Giving Thanks

Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday.  Mostly because it's impossible to commercialize like Christmas, but also, because it's a welcome reminder to count my blessings.  So, on this most glorious of holidays, I am thankful for:

Miles.  I cannot imagine my life without that crazy little monster who makes me want to pull my hair out one minute, and then gives me a kiss the next.  He is so amazing in so many ways, and I don't know how I've made it this far in my life without him.

Patrick.  He is my rock.  My other half.  My teammate, and my friend.  I am so incredibly blessed to have such a loving, forgiving, affectionate, and intellectual husband.  And after being together for almost 12 years, he still makes my heart flutter when he walks in the room.

My friends.  They have been here for me through thick and thin, always giving of themselves, lending a hand whenever I need it.  Often, I don't even know I need it until they offer.  These are the people that share my secrets, and my adventures.  People that I trust implicitly, even with my precious child.  People who laugh with me, cry with me, and support me in so many, many ways.

My family.  I could list each of them out, and say a million wonderful things about each of them, but then this post would go on for a hundred pages.  They have been there for me, whenever I needed anything.  I can call them anytime, and I know they will be there.  And more than anything, they are the ones who taught me about unconditional love.  Because I know I'm hard to love sometimes, but that never mattered to any of them.

My job.  As awful and difficult as it can be some days, it also has provided me with more opportunities that I would have ever imagined.  Opportunities to grow as an actress.  Opportunities to meet people I would never have met otherwise.  Opportunities to perform for huge crowds, and to touch people on a very individual level.  But more importantly, it has offered me the opportunity to become a better person.  Under the guidance of Maestro, I have learned to appreciate the talents of people that are difficult to love, and by doing so, I have come to love them.  I have learned patience, and the importance of tact.  I have learned to speak the truth with kindness, to temper its unkind nature.  And I have learned, once more, to trust in God, for He has a plan for each of us.

Have a happy Thanksgiving, and take the time today to count your blessings.  You may find you are luckier than you could have ever believed.

I'm a Klutz

So, I fell down the stairs.

Yeah, that sounds way worse than it was.  Honestly, my feet slipped out from under me and I landed on my back, bruising my back and my tail bone, and whacking the back of my head hard enough that I had a headache all day, yesterday.

Yes, I'm really talented at falling.  Also, I think Stacey's staircase is trying to kill me.

For anyone out there who doesn't know about our living situation, here's an overview:

We are renting a townhome, with Stacey, who may as well be my sister.  Miles and Patrick and I have the two bedrooms on the second floor, Stacey's bedroom is in the basement, and the main floor is a common area.  Rent is way cheaper, and honestly, she was at our place 90% of the time anyway.  This way, I just don't have to worry about her driving home when she's so sleepy she can hardly keep her eyes open.

So far, it's been awesome to have her here.  And I'm not just saying that because I know she'll read this.  It really is awesome.  I'm not even sure if she's human.  Humans should have more flaws and annoying habits.  Her worst one?  Blaring Disney music while she showers.  Which I can totally dig.*  I'm sure my list of annoying habits is about to drive her away, but in the meantime?  She does the dishes most days, which lightens my load considerably.  And she watches Miles while I cook dinner, or any other time I ask.  And last night, when I was so stiff and sore from my tumble, Stacey took over so I could just sit and whine about how much I hurt.  And she sat, and listened, and sympathized.  Because she's an awesome friend.

Even if her stairs are trying to kill me.

*She has no idea that I sing and dance along downstairs with Miles every time she showers.**

**Oops.  Guess she does now! :)

Housewifery

With the Festival put to bed for the year, I find myself in an unusual place:

At home.

There's no office to go to.  There are errands to run, certainly, but they can be accomplished in an hour's time.  And our evenings?  Free.  And our weekends?  Empty.*

So, I find myself focusing on taking care of the house.  My kitchen hasn't been so regularly cleaned in months.  My floors are vacuumed 3-4 times a week.  All of my laundry has been cleaned, folded, and put away.  And best of all, I have time to cook again.

I love cooking.  It reminds me of my mom teaching me how to brown hamburger, and fry chicken, and my grandfather teaching me how to make breakfast, and my grandmother teaching me how to make stuffed peppers.

Which is what I made for dinner last night.  With Miles underfoot.  Crazy child.  While I browned hamburger, he opened his cabinet and played with his pots and pans.  While I boiled peppers and mixed ingredients, he played with magnets on the refrigerator.  And when the timer was going off, telling me that I was about to overcook the peppers and ruin the meal, Miles started screaming bloody murder.  For no reason.  He just wanted attention.  But I didn't know that at the time.

Cooking with children underfoot should be considered an extreme sport.  It certainly got my blood pressure up. :)

*Except, of course, this weekend, since it's Thanksgiving. :)

Quiet Moments

In these rare, quiet moments, when Miles is sleeping, I sit, alone in my chair, and I think.

