WHISTLE WHILE WE WORK

When you reach adulthood there are a lot of perks, but also a few unpleasant things that smack you in the head on a regular basis. For example, who in their right mind likes to pay bills? Do your taxes? Think about the need for life insurance? I've wracked my brain trying to make these grown-up things fun but I've come up empty.

Near the top of my list of "Things I'd rather not spend my free time doing" are household chores. They get done around here, but never with a smile or a song. More than once I've wished that I had the love for cleaning that drove the character of Monica on Friends. I think it would be refreshing to crave scrubbing the tub the way I crave chocolate.

Now that we are a family of three, the list of chores has grown along with the love. Since No. 3 isn't sitting up yet, we can't exactly expect him to sweep floors or wash his dishes. And since we are his parents we can't exactly cry, "No fair!" that he makes the most laundry but does the least. The only way this is going to work without dread is to make it as fun and painless as possible and to remember that we are lucky to have Little One around to make the extra laundry.

As far as making the chore easier, we settled on a few key habits that we are in the process of learning. First, I start a load of the Little One's laundry as soon as I wake up. We move that load over to the dryer an hour later so that it is done drying before we leave for work. Since the Little One's clothes are tiny and don't need to look well-pressed at daycare, they can sit in the dryer all day.

Second,we wash all of our work clothes together in loads separate from everything else. We learned this trick after we got an energy-efficient washer and noticed that The Husband's wrinkle-free clothes were coming out of the dryer very wrinkled. Our washer saves energy because clothes are treated to an extra long spin cycle, making them drier when they come out of the washer. This means less time and heat in the dryer. The problem is that dress shirts and pants sold as wrinkle-free require a certain amount of moisture when they get to the dryer in order for the fabric to dry smoothly. Instead of running these clothes on the energy-efficient cycle we bounce back to a basic permanent press level to get the job done. As long as we hang them up as soon as they are dry the trick works. We've been known to forget this last step, so by bundling all of the dress clothes together we only have to remember to immediately answer the call of the dryer buzzer a couple of times each week.

The biggest challenge for us is putting our clean and folded laundry away. While it's great to have a big surface to fold the laundry on, we also have the bad habit of leaving it on that same big surface for days. This is where we need the biggest push. The bottom line is that, in addition to making our lives easier by staying organized and on top of these household jobs, we are also trying to set an example for the Little One. So, crazy as it sounds, I just hung a picture of the little guy on the wall above the laundry room table as a reminder to suck it up and put our clothes away. I'm sure some day he'll roll his eyes at the fact that it hangs on the wall and at that point he'll be big enough to take it down himself. But, hey, that also means he'll probably be old enough to do his own laundry.

UNEXPECTED GIFTS

The thoughtful gift that got our
Christmas season started.

Every once in a while, there are moments in life that take your breath away. I had one on Thanksgiving Day, when the Younger Sister gave me a knitted red hat and scarf, a Christmas outfit for the Little One.

"Mom made these," she said as she handed the items to me.

Mom passed away four and a half years ago, well before any of her children had kids of their own. The Little One is the first grandchild in the family, and there is not a day that passes without me wishing Mom could have held him at least once.

So here we are, a month before the Little One experiences his first Christmas, and I already know what my favorite gift of the season will be. Hard to top the kind of love that results in someone knitting a Christmas hat and scarf five years ahead of time. Not only that, but to make sure someone in the family had the items for safe keeping.

Damn it. It's been a few days, and it still has me… well, you know.

I'm not sure if the hat will still fit by the time Christmas comes (the Little One inherited Daddy's large Irish dome), but the Wife already made sure the outfit will be a part of our first Christmas. Over the weekend, she did a photo shoot with the Little One in his Christmas outfit for the purpose of doing our holiday cards.

Wish I could share some of those photos here, but we want to send out the cards to friends and family first. Safe to say, it's the first time ever that I'm excited to do holiday cards, a task I normally view with the same enthusiasm as raking a yard full of leaves or mopping a house full of floors.

As we discussed last week, our goal is to start early with teaching the Little One that this season is more about appreciation than gifts. With a gift that was very much unexpected, Mom and the Younger Sister have certainly gotten us off to a great start.

THE PHOTO SHOOT (a digital short

He's just three months old, but the Little One has learned that we like to take lots of pictures of him. Today, he takes you behind the scenes for a look at just one of his many photo shoot sessions.

A NEW OLD FRIEND

Canine friends are the best

"Sadie's still alive."

Happy Thanksgiving to all of us! That is what went through my mind when I heard The Husband call out those words to me as we climbed out of our car. We'd just arrived at the home of our good family friends for dinner. I turned my head toward the house - to the dining room window specifically - and there she was. You'd never see her if you looked quickly, but peeking up from the bottom corner of the window was Sadie, our friend's very sweet and very old golden retriever. I smiled when I saw her, happy to see her face.

