As I'm making food for tonight's get together, I'm reflecting back to the last day of 2007, just a year ago. It totally seems like a lifetime ago! God, was I a mess...

I was in the throes of germophobic anxiety and was sitting at home with Thing One and Thing Two, trying desperately to avoid the rampant Norovirus. I stayed in my pajamas all day and Lysolled things that may have come into contact with the infected outside world (even though I hadn't left the house for nearly a week)! The thought of being totally alone at midnight was too much to bear, so I kept my then four-year-old up until the ball dropped so I'd have someone to kiss. Unfortunately, by midnight, she had already been dog tired for over two hours, was crabby beyond belief and refused to plant one on me! She was asleep by 12:02. What a way to ring in 2008!

I've never been much of a New Year's Eve party person, so this New Year's Eve I'm spending it just how I want to - laying low with close friends, playing some board and card games and being happy and comfortable. I'm glad to say that my germophobic tendencies have all but disappeared, and although I won't be licking any raw chicken in the near future, I intend to enter 2009 a more well-balanced, clear-headed, and content girl!

Cheers!

I've been MIA a little bit. There's been a lot going on in my life (as there is in everyone else's) and I've not taken the time to get on here. It's been a whirlwind in many different ways and here are some things I've taken out of the past few weeks - wisdom, if you will!

1. Worrying is a waste of time. Really. I've spent enough money in therapy trying to believe it, but it's finally beginning to sink in. There's just so much I can't control in my life that I'd rather spend my energy on the things I can make better.

2. People are inherently good. Go ahead, call me Polyanna. I believe that, even in light of what the past 6 months have brought me.

3. Word Twist on Facebook can get you out of just about any emotional funk under the sun.

4. There are times where you can't do anything but throw in the towel. Throw gently.

5. Fun is underrated.

6. Being nice gets you further. And you can feel good at the end of the day that you played fair.

7. Friends, old and new are not just nice to have around, they're as necessary as water and sunlight! Thank you to my understanding, supportive, unconditional friends!

8. Technology is cool. Bluetooths rock, even if I look like a yuppie! And... Santa should be bringing me an iTouch for Christmas since I've been really good! You reading, Santa??

9. I don't need any more striped shirts.

10. Raw eggs will prpbably not kill me. Especially when mixed with Gin in a Velvet Tango Room cocktail. The jury is still out on cookie dough.

I have to preface this entry by explaining that my brother is special-needs, or as we commonly (and maybe politically-incorrectly) refer to as "handicapped". It's been a part of our life and we're not overly sensitive to it. We love him to bits and accept him and sometimes use humour to cope the ignorance of others. For example, my parents were tempted to buy a shirt for him that they found in a store that read, "I'm the bad thing that happens to good people". I can just imagine the looks we'd get if we took him out in public in that shirt! Anyways, my brother has been a great tool in teaching my kids to be accepting and understanding of people's differences. I never really thought about how it was perceived by Thing Two until she came out with a slew of funny questions:

Last Summer:
Thing One: Are dolphins or Grady Sizemore handicapped?
Me: No. What do you mean?
Thing One: Well, Uncle Matthew is handicapped and he doesn't talk. Dolphins don't talk and neither does Grady Sizemore, so I thought they might be handicapped too.

Last Week as we're getting ready to go to my brother's birthday dinner:
Thing One: Is this going to be a handicapped birthday party or do we get to eat cake?
Me: No, we get cake. What's a handicapped birthday party like?
Thing One: One where you just eat applesauce and peanut butter*

*My brother is allergic to just about everything under the sun and his favorite snack is peanut butter and applesauce!

This was meant to just be a "from the mouth of Thing Two" post, but as I'm writing, I feel compelled to mention how much I love and appreciate my little family. My mom and dad are the best role models when it comes to giving selflessly. A lot of kids like my brother live in group homes because they require so much care, but my parents both work and share the responsibility of caring for Matthew like it's second nature. You never hear them complain or act like martyrs. He's their son and they do for him just like I do for mine. The difference with mine is that one day, they will grow up and leave home to start their own lives. My brother will always be like a child for my parents to care for, but they do it happily. I remember my mom once saying something along the lines of her being so thankful that Matt was born into our family, so he could get all the love he deserves. And I think that love has shaped him into the sweet and lovable little guy that he is. I wouldn't trade him for a million un-handicapped brothers!

