Clouds

This is a letter I wrote to a close friend on a day weeks ago that I was feeling very vulnerable and the clouds seemed to weigh heavy in my world. She's a mom to young children and I knew she would understand my desperation that day...

Hi --

I'm struggling today to stay focused. I feel silly, almost ridiculous that I'm feeling frazzled and upset the way I am, and my hope is that by typing the words and seeing my feelings on the page that it will snap me out of this wave of sadness and worry that I'm getting swept away on today. Roger Ebert. I know, right? Everyone is talking about him and as they talk about his life, inextricably they are talking about his death and battle and loss to cancer. And every time someone "loses their fight to cancer" I'm always on edge -- sometimes more so than others. I can never really tell what triggers it. Yesterday, I read an essay Ebert wrote himself a year or two ago in his memoir. There's a part there at the end where he quotes someone else and they have described cancer, MS, any debilitating and mostly incurable disease as the "celestial train to death and that dying of old age is like getting there on foot." Those words were so powerful to me yesterday and I have been thinking about them since... mostly because Ebert says in his memoir that he's at peace going by the celestial train and not on foot, which seems dreary (and I paraphrase here for him). That pisses me off because my initial reaction was -- and maintains to be so -- "Well, that's easy for you say because you don't have children." As always, when I'm confronted with my immortality, my mind and heart always turn to Alyssa first. And I am pissed off, mad, slighted, supremely betrayed that I have been given a ticket for this celestial train ride at such a young age and with such a young child. I don't want this ticket; I don't want this ride. I'm an environmentalist for crying out loud -- I want to walk to my death!

I don't feel silly after all writing about my feelings, but I have not snapped out of my sadness. Unfortunately, I am very sad today. I'm worried as my surgery draws close. I crack jokes to cope with my biggest fear -- that I might not wake up. Or that if I do it's to bad news that the cancer is back. And I do think about this all the time -- that maybe not this year or the next five years, but what about when Alyssa is 11? Or 14? Or 16? Or 23? But I guess we never know -- none of us really know if we're carrying around tickets for that celestial train ride, right? And if I dig down deep and call on the ever-so-positive One Boob Diva that I am, maybe she'll tell me, "Hey, what if you were never given a ticket? What if you're meant to walk to the end of your life and see your great-grandchildren? It's just fate, the universe, something out there wanted you to take a detour so you could appreciate how great walking is?"

I think I just consoled myself. But I never know how long my inner sunshine lasts. Some days the clouds come and go. Anyway, at least outside the sun is shining. I might go for a walk in a bit or just sit in the sun on the deck. Maybe the external sunshine will crack through my very gray clouds.

Thanks for reading this.

...That was the end of the letter I wrote on April 5, 2013. The sunshine that broke the clouds later that day was a small joke a friend made by email. So wonderfully mundane.

And today, May 21, 2013 -- a week after my reconstruction surgery -- the surgery that puts me on the other side of my mountain (and still walking), I've heard of a wonderful, beautiful, young soul who's now in the clouds. His name is Zach Sobiech and he passed away yesterday from a rare cancer called osteosarcoma. And he wrote an amazing song, called clouds: http://youtu.be/7zxXAtmmLLc

To learn more about Zach and his beautiful life, watch this short film about him: http://youtu.be/9NjKgV65fpo and I hope you hear the message I heard -- that life is about living it; not worrying about what's next; it's about cherishing every day we get to wake up and be with the people we love. Walk, dance, dream and revel in both the sunshine and the clouds.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

To My Dear Alyssa, on Mother's Day

Dear Alyssa,

Someday you'll read this letter on your very first Mother's Day. I can't predict what will happen twenty, thirty years from now, but I know in my heart that I will be proud of you no matter what; and that you will always be my baby, my baby bee, my Alyssa-bee. I know, I'm a sentimental marshmallow. You've known this for years. But today, I can imagine how many different emotions are running through you as you hold your own little bundle of joy. I can't tell you how to be a mother to your baby, but I can tell you that as long as you have love in your heart - and you have so much - your baby will know this and your baby will thrive.