I think of a time when toys did not decorate my living room.  A time when there was no jelly to clean off the couch.  A time when I could come and go when I pleased, without worrying about a nap schedule.  A time when sleeping in on the weekends meant not getting up until noon.  I think of a time before Miles.

And it hurts.

Because I didn't know how much I was missing.

I turn my thoughts to the present.  And I wait for him to wake up.

I wait for that angelic smile that will melt my heart.  I wait for the tousled hair, that will never stay brushed.  I wait for the hugs, and the kisses, and the mess.  I wait for the thundering of tiny footsteps running through the living room.  I wait for the tickles, and the giggles.  I wait for the soft hugs, and the piercing squeals of happiness that cannot be contained.

And my heart sings for the joy of it.

Return of the Hubby!

I don't like to complain,* but this has been a really rough week.  Miles has been extra cranky.  I've been on edge.  Neither of us has had enough sleep.  And honestly, we've just been getting on each other's nerves.

This is what happens when Patrick goes out of town.

I am very aware of the fact that I tend to take my husband for granted.  He is amazing.  He is super helpful around the house, and he picks up the slack when I just can't manage for a day.  Our routine works so seamlessly that I often forget how much there really is to do every day.  He takes on so much that I just never think about.  Until he's gone, and I have to cover it all.

More than that, though, when Patrick is gone, I feel like I've been thrown off my game.  I am shaken.  I lose my ability to take on the world.  I am grumpy, and irritable, and prone to wild mood swings.  Everything feels slightly off-kilter, like someone removed an essential piece of my life.  Because honestly, that's what happens.  Patrick is essential to my mental well-being.

Last night, we had our Awards Party for Festival.  I was standing near the doors, a few minutes before everything was supposed to begin, greeting people as they entered.  I had turned to talk to someone briefly, and when I turned back toward the door, Patrick had appeared, looking dashing in his suit and tie, and holding a single red rose.

And with an inaudible twing, my world popped back together.

*Who am I kidding?  I love to complain.  That's half the reason for this blog. :)

Friday Photos!

Auditioning for the part of a chipmunk.  Or possibly a monkey . . .

If I steal Daddy's shoes, he can't go to work!

This is what we call the "grump face".

Yay for plastic rings!!!

Enjoy your weekend!

Labels

You may have noticed a new button to your right, there.  That is a button I am very proud of, even though I really didn't have to do much to earn it.  Yet.  Yesterday afternoon, my blog was accepted by Top Mommy Blogs!  I am very excited, as this has the potential to bring in some new readers, which is apparently what this whole "blog" thing is all about.*

To make their listings more efficient and standardized and easy to navigate, the Mysterious They have separated their mommy blogs into different categories: working moms, stay-at-home moms, couponing moms, giveaway moms,** moms of multiples, and so on.  And so, once more, I find myself trying, unsuccessfully, to define this life I live.

I am every inch a Working Mom.  I work at an office, almost every day, and I earn a paycheck.  I could write volumes on my job, but trust me, I am definitely a working mom.  But, I find that I don't really connect with other working moms very well.  In my experience, one of the primary topics of discussion amongst working moms is daycare - the process of choosing one, the guilt that comes with leaving your child, etc., etc.

Which is one thing I have no experience with, because I have been incredibly blessed with the ability to bring my child to work with me.  Every day.  My experiences and struggles revolve around trying desperately to talk on the telephone while responding to an e-mail, and entertain Miles so he doesn't scream bloody murder and disrupt the entire office.  I work, but I'm also my child's primary caregiver, 24 hours a day.

Which is why I very much relate to the Stay-at-Home Mom.  I am the one who is primarily responsible for the care and feeding of this rare creature known as the Miles Monster.  I am also the one who does the majority of the housework, the cooking, and the errands.  But I find that I have a hard time connecting with other stay-at-home moms, too.  Stay-at-home moms tend to talk about the loneliness of being alone with their children all day, every day.  When I visit the SAHM forums, there is always someone reaching out, wishing for just an ounce of adult interaction.

And here is where I stop being able to relate, as well.  I go to the office every day.  My job is to interact with other adults all day long, often to the point that I come home wanting only to interact with my child for awhile. To stop being an adult, with worries and stress and deadlines and reports, and just be with my kid, rolling around on the floor, being silly.  I am a Full-time mom, but I also work.

Which is the reason I refer to myself as a Full-time mom.  No other label seems to fit. :)

Disclaimer: I mean absolutely no offense to either Working Moms, or Stay-at-Home Moms.  I know I have overly simplified your motivations and choices.  I assure you, it was only to make a point about how I feel I fit (or don't fit) into those categories.  Every mom makes the choice that is best for her children, her family, and her sanity, and I would never wish to offend any of you.

*I can't believe I missed that memo for the past year. . . :)

**Moms who do giveaways, not moms who get given away.  Cuz that would just be awkward. :)