I keep everything. I don't like to label myself a "packrat" because of the implied disorganization. I don't have everything cataloged, but I'm organized. I can tell you exactly where the kids' dried up bellybuttons are or where the empty first can of beer I ever drank is. Yes, I kept the kids bellybuttons, and the bandaids from their first shots, and my positive pregancy tests (nasty!) I also keep the usual things, like hospital bracelets, cards, concert ticket stubs, and crafts that Thing One makes. In my defense, I've actually met one other mom who kept her kids bellybuttons, so I don't feel too creepy.

I did NOT get this sappiness from my mom. She throws out everything. If I have any mementos left over from my childhood, it must be because my dad pulled them out of the trash! I had a beloved bear that I slept with every night when I was little. He was aptly, if not creatively named Mr. Bear. He was crocheted and full of stuffing. As I snuggled with him every night, the crochet sticthes stretched and the stuffing became dense and settled at the bear's feet, leaving the rest of the him all limpy. If I didn't mention it already, I loved, loved, loved that bear. One night when I was going to bed, I asked my mom to bring me Mr. Bear. Unfortunately, Mr. Bear had apparently bought the farm and was no longer with us. By this I mean she thre him away. To this day, when I razz my mom about it, she says, "well, it was falling apart." Well, yeah - because I loved the hell out of it!

I really owe my mom a nice post, because anyone who reads this is going to totally think she's horrible! She can't be judged on this one incident. Seriously, my mom is the best. She's sweet, loving and nurturing and one of my best friends - she just doesn't share my nostalgic tendancies!

I'm not sure if the stuff that Thing One says is only funny to me, because I'm the mom, but I've been saying for years that I need to journal them so I don't forget any of it! So if no one else gets a kick out of it, at least I have record of it. She makes me laugh so often with what comes out of her mouth. I'm going to start with a couple of recent ones and add things as they pop into my memory.

Let me preface this by saying that Thing One is a goody-goody and never swears. She's sqeaky clean, that kid.

Thing One to the new hamster: Good morning, little guy. Aren't you a cute little bastard?!
Me: What did you just say?
Thing One: I said "bastard". Am I not supposed to say "bastard"?
Me: No, you cannot say that. It's a bad word. Where did you hear that?
Thing One: I don't remember. I just know it.

You have to know that she had the tiniest, softest voice and she was talking all high-pitched! Hysterical!


Yesterday was a day I really could have used a "ME DAY". Obviously, that doesn't happen much these days and I'm generally not big on needing a whole lot of alone time, but for some reason I was feeling a little bit fried. So, I take a break from cleaning to go to pee. Is it too much to ask for 60 seconds without interuption? Apparently so.

Thing One yelling from the living room: Mom, what does V-E-R-Y spell?
Me: Very
Thing One: What does S-M-A-L-L spell?
Me: Small
Thing One: What does P-I-N-E spell?
Me: Give me minute. I'm on the potty.
Thing One: But what does P-I-N-E spell?
Me: I AM ON THE POTTY.
Thing One: Can't you just tell me what P-I-N-E spells?
Me: NO. YOU NEED TO BE PATIENT. I AM TRYING TO GO POTTY!
Thing One: Yeah, well I'm trying to learn to READ!

Good Lord. Calgon take me away!

Well, I had a date last night! Okay, so it was with my dad. Whatever. Still a date. He even paid for my pizza and concert ticket! Going to shows together has become our "thing" and I love it.

We went to see RAIN, the Beatles Experience for the second time this year. AWESOME is an understatement! I wish Blogger had a thesaurus feature. The first time we saw them back in early spring, I was completely blown away. I actually had to remind myself that I wasn't really watching the Beatles. I was careful not to be one of those screaming fans that tear at their hair and pass out. They are just amazing. From the sets, to the costumes, to the mannerisms, and of course the voices, they really have it down. The energy at those shows is contagious and there's just something so magical about the music of the Beatles. Seriously, if you're even a mild Beatles fan, you have to see this show. Love it, love it, love it!! Can't say enough about it.

Among the many things I'm paranoid about and obsess over, my car is at the top of the list. I always think it's on its last leg, even though it hasn't even reached 70,000 miles yet. It's a VW Jetta, so theoretically it should get at least another 70,000 + miles. Thankfully, I have the most honest car mechanic imaginable. I need more than one hand to count the times he's sent me away without a bill, telling me that there's just nothing wrong with it. But don't you hear that squeaking, rumbly rattle? No, that's just the sound that cars make when they're running. Ah, I see.