I pointed toward the window to show my mom and brother (Grandma Marti and Uncle Doug), who are visiting from Pittsburgh. Several months ago, Sadie's owner shared that she wasn't sure how much time Sadie had left. Her quality of life had started to fade and the last thing they wanted was for her to get to the point that she was uncomfortable. Seeing her face in the window instantly assured me that she still had some living left to do. In a moment, she was going to meet the Little One for the first time. When she saw us walking toward the house Sadie disappeared from our sight to rush to the side door we would enter. Like I said, she's a friendly dog.

The meeting was just as sweet. At first Sadie was distracted by the small crowd of people who came into the kitchen to greet us. Then she spotted the car seat resting on the floor.

"What's that?" her face seemed to say as she trudged over as quickly as her old bones let her.

Uncle Doug saw her approaching and, not knowing Sadie and her gentle ways, swooped up the seat at the last second to protect the Little One. This caught everyone's attention. Poor Sadie was then warned to stay away from the little wiggling creature looking down at her from the car seat resting on the table. She obeyed briefly, but a few minutes later when the Little One came out of his carrier, Sadie jumped at the chance to sniff him. Just as I expected, her greeting was gentle and made the Little One grin. They were hooked instantly.

Sadie was never far from the action throughout the day. She used her puppy dog eyes to quietly beg for a taste of hors devours. She made sure everyone took a turn petting her. She even was kind enough to pick up some turkey our host accidentally dropped on the floor while he was cutting the Thanksgiving bird. Later, when the Little One joined us at the table fresh from a nap, she rose from her spot on the floor to greet him. This was easier said than done for a big old dog. Sadie was determined though and weaved her way through a maze of table legs and human legs to reach us. Once she got there Sadie just watched him up close and, of course, let me pet her head.

A couple of hours later the Little One hit a rough patch and started to cry. He cried and cried some more. He cried loud and strong. It took me another hour in a dark bedroom upstairs to calm him down and get him to sleep. When I left the room I found Sadie stretched out at the bottom of the stairs sitting guard. Oh, Sadie!

Eventually it was time to go. I put the Little One back in his car seat carrier and we started to say our goodbyes. Perhaps it was the spirit of the day or maybe just his cuteness, but we spent more than five minutes crowded around him. He smiled again and again as he looked around the room of familiar faces. Since he was content for the moment I decided to run to the bathroom one last time before the trip home. When I walked back into the room a couple of minutes later, Sadie's owner was sitting on the floor in front of the Little One, and in front of her laid Sadie. I looked again and saw my single favorite sight of the day. That sweet dog had raised a paw and rested it on the side of the carrier. I wanted to cry. What a gesture! What a good memory to make at the end of a special first Thanksgiving!

When we left a few minutes later I felt a little sad not knowing if she'd be waiting in the window the next time we came by for a visit. She may not make it long enough to have the Little One crawl up to her for a hug. That is several months ahead. What I do know though, what I took comfort in as we drove away, is that sweet dogs like Sadie never really die. They are always at the front of our mind ready to make us smile.

MENTALLY LOST IN WAL-MART

Four of the five items I bought at Wal-Mart last night.
The comforter was already in the wash.

Five items. That was all I had to remember.

After dinner last night, I made a quick run to Wal-Mart to pick up five things we needed: a twin-size comforter, shampoo, Parent's Choice baby formula, Oh's cereal and Special K Protein Plus cereal.

See if you can remember those items by the time you finish reading this. Personally, by the time I made the 10-minute drive to Wal-Mart I could only remember one of the items.

The comforter. That one I remembered because we have company coming tomorrow to stay for a few days - the Mother-In-Law and the Uncle. We've never had more than one house guest at a time in the new home, so we've never needed this many comforters before.

While I tried to remember the other items,  I picked out a lovely brown and tan reversible comforter. Of course, I could not remember whether the Wife said we needed a twin size or a full size. We had one kind at home, but damned if I could remember which one.

So I texted the Wife. Twin or Full?

We needed twin.

Great. I started to head toward the food area, since I remembered we needed baby formula. Got halfway there when I remembered we needed some kind of bathroom item. Not that I could recall what kind of item.

So I wheeled my cart back to the bathroom stuff section. And then I stood there, talking to myself. I'll be honest, I don't know whether it was an internal or external conversation. Seriously, I stood there for about seven minutes trying to remember what it was that we needed. If the look on my face matched the confusion and frustration going on in my head, then there's a better than average chance you'll be seeing me on peopleofwalmart.com sometime soon.

How bad was it? At one point, a woman approached me and asked if I needed any help. She did not work there.

