Tag Archives: Dave

Keep Pushing

I was unable to find anyone who recorded (or even took a picture!) of the LPA Speakers’ Night, but I wanted to share my piece with you. I plan on recording me speaking it, but wanted to share it with you (written) in the meantime. So, without further stalling, here is my LPA Speakers’ Night Piece entitled: Keep Pushing.

#lpaSD2014 #LPA Speakers Night

As I embark upon the birth of my second child, I find the title of my piece ironic.

Keep pushing.

While that’s not my birthing mantra- that one is just breathe- Keep pushing is my mission in life.

Letting ourselves be defined by anything, even things that are so apparent, like our gender, sexual preference, race or disability is no way to live. It’s no way I will let myself or my children live, so why do other people expect me to allow such behaviors from them?

The answer is simple. The answer points a finger. The answer stings. The answer is me.

People treat others as they are allowed to. Sad? Pathetic? Lame? You bet. But it’s the truth. We love to take advantage of life- be lazy where we can be. We often, as humans, forget the implications of our language.

We let people call us homo, fat, crazy, midget, whore. Because as a culture stopping these things is too “politically correct”. We fear that we are being “too sensitive”, we aren’t raising tough kids, or we ourselves do not have thick skin.

“Good luck this time!”
“Good for you- trying again.”
“Sucks you didn’t know before she was born.”
“Is there anything they can do for her when she’s older to make her taller?”

Fellow humans have said these things to me. Why does the world view dwarfism as something to be cured, rather than embraced as a difference?

We don’t want to question what others say. We give up our right to know about ourselves when we don’t ask the hard questions.

“I don’t know.”
“We will learn together.”
“Let’s come back to that.”
“This is my first one.”

Doctors have said these things to me. Why is the education about dwarfism so slim that many medical professionals fear the diagnosis of dwarfism- offering patients little education and less options.

My mantra, Keep pushing. For respect, for knowledge.

Do you see it yet? Do you feel the need to push?

There is change that can be made. There is change that needs to be made. There are generations coming up behind you and me, behind the children being born today and the children following them. There are millions of people yet to be born, and thousands will have a form of dwarfism.

But they will not be dwarfs.

They will be painters and doctors. They will be writers and scientists. They will be political leaders and dreamers and veterinarians. Those born with a form of dwarfism will love and be loved. They will change lives and shape the world for future generations. The way we need to now.

There is a need to define ourselves by what we want as a community and let the masses, not the few, lead the way. Television shows that pigeonhole this community, media misconceptions, movies and comedians are things of the past when we push- and keep pushing- to be defined not as little people, but as people. Height doesn’t make someone smart, or happy, or better than. Average height just makes you average.

Be spectacular regardless. Keep pushing.

When a doctor tells me they do not know, I ask, “how will you find the answer?” When I am given news about a health concern and then that same medical professional attempts to leave the room, I ask for further explanation. I ask what our course of action is. I ask what their medical opinion and experience are. What is the timeline. How do we proceed? I push to know more. I push to make them answer. To make them accountable for their diagnosis. I refuse to let Google do my doctoring. I refuse to leave not knowing.

Too many parents email me with the same story. It goes like this: The doctors told me my baby would be a dwarf. They gave me a packet of papers and told me to make appointments for these things. They told me to be prepared, but not for what.

More often than not, I offer my telephone number. I spend hours each week calming mothers-to-be and new parents. Not giving medical advice, but offering an ear and listening to questions that are left unanswered. Unanswered concerns from a doctor who left their patients with a handout and maybe a few people to call.

This is not OK. This is not how patients should be treated. Dwarfism is not unknown. Specialists exist!

In my hours on the phone I’ve looked up local hospitals with clinics, referred many to our own team in Delaware, and always given out the LPA’s website. Hours spent giving the same basic information that needs to be readily available to all patients with a diagnosis of dwarfism. Support, love and most importantly, knowledge.

Keep pushing.

Keep pushing so that when someone sees a person of short stature they smile, the same smile they offer any other human on the street. Why? Because a person of short stature is any other human.

Keep pushing to make changes, because if there is such an uprising about a professional football team name change, then there should be a change across the nation of high school sports teams named The Midgets. Because other people do not decide what offends you. Because other people don’t control our emotions. Because being sensitive, caring, respectful people is what defines a civilized culture. That is what humanity means. Because even doctors need to learn something new every day. Because bedside manner isn’t dead (and neither is chivalry, if you were wondering).

