It all seems like last week.

Seven. Our first born is seven! It isn’t news to anyone with kids, but the years just fly by. I clearly remember going into labor, yelling giddily to our neighbor that we were heading to the hospital, and the exact moment of Alex’s arrival. What I don’t remember is life before kids.

Alex was born on Memorial Day in 2002, and the hospital was like a ghost town, because no one schedules inductions on a holiday. We had the run of the place and five labor and delivery nurses.

When I look at pictures I’m dumbfounded by how young we look. I had just turned 26 and Brandon was still 25 when Alex was born. With our genetic issues, it was recommended we close up shop by 30, so we dove in head first.

As with all first-borns, Alex is the guinea pig. We stumble through parenthood and learn as we go. We used to eat dinner with him sitting on the table in a bouncy seat, so we could stare at him. We took him to Disney when he was just over four months old.We were so excited to share with him all the things we love. He was the star of the show, and we have thousands of film pictures to prove it. Had we had a digital camera, we could have set aside the money used for film and development and paid for a year of Bradley.

Alex is a tough nut. He’s very stubborn and far mouthier than we’d like, but I think it came with the genes. At seven, he still throws temper tantrums and shouts ridiculous things like: “I’m going to saw my bunk bed into a thousand pieces, set it on fire and roast marshmallows over it!” I don’t worry too much because his mother shouts ridiculous things more often than she cares to admit too. “I swear I will pull over on this highway and leave you by the side of the road if you open your mouth one more time!”

Underneath it all, he is a good boy, with a kind heart and empathy for others. He is smart and is far better at math than his mom will ever be. He is inventive and entrepreneurial and tells me what the Dow did every evening. He isn’t the most athletic or coordinated kid, but has a ball playing whatever sport he’s into at the moment. He knew nothing about Star Wars six months ago and now finds Star Wars spoofs on Youtube and saves them to his favorites. He changes every day.

We are so proud of Alex and are anxious to see what God’s plan is for him. I just wish, like every mom does, that I could keep him little forever. The years are ticking by and even on “one of those days,” I try to remind myself to enjoy the moment, even if it is threw tears of frustration. If the last seven years are any indication, the next seven will go even faster.

Happy Birthday Gator! We love you very much!

This may make you mad...

Alright, this is a new one. Before I launch into the weekend update, I have to address the letter that I just pulled out of Alex’s backpack. Normally, I check his backpack as soon as he arrives home from school. I’m getting lackadaisical as the calendar ticks closer to the end of school. By the way, a dollar goes to the first person who comments with the teacher who added “lackadaisical” to our vocabulary. ANYWAY…the letter I pulled out this morning made me laugh out loud and then get really annoyed.

What I’m about to say may make some of you mad, but I either post this here or on Facebook, or I explode. This is password protected and I don’t have time to explode. So here goes…

I don’t understand the hysteria surrounding allergies.

Where were all these “life threatening” allergies when we were kids? I remember people with seasonal allergies. I remember Kelly wasn’t supposed to have strawberries or orange juice, or maybe either. Or maybe I’m making that up, but it seems like she was allergic to something that gave her hives. Hives. Not anaphylactic shock. I knew absolutely NO ONE with a peanut allergy.

Meredith’s school requested parents not send any nut products to school because so many children have “severe nut allergies.” Where and when did this epidemic start? Most of the parents scoffed at the letter home and sent PB&J’s to school anyway. The teachers just put the peanut allergy kids at one table and the world continued to rotate.

I have a friend whose daughter does have a peanut allergy. If she eats peanuts, she swells up like a balloon and it’s hard to breathe through a swollen wind pipe. The little girl consuming peanuts is an obvious concern, so they keep her from eating peanuts! They always bring the dessert at any get together, just to be sure, but they don’t go on patrol making certain no one else in the perimeter has Spanish peanuts on their sundae.