For whatever reason, I thought about the fact that the Uncle is bald (shaved head), and that's when I remembered the shampoo.

With two items down and three to go, I made my way to the food section. My travels took me by the $5 DVD bin. Sooooo tempppptteeed!!!

A sample of my thoughts as I walked by the $5 bin:

- Dog Day Afternoon for $5. That's a steal!

- All four of The Substitute movies on one disc for $5. That's still a ripoff!

- THE GOONIES!!!!! Oh wait, we have that one… twice.

Despite the heavy pull of Wal-Mart gravity to the $5 bin, I walked by and kept going to the baby section.

We needed the formula in the purple tin. Ah yes, Parent's Choice, that's the one! 

Except I was not sure. There was Parent's Choice Premium, Parent's Choice Sensitive, Parent's Choice Soy-Based, Parent's Choice Advantage, Parent's Choice Original and Parent's Choice Gentle.

So I stood there for several minutes trying to picture the tin in our cabinet at home. All I could remember was purple. This time was even worse than in the bathroom product section. Besides the confusion and frustration, I was also dumbfounded. Before leaving the house, I had actually opened the cabinet, looked at the tin and remembered the brand name. 

I had no idea baby formula had so many flavors. Rather than guess, I took a picture of the one I thought we used, and once again, I texted the Wife. Turns out my instinct was right… we needed the premium.

If you are counting, that is twice that the cell phone saved me in Wal-Mart. 

Now on to the last two items. I got the Oh's Cereal first. When I remembered the shampoo, I remembered that I was getting Oh's because the Mother-in-Law and the Uncle love Oh's, which are not always available in their neck of the woods in Pittsburgh.

Four items down, one to go. 

What the hell was it? For the third time in one trip to Wal-Mart, I could be seen standing in an aisle, staring at nothing in particular. I leaned against my cart, my head down, burning brain cells as I tried to think of the last item.

All I could remember was the last thing the Wife said as I went out the door.

"Oh, one more thing. Could you look for _____?

Do you remember what it was? It took me five minutes of wandering up and down food aisles to remember.

The answer? Special K Protein Plus cereal.

That's right. I had to remember five items. Two of them were cereal. I was in the cereal aisle, and I still could not think of it for the life of me.

With the five items in my possession, I was finally able to leave. Thank goodness. What should have been a half-hour jaunt to the store took far, far longer and all I wanted to do was go home.

Now, where did I park? 

33 "Thank Yous"

Sometimes No. 1 is not the best place to be. A child's second Christmas is always more memorable than the first. Turning 10 years old is so much more thrilling than turning 9 just because of an extra digit. Each anniversary of marriage or other commitment signifies another year of choosing to be together through thick and thin.

This year is my 33rd Thanksgiving. While I can guarantee that I was blissfully unaware of the meaning for at least the first few years, the significance of the holiday has grown immensely with each passing year. Just as there are milestones in human development there are milestones in understanding.

The year I understood that not everyone gets to eat Thanksgiving dinner.

The year I knew a family that didn't get to eat it.

The year I first tried to change that by donating money and canned goods to a charity.

The year I realized that canned goods and money once a year isn't enough.

I imagine that even if I live to be a very old woman with many Thanksgivings under my belt, I will never understand why some of us have overflowing baskets of food, shelter and love while others struggle to get by. As one person I can't move a mountain to make it better for everyone. That task is going to take many of us.

Starting this year though I can begin to support the mind and heart of another person who hopefully will choose to join in on that journey. For me, year 33 is when I begin explaining to the Little One why we come together to celebrate all that we have. He is the biggest thing I have to be grateful for this year- the most wonderful gift. It is the least I can do to say, "Thank you."

TIME FOR CHANGE

Several years ago, I received one of my favorite Christmas gifts ever. It was a glass milk container that was filled with chocolate milk mix.

As a fan of chocolate milk, I loved the gift. But it was always the simplicity of the gift always struck me. Don't get me wrong, there have been big gifts through the years that have blown me away. The year my sister bought me a Wii plus the first five full seasons of Family Guy stands out as well.

But the chocolate milk gift always stayed with me, in part because I still have the glass milk bottle that reads, "Got Milk" down its side. The chocolate milk powder is long gone (it was pretty much gone within days of me receiving it), but the bottle remains, serving as my change bank.

Throughout the year, anytime I receive change after making a purchase, it goes right into that milk bottle. It stays in the bottle until the holidays roll around, at which point I empty the contents and use it for buying Christmas presents. 

Yesterday, I brought my milk bottle to the grocery store and emptied the contents into a Coinstar machine. The take was a little more than $63, which I took in the form of an Amazon.com gift card. Like many people, I do a considerable amount of holiday shopping online.