There isn’t a facet of our culture that doesn’t need advocacy from our community, so be that voice. Never stop pushing because it doesn’t bother you anymore, or because you think one person can’t make a difference. One voice. One community. One change at a time.

Keep pushing because letting ourselves be defined by anything, even things that are so apparent, like our gender, sexual preference, race or disability is no way to live. It’s no way I will let myself or my children live, and I won’t being defined by anyone but myself.

 

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Filed under Achondroplasia, Community, Educate/Adovocate/Make Change

On being a special needs parent…

I read THIS yesterday as parent after parent on my Facebook feed shared the article. At the time, I was scanning the web from my phone from beneath my dearest Adelaide, softly crying.

Although I’ve posted a few updates on her, it’s been a whirlwind since we’ve returned from the LPA National Conference in San Diego… we landed late Saturday night, spent the day jet lagged, but as a family, on Sunday, then had an incredibly busy Monday running from Addie’s physical therapy, the OB and chiropractor for me, and fielding calls from 4 different doctors (have I mentioned that when an actual doctor calls, it’s usually not good?). On Tuesday morning I said goodbye to Dave as he headed to work, and he kissed me extra hard. The look in his eye told me what I needed to know; it pained him that I would be going through a surgery without him and he had no words. Neither did I. He carried our still-sleeping girl to the car for me and kissed her face and head as he hesitantly closed the car door.

I didn’t even cry. After she was under sedation, I calmly left the room, my head spinning as I attempted to control my breathing. I gathered our belongings for our overnight stay and meandered around the corner to the waiting room where, after spending  a solid 15 minutes staring at the surgical board, called my mom. Then I tried on one long-sleeve shirt, but then I was wearing too much gray, so I took it off and put on the blue one- it was from the 5k I did a few weeks ago. You’re strong enough for this, Chelley. I sat down and got out my work. I use 3 different spreadsheets to track my work, sponsored posts, links, blog posts and the like. I took out a pen and started to cross things off and move things around. I planned for a few days of recovery where I could do some work, but not a lot. I took out my highlighter and crossed off everything I’d done. I felt grateful that I have the option to push work aside when I need to because Dave takes care of us.

#aisforadelaide #specialneedsparenting #motherhood #specialneeds

So back to the article. It’s a few days post-tubes (second set) and adenoidectomy and Addie was on top of me, where she’s been a lot since her surgery. Perched on my chest, or curled up around my belly inciting kicks from her baby sister, inside. She was running about 100º and shaking, her little body clad in nothing but a Bumgenius diaper, snoring and sweating through my own tank top. Every now and again, she would stir and cry in her slumber. So I read, and I softly cried, too. If you follow along with the article, I cried because:

1. Sometimes lonely doesn’t describe it. Even when I have a moment to connect with friends and family I cannot express the fear I feel. The fact that everyone in the world could be there to hold my hand, and I would still feel like I was standing alone- especially when I am there without Dave. Because when we do have time to talk, I want to talk about Addie every moment and not at all, and not knowing how to process your own emotions is a lonely place to be.

2. Dave and I are a power couple. We aren’t changing the world, but we’re shaping our own. And we have to work at it everyday. We discuss a lot of medical things, we sleep very little large chunks… but we do it all together. Sometimes we snap and bite, but the lines of communication don’t close. Sleep, fancy cars, and, yes, even intimacy can wait… but not forever. We fight for that. For this. For us.

3. Enough said. I can go mama bear in 1.4 seconds flat, however.

4. All the time. This is also due to my losing a brother, young cousin and father before I was 13. But even more so, as we look deeper into Addie’s spine and decompression and blackouts and sleep… I feel relief when she wakes up. I hate that feeling. I just want to wake up and not have my heart leap and stop until I see her ribs expand and contract with the sweet sound of her breath. I hope this fear won’t last forever.

She is #aisforadelaide #strength #courage #laughter

5. Sometimes I know that my voice means less than my body. The length of my reach engulfing her body as she cringes in pain or fear at an appointment. The way she melts into my shoulder or tucks into my chest as they try to take another set of vitals, insert an IV, measure another limb. The way she won’t wear a mask unless I gently place it over her face. There are no words… just the touch of mom. Recently I learned skin-to-skin is important past infancy, as Addie craves feeling my heart beat and holding my necklace. She reaches into my shirt just to feel my skin, and I crave comforting her. Touch is so healing and speaks louder than words. When I ask her if she’s ok and she grabs my face into her own kisses me and settles into my arms. Words seemingly, in that moment, mean nothing.