Now, my mechanic - as honest and reasonable as he is - is also slightly unorthodox. I really don't care where he gets the parts for my car so long as everything works properly. That being said, since he first started doing my brakes he hasn't been able to figure out the "code" needed to reset my brake light. So.... my brake light on my dash is ALWAYS on. I hate it and it totally stresses me out. How I am supposed to know when my brakes are really bad? Just recently, my temperature gauge light has also been going on periodically. My washer fluid is low, so that light is on. My trunk which needs to really be slammed to close, has been slightly open for days so that light was lit up as well. When my gas light went on today, I thought my head was going to explode!

Now that I've all but beat the crazy germ phobia, I feel another type of irrational fear sneaking up on me! Hmmm, what will cost me less? A monthly car payment for a new ride, or weekly therapy sessions? A new car would certainly be more fun...

I am feeling sorry for myself today. I did my coworkers a favor and used a "mental health day". What a stupid name. Why not "head case day" or "leap from a bridge day"? Everyone talks about that seasonal affective disorder. Maybe that's what I'm suffering from. Or maybe I just feel like today my life sucks a little bit. If I'm on my usual emotional roller-coaster ride, I should be doing cartwheels in the front lawn or singing show tunes within the next half hour. Maybe that will help to offset the half gallon of Moose Track ice cream that I just ate straight from the carton.

I'm going to take my therapist's advice and LIST things to get it off my chest. We'll see how that works for me. Here are my reasons for being in a bad mood:

1. I have to do all the yard work myself this year. I have about 30 tall, LEAFY trees in my yard. That equates to about 80 refuse bags full of debris and the City of Cleveland SUCKS at leaf pickup. Last year they waited until after the first big snowstorm. Thanks. It may sound like no big deal, but it's just overwhelming.

2. In addition to the yardwork, and "girl" stuff like laundry, dishes and general cleaning, I also have to do all the "boy" stuff around the house now like taking out the garbage, relighting the furnace pilot and nailing things into the wall. Yes, I know - Gloria Steinem would be highly disappointed in my sexist division of duties.

3. I have no clothes for fall. I should take comfort in the fact that it's because I'm skinny this year, but still. I just about had an anxiety attack yesterday when I had to deviate from my usual jeans and t-shirt work uniform for business casual because of a lunch meeting.

4. I have paperwork. Lots of paperwork. Paperwork I would like someone else to take care of. Ugh.

4. I want a new car just because I'm bored with mine and I can't afford one. Now I'm just grasping at straws...

5. Um, my spray tan is fading and I'm back to pasty...

Yeah, pretty pathetic reasons for being in a bad mood and feeling sorry for myself. I probably just need to snap out of it. Now, if I could only find my Oklahoma! CD...

I get it when people mistake a 3-month-old bald baby dressed in yellow for the wrong sex, but a 17-month old in blue pajamas and a crew cut? I don't get it! On my way through the drive thru at BK this morning, the girl at the window says to me, "Ohhh, she's adorable!" I thanked her and then corrected her. She did a double take and said, "You're right. He is a boy." Um, yeah, I'm right! Now, I've heard from a handful of people that Thing Two looks Asian, but never that he looks like a girl! And no, I don't have an Asian milk man, thank you very much.

I didn't wait with either of my pregnancies to be "surprised" by whether it was a girl or a boy. Really, what's the surprise? It's one or the other. Now, if I gave birth to a cat - that would be surprising. Seriously though, I really do give kudos to those parents who have the patience to wait. I've heard that at the first ultrasound, they give you the sex of the baby written on a piece of paper in a sealed envelope. How long must that 6 months be?!

For me, it wasn't the need to paint the room pink or blue or to buy gender-appropriate adorable outfits, it was the desire to be able to picture the little person they are going to be at 6 months, 2 years, 5 years, 18 years old. Looking, back though, I pictured them both all wrong! Thing One looks nothing like I pictured she would. I always imagined her with curly hair (don't know where that would have come from). It's poker straight. I pictured blue eyes and they're brown. Figured tall and she's short! They're both more amazing than I ever could have imagined...

Remember that old game show, "Bumper Stumpers" where contestants were given a license plate and had to decipher it? If I had one, it would be GRM FOB. Yep, germ phobe. I've gotten a lot better about it over the past few months (thank you, therapy), so I'm now finding the humor in it.

I remember when it hit me how nuts I really was. It wasn't when I holed myself up in the house for a full week between Christmas and New Year's last year when that god-awful stomach bug was going around or when my girlfriend teased me for sanitizing my newborn's hands. It was when Thing One came up to me with a picture she drew that had a bunch of different colored specks covering an entire 8.5 x 11 sheet of paper. I complimented her on such a pretty, colorful design. "They're germs, mom." she said to me. Oh, god. There. I've done it! I've projected my ridiculous fears onto my child! Don't get me wrong, I love it that she comes up to me and says, "I touched a worm and now I want to eat some chips. Can I have some Purell?", but it's not something I want her obsessing about.