This year, that milk bottle is serving double duty. Besides providing a little extra spending money, it also is providing a reminder to keep things simple. As excited as we are to experience our first Christmas with the Little One, we also realize he is 3 months old. The concepts of Santa Claus and gift giving will be pretty lost on him this year. Plus, we have a chance to start early with teaching him that holidays are special because of the time we get to spend with family and friends. 

It's all fine and dandy to talk about how much we appreciate time with each other. And we really do. But in year's past, I also have definitely been guilty of going overboard with my holiday shopping. It's my favorite time of year, and I love spoiling the Wife. 

This year, though, I've promised it will be different. I've vowed to limit the total money spent on gifts to $100, which actually has the Wife more excited than any gift I could buy for her. 

With that type of budget, there won't be months of bills to pay off. It also means simpler gifts and a little more creativity to show my appreciation for her.

That's the kind of change that is coming from the milk bottle this year.

THE NEW TRICK (a digital short)

The Little One discovered that he could do a new trick this weekend. It's one that makes us very proud, and makes him very excited, as you will see. Without further ado, we present this weekend's digital short, The New Trick.

AWAKENED

The Little One woke up at 5 am this morning and I was thrilled. He'd slept through the night again - a solid nine hours straight. As I sat in the dark and silent house feeding him, I started to laugh.

No, the Little One did not crack a joke he'd been waiting all night to tell me. I laughed because I realized the irony. It was 5 a.m. and, in spite of the fact that most of the world around me was still asleep and that I was exhausted beyond words, I also was a proud Mama Bear. I thought about how funny it is the way life changes us through experiences over the years.

Until now, I cursed the early morning. When I was a child, all I cared about was that I did not like my early, parent-imposed bedtime. Then, as a teen, my friends and I had a bad habit of staying up until three in the morning and then sleeping past noon.

As a college student I hated that some of my required classes started at 8 a.m., meaning that I had to roll out of bed at a then ghastly 7 a.m. A few years later I jumped for joy on the weekends when we had no responsibilities that required us to set an alarm clock. We woke gradually around 9 usually, but dozed longer if we were out late the night before.

And here I am, a parent, ready to feed, clothe and clean my son in that wee hour. The change makes me wonder about the passage of time and what I have to gain by thinking or writing about it. I also thought about how my life is no longer tied to a clock or a timeline. And I think about my great aunt, Tia Maria, and the simple lesson she taught me.

Tia lived to be 95 years young. Once during a visit, I asked her what her secret to a long life was. At that time she was already well into her nineties. She shrugged her shoulders and then said, "I just don't think about it." Tia went on to explain that she was just grateful to wake up every day. She didn't imply that this was a thought that only came to her as she reached her final years. I got the sense it was something she felt every day of her life.

So, going forward, regardless of the time my eyes open and whether it is a restful and natural awakening or one brought on by a buzzing alarm clock or a chatty, crying baby, I'm going to say, "Thank you."

HANGING WITH HIS BOYS

Overall good guy Dave stopped by
the home to help us remove wallpaper
just after we moved in a year ago.

Last night, I sat and stared at the screen for long spells, waiting for some type of thought to emerge. 

Earlier in the evening, the Little One had peed in my face as he slept during a diaper change. Before that he had spit up on my pants, and then my left shoulder. When I switched to the right shoulder, he repeated the act, leaving me with matching white patches to either side of my head.

I wasn't in the mood to joke about that stuff, though. I was grouchy, thanks in large part to a stiff back. Just a totally blah kind of mood.

Until a saw this piece about my old friend Dave that ran in the Daily Mustang, a news site in the Dallas/Fort Worth area. Dave, my former resident assistant and a fellow hard-core Rhody Ram fan, is a guy who embraces fatherhood.

According to the story, Dave is among the 158,000 stay-at-home in the United States. That figure is up more than 60 percent from 2005, according to the U.S. Census.

Yes, part of that has to do with the economy. Not so for Dave though. He and Cortney made the conscious choice years ago that he would stay home with the kids (they now have two boys). I'm definitely jealous.

I enjoy my job, and I certainly have professional goals that I want to achieve. That said, I'd love to take a crack at being a stay-at-home dad.

From previous conversations, I know Dave digs it. He also finds time for things beyond Daddy life. In fact, last year he started his own business, Rain Barrel Guys, which specializes in recycled rainwater collection barrels. See, still finding ways to put that URI College of Environment and Life Sciences education to work! 

It's cool that Dave is doing his thing and being a great Dad to his boys. The thought of he and the boys trekking out to the park to hang… well, that's just good stuff right there.

"L" IS FOR LEARNING

Yesterday was my first day back to work after a three month maternity leave. The emotions that go with that are still too raw to reflect on just yet. That will come in time.