I have another friend whose child has celiac disease. Consuming wheat gluten can cause her child weeks of serious gastrointestinal issues. It’s completely legitimate. They are very cautious, and teach their child what she can and cannot consume and how to manage the issue. However, they continue to live a normal life and realize other people can eat bread without a care in the world.

Both sets of parents are responsible and reasonable. I completely understand and fully support their need to keep their children healthy and safe. I am fully aware they have real issues. It’s the parents who do the opposite that are about to send me over the edge.

Case in point and the catalyst for this morning’s rant: We received a letter from Alex’s school requesting “allergen- free school supplies” be purchased for next school year “due to an allergy in your child’s grade level.” Excuse me? There are such things? Apparently so, because we were given a list of vendors to call so that we may order, and I’m not kidding, “gluten-free ink pads.” I may very well loose my mind.

The funniest part is, we’ve already ordered school supplies. The PTO offers a school supply box that you purchase in advance and it arrives with all of the required supplies at a fraction of the cost. I bet the pencils are wheat stalks dipped in ink and the erasers are peanut-scented.

It would make a bit more sense if these kids were preschoolers and prone to eating paste. They are going into the second grade for crying out loud. Certainly old enough to know what is edible and when to wash their hands. The biggest issue I have is, what does it teach your children when you ask the rest of the world to accommodate them?

It probably also makes a difference that I know the child with the allergy and he is a nightmare. I’ve met his mother several times and let’s just say, he’s a product of his environment. She is absolutely the type to insist the majority change in order to accommodate her son. Nothing is ever his fault. He bit everyone in kindergarten because they were all mean. He was kicked off the bus because he reported all the ‘bullies,’ the principal and all the teachers are out to get him. Blah, blah, blah. You know the type, and if you don’t consider yourself lucky!

No wonder more and more people are staring to homeschool. You can start the day with the Pledge of Allegiance, eat peanut butter for lunch, and use all the Dextrin-containing washable finger paints you want!

(I had to google Dextrin, to find out why it’s serious business if you use finger paints. Turns out it’s a low-complex carbohydrate. The horror!)

I bet if I made this my platform, I'd be elected PTO president in no time, and that's the last thing I need.

I'm being swallowed by a boa constrictor...

My house is driving me crazy! I have loads and loads of laundry to do. I can write my name in the dust on my hardwoods, and I have to kick a path through the toys in almost every room. In short, we’re a mess. Here’s the problem: I’M NEVER HOME! If I’m home three solid hours a day it’s a miracle.

My grand plan is always to put the kids to bed and go to work. By the time I’ve done the dinner dishes, bathed Meredith, helped Alex re-brush his teeth, and read a chapter of Charlotte’s Web, I’m down for the count. I can’t move. I’m glued to the couch, or lately my bed, and before I know it, it’s 11:30 p.m. I really need to get a better plan.

Now, if you were to ask me where we are all the time, I’d be hard-pressed to give you a concrete answer. I do know I drove around enough yesterday that I have a sun burn on my right arm that came from the sunroof. That’s right. I got burned while running errands. Sigh.

We just seem to go from one errand to the next and then it’s time to meet the bus and get Alex to gymnastics, or the school carnival, or “ PTO spirit night” at the ice cream shop near our house. Our days are filled with volunteer commitments, although Beckman is teaching me the “Power of No,” and I’m starting to believe!

I also have a tendency to say “Yes” to every coffee, playdate, or lunch offer extended. I’m pretty social. To call Meredith social would be like saying our mounting national debt is pocket change. So, in a way I feel like we’d both wilt without outside interaction, or worse yet become one of those creepy mother daughter pairs who simply can’t breathe without the other. I just need to find a better way to fit it all in.

Here was our week, and you can see why I have an IV of Diet Coke. (Now, I realize lots and lots of women have successful careers and two or three children and have it much harder than me, and they STILL manage to keep an orderly home! )

Monday: We had ballet in the morning. Mom’s In Touch is over for the year, so that freed up an hour or two. I forced myself to get on the treadmill, and somehow made us late to ballet once again. Our playdate for the afternoon was rescheduled, so I used the unscheduled time to shop for birthday gifts for Alex and run other errands.

