Sick Day

I'm calling today a sick day.

Roo came down with a raging fever last night.

We took her to the after-hours care and spent four hours there. Her high fever, an infection and anxiety caused her heart to race out of control and we spent three of those hours in a panic-gripping fear.

This morning she woke up and the fever hasn't broken, but thank god, her heart rate is down. She's got a doctor's appointment this afternoon and her doctor is an amazing doctor and he's part of the pediatric cardiac unit so maybe he can clear the air for us... because it's in the back of our heads that her heart could've burst under such strain.

And what can you do?

What can you possibly do for your child when her heart is beating at almost 230 BPM? What do you do?

I'm an emotional wreck and utterly exhausted...

Here's to hoping that today will be a 100% than yesterday and that my precious baby will be okay.

Sassy Mamas Unite!!

I'm so darn giddy, I'm apart of an amazing new Mom community called Sassy Mamas.

Sassy Mamas is where women of influence, mumfluence, & blogfluence love to sass! There's tons of groups to join and new friends to meet.

Now, you know I'm full of nothing but sass. So it's a perfect fit. And not only am I apart of this kick-ass place, but I'm one of the Sassy 16!!

Come join me and be the sassy mama you know you are.

Just When You Think I'm Normal

We add this to our collection.

Dear Binky Thief

I truly appreciate you trying to break my daughter of her attachment to her beloved binky.

But now is not the time.

Roo needs her binky like I need soda to survive. Without her treasured binky, her whole pretty face falls and ear-shattering screams pierce the air and my heart.

Your constant theft in my household results in a panicked Mommy and Daddy tearing apart every room in the house. We search frantically, each getting more and more nervous as moments pass and our daughter continues to cry.

When we find one we jump up shouting victory before we rush back to our bellowing girl and pop it in her mouth. Of course, the cries instantly stop and we both collapse in utter exhaustion.

Now I know you get a kick out of seeing two frazzled parents hunt for a binky like it's hidden treasure. But we are not amused. We do not enjoy this daily activity. We do not like playing your games.

We desperately ask that you cease this nonsense. . If you return all of the binkys you've stolen, we'll call it even.

If you return them we promise to call off the hit man we've hired to hunt you down.

Thank you kindly,

The Mommy and Daddy of a Miserable, Binky-Less Toddler

Not So Green

The other night I was inspired by Kristy and decided to give cloth diapering a chance. I'd purchased cloth diapers before Roo was born and used them a few times, but mainly as spit up cloths.

So armed with this new decision, a cloth diaper and pins I tackled my toddler.

Needless to say, she was not happy.

I tried, that counts for something, right?

New Gig

Recently, I've had a few opportunities to publish my work elsewhere. One of those places is the Examiner.

The Examiner is a fabulous website with chapters devoted to local areas. It's a great place to catch up on everything from pub crawls to parenting events. There's articles regarding the economy and how to fix your V8. Anything and everything you want, the Examiner has it.

And now they have me.

I'm the Early Childhood Parenting Examiner for the Orlando area. I've published two articles about a local musician that rocks and photo tips on how to make your child a star.

Check me out here and let me know what you think.

Review: Action Toys Inc.

When I was contacted by Action Toys to review their product, I was immediately excited because Action Toys is a local toy company. Their headquarters is based in Orlando while their factory is in Ocala.

From their website: Action Toys Inc. is a global designer, manufacturer and distributor of brand-focused educational toys and activity kits. Our toys can be found at retailers in your neighborhood; attractions, aquariums, craft and hobby stores, gift stores, museums, specialty retail chains, zoos, and online.

Their award winning toys include: Space Voyagers, Curiosity Kits, Play & Store and many more.

I was asked to review one of their Curiosity Kits, the Pottery Wheel. I was more than happy because I have an artist hidden inside of me. The Pottery Wheel is recommended for children eight and older and comes as a complete kit with everything you would need to make your own pottery (clay included!).

We set out on a rainy day to dominate the pottery wheel and it was a super-easy set up with straightforward to read instructions. While a little messy (what pottery wheel isn’t?), it was simple to use and a lot of fun. Clean up was uncomplicated and the end result was a beautiful bowl that can hold all the crayons in my life. You cannot eat out of the pottery clay they provide, but you can buy food friendly pottery clay from your local artists shop.

You can check out all the toys Action Toys offers by visiting their website here.

The Truth Isn't Always Pretty

I have a confession.

I hate my body.