Instead, I'm trying to distract myself by gathering a list of random things I learned during my "baby break" that have nothing to do with babies. So far I've assembled a small list of random nuggets of information with no particular connection. I assume that none of these tidbits are on the Mensa exam, but I think they are good to know just the same.

Non-parenting Things I learned during my maternity leave:

I learned that there is an online test to see if a person qualifies for Mensa.

I learned that grocery stores are much calmer midmorning on a weekday than thirty minutes before kick-off on Sundays in the fall.

I learned that not everything listed on weekly grocery store flyers is on sale. Apparently, advertisers are sometimes allowed to buy ad space.

I learned the words to "Rubber Ducky." This may sound like a parenting thing, but no self-respecting old-school Sesame Street fan who grew up in the nineteen seventies or eighties doesn't know this song.

I learned that not much happens on Facebook during the workday. I'm not saying that we are all productive workers during these hours. I simply mean that, other than birthday well-wishes and a few random comments from stay-at-home parents, nothing new usually happens. I'm sure we are all checking to see what crazy thing our friends did, heard, saw or thought late the night before, but we aren't posting anything over-the-top ourselves.

I learned that many neighbors on my street shamelessly go by the "pajamas until noon" rule. By the end of three months I proudly walked to the mailbox wearing my night clothes.

I learned that quiet houses make as many creepy noises during the day as they do at night.

Lastly, I learned that now that I am a parent I have a narrow window for reading or t.v. viewing, but somehow little specs of learning manage to fall at my feet. This is another good reason to watch where I step.

DOING IT OUR WAY

Three months ago, we were together
all day. Starting today, we all have
our own places to be. 

"How did they do it?"

The question ran through my mind over and over as we drove away. The Wife and I had just dropped off the Little One at day care for the first time. She was chatty, working to convince both of us that he would be fine.

Me? I was quiet. That's how I get when the damn knot in my throat swells. If I try to talk at those moments, the only sound that comes out is a sucking noise that resembles an asthmatic struggling to catch their breath.

So as I tried (unsuccessfully) to hide my tears, all I could think was, "How did they do it?"

My parents raised four kids on one salary. Mom made money on the side watching other kids, but she didn't go to work until we were old enough to fend for ourselves after school. For the most part, we all got by on Dad's salary that he earned as a mailman. Fine work, to be sure, but it's not like he had a wealthy income.

They had a mortgage and bills to pay. There were clothes to buy and six mouths to feed. None of us went to day care. They did it on one salary while mom stayed home with us.

I never felt we were wealthy growing up, but I certainly never felt like we went without either. 

Yesterday, more than ever before, I appreciated that. The Wife and I both are fortunate enough to have full-time jobs. Neither of us would be considered highly paid by any stretch, but we get by fine enough.

Of course, I'd love to have one of us home, so the Little One wouldn't have to go to day care. But life is a numbers game, and we can't make the numbers work without us both working.

It bugs me, but that's the way it is. Still, there are positive ways to look at it. By going to day care, the Little One gets to experience being around other children. There will be things he learns in that environment that he simply couldn't get at home, regardless of whether one or both of us could be with him.

So as the reality sinks in that the Little One will be a day care baby, the question will pop up again, I'm sure.

"How did they do it?"

I'm not sure I actually want the answer. Instead, I'll just appreciate that they did.

FORGET THE JONES'S

We love our neighborhood. It was one of the first things that attracted us to our house. During the summer families, couples and friends walk up and down the wide, quiet street. On Halloween loads of children wander to our door wearing costumes and asking for candy. In the winter neighbors help each other shovel snow from our driveways. When the weather starts to warm up in the spring those same neighbors chat with each other from our respective yards as we garden. It is a modest neighborhood, but comfortable.

That said, sometimes it's hard to keep up with the Jones's. In our case, it is near impossible most of the time. Our house is a fixer-upper and there are days when I think we could wallpaper the living room with our to-do list. Since we worked so hard to get the old 1970's paper off those walls and since our last name isn't Rockefeller, we've had to accept that we won't get the showroom house of our dreams completed over night. We are making slow progress on the inside, but the outside has changed little from the day we first saw it. It is, by no exaggeration, the house on our block that needs a face-lift the most. I've never heard any snickering, but I can't imagine that the pealing paint and tired landscaping is earning us or the neighborhood any equity.

We are trying though, and that counts for something. Little by little we are digging out the old and planting the new. This past spring The Husband tackled an ugly hedge to the ground and pregnant me wore a face mask to keep dirt from my mouth as I dug a new garden. It is discouraging though to walk past peeling paint each day. On down days I'm envious of my neighbor's newer siding and thick, green lawn. Envy is an ugly thing, so lately, when caring for The Little One gives us even less time for outside chores, I'm making mental lists of the things we have accomplished.