Tuesday: Back on the treadmill, which made us late to the all school pre-school picnic. Why is it that what I think will take 45 minutes, really takes and hour and a half or more? You’d think I’d catch on. While at the picnic, one of the moms told me the kids were discussing prayer in class. When and where they pray, etc. When it was Merdi’s turn, she informed the class that she prays all the time and had in fact, just talked to Jesus. She went on to say Jesus told her, “He really, really likes my new shoes!!!” After the picnic we went to the nursery to buy flowers that are still sitting on my front porch waiting to be planted. Then, the bus dropped off Alex and we ran to gymnastics.

Wednesday: Treadmill, with no time constraints! It still took us forever to get out of the house for a trip to Target for necessities and potting soil for the afore mentioned plants. By the time we got home, it was nearly time for Alex to get off the bus. He did, and then had to be driven to his playdate with Grandpa. My only request, please meet us at the “PTO spirit night,” halfway presentable…While Alex was planting tomato plants Meredith and I had dinner with Dawn and her kids. Then, we all raced to the ice cream store so we could support the PTO. Alex was there, right on time, and looked as though he’s spent the day in a hog pen.

Thursday: This used to be my day to get caught up, fat chance sister, pre-school is over for the year. Oh, but Grandpa would like Meredith’s company today. SOLD! I had grand plans of cleaning, putting away laundry, and throwing out toys when no one was looking. A phone call from my salon reminding me of my haircut…in the middle of the day…dashed my hopes of living in an orderly home. Then, my cousin called and wanted me to have lunch with our grandparents at the hospital where my aunt is fighting for her life. How can I possibly say “No” to that?! I love them all, my house can wait. I raced home to meet the bus, only to drive back across town to pick up Meredith from Grandpa’s. AND…it’s Alex’s spelling test night. I love spelling test night. It’s like teaching a badger to spell.

I would love nothing more than to be Barbara Eden from “I Dream of Genie” or Samantha from “Bewitched.” When I think about the little girl in “Mary Poppins” snapping her fingers and having all the toys jump onto shelves, my heart skips a beat. I’m afraid I’m a mortal, and a slovenly one at that.

Sometimes I read the obligatory hand-print poem every three year old makes for Mother’s Day. You know, the one about the “tiny finger-prints disappearing from walls,” that’s supposed to make me nostalgic…At this point in time it sounds like magic!

Castoff

Meredith is going to have to find another way to draw attention to herself.

The cast came off Wednesday. Much to my surprise, nothing fell out of the cast as “Mike the cast guy,” otherwise known as a great pediatric orthopedic nurse, made the cut. Meredith does have a pretty bad case of eczema that was lurking under her bright pink webbing, but it’s on the mend.

In addition to cast removal, we stayed busy with Meredith’s last week of school, Alex’s school carnival, and hosting my cousin Annie. Anne, as she’s now known by everyone outside of the family, is taking great care of her mom while she regains strength at a hospital in downtown Indy.

This was Annie’s second week away from her Houston home, and she opted to stay with us. Annie and I are eleven months apart, and were the only girl cousins for several years, so we grew up pretty close. It had been 15 years since we’d seen each other. It was great to find out that although we’re both older and Annie can no longer do the Chinese splits (although I didn’t ask), we’re still pretty much the same girls we were. Annie left for home today and we were sad to see her go.

Back-tracking completely, Meredith nearly caused me to break into hives in public this week.

I realize The Olive Garden is no culinary masterpiece and no self-respecting foodie would be caught dead dining near one. I don’t care. I still love their nutritionally-unsound salad and always will. Our children were exposed at an early age and can polish off a basket of breadsticks in two minutes. Flat. A new one opened about 15 minutes from our house. Alex and Meredith made the case that we really should check it out since it was “sort of” close to gymnastics and we finish class around dinner time. I over-ruled them. Not easily deterred, they moved onto pleading we couldn’t pass up the opportunity to celebrate Meredith’s cast removal the following day. I caved.