Before Baby (B.B), I was a different person and had a different body. B.B I ran diligently, rain or shine I was pounding the pavement. I worked out because I loved how it felt. I ran miles upon miles because I loved how my husband looked at me. I was strict with myself because I was proud of how good I looked.

When I got pregnant, I quit running. It was miserably hot where I was and I was freaked out and worried about over-heating my body and cooking my baby.

So I quit.

I gave up exercise all together. Occasionally I would take a walk or walk the treadmill at a gym. But I gave up... and I ate whatever I want. I screwed it all up and really took the whole 'eating for two' thing to heart.

So after I had my girl, I recovered and started running as soon as I could. I ran all the time. As soon as my girl was asleep for the night, I'd head out.

I never saw any results.

I never saw my belly flab disappear. I never saw my thighs get thinner.

Nada.

When I didn't see results, I quit. I quit and took up drinking soda.

I tried to start running again and tried to get back in shape... and nothing.

It was so disturbing for me not to be running and taking care of myself. I can make excuses and say that I was too busy taking care of my daughter to worry about myself. But other mothers do it, why can't I?

Why can't I do something about it or accept the fact that my body will never be what it was? Why can't I embrace the extra weight that was the result of having a baby? Or why can't I kick my ass and make myself run or eat better?

Why do I hate my body so much?

Groove to the Music?

Music has always been a big part of my life.

I remember cruising in my Dad's CJ5 when I was younger, him singing along to Phil Collins. I can remember getting my first Guns N Roses tape and wearing it out on my tape player when I was in elementary school. There were dances in middle school, prom in high school. Breaking up, making up, having fun with friends.

All memories have songs that mark periods in my life.

Hearing the Dixie Chicks "I can love you better" takes me back to my junior year and sneaking out of school in my best friend Sara's trunk. Sublime's "Summertime" constantly reminds me of the summer I started dating my husband. The Highwaymen CD reminds me of Mr. Me and I's trip to Charleston a year after we were married. Or Bob Marley, any Bob Marley immediately reminds me of our birthday trip Key West.

For awhile, I didn't listen to music as much I as use to. Opting to drive my husband crazy with the sound of my voice when we traveled. But lately, now that Roo loves to groove to the music, it's on constantly in my house. Forget cartoons, we want to jam to the Beatles or sing along with Jack Johnson.

And if you asked me to pick just one song that would be considered my favorite... I doubt I could. So many songs have a place in my heart. Our wedding song, my drive fast song, my relaxing song, my lullaby, there's so many to choose from.

Maybe you can do better, what's your fave?

What are you doing?

I'm curious to know how you are spending your day.

This is how I'm spending mine.

23 Months Have Flown By

Dear Roo,

In just one month you'll be turning two years old. I'm finding it hard to believe that I will have a two year old. A full fledged toddler, complete with attitude. Where did my sweet babbling baby disappear to?

I still see glimpses of her when you run up and hug me or when you come running at me from across the garden.

Of course, that image doesn't last too long when you burst into tears because I uttered the dreaded, "No" word.

I think it's because you're growing so fast and there's so much to take in. There's new words to learn, new animal sounds to attempt, tricks to grasp. As long as I don't say "no" you take it all like a champ. When I ask you to pick something up, you do. When I ask you what sound a cow makes, you moo.

Of course, another fine skill you've mastered is throwing things. You do not hesitate to chuck your sippy cup, your plate, your toys... anything and everything you can get your hands on. Maybe, to Grandpa's delight, you'll be the first MLB girl pitcher?

You love being outside and right now the weather is perfect. This past month we've started a garden and everyday you are a big help with it. You like to make mud puddles and splash around. You also like to stomp all over the dirt making bath time a rather must-have situation. You make daily rounds of all the animals in the barns. You visit your fishies in the front pasture water trough. You oink at the piggies in the back. You poke the dogs with sticks, chase the cats and harass the birds.

Both Daddy and I are proud of you and as you get ready to turn two, we can't help but stop and watch you in all of your glory. Of course, we watch you as you sleep, as you play, as you eat.

Actually, we're always watching you. We can't keep our eyes off of you. Everything you do fascinates us and I hope we don't embarrass you, yet.

We love you.

Mommy and Daddy

Dear Girl Scout

Dear Girl Scout,

I'm sorry.

When I pulled into 7-11 and saw you standing there surrounded by boxes of cookies, I quickly reverted back to a 7 year old girl and promptly squeal.

I know I probably startled you. I'm sure you found it rare for a 28 year old woman (still a girl at heart) with a baby strapped to her hip to act like such a nut over cookies.

I'm not sure who was more embarrassed at my antics, you or my husband.