Three years ago today

In all my life, I have never done and will never do anything as significant as being your Mom. The moment you came into my life I was forever changed. I am many things - there is not just one me. But of all the things I am, the one I'm most proud of is being a mother. All daughters and mothers I think have interesting relationships. There's such a strong bond between mothers and daughters, that sometimes it puts them at odds with each other. I remember going through a phase with your grandmother when I was much younger - I was determined that no matter what, I would never be like her. As I grew older, hopefully wiser, I realized there was so much about your grandmother I admired. As a young mother to you, my goal every day is to be half as good of a mom to you, as your grandmother is to me.

You are amazing, Alyssa. You teach me new things every day. You are my biggest responsibility and it is an honor to have that distinction. Someday, on your first Mother's Day, I think you'll read this letter and know exactly how much I love being your Mom.

With so much love,
Mommy

Mirror Mirror

The memory is so clear to me: hot tears streaming down red cheeks, nose all runny and congested, screaming and kicking, the feeling that no one in the world understood why it was absolutely imperative that socks not be worn today of all days. Nobody understands me! I remember feeling that way once upon a time long ago. My Mom was the enemy and life, as I knew it, was horrible... for that moment, at least.

On Saturday, that's exactly the same emotion I saw in Alyssa's eyes. "No! No! No socks! No socks!" Clock ticking; Wiggleworms class was starting in 15 minutes; we lived 20 minutes away; shoes and coat and hat still lying in a pile at my feet; there was no way we would make it in time. "No! No! No socks! No socks!" It was the end of the world. 9:55, 9:56, 9:57... class starts at 10am. My heart sank. I start to think, it's OK to miss a class. We'll just make it up next week - twice. Yeah, maybe not. I can feel the defiance rising. Mine, not hers. "I don't like this sock anymore! I don't like this sock anymore!" I think I'm about to explode, but I manage to take a deep breath.

Somewhere, a light bulb goes off. I hold out my arms to the little one standing in the corner, face all red, eyes wet with tears, nose drippy with "snozzies." I hear myself say, "Come here, baby, it's OK." And just like that, it's over. Alyssa comes running to me, so hard and fast that she knocks the wind out of me. That's OK, too. She's not crying anymore. She's also forgotten why she started crying in the first place. I soothe her and wipe the tears away. I talk to her in a low, slow, soothing voice. "We're going to see Ann Marie. We're going to play with the instruments, and see your friend Jasmine, and catch bubbles!" She's nodding her head now, looking at me with the biggest brown eyes I've ever seen. "So let's get going, OK? We've got to blow our nose, fix our piggy-tails, and put our (deep breath) socks on." Nothing but a silent nod. Life is good and I feel like I've come full circle from long ago.

Mommy's brown eyed girl

Alyssa's P.S.

It's not easy being two and a half. Most of the time Mommy and Daddy get me. But sometimes, it's just so hard to tell them what I need. Mommy always says, "Use your words." But I don't know what words to use. Sometimes I hope against hope that she'll read my mind, like she used to do when I was a little baby. If I cried she came to feed me, or change me, or hold me. She just knew back then. Now, I have to use my words. When did things change on me? Why doesn't she understand that I don't want to wear my socks because I want to see my pink toes... the toes I asked her to paint yesterday; when she held me close and whispered in my ear, "Look baby, I love your toes!"

Blink

Whoa- where'd my baby go?

Someone told me, not too long ago, that days go by slowly, but years go by swiftly. That has never been more true in my life since I became Alyssa's Mommy. Not a day goes by when I don't look at her and ask the heavens to please slow down time. I could swear we just brought her home from the hospital yesterday, and now she's saying things like, "Mommy, I put on shoes by self!" Insert screeching sound of brakes here. When did my baby turn into a toddler? And why is she suddenly marching into kid-hood?