6. While Addie doesn’t have speech issues, hearing your child come out of sedation like a lion screaming for you or waking in an apnea episode startled wanting only you… those are the times I cherish her communication most.

So, in light of her adenoids being removed, which gives off the most horrible breath, and my heightened sense of smell, her small shaking body, feverish and gripping, the hours we’ve spent in the same position (painful for me)… this is just what we do. And after the hours. The physical ache and mental exhaustion… the moments left in between. There’s still a light inside.

#aisforadelaide #sarifices #parenthood #specialneedsparenting

…been laying here for hours. Wouldn’t trade a minute.

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Filed under Achondroplasia, Educate/Adovocate/Make Change, Parenting/Family/Lifestyle

Marvelous Monday

Ahhh… Monday. I’ve actually been dreading this Monday, afraid of it- if you will.

Today Addie heads to Hasbro Children’s Hospital for her MRI.

A lot of readers have asked me why I do not write about dwarfism more, and the simple answer is: because that is not all there is in our lives. Neither Adelaide, nor the Martinka family are defined by the attributes of achondroplasia, and as such, I refuse to let my writing (and my mind) be consumed by the diagnosis. On the plus side, there is a lot of information here- as well as in the blog roll- which I encourage readers to check out! All charts are updated and a great accompaniment to your regular pediatrician’s repertoire of monitoring your child, and there are different categories for other information, including one specifically about achondroplasia. If you’re looking for something specific, try the search box!

But, I find myself here. Wanting to embrace the week, but fearing its start. Addie is due for an MRI at 1pm. This means the usual things for children of such an age getting an MRI- no food for 6 hours, sedation… oh yeah. Sedation. Due to the complications involved with achondroplasia, namely the compression that is apparent in all patients (the severity is what differs), Addie has a special team and guidelines to her being under. I am thankful that we have such an awesome team behind us, but I am always fearing the unknown- especially when her previous experience with anesthesia was not good. CONSIDERATIONS FOR ANESTHESIA DOCUMENT.

As I’ve mentioned before, I want to share information on this blog, but I do not want to delve into all of Adelaide’s medical history. It’s entirety to share is her choice… but I do want to educate. So, I will share what’s been happening these past few months.

Addie has fallen a total of 6 times, and been unable to catch herself. Each time she has fallen (backwards), she’s landed squarely on the back of her head… after which her eyes roll, she goes limp and doesn’t breathe for a time of 5 to 10 seconds. After these episodes, she’s bounced back pretty well that day, with no walking or pupillary issues. But… she’s blacking out. Cold. Six times. This has more than a few of her doctors worried, and before she goes under for another set of tubes and adenoid removal, we need to confirm there isn’t a deeper issue.

Thus, an MRI.

This Monday, I ask for your good thoughts, prayers, and virtual hugs… because while I know Addie is strong enough to handle anything, I’m not sure I am.

To all the mamas and papas before me who have battled more than I could imagine, you give me strength. Thank you for your love and support- through the major, the minor, and everything in between.

flourish

But… you didn’t think I would leave you there, did you?! It’s Monday! Marvelous Monday! There is too much to celebrate in life, and this week I am more than thankful for the love and support I have, but also the opportunities. My hubby is amazing, and his hard work has afforded me the opportunity to grow as a writer and mother… and athlete. I was recently accepted into the Fit For Two Ambassadors program- which I practically begged for (really), and just in time for their awesome Instagram campaign- beginning today!

For Two Fitness is a favorite of mine for so many reasons, including the company’s commitment to moms. Whether you’re a runner, cyclist, yogi, dancer, lifter, casual gym visitor, total gym rat… or just get into the groove when you can, the products offered will give you confidence and comfort in all of your workouts. The tops are made to move with you and your babe and the bottoms to cover everything, but give you movement… both pre and post baby. I love that the company is family-owned and operated- and think all new mamas deserve the love they have for their customers. So… what was all that about a giveaway?

From today until Friday, when you post the image below on Instagram with the hashtag #fortwofitnessgift and mention @fortwofitness you’re entered to be the one lucky Instagrammer who will win a $100 gift card to For Two Fitness – the very best in maternity activewear! Bonus points if you share what your For Two fave product is… mine? Training for Two racerback tank… a must for ALL activities! Check out my IG profile @martinkadeluxe and capture the image there, too!