I honestly could have cared less. I was already drooling over your peanut butter patties while questioning if I could get away with buying all of the boxes.

They are for a good cause, aren't they?

Sadly, I could only get away with five boxes, but I promise you, the next time I see you and my husband isn't shooting daggers my way, I'll buy more.

I promise.

Signed,
The crazy lady who ripped open the box before she left the parking lot.

The Anger Within

Twice today my husband was attacked (verbally) for the way we are living our lives.

Twice he was told he needed to get his priorities in line. Twice he was told he needs to be a man and take care of his family.

Twice I've gotten so angry that I'm too the point of bursting. Twice I've been so mad that I'm at the point of screaming and yelling.

I know we're not living the ideal existence. I know that we're not high on the hog and I know that I don't want to live with my in-laws forever. I know that this situation is temporary but I also know that the job opportunities in my city are next to none. I also know that if we up and moved out we'd be back in the hole so fast it would break our necks.

I know what is good for my family. Not them.

The biggest thing that kills me is that one of these people is a dear friend that my husband has known for years. It kills me that he feels he knows what's best for my family. It kills me that I love this friend so dearly and he acts this way.

All of my friends know that I believe the only two people who know what is right for their families is the two people involved in the relationship. I would never assume to tell my friends what they need to do because I am not sleeping in between them at night, I am not in their shoes and I have no right.

I can ignore the first person who attacked my husband today because she is not important to me. But this second one is... and he literally has broken my heart.

I (Heart) Awards

I remember being in 6th grade at the "awards assembly" for the end of the year. I was sitting in those horrible blue plastic chairs. You know the kind that stuck to the backs of your legs.


I sat there and fidgeted, watching all the smart kids go up and accept awards for perfect attendance, good grades and perfect behavior.


I have to admit, while I was one of the smart kids I'd chosen to hang out with the wrong crowd (damn middle school redneck boys and their tight Wranglers!) and had little interest in perfect attendance.


But I did have an amazing teacher who believed in me and bestowed upon me the Sunshine Award for most attitude improvement (yes, it sounds silly I know).


On the outside, I made it seem like it was no big deal, an embarrassment because I know if I didn't act cool, I'd get teased for it (it was 6th grade after all). But on the inside, I was floored. I was so stinkin' happy.


Today is like that day, not the boys in tight Wranglers or the embarrassment. Just the stinkin' happiness. One of my favorite bloggy pals, Ashley, gave me an award!





The NobelPris award means: This is an award for being a wonderful Mom. You do fantastic work. Be proud of your accomplishments."


Yeah for me. :)


Now I pass it along to EVERY MOMMY!! Because all of you, kick major ass.

Rookie Mom Feature

I wrote an article for Rookie Moms about spending a fabulous week in my hometown.

You can check it out here.

Also, check out all the rest of the fun stuff that Rookie Moms has to offer.

To Each His Own

While out shopping with a friend tonight we saw this younger boy (about 15 yo) waddling around the food court. And I say waddling because he certainly couldn't walk like a normal human being because his girl pants were down past his butt and super duper tight.

I seriously thought he looked ridiculous and it got me thinking, does he know how ridiculous he looks?

I thought about telling him this but stopped myself when I remembered Kristen's post about the mom who got kicked out of Denny's for breastfeeding. If that person had kept their big mouths shut, that mom would've eaten her greasy meal in peace instead of being forced to leave.

So if I keep my big mouth shut that poor confused boy could keep wearing girly pants. He can do his own thing and probably be very happy about it.

My philosophy has always been to each his own. I truly believe that everyone is free and has a right to wear what they want, feed their child how they want and watch whatever they want. I hate that we have such harsh censorship and people freak out if they see a nipple in public.

If you don't like that boy wearing those clothes, keep it to yourself (just like I did). If you don't want to see that woman feeding her child, look away. If you don't like what they broadcast on TV, turn it off.

Isn't that simple enough? I mean, it's not rocket science.

I get that people want to express their opinion, I do. I have my own (obviously) and I express it, but I don't express it where it'll get people kicked out of places or TV shows shut down. I express my opinion but never try to force my thinking on anyone (except my husband when he wears something silly).

I'm a big girl, I deal with it in my own way.

Why is this so hard to grasp for some people?

Call It What You Will

Call it whatever you want, but I am STUCK.

Not just stuck, I am B.L.O.C.K.E.D.

Of course this would happen to me when I have two amazing writing opportunities presented to me. And the big kicker of it all, they are PAYING jobs.