We were seated and I couldn’t decide weather our server was a waiter or a waitress. Once I read “Melissa” on her nametag, I was set. Our service was fine. Melissa was attentive. She brought our check. I asked for boxes. Melissa returned and started to box our leftovers.

Merdi: “Can I have a box for my mac ‘n cheese?” (Yes, she ordered $5 mac ‘n cheese.)
Me: “No Sweetie, she is boxing it for us. Isn’t that helpful?”
Merdi: (Slapping the table for effect.) GET OUT!!!! That’s a woman?! This whole time I totawy been thinkin’ she’s a MAN!!!”

I turned bright red, pretended the outburst didn’t happen and left a $6 tip on a $21 bill.

This is for you Beaker!

I know. I know. It’s been awhile. Honestly, I hadn’t given this blog much thought because I assume everyone tires of me quickly. Beckman respectfully requested an update and I don’t like to disappoint friends…

I’ve had one of the busiest months I’ve had in years. Not just busy with activities and the usual, but I’m mentally exhausted too.

As you all probably know by now, I launched my new website early last week. That took more hours than I can count to put together. I will spare you all the details, but it was tedious. I’m not always great with details and I especially don’t enjoy watching tutorials and/or reading instructions. So, it was a big task and had to be completed. I’m very proud of the end result, and already see changes I’d like to make. Please feel free to forward the website to everyone you know! I’m open for business.

As always the kids have kept me hopping. Alex finally started loosing teeth. This forces me to keep a crisp $5 stashed somewhere in the house and to stay up late typing out notes from the Tooth Fairy. Good thing this blog is password protected, or my cover would be blown!

I really need to take some pictures of the Alex’s jack-o-latern smile. I’ll add that to the list. Alex quickly figured out he would need to loose four teeth in order to clear $20. He’ll probably start chewing rocks or pay someone to punch him in the mouth. Our neighbor nearly gave me a heart attack when he told Alex he thought each tooth was worth at least $20 and then winked at me.

Meredith got bored with her cast and we decided to bedazzle it. That lasted about a week until the “diamonds” kept getting tangled in her curls. She got up from her nap with a clean-slate cast. I was hesitant to do the whole signature thing because I didn’t want to stare at a messy cast for four weeks. I told her people could sign it her final week. The Sharpie came out during a trip to Illinois, and the rest is history. Her biggest signature snag came yesterday when we met THE Barbie at the Children’s’ Museum. Pictures to follow as soon as I dump my memory card.

In addition to our normal life, I’ve had an entirely new element tossed in over the last week and a half. If I had to guess, most of you reading this already know about all of this but for those of you who don’t…My Grandma and Grandpa Berger called a little over a week ago to tell me my Aunt Sue was in the hospital in Indy. To make a long story short, she was failing fast.

As most of you know, my relationship with my dad’s side of the family is fractured, at best. I see my grandparents regularly, and one of my uncles and my aunt, but that’s the extent of my paternal relationships and it has been since I graduated from high school. (There were major issues over who was paying for college and it got ugly. I was in the middle. Another reason why I will avoid divorce at all costs. Anyway, I hadn’t seen my dad since 1994. )

Over the course of the last week and a half, I’ve made several trips to the hospital for visits and wound up having spontaneous reunions, including with my dad. It’s been a huge blessing for the most part and my Aunt Sue has seemingly fought off sepsis and will soon begin her fight against cancer. I’ve been able to catch up with her children and they’ve been able to meet my family. It’s been wonderful and has brought me so much peace.

So, I know I’ve neglected the blog, but with good reason, right?! I have loads more to tell you, so pop in this week and I’ll see if I can’t get back on track!