Don’t forget to enter yourself in this awesome contest- there are products for mamas-to-be and new mamas- and even a few pieces for in between moments! Good luck, Reader!

I hope you have a beautiful week… starting with this Marvelous Monday we have all been blessed to have!

xo

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Marvelous Monday

What a wonderful weekend- jammed packed with all I am thankful for and all things dwarfism! I have mentioned LPA about a million times, and all the support they offer to the LP community, but there is so much more than that.

There are lifelong memories made by friends who see each other a few times a year. Parents who lament all the silly things that we get that no one else truly does. Not life-altering stuff, but finding shoes that fit, are cool and also comfy. Why moving a faucet can make life easier for your child. How to hem jeans. It’s the same old parenting things we all think about, but rarely do we encounter so many seemingly minuscule things over and over and over.

The best part? When Addie gets into a large group of kids, there are no worries because this community is watching over her- everyone.

This mama may be suffering from serious pregnancy hormones, but when Jackie and Avery (two fabulous young ladies) took Addie’s hands and walked her to their dance circle complete with other girls, and encouraged her to dance, laughed with her and never let her out of their sight, I walked away, took my seat, gripped a cup of ice water and swallowed my tears. My face was hot. My body felt cold.

#aisforadelaide #firstdance #lparegional #2014

My daughter already has an amazing life.

I watched what her Spring and Fall would bring each year, as our District regionals pass by. I saw middle school dances and girlie laughter about things that us parents would just never understand. As I sipped my water, surrounded by women I’ve grown to love in our brief, but powerful 21 months as LPA members, we laughed at my verge of crying.

#aisforadelaide #ladiesnight #LPAspringregional2014

I have an amazing life.

These moments are not forever. We have our struggles. We have some of the happiest moments of our lives without the LPA, or anything related to dwarfism. Being little, or big, or average does not define us. Having such fabulous friends, regardless of distance, giving my child the opportunity to live her life and being guided by those around me. That defines me. There is nothing like knowing that your life changes shape when you let go of the reigns and just live.

With $100 in our pocket and a cooler full of fruit, bread, peanut butter and tuna, we went to Cape Cod. It was our first regional with our LPA district. We got to ask questions. We got to answer a few. I shared a conversation with men and women. Some were my height, some were not. But the conversations were the same. Our kids were being crazy, they all needed to sleep, we all enjoyed the sunset at the banquet, our clothes seemed to be getting tighter as the New England winter ceases to end. I joked with my ladies about this and that. We all ragged on each other, shared hugs, high-fived the  kids.

Being members of the LPA has allowed us to NOT define our family by dwarfism, but to learn in a safe, well educated environment for ourselves, our daughter (and future baby!) and those who will learn from us. To balance our lives between doctors and normalcy, because at the end of each day, I am doing the same as any parent… reading 102 books before bed, watching my child guzzle more water than they consumed the entire day and praying they don’t spring a leak in the night, kissing her cheeks and watching the monitor (sure, I’m also listening for snores and leg movements, but that’s neither here nor there). Addie? She’s just like your child. And me? I’m just like you. Tired, stressed and loving every minute of this crazy, fast-paced thing they call Parenting.

#aisforadelaide #swimming #capecop #seacresthotel #lpaspringregional2014

And my random  of the week? If you missed it before, don’t forget to check out this awesome video below <3 <3 <3 (Yes… I’m a bit excited to share after holding it in for 13 weeks!!!!!)

Happy Monday, Reader!!!

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Filed under Achondroplasia, Community, Marvelous Monday

Over the Hill

Just kidding!

Happy 37th year to my handsome hubby, wonderful Daddy and super rock star,  Dave!!!

#aisforadelaide #davesbirthday #37yearsold

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Happy 6 Years

It all started with a drink. Just one drink, 11 years ago, served to me by a dude with sideburns so long they almost touched under his chin.

Amish Dave they called him.

Then we ran into each other again, about 6 1/2 years ago.

“Dave?”
(taking steps backward)
“Chelley?”

We saw each other New Year’s Eve 2008. It was awkward. We both kissed other people. But we kept bumping into each other. We went on a weekday brunch date. He let me pay for myself. He didn’t drink coffee or eat meat. I wasn’t impressed, but I offered to drive him to work… 2 blocks away. We hugged… like teenagers and grandparents in a mall. He declined a ride and walked.