And here I sit, staring blankly at my computer screen, allowing myself to be distracted by Go, Diego, Go.

All I'm doing is making excuses.

I'm blocked because I'm overwhelmed. Or I'm blocked because I've never been paid to write. I'm stuck simply because I'm lazy.

And a tad bit scared.

Writing on a blog is a totally different experience then writing for a website or a magazine. When I blog I can cuss or I make a grammatical error.

I can just let it flow on my blog

When I write for someone else, I have to be formal and I can't let my snarky side take over. I have to be prim and proper... which is really hard for me. Part of what makes me love to write is having my voice shine through and I'm worried (afraid?) that if I don't have that sarcastic wit in my articles, it will suck.

Because an article without sarcasim sucks, right?

Maybe I need someone to poke me with a cattle prod?

Any takers?

Update Your BookMark

It's come to my attention that some people can't access my blog with the old fashion address (www.notyourtypicalmama.blogspot.com). I've searched through Blogger's help section and cannot find a fix for this... which truly sucks b/c tons of people access me through that address.

So I'm begging you, please update your bookmarks to show www.notyourtypicalmommy.com as my home page... b/c it is.

Thanks!

Over Protective (?)

Watching the news has become a depressing event. Whenever I try to catch up on current events, I'm bombarded with news of kidnappings, murders, lost children, etc.

I live in the Central Florida and for months we've heard nothing but about Caylee Anthony. And last night after the news covered her memorial service, they had news that a 5 year old girl was snatched from her bed. After that, a man raped a younger girl after holding her hostage for a few hours.

It's all just so... troubling.

Especially when I have a young daughter that will one day grow up and try to step into this crazy world we have.

How do I protect her?

How do I guarantee that she won't fall victim to some sort of ridiculous crime? Do I sign her up for martial arts? Kickboxing? Do I go psycho Mom and shelter her for the rest of her life?

Because I have to be honest, as she's sleeping besides me when I watch the news, I'm tempted to make her sleep between myself and my husband until she marries.

This whole thing fills me with this nauseous knot in my stomach. It tears me apart that such crimes even exist. What kind of person snatches a 5 year old out of her own bed? What kind of person kills a helpless child?

The bigger question is: what can we do about it?

I Miss You... A Lot.

Excuse me while I mope just a little.

I miss breastfeeding.

I miss the whole process of it. I miss the connection I had with my daughter because of it. I miss the closeness, I miss my daughter needing me in that way.

I have moments when I hold her and I get all weepy just thinking about the way things were.

Is this silly?

Am I being completely insane here? I mean, most moms (not all) rejoice in getting their bodies back. Mine is still licking the wounds from weaning.

My relationship with breastfeeding was a good one. It worked. We worked.

Now I feel like I'm worthless. All my daughter needs me for now is to change her diaper and be her target when she throws things.

Maybe it's time for another baby?

Ha ha ha... just kidding.

Oh How I Love Play Dates

I had a play date today at my house with a very dear friend of mine. One who I don't see as much as I want to, but love every second I get with her.

It's so refreshing to hang out with a Mom that understands why your child is running around barefoot or why your toes aren't painted the newest and coolest shade.

I love getting together with her b/c I never feel embarrassed about how we live or feel the need to explain why we're thinking of buying another old Ford truck and not the hippest, newest Mommy-van.

I also love that our kids are so close in age and she totally gets why my daughter throws plates and dirt.

And most of all, I love talking to her. We talk about everything under the sun and just click.

And of course, I love play dates with her b/c her child wears my child out leaving her blissfully napping for two hours afterwards.

Movin' On Up

If you look up, you'll notice a change in my blog.

I BOUGHT MY DOMAIN!

(Finally).

Not Your Typical Mommy can be found at www.notyourtypicalmommy.com !!!!!!!!!

No need to change your bookmarks, you can still find me the old fashion way.

Now, join me as we celebrate by doing the happy dance.

:)

And the Winner is...

The winner of the Personalized Fruit Roll Ups is: TATTOOED MINIVAN MOM!!

Yeah!!!

My first giveaway is complete!

:)

I Refuse to Title You

Just a reminder: You have until 11:59pm to enter my very first giveaway! Click here for details.

Yesterday Roo was super duper fussy.

So much so that I was freaked out.

She fussed from 12:30 until 2:00 (nap time). At first I chalked it up to the fact that she woke up early and sometimes when she's really tired, she's really fussy.

I tried everything in my power to get her to take a nap. I cuddled her, I bribed her, I tried ignoring her... Not a damn thing worked. Finally, I called in the big guns.