I look back at the last two years and the answer to my questions are staring me right in the face. I can still remember when she could sit up by herself; when she ate her first solid food - pureed butternut squash; when she started sucking her thumb; when she became mobile and crawling like a crab; when she took her first steps; and when she started using her first words. During her first year, all the milestones were physical. This past year they're becoming more and more intellectual. The gleam in her eyes now comes from learning how to count to five; or how to identify animals and match their sounds; how to complete a puzzle; or how to put shoes on all "by self." What happens in year three? Complete sentences? Even finer motor skills? Quiet and focused play (I'm looking forward to that one!)? Learning the alphabet? Am I ready for this? I know she is.

It seems like it's all happening so fast... Her Daddy likes to remind me that she's only two. But she's also only two more years away from preschool! Four more years from first grade. Fourteen more from getting a drivers license. Sixteen from going to college! Whoa... the last two years might have seemed like they went by swiftly, but today is only Thursday. One day away from the weekend. It's only four o'clock and my baby will be home from daycare in an hour. I need to remind myself that every blink is a moment in time with Alyssa. And I will have millions of moments with her to come. She is only two, and no matter how many years go by she will always be my baby.

And just like that, time has slowed down for me again... in a blink of an eye.

Hindsight & Heartstrings

My little angel

When I was growing up my Mom and I used to fight a lot. I wasn't a wild child, but I apparently had quite the mouth. I liked to, let's say, reason with my Mom... and it got me into quite a bit of trouble. She used to tell me that someday I would have a child of my own and I'd understand why she was hurt and upset by whatever it was I'd said or done. I remember being little, feeling cornered and misunderstood. I used to think my Mom was out of her mind and that someday when I had a child of my own I would be a totally different mother. Whenever I was in time out I would imagine all the ways I would be a different mom to my child - that I would never get upset; that I would be patient; that I would never raise my voice or feel exasperated. I imagined that as a mother I would never be any of the things that drove me nuts about my Mom. I would only take all the things I loved about my Mom and our relationship, and leave behind the many things that I thought my Mom was wrong about. Fast forward to today...

I've been a Mom for two years. Alyssa is now in her full blown new toddler phase. She knows hundreds of words, but often gets frustrated when I or her Daddy can't understand her, or when she doesn't have the right words to use. This usually results in a tantrum, tears, and the absolute loss of all muscular ability and Alyssa melts into a puddle on the floor, sidewalk, or grass. One morning, Alyssa and I were going through our usual routine of getting dressed and picking out shoes. I wanted her to wear sneakers, and she wanted to wear jellies. I succeeded in getting the sneakers on her feet, but not without sustaining some battle wounds: Alyssa was not having anything to do with those sneakers and she wanted me to know it. She kicked and screamed, cried and wailed, and bucked the whole time. It's not easy for me to handle Alyssa when she's in one of these states and it takes a lot of deep breathing on my part to get through it without losing my cool. I was frustrated, hurt, and I could feel my blood pressure rising. Reasoning with her didn't work; hugging her close to me and saying "I love you, and you're going to have to calm down" didn't work; raising my voice and telling her what to do didn't work either; so letting her lie on the floor to cry it out was the only thing left to do. She lay there yelling at the top of her lungs, face bright red and so very mad at me. I sat there looking at her, having done what I could and feeling very vulnerable. Finally, she calmed down and I scooped her up into my arms. She came willingly, took her thumb out of her mouth and quietly whispered to me, "I love you, Mommy. I sorry, Mommy!"