And yet he called.

We met for drinks. I bought him a lot of whiskey and then let him bike home. I showed up 15 minutes later with a guitar cake pan, Sin City comic book and percolator. We kissed. It was all over.#aisforadelaide 6 Years with Dave

And here we are. 6 years later. He eats meat and drinks too much coffee. I don’t even pay for the gas in my car, but he smiles when I offer. We hug like long lost lovers. I would recognize his face even if I lost my sight. Thank the heavens for whiskey, bikes, comic books, cheap cake pans, and coffee.

 

Happy 6 years, Dave.

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Marvelous Monday 2014!!!!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Now that’s out of the way, onto our usual MM post (thankful, dwarfism, random)… Hold onto your hats. It’s gonna be a long one!

This week I am thankful for the 2 weeks Addie and I have had with Dave. Yes. TWO weeks. We left for Philadelphia on the Saturday before Christmas and we got back to RI the following one. Dave headed into work for Monday and half of Tuesday, had New Year’s Day off, then Hercules dropped some snow on us and Dave was home Thursday and Friday. As he heads into work today, I hope he feels the relief of being back to a schedule.

#aisforadelaide #hercules #newengland #snowstorm2014 #blog #asnowday in the Martinka house

Since his time off I have not gotten out of bed before 9am. Most days, not before 10… and there were a few 11′s in there. True story. I ate a hot breakfast almost everyday. I showered more than twice a week. I dried my hair, by myself. I did my nails, put on a face mask or two, deep conditioned my hair, read half a book, caught up on reading some of my favorite blogs and resumed some semblance of a daily workout. This refreshing end/start to the year(s) was so important to getting my head on straight… and brings me to other things to be thankful for- like the way Dave has changed and his awesome boss.

Spending time alone with Addie when she was an infant was hard for anyone but me- her sole provider of food and the one who understood each cry and sound. Now that she’s (incredibly) vocal, understands requests and direction and eats pretty much anything that’s not nailed down, I find myself alone when Dave is home. Off on some adventure, Dave steals Addie while I sleep to make food, run errands, or read stories in her bedroom. We both give each other the eye in some strange competition of Who Will Be The One She Wants to Put Her to Sleep Tonight. When she’s hurting, Daddy can heal her pain and when she needs snuggles at night, she often begs for Daddy to rescue her from the crib. While it is nice to not have to get up at 4am, I’ve found myself pushed to the edge of the bed, sad. I miss the days she needed me so much.

#aisforadelaide What happens when Dave doesn't work #blog

Then there is the look. The look of peace and warmth. It’s what Dave’s face looks like, even at 6:30am when hungah spews over and over from the mouth of a half-awake toddler into the open space of our room. When she cries waahwaah hungah nanaaah and he hops up and asks, “you’re ready for breakfast, Bug?” There is the look of total contentment. Whatever happens to a woman to feel the love she does for her young happens to a man, too. I’ve seen it first-hand.

#aisforadelaide #blog #weekend

I’m also incredibly blessed that Dave’s boss recognized that his employees come in by train from Boston and from 50 miles away by car, and decided to cancel work before the snow hit. With a few calls and some research, Dave stayed on top of the tail-end of his work week from the safety and warmth (and yet, drafts?) of home. For a job he stumbled upon with a start-up just 3 years ago, his career is blossoming in ways we never could have foreseen.

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And so she grows. No really. I just wrote about this on a post of the same name: AND SO SHE GROWS, AND SO SHE GROWS. If you know Billy Joel, you will see my play on words from And So it Goes, and you may recognize the true heartache that comes with watching your child grow up mature. When Addie was diagnosed, we were warned about all the things she would never do and we were told of all the milestones we would miss. We were given predictions about her height and told she had to be on a hard surface always and most toys were a no-go and her balance would be bad… and so on. And after all that, I was overwhelmed and sad. We got rid of bouncers and carriers and sleepers. I found toys that were good for her, but not always mature enough. And I didn’t know where to go. As a new mom to a special needs child, I wish I’d known all of THIS.

