this house ours.  

Therefore, I christened it Cherry Hill House.  

Cherry, for the bright red cherries I love; I use them in decorating, I love to eat them, they are sweet and tart all in one (a bit like me), and they are cheerful - just like I want our family and memories in this house to be.  

Hill, for the hill the house sits on, and for the Hill (me, Hill-ary) who is keeper of the hearth here.  Cherry Hill is also a place in Utah, where I’m from and where our family lived and was begun.  

House, because it’s neither a grand palace, manor house or hall, nor a cottage, cabin, or farm; it’s simply a house, a place for a family to live and to grow.  

I love my little home.  I feel like it’s a bit like me at this stage in my life; not so new, falling apart just a little bit, and a work in progress, but (hopefully!) great potential lurking in the corners.  A place and a person in transition, with great expectations for the coming days.  And, we're getting there, one step and one project at a time.

Now, back to work!

I found this little gem while I was looking around at house names.  I couldn’t resist it!

On Naming a House

(by Christopher Morley) 

WHEN I a householder became

I had to give my house a name.

I thought I'd call it "Poplar Trees,"

Or "Widdershins" or "Velvet Bees,"

Or "Just Beneath a Star."

Or "As You Like It," "If You Please,"

Or "Nicotine" or "Bread and Cheese,"

"Full Moon" or "Doors Ajar."

But still I sought some subtle charm,

Some rune to guard my roof from harm

And keep the devil far;

A thought of this, and I was saved!

I had my letter-heads engraved

The House Where Brown Eyes Are.

There's No Place Like Home

I have nothing really profound to say today, but I did want to say this: for the past week or so there's been little pieces of me that feel empty, not quite right.  I should say, all of us here at Cherry Hill House have been feeling that way.  The sheer tension of disjointedness has had us all on the verge of meltdown at a moments notice.  And, there were meltdowns.  Oh, were there meltdowns.

But, then last night something wonderful happened.  

The Mr. came home.  

He walked in dragging his suitcase full of dirty laundry and backpack full of bribe offerings for his womenfolk, and we nearly knocked him down with the enthusiasm of our welcome.  We all could hardly sleep for the pure joy of being together again.  Our family is again whole, and so am I.

POST EDIT:

My jet fueled nemesis from the other night made another appearance tonight as we made our way to bed.  Needless to say, my Knight in Shining Armor has chased the octo-beast down and he has at last met his watery end in the porcelain fountain of death.  I can at last rest easy without a fat pillow wedged tightly against the headboard.  Oh, how I've missed the Mr.!  He is always and forever my hero!