Instantly the tears came. I hugged her tightly to me and told her I loved her too. But I was crying because at that moment I understood what my Mom meant all those years ago. I had a child now, and I realize that it isn't easy to be a Mom. It's hard work being patient when the little person in front of you, who you dedicate most of your waking hours to, is being stubborn and is wailing her head off. In that instant I wished I could take back all those times I had said something, or done something that must've made my Mom's heart ache. She was right all along. Someday had come, and I know it's only the beginning. I can't take back the past, but I can do my best now and in the future to make amends. As I hugged Alyssa I imagined the kind of Mom I'd be to her... I will take all the good things my Mom was to me: I will try to be patient, I will teach her how to take care of herself, I will steel myself when she makes mistakes because I know it will help her learn important lessons, I will always be there for her, and I will learn when it's time to let her go. Because someday, I hope that when she has a child of her own, she will come back to me and perhaps thank me for being the best Mom I could be to her.

And to my Mom- Thank you for being the best Mom you could be to me. I love you, and I'm sorry for all the times I hurt you. But you continue to be there for me unconditionally. I hope to be half as good as a mother to Alyssa as you are to me.

The Art of Walking Away

Oh, the injustice of it all!

To be fair, I've been warned about the terrible twos. And not just recently, since I had Alyssa... but, all my life. When I was younger and use to give my Mom a hard time, I remember her saying to me, "Someday, you'll have a child of your own, and you'll understand." Stop chuckling, Mom, I can hear you half a world away!

In less than a month, Alyssa will be turning two. Something in her brain has, in the last month or so, decided that's already happened and a switch has been turned on. At least once a day, we must have a good ol' cry. Not just any cry: no wimpering, no sobbing, no tear-streaked cheeks... that's just a plain cry. A good ol' cry involves flat out noodling (no bones, refuse to get up off the floor), tightly closed eyes as tears are squeezed through, sometimes wringing of hands are involved, but mostly kicking of feet, and a plaintive cry for mercy. See the picture above? That's a good version of the good ol' cry. The child psychologists in our handy-dandy go-to parenting book all say this is part of the terrible twos; they say it has something to do with letting off steam; and that the best way to handle it is to... wait for it... walk away.

Now, I don't know about you, but for me, walking away from my tear-soaked baby girl is just about one of the hardest things for me to do! Have you seen the picture above?! But I'm learning that it's an art... this walking away thing. It's like training wheels on a bike... for parents. It reminds me when I was pregnant with Alyssa and how I used to go to the bathroom so often I considered moving in there. It was training for having to get up frequently at night once she arrived. Walking away from a screaming, drama-laden toddler is a lesson in deep breaths and emotional self-control. And I can see how it's training for times to come: her first day of school; the first time she knowingly yells at me that she never wants to see me again - ever; when she chooses to hang out with friends instead of me; when she insists on seeing a boy that threatens to give her Dad a heart attack; when she wants to move away for college.

Ok, rewind. Present day: Alyssa in her pjs, just finished two strawberries, walking down the hall with Daddy on a lazy Sunday morning. She suddenly runs out of the bedroom and runs smack into the wall in the hall. She falls down in shock, wimpers and says, "Head!" I tell her it's ok and to come show Mommy. She runs over to me and I kiss her head and ask, "Better?" She looks up at me with her big brown eyes, and says, "Yeths!" Then she runs away... Deep breath, Mommy, deep breath.

Alyssa's Fairytale

Soon to be made into a book!

I made this up for Alyssa around the time she was a month and a half old. Over time I've refined it and this is the story I tell her every now and then.

As told to Alyssa by Mommy...

Once upon a time in a land far, far away there was a little girl named Frances. She had a dream that someday she would meet her prince and that he would be her best friend, that he would make her laugh and that he would love her forever. So she dreamt and she wished, and she dreamt and she wished, and she dreamt and she wished, until one day Frances grew up. Then she realized that she couldn't wait around for her prince, instead she had to go out into the big, big world to find him. So she went to her Mom and Dad and asked them if she could go on a journey of a lifetime. And with their blessings off she went; out into the big, big world.