Yesterday, we added two things to that list. Nothing fancy- we raked the yard and cleaned out the gutters. Like the Jones's we have ten yard waste bags filled with leaves. We also have a deep appreciation for the playtime, bath time and mealtime that kept us from doing more of these chores. That attitude may not get the house painted, but it will fill it with happiness. I think we made the right choice.

GOOD DOG, CARL (a digital short)

We present to you a segment from our recent reading of Good Dog, Carl. The Carl books have very few words, so for the most part you have to improvise. As we read, the Little One was in charge of sound effects. Either that, or he was trying to let me know what he thought of my version of the story.

ALL BECAUSE OF GRACE

Many acts of kindness
made the book possible.

The kindness that people show each other can be simply amazing, as Jane Martellino discovered earlier this year.

Jane is the librarian at the Consolidated School in New Fairfield, Conn. We've never met in person, but we talked over the phone a few weeks ago for an interview. In an example of how small this world can be, it turns out that Jane worked with my mother at an elementary school in Middletown, R.I. several years ago.

I found out about Jane's project several weeks ago from a colleague at the University of Rhode Island. As part of my job, I write stories that promote the work of URI's alumni, faculty, staff and students. It's something I love doing, as I am always excited to hear about the things people are involved with.

This is the story I wrote for Jane about a major fundraising project she is doing on behalf of her friend, 9-year-old Grace. In the summer of 2009, doctors discovered that Grace had a brain tumor. In effort to help Grace and her family, Jane reached out to many of the top children's authors and illustrators in the country, hoping that perhaps a handful would reply and be willing to contribute. She heard back from more than 130. 

These were not your run of the mill writers. There were Caldecott Medal winners and Newbery Medal winners. We're talking best of the best. 

These authors and illustrators are not just contributing their stories and recipes. They are helping with the promotion of the cause via social media, using Facebook, Twitter and other means to spread the word. 

Amazingly, the content for the 288-page came together in a four-week span. 

The vast majority of these people had never met Grace before. However, they were willing to help the cause. These are the type of stories I'll never tire of hearing. Through the simple act of caring, these people are working together to make a difference in a family's life.

If you are interested in learning more about Grace or the cookbook - All Because of Grace - visit http://www.yesgracerocks.com/.

BABY IT'S COLD OUTSIDE

We did it. We turned the heat on in the house. Actually, we turned it on a couple of weeks ago, but until this week it only kicked on a couple of times a day. Now that the Little One is around we decided to add a few degrees to the near-chilly 66 degrees that we have kept the thermostat set to in winters past. The house is bearable with warm clothes on but not the comfy 75 plus degrees that I'd prefer.

The change in temperature brought on an unplanned chore today. As I put away our laundry it was painfully clear that it will be several months until I can wear the short-sleeve tops and light pants that were still in my closet. It was time for the big clothing switch-er-oo.

Out with the summer clothes and in come sweaters, long pants and dressy scarves. It only took about 10 minutes to gather everything and put it in neat piles on our bed. Then I trudged down the hall to the Little One's room and grabbed the "sad pile." By that I mean the two large gift bags that have been sitting on the floor collecting clothes he is now too big to wear. We call it the "sad pile" because it gives our hearts a little tug in two directions to both see how much he is growing and to remember the tiny guy we brought home who fit into the newborn Redsox onesie.

I stood next to my bed and sighed as I tried to figure out how to contain the mountain of clothes before me. We have a designated storage spot downstairs, but somehow the plastic bins we usually use had found another purpose in the house. I was clueless for a minute when I remembered that the Little One's frequent diaper-filling habit meant that we also own a collection of large, empty diaper boxes. Once again, but not in the usual way, Pampers saved the day.

In the end, the boxes were the perfect fit. I loaded, closed and labeled five in all. Our closets and drawers are not the cramped mess they were this morning. And downstairs, in a dry, dark, cozy corner of the house, our family's summer clothes are tucked in for a long winter's nap. I'm sad that it is cold outside, but take comfort in knowing the joy I will feel when I open those boxes next spring. I wonder what I will wear first?

GOODBYE, FOR NOW

Watching Grandpa read to
the Little One was a great experience.

The Little One had to say goodbye to Grandpa today. Well, for the time being, anyway.

It was a really nice four-day visit, but this morning Grandpa left to head back down to North Carolina. It's weird how that works. You plan a visit and let the anticipation build, and then in a blink of an eye, it's done and over with.

You wonder how well a baby can recognize the family they don't see very often. If the last few days are an indication, the Little One knows them well. The moment he saw Grandpa Saturday morning, he smiled, and he didn't really stop throughout the visit.

This morning Grandpa could hug the Little One. By the end of the day, they will be 650 miles apart again.