I recruited Daddy.

He tried to calm her down, he even took her outside to see the fishies in the horse trough.

This is just pissed her off more.

Her crying wasn't just a simple "Wah."

It was a "Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh-hiccups-hold breath-wahhhhhhhhh!!"

The kind of hysteric crying you do over your 12 year old boyfriend who just broke your heart.

But I have to admit, she was breaking my heart b/c I had NO. CLUE. how to calm her down.

We ended up calling the doctor and he penciled her in right away when we told him she kept shoving her fingers in her ears and crying more.

Turns out she has a S.M.A.L.L. ear infection. So small that he was surprised she was this fussy. She also had a small fever (which since has gone away).

Poor child was in a rough spot.

After her visit to the doctors the fussiness went away and only fussed a little bit when we broke out the rectal thermometer to monitor her fever.

The good news is that she takes her medicine without fuss and is happy spending the day inside watching cartoons. In 10 days, she should be back in fighting (and fussing) shape.

In Remembrance

In memory of Tuesday Whitt




For those that cannot attend the memorial service in Colorado, fellow bloggers have decided to do a "wagie ride" parade in Tuesday's memory.

On February 7, 2009 grab your family, your friends, someone, anyone and go for a "wagie ride." If you participate, snap a photo and post it as a Mr. Linky on L.L. & P's blog.

We want to show our love for this little girl by creating a virtural "wagie ride" parade. So please participate and show your love and support for the Whitt family.

Spread the word.

Also, Tamara will be attending the services and is taking cutout hearts to show support to the family. She will print out a message if you email her and take a heart in your name if you want. You can email her at: dawnlight1976@msn.com

Censorship

I've struggled for a while now on the issue of censorship and my blog.

I've always believed that my blog is my place of release, that I can sign up and post about anything I want. Whether my posts be about my damn dog or my love for my baby, I would let it all flow out on this page.

Recently, I've had two situations that I haven't posted about because I was worried about who would read it and how I would offend them. I've kept these thoughts and feelings inside and lately it seems like they are going to burst forth from me and blow chunks all over my computer screen.

I've even wrote out the posts where I lash out about these relationships numerous times only to delete them.

I've asked everyone I know what they think. I've posted questions on blog boards, consulted Mr. Me, weighed the pros and cons and I still come up empty.

The small part in the back of my mind knows that if I post about these things, I will forever alter my relationships with these people. Once I post these posts and say these things, I can never take them back. They will forever be in the blog-o-sphere.

Then there's that part of me that bucks against censorship.... that part of me that says the c-word, that wants to express how I truly feel. The part of me that wants the truth to be known (and it is truth).... the part of me that doesn't give a fuck.

But I don't.

I don't post.

I keep it inside and I will, until it kills me.

Dear Cancer

Dear Cancer,

YOU SUCK!

You've harassed my father three times, you've taken precious angels, you've tormented almost everyone I know... back off, please.

No one deserves to deal with you, no one wants to deal with you, not one single person I know would wish you on their worst enemy.

Can't you just go away?

With continued research and donations, I believe we can kick your ass. With determination and the help of amazing people like Jay, over at Halftime Lessons, who will be shaving his head on March 21st in efforts to raise awareness. The great people like Home Studio, who is selling Tuesday jewelry with 10% of proceeds from all sales going to Tuesday's family, will help decimate you.

I have hope.

I have hope you will die and go away and leave all of us alone.

Tripping Over Her Own Feet

Enter my giveaway here !!

It's no secret that I'm a klutz and that my poor daughter has inherited that gene from me. She's fallen, she's tripped, she's been down for the count.

The other day has taken the cake in the klutz-o-meter.

Her first black eye.

She and I were getting ready to start our day and I was putting away her laundry while she did what she always does, run around like a crazy 23 month old. I literally turned my back for two seconds to slip a shirt on a hanger and next thing I hear is a crash and then screams.

She tripped over her own two feet and landed, eye first, on to her step stool.

Her wooden step stool.

Her hard ass wooden step stool.

It started bruising up immediately and then came the swelling.

I felt HORRIBLE!

Two days later, it looks like half her eye was eaten by some monster. She's so bruised that my heart breaks every time I look at her.

But she is a champ. She barely notices it and continues doing what she does... :)

I'm still learning to accept that children fall down and bump their heads. I'm still learning to accept that it's not my fault every time she trips over her own to feet or slips on the only piece of paper in a two mile radius.

Now if I could only learn to accept that if she doesn't slip on that one piece of paper, I will. :)