Now it so happens that also once upon a time in another land far, far away there lived a little boy named Dennis. He too had a dream that someday he would meet his princess and that she would be his best friend, and she would make him laugh, and she would love him forever. So he dreamt and he wished, and he dreamt and he wished, and he dreamt and he wished, until one day Dennis grew up. Then he realized he couldn't wait around for his princess, instead he had to go out into the big, big world to find her. So he went to his Mom and Dad and asked them if he could go on a journey of a lifetime. And with their blessings off he went; out into the big, big world.

Over the mountains, and over the oceans Dennis traveled until he came to a shining White City that sat by a Lake with crystal clear waters that stretched as far as the eye could see. And in that shining White City Dennis met a girl named Frances. They quickly became best friends, and everyday they made each other laugh, and then one day they realized they wanted to love each other forever. For Dennis had found his princess and Frances had found her prince!

But that's not the end of the story yet! Oh no, not at all! For Dennis and Frances had a dream of their own, that someday they could have a little princess to call their own. A little princess to whom they would be her best friends, that everyday they could make her laugh, and they would promise to love forever. So they dreamt and they wished, and they dreamt and they wished, and they dreamt and they wished... until one day... one beautiful summer night in that shining White City that sat by a Lake with crystal clear waters that stretched as far as the eye could see... On June 24, 2009 at 8:51pm, Alyssa Canonizado Belogorsky was born to Dennis and Frances. She was seven pounds-thirteen ounces, twenty-one inches long and as beautiful as the morning sun!

And that, my little princess... is YOU!

The End!

Down the Yellow Brick Road

I still remember the first time I watched The Wizard of Oz and when Dorothy, arm in arm with the Tin Man, The Lion, and The Scarecrow, started to follow the Yellow Brick Road I knew it was the beginning of an amazing journey. That's exactly how I feel now every time I interact with Alyssa. Her baby days were wonderful and sweet, but as a toddler it's a whole different world!

She is learning new things everyday and as she does so she gives me and her Daddy a whole new perspective. As she learns new words we're reminded to watch what we say. And as she uses the words she's learned I'm amazed at how her little mind works; I'm struck at how she puts concepts together and identifies what she sees, and remembers what she discovered yesterday. She picks up something new everyday - colors, shapes, even identifying numbers and letters in the alphabet. How does she know that a bear in a book, the stuffed animal on her bed, and a bear in the zoo are all the same thing... a bear?!

But what's truly amazing is that her awe at all things around her is absolutely contagious. When we took her recently to the aquarium the look in her eyes was indescribable. It was sheer wonder and joy... and I felt the same way. Alyssa's greatest gift to her Mommy and Daddy right now is bringing us into her world. As an adult you sometimes forget to marvel at the world around you. Things become mundane. As an adult with a toddler, you can't help but see the world through her eyes! Thank you, my little girl for opening my eyes to the wonder of flowers, and bears, and the "lolors" pink, "lellow", and "puh-ple". Thank you for showing me "pish" and "burs" and "la-la-las" (piggys in Sandra Boynton's book, Moo Ba La La La). And above all else, thank you for taking me and your Daddy, arm in arm with you down your Yellow Brick Road.

It's a Wonderful Life

On the cusp of a New Year, I'm at a turning point in my life. Act two, so to speak. The past twelve months have brought more joy in my life than I thought my heart could hold. The love of a child and husband that I never dreamt could be possible. And yet, it has also brought me the most trying challenge I have ever faced. I had cancer - breast cancer. And the operative word is had. On December 17 I had a mastectomy, on December 23 my CT scans and bone scans came back negative. Now though, I face a long road ahead of treatment to make sure it doesn't come back - starting with chemotherapy. Today I find out my schedule. And I'll be honest, it terrifies me. More than surgery did - I just wanted that over with; wanted the tumor gone. But chemo, and all it's side effects is a scary prospect.

When I was younger I thought that being brave was about being fearless. As I grew older and wiser, I've come to understand that it's the exact opposite. It is exactly about being fearful. Bravery is about going forward, despite being afraid. I think of this often as I face chemo and what will happen in the months ahead. And I think to myself, what's a few months of discomfort compared to a lifetime of happiness with Alyssa and Dennis? I have a feeling that will be my mantra for 2011.