But I didn’t, and I wasn’t prepared for a doctor to be wrong. But she was. Not because all babies with dwarfism do walk before 36 months, although many do, or because she’s not as small as I once believed she would be, or that she has decent balance. No. I wasn’t prepared because I got lost in a negative world. I don’t always see Addie as growing up… she doesn’t always gain an up, but she does grow in her intelligence, in her beauty, in her love and understanding and in her compassion. Initially I was worried I would hinder her into a sheltered life- one where I would hide all the bad. And becoming CPL didn’t help that fear. But then I saw. I saw her say “HI!” to everyone she meets, and wave with an exuberant “BYE PEOPLE”, as we exit any given location. I have witnessed her love, as I cook dinner and she reaches around my leg with a hug and a pat and whispers love you, mama so gently into the back of my knee. She loves me, without prompting or pressure, without even seeing my face, she buries her own into my leg and expresses her own emotion.

Do I protect her? Yes. Just as I will put a helmet, and knee and elbow pads on her to ride a bike. Just as many parents do. I didn’t wear knee or elbow pads and my helmet surely did not fit as well as they do now… does that mean my parents didn’t care? Am I just over-protective? Should she never ride a bike?

I could wrack my brain forever. I could worry about all the things you might think of how I parent, or how your neighbor might feel about me, or that dude who anonymously comments on my posts in the most negative of lights. But then, I wouldn’t be parenting, I would be absorbed in my thoughts about everyone else’s thoughts. So, let’s call it a truce. Let’s make a pact.

This blog was started with the intention to education about dwarfism, but if I focus on dwarfism alone, I will alienate myself and you. I will become obsessed, immersed in so many details that I will come to define Adelaide as a person with dwarfism, and not just see her difference as a part of her. I will come to define all people with dwarfism as just that, and if I do that, I will only see myself as a white woman. That will be who I am.  But it’s not. And so, this blog will continue to educate, advocate, spread awareness and push buttons. I will share stories of change and some of adversity. And here’s the best part: I don’t care what you think. While I would love your support and hope you stay to read more posts, what I crave is equality. For my child, for your child. I seek name calling, bullying and fear of the unknown to become a thing of the past. Ask questions- all of them. I want to answer. I want to know your fears so that I may assuage them. I want you to know what terms are accepted to call a person with dwarfism, and I want you to know that you do not have the right to dictate what others feel. Neither do I. On this blog, the m-word will not be tolerated, whether you’re speaking of pickles or humans or anything in between. The word? Midget. And that’s the end. Those are my feelings, on my blog that I write.

So, I won’t judge you, on your blog, should you choose to write one, and you will not judge me.

x_______________________________________________
      emotionally sign here

*  *  *

You’re still with me? I hope so!

I wanted to recap last year’s resolutions (only 3), which I found when I named my resolution post this year: THIS YEAR, I RESOLVE. Somehow I picked the same name, two years in a row, without trying. I guess it’s a series, now!

From last year’s POST:

1. Be nice (to me): Yeah. That. Well… I am better, and I don’t bash myself in front of Addie, ever, but recently I’ve noticed my sweet girl pointing to the scale and saying, “mama.” So, clearly, I still need to work on that. I wish I could take the scale away, but I truly believe it is useful- especially for long runs. I weigh myself before and after to make sure I am not dehydrated. I also check my weight more often than I should, but now I need to be aware of not doing this while Addie is awake. I think this is something many women need to work on, and clearly I am still trying to justify my need for a scale. Regardless, though I am nice-r to myself, in no way am I nice.

2. Know when to hold ‘em: So I still like to fight, but Dave and I are good about holding our tongues and I try to not speak to him in sarcastic tones because I truly do not want Addie to pick that nasty habit up! This is something I am still working on, but I think I will always have to be conscious of my words and actions as I’m a bit of a sailor-mouth with a temper.

3. Earn it to own it: Nailed it! I took time for myself each day to write and came up with 269 posts last year. This year I aim to write posts with just as much heart as ever… and add some time to take care of my fitness goals, too!

So there it is… Monday! I hope you have a beautiful week, Reader!!

xo

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Marvelous Monday… the most thankful version

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Marvelous Monday

This weekend was a blast!!!!!

I am SO thankful for my inlaws and their never-ending patience! Living on a street that is great for yardsales, my mother-in-law and I decided to unload our stuff before the Winter… pulling Dave and my father-in-law in on it. With lots of planning, searching, basement cleaning and organizing, all of our items were in the driveway by 7am on Saturday. The cold morning was replaced with sunshine and laughter, as my my in-laws and I hung out. Yep. Like we went way back. Like they were my own parents, or that they had known me forever. It was awesome.