As careful as I am about protecting myself and the kids from all things disgusting, I had the *worst* thing happen this summer that could ever happen to a germ phobe. We were at Lakewood Park for a girls night picnic and we spread out our blankets on the grass. I kicked away every bit of goose poop I could find. Obviously, I didn't get it all, because Thing Two found an escapee turd and popped it RIGHT IN HIS MOUTH! Ugh. I barely slept that night as I waited for him to get violently ill. Thankfully, it didn't happen. The immune system is one amazing thing!

It was an expensive season of therapy, but I'm as good as I'm going to get on the germ front. I had some crappy things happen to me this summer that kind of put it all in perspective.

...I would seriously lose my head. These past couple of weeks alone I've lost my keys countless times, locked them in the garage, misplaced my debit card twice, my business credit card once, and left the house with a candle burning on the (wooden) kitchen table. I had a cart full of groceries on the conveyor at Rego's only to realize that I left my wallet in my car. I ruined another set of towels by leaving them in the washer for three days. Gross. I'm sure after I post this, I'll remember about a dozen other scatterbrained acts I've left out. I get so irritated with myself that it's exhausting! Truly, I don't know how other people put up with me. My friend tried to make me feel better the other day by saying, "you're just practicing being human". Yes, but do I need to practice being a stupid human? Geez, as I re-read this I realize it must be a self-deprecating kind of day!

I sometimes daydream about being one of those polished, Coach-Purse carrying kind of girls who never leave the house without fresh makeup, smooth hair and perfectly pressed clothes. Ugh. I'm sure those kind of girls are never caught wild-eyed without wallets at the grocery store or trying desperately to crawl through the window of their homes. Though I can't help but wonder if they go home and plug themselves in at night.

The picture above is a Shel Silverstein drawing that is fitting to this post. Hmmm, the poem it's from is aptly titled "Loser". By the way, I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE Shel Silverstein. If you haven't visited his website, it's really great. Check it out. He's not just for kids!! I loved him when I was little, but I think I get a lot more out of him now.

I'm going to go and blow out all of my candles and go to bed...

I thought I was safe when I let my 5-year-old listen to Q.104 on the radio with me in the mornings. That is until Thing One started singing along with Katy Perry's "I Kissed a Girl" from the backseat on the way to Kindergarten. The sound of her innocent little voice singing about "the taste of her cherry chapstick" just about made me blow my coffee all over the dashboard! It didn't bother me in itself, but I was concerned about her going into school and singing it to her teachers during sharing time. So, I try to think of the best way to go about talking to her about it without making a big deal.

Me: You know, some people don't think that a song about kissing girls is very nice, so maybe you don't want to sing that out in public. In the car is fine, but don't sing it at school.

Thing One: Mooooooom (exasperated eye-roll). Sometimes girls marry girls and boys marry boys. People like different things and that's ok.

Crack up. I don't want to say that I've never been prouder, but it did make me feel warm to know that I'm raising a tolerant little soul who will hopefully carry that acceptance of people over into her adult life. I'm sure that many parents would have my one-way ticket to mom hell printed up in a heartbeat, but the direct simplicity of her comment made me smile and feel like I'm doing something right. Rock on, Thing One!

This weekend, I managed once again to find the balance between mom and regular human being. On Saturday, I went out to an anti-shower for my girlfriend who is getting married in two weeks. She's already done the deed before and didn't want the typical bingo-playing, bride-and-groom-oven-mitt-gift shower that we all tolerate, so the girls went out to 87 West Wine Bar in Chagrin Falls. It was one of those situations where 3 different cliques collided. It could have been dangerous. There were the high school pals, the new family, and the friends of the soon-to-be hubby. Our outfits ranged from mom jeans and a floral top (NOT me) to a skin-tight dress and hooker heels (think Peg Bundy with blonde cotton candy-textured hair, complete with cigarette between the teeth). By the way - also NOT me! For all of our outward appearance differences, we ended up having a lot in common and had a great time. We must have looked like such a mismatched group, but after a drink or two we were all laughing and joking like old friends.

On the way home, I got pulled over for speeding. Thankfully, the universe realized my recent plethora of terrible luck and decided not to push me over the edge. I got off with just a warning to slow down. I didn't even have to cry! Things are definitely looking up.