I realize as I typed that last line, I got a little choked up. As a matter of fact, it's pretty damn dusty in this room. I'm going to have to talk with the Wife about that. 

For whatever reason, it is hitting me hard how life has a way of changing really fast, in good ways and bad. I always envisioned getting to see Grandpa reading a book to our baby, which he did last night. I never imagined the range of emotions I would feel watching it happen.   

There wasn't anything that could dampen the visit. When we got some surprise snow Monday morning that canceled our initial plans to take the Little One to a park for a walk, it didn't matter. He and Grandpa stayed inside and played. Not sure which one smiled more, but there was an awful lot of laughing on both ends.

The same holds true when Grandma Marti comes in from Pittsburgh (540 miles away, in case you were wondering). Or when she Skype's with The Wife, and the Little One hears her voice.

There's no question Grandpa, Grandma Sue (his wife) and Grandma Marti all wish they could be around the Little One more often. 

I'm not sure how well he understands the concept of time just yet, but I'm sure the feeling is mutual for him.

WARM THOUGHTS

Hot tap water and a Lipton tea bag - that was how I made my first cup of tea at age ten. I don't remember how it tasted but I imagine not good. My tea-making skills improved tremendously once I was allowed to use the stove. Over the years steaming hot tea became a comfort beverage for me. At times I seek it out the way some people run to a glass of wine or a cold beer after a stressful day of work. It is also there in simpler times as a nice way to treat myself when I have a minute to unwind. The effect is addicting.

No one knew the magic of a cup of tea better than my mother-in-law. Tea and gardening were the two things that we first bonded over. Many of my favorite conversations with her took place at the dining room table, both of us with hot cups in our hands. I was never particular about the container I drank it from, but it mattered to her. She drank hers in a tall, delicate teacup decorated with small flowers and buds. We never talked about her reasoning, but I always felt it was her way of making those moments when she could relax extra special. It was her way to say, "Hooray for today!" even when nothing terribly interesting happened.

I'm not as good as she was at taking those moments for myself. From time to time though, when I miss her or when the day is especially normal, I reach for the tea and her cup. Each sip is a whisper telling me to slow down and look around me at the everyday moments we have to celebrate.

Yesterday was a teacup day, and boy did that tea taste good!

ALWAYS A SILVER LINING

If I cleared the driveway, this blog
entry would not have happened.

Though we often feel like it is, our life is not perfect. We make mistakes. Some bigger than others.

More important than the mistakes we make is how we respond to them. Or, more specifically, how we respond to the mistakes of others.

On Saturday, for example, I dropped the Little One. Clearly a mistake. 

How exactly does one manage to drop their infant son? Well, the Wife, the Grandpa (in from North Carolina for a few days)  and I were getting set to bring the Little One back for a visit with his aunts and uncles. I was carrying the Little One in his car seat, which locks into a base that stays in the car. We were headed to the car when I tripped over a raised brick at the edge of our walkway.

See, the driveway was covered in recently fallen leaves, making the walkway impossible to see. I caught my toe and lurched forward into the car, dropping the car seat in the process.

Worst feeling I've had in my two-plus months of parenting experience. Looking down to see the car seat on the ground, the Little One inside startled and crying (who could blame him?) but otherwise fine. No part of him actually touched the ground since he was strapped into the seat, but still, it's the biggest fall he's experienced to date.

"Oh my God. I just dropped my son!"

The Wife rushed over and helped make sure the Little One and I were okay. She easily could have asked, "What the hell happened?" 

She easily could have yelled at me or called me a dope. She even could have busted on me for the rest of the day (hey, we've been known to laugh about funky things).

But she didn't. 

Instead, she looked at the Little One, then looked at me in all my klutzy glory and said, "He's okay. At least we know the car seat works."

With me on the verge of a freakout, she found a piece of silver lining. 

It was what I needed to catch a deep breath and realize everything was okay. 

Not perfect, but okay.

WAITING FOR GRANDPA (a digital short)

Grandpa came into town this weekend, and the Little One was very excited to see him. Despite the distance between them and the limited time together, it certainly seems as though the Little One recognized him right away.

MONKEY SEE MONKEY DO

Parenting is the best job in the world. It is also the hardest. We knew what we were getting into though when we had the Little One, and we welcome all of the responsibilities that come with him. His "owner's manual" is quite thick but luckily it is written in a language that we (usually) understand.

At the top of the list of responsibilities, after providing for his basic needs and loving him unconditionally, is being a good role model. It is a job that goes beyond the basics of eating right, exercising, telling the truth and keeping our language clean. There is a big bucket of things we are working on doing better than we did pre-baby. We now eat

vegetables with dinner every night, even the kinds that are not our favorites. We go to bed in darkness and quiet instead of to the sound of the TV. We read every night, even if they are kid's books. And, starting today, I wear my glasses.