Eventually Dave and Addie came (the babe sleeps til 9:30 most days), and Gramma went to be Gramma and Grandpa played with the cousins. But those few hours were awesome! We had a decent day, so right before breakdown we decided to set it up again the next day. Our haul? Less than $20, but again… just the three of us hung out over chilling coffee, a nap in the driveway (yep, me), homemade breakfast sandwiches on my FIL’s freshly baked bread (SO good!) and talks of $25 tea sets. It was an awesome weekend (except for the Philadelphia Eagles’ loss), and I hope that we keep up the [new] tradition of the family yardsale!

YardSale

*  *  *

This week I just want to celebrate! I got the proclamation declaring October Dwarfism Awareness Month! I shared THIS post with the wording… check it out! Let’s get all of our states to make the same declaration!

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Lastly (like how short this one is this week? …don’t get used to it!): My random of the week is don’t give up. When Addie was first born, there was an instant connection with us. More than love- a lifeline- before she was born, I was, in fact, her lifeline. Watching Dave as a new dad wasn’t like the movies. He was tentative, but not nervous. He was in love, so in love… but I was scared that same connection I felt wasn’t there. Fast forward to our toddler. The one who is scooped up by Daddy and flown out the front door in sheer excitement to share the full moon with his girl. The one who has breakfast dates with Daddy, sans Mommy (who is delivered her coffee in bed). The girl who loves for Daddy to read books but screams for Mommy to put her to sleep… the slight watering of Dave’s eyes as he passes her off to me. The girl who runs after her Daddy (and puppy), but never has to ask him to wait- he’s already running back to her. The bond is there. It was there all along. I didn’t see it because I was blinded by hours of nursing and pumping, baby food making, diapers, doctors’ appointments and one class or another. But when I stopped and observed I saw it. I’m glad I didn’t give up on him. I knew he was the perfect man (for me) and would be the best father (for our child…ren?).

FamPics

Happy Monday, Reader! May you find new appreciation, empowerment and connectivity.

Love,

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Filed under Marvelous Monday

I have to share…

I had to mention this because we are moms. I mean I’m sure we aren’t all moms… but we are all parents, or could be, or will be. Or friends to those that are. Or whatever. We all need some damn privacy, regardless!

So, when I read THIS blog post the other day, I literally LOL’d. It actually made me think of a comment my husband made to me the other day (sorry to unleash your secrets, hunnie), “I peed sitting.”

I turned my head, wide-eyed. “I’m sorry?”

It went like this: Addie didn’t want to be alone, and she looked like she was moving towards the toilet. He tried to stop her and move her back towards the sink, but she didn’t want that. When he tried to leave her in her room, she screamed. He didn’t want to disturb my nap (YAY, A NAP!), so he brought her back in the bathroom… afraid that any other way would leave her scarred, splashed or otherwise compromise his parenthood, he sat.

Between the blog and Dave, all I can think is this is a phase. Most of the time Addie likes to brush her teeth while I take a moment to myself (heaven forbid she not be with me in the bathroom- although she plays alone when I’m folding laundry), but there are times she wants to be held. “UPPAH!” she shouts as I deftly pee and jump up as quick as possible. I really try to remember this is all a phase, like the one where I would nurse her, while I was peeing because she was attached to me and she would pull off and cry (perhaps my milk would let down when I FINALLY peed) and I would be there, also crying, “I’m so sorry baby, mommy just needed to pee,” while my bathroom window was curtained, but wide open. My poor neighbors.

I know times will change. In 17 years I will be alone again… except Dave will burst in needing to brush his dentures or quickly shave his sideburns. “You don’t mind, do you? The door wasn’t totally shut.”

Until my family bathroom time is up, there will be games and rewards for bathroom behavior. Tears shed over the one time I locked the door. Makeup applied in the mirror I so carefully clean each morning and more toothpaste spread across my sink than my pittance of a blogger salary can afford. I will cherish these times, for each thing is but a phase and each phase will have an end. The day will not come any different, or announce its change. It will just be. The end will come and I won’t ever know that it is.

I will miss the tiny fingers reaching under the door, the challenge of buttoning my jeans with one hand and the mechanics of opening mascara with my teeth. I know I will miss these things, even when I say I hate them because I always say it with a smile. Here’s to the phases, the beginnings and the endings, everything in between… and the alone time we so wish for.

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