On Sunday, we took the kids and their cousins to Patterson's Fruit Farm in Chesterland. I had never been there and believe me, it will definitely be an annual trip! There was so much to do! They had pony rides, hayrides, a big slide through the woods, a hay pit to jump in and push cart rides. And the food? Mmmmmm. I love fall food. I gorged myself on apple fritters, cider, kettle corn and a funnel cake. I need to put on a few lbs anyways, and there's no yummier way to do it.

By the time I got home in the evening and wound down, the kids were ready for bed and I had a wonderfully relaxing night.

Balance is good.

This morning I took a trip out to the Victoria's Secret at Crocker Park to get a bachelorette party gift for my girlfriend. While there, I decided to treat myself to a new bra thinking it would make me feel good. The vultures were on me in a matter of seconds asking if I needed to be measured. Sure, why not. And measure me they did - right in the middle of the store. Really? Do you need to announce my bra size to the whole store? So, I went into the changing room with a handful of bras, (and Thing One and Thing Two in tow) and tried them on. If you've never been to Victoria's Secret, the changing rooms are awesome. They even come equipped with a little doorbell, so that you can just ring for an associate and they'll bring you another size or style.

*DING DONG*

Me: I really like this one. Do you have have it in a smaller size?
Giant-Breasted Sales Associate: That IS our smallest size.
Me: Oh, ok. Maybe it's fine then.

Because I'm not going to admit that I barely fill out their SMALLEST size, I got the bra, grabbed a few pairs of semi-matching underwear and was on my not-so-merry way with $130 less in my checking account than when I walked in. Ugh. I totally need to make an appointment with Dr. Robert Rey.

Today was a great day!

Thing Two (my 15-month old son) took his first steps today! It's about time. I told myself I wouldn't worry about him not walking until he was 15 months old and he saved me by one day! 10 minutes after I got home this evening, he walked from the middle of the living room over to the couch. It was the adorable wobbly-leg, frankenstein-arm walk that they do when they're first getting their balance. So adorable. Of course I didn't get any video or a picture because it all happened so fast. By the time I got the camera ready, he wanted no part of walking anymore and didn't do it again the rest of the evening. Figures!

I also had a really good meeting with Positively Cleveland (GREAT ORGANIZATION!) this afternoon and then blew off the rest of my work day to have some ME time for a change. It felt great and it's something I definitely need more of. Then it was back to mom mode. Thing One had a playdate after dinner with one of the neighbour kids and I got to spend time with another cool mom for a bit while the kids played. I'm topping my day off with a quiet house, a glass of wine and the Grey's Anatomy season premiere. It's been a well-rounded and fantastic day!

My dad and I went to the Gordon Lightfoot concert last night at the Palace Theatre. We try to see him whenever he's in town. Us Canadians are loyal to our own! My dad saw him for the first time back in the 70's when he played at Massey Hall in Toronto. Hard to believe he's still rocking it 40 years later! Ok, maybe not quite rocking it, but for a 69-year old man, he sounded pretty good! He played a lot of goodies and told the audience the story about "Song for a Winter's Night" being written while he was in Cleveland years ago during a November storm.

Our seats left more than a little to be desired. I cheaped out figuring there are no bad seats at the Palace Theatre and ended up with Row Y way, way up at the top level. I now know that yes, there ARE bad seats at the Palace Theatre. Lesson learned. After a couple of bad jokes about there not being oxygen that high, we snuck down and sat in some decent empty seats without getting booted.

It was a great night and it was good to spend some quality time with my dad. We were totally due for a dad/daughter date! Hopefully he makes it around for another tour before he... dare I say it?

I've been reading other people's blogs now for some time, and dammit - I want one too! I can't promise the same level of commitment and wittiness that I read during my daily blog-stalk, but we'll see what I come up with.

I actually got the idea from my therapist. Yes, I have a therapist. Doesn't everyone these days? I've since temporarily "graduated" - at least until the next flu season hits, I get traded in for a younger model, or some other major disaster occurs - but the idea to blog has kind of stuck with me, so... here I am.

I can't imagine what I'll fill my posts with. I am a newly single mom (and better off in the long run for it) of two awesome kids. No, REALLY - they're awesome and not just because they're mine. My daughter is 5 and my son is 15 months. I have a full time (and then some) fundraising job in the non-profit industry and do some contract work in my *spare* time. Hopefully I can muster up some topics a little more exciting than spilled cheerios and must-see tv.

Well, that wasn't so bad! The pressure of a first post is gone. Now I can dry my sweaty palms and obsess about what to write next!