Glasses? Yes, that seems to be something that I shouldn't need to make a habit of doing. Like all bad habits though, I have a background story that explains (makes an excuse) for not wearing them.

When I got my glasses almost three years ago the doctor advised me to, "Wear them as much as you want." She did not say this to go easy on me or because I don't have a need for them. She said it because she knew I could function fairly well without them. Like many people, I have an astigmatism. Fine details are out of focus, similar to the difference between regular television and high definition television. I like it, but can survive without high definition.

About a year ago now, when we were expecting the Little One, morning sickness hit me hard. There were days when brushing my teeth and putting my hair in a lazy pony tail were as detailed as I got. During this foggy time my glasses stayed in their pretty little case in the bottom of my purse.

Then, a few months ago, I stopped at Panera Bread for lunch and had an awakening. When did they shrink the print of the letter board? Sadly, they hadn't. A kind woman standing in line next to me saw my perplexed face and turned and asked if I was okay.

"Yes, thanks. I just can't see what it says."

Shamefully, I put my hand in my purse and pulled out my glasses. I put them on. You know how this story ends. I read the menu hanging ten feet in front of me. Ten feet.

The Little One came along soon after that day and for awhile I was back in the "tooth brushing and pony tail" mode. He is almost three months old now though and sleeping through the night. Before I know it he will be a talking toddler wondering why I am always squinting at him. I have no more excuses and I have an example to set. I am what I am. I am a thirty-something mommy who wears glasses.

MOVEMBER MOVEMENT

Movember is upon us.

Until last week, I had never heard of Movember. When my friend and co-worker mentioned it to me, I wasn’t convinced it was real. Despite not knowing whether it was real, there was no hesitation when Todd asked me to join him in honoring Movember by growing a mustache for the month of November.

I’m all for supporting causes and being part of a team. I also have no problem looking like an idiot, which growing a mustache will certainly do.

Why do it? According to www.movember,com, it’s a movement to raise awareness for prostate cancer, the No. 1 cancer affecting men. What started in 2003 “over a few beers” in Melbourne, Australia has grown into a movement that raised $42 million in 2009.

It’s an honorable movement, one that I am more than happy to participate in. Most of the men in the building I work in are participating, a nice show of solidarity among the males. Even some of the women are vowing not to pluck or wax for the next 30 days.

We’ll see how it goes. Through the years, I have managed a semblance of a beard just once. It wasn’t pretty, and I often forget that it happened. It was back in 2004, the year the Sox won the World Series. It was also the year our good friends Tim and Melissa got married, and I had the beard for their wedding. Whenever The Wife sees photos from that night, she rolls her eyes and says, “Oh… I forgot you had that beard.”

However, in this case it’s not a full beard. Just the ‘stache. No hair below the lip, and nothing connecting to the sideburns. To me, that’s a key difference. Not sure that The Wife sees it as a great compromise.

Still, she sees this for what it is. It’s a fun way to support an important cause while also being part of a team effort at work.

Movember, folks. Movember.  

FEEDING THE HEART

A while back we told you about the much needed big dining room table clearing that took place after we finished writing our thank you notes. Once it was done we sighed a huge breath of relief and spent the next week smiling every time we walked by the table. Since that day we've undertaken a couple of quick projects at the table - including making our Halloween costumes last weekend - and cleaned up our messes immediately each time. Other than that though, the table has sat vacant.

That all changed this week. We started a wonderful practice at our house - the family dinner. It all started when we remembered that the Little One's highchair not only reclines but can also be lowered to table height, thus making it possible for him to "sit" with us as we eat. A few weeks ago we tried putting him in the bouncy seat during meals, but this left him awkwardly staring up at us from the floor or down at us from above if we carefully placed the seat on the table between us. Neither of these situations invited him into the conversation. The highchair, however, brings him right to our level.

Instantly, our family dinner became my favorite part of the day. I'm not one for regrets, but I can't believe it took us so long to start doing this. The Husband and I were both lucky enough to come from "family dinner" homes. Occasionally sporting events or after-school activities interrupted or delayed the start of these meals, but they were regular events in our childhoods. Even as a sullen teenager, I came to rely on these dinners. I knew that if I wanted to talk about my day I could. Sometimes the table was quiet, but it was always a welcoming place.

That is exactly what we want to make happen for the Little One. Over the coming weeks, as we fall into a busy evening routine of baths, packing lunches and diaper bags and picking out clothes for the next day, family dinners will become our special time together. I can't think of a better way to end the day then to stop and smile at each other, say 'thank you' for what we have and to let the Little One know that he is our priority.

Let the babbling begin!