The New Year is our chance - for each one of us - at a rebirth. A chance to start anew; clean slate. Like George Bailey in It's a Wonderful Life we get another chance to start fresh. In my case, I'm certain that I've gotten another chance. Going forward is my act two. And I won't waste a single moment of it. My resolutions are this: I will not waste a single moment by stressing, or dwelling on the negative. I will be constructive and positive in how I approach bumps in the road. I will laugh at every opportunity to do so; and I will cry if my heart tells me it needs to. I will love until my heart overflows and I will accept love from anyone who offers it. I will dance and sing and sigh, and revel at how beautiful it is to be alive. I will look around me and always think, indeed, it's a wonderful life!

Courage and Thanksgiving

As I write I am sitting in a waiting room in an oversized medical gown waiting to have a needle biopsy on a lump I found last week in my right breast. Yes, I'm scared; yes, I've gone down the path of thinking the worst. And I've bounced back. I have no choice. I am in Alyssa-Land and I promised my little girl when she invited me here that I was going to stay for as long as she needed me.

No pain, no gain. That's the life lesson my Dad left me. He always used to say that as I was growing up. And at times it annoyed me to no end. But he was right. Every beautiful and worthwhile milestone in my life has not come without some struggle, some pain. But the gain has always been worth it. Maybe even more so, because of the pain.

There are other women in the room with me. I don't know their stories, but I can imagine their fears. I can only pray for them and hope that they will come out on the other end of this waiting game, stronger and triumphant. It's not easy to be brave. Courage, I believe, is being petrified and yet moving forward. Claiming the fear, trusting, keeping faith that all will be well in the end.

For Alyssa, there is nothing I wouldn't do. There isn't anything I wouldn't attempt to overcome. There is so much in my life to be thankful for, starting first and foremost with this beautiful angel who guides every step of my life.

Mommy will be ok, my Alyssa-bee, my baby bee. I love you.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

The Alyssa-Land Express

Leaf wonder at Ryerson Woods

So I had this conversation yesterday at lunch with co-workers about age. As is common, some feel older than they are, some feel younger, and some don't really think about it at all. Which got me thinking. I just turned 36 last week and I'm one of those people who feel younger than they are. Especially now that I have Alyssa.

Now don't get me wrong, I certainly feel physically older - I mean pregnancy takes a toll on a woman's body - but that being said, I feel younger simply because I now get to view everyday through Alyssa's eyes.

Welcome aboard the Alyssa-Land Express! Every day is a new adventure; every new object, new experience, is amazing and wondrous. Alyssa never passes up the opportunity to stop and inspect the most mundane items that come across her path. Every moment is a party; every achievement is a celebration. Life is amazing already, but life through Alyssa's eyes, in Alyssa's world is phenomenal. It's a journey of discovery and she brings me along on each adventure.

We gain so much as we age. We process the world around us differently. We become more critical, more aware, and yet, because of all the cares and worries of being adult we've lost (or maybe forgotten) the ability to be wowed. So as I've struggled for the past 36 years to grow up, grow old, grow wise, I've found that I've also grown, well, predictable. I've grown to like certain things a certain way, and dismiss (or ignore) things that fall outside my narrow comfort zone. The trade-off to this comfort is that I'm only aware of what's in front of me, but not of what's around me.

Thankfully here comes Alyssa on her adventure ride; not even asking me to come along, but just dragging me with her along the way. And just like that it's as if a veil has been lifted. I look around me now and see in the mundane what could be a new discovery for Alyssa. What new and fabulous exploration can we go on today? Is bubble wrap a possible magic carpet ride? Are falling leaves a shower of gold and magic? Is the blowing wind a thousand kisses from unseen fairies? Who knows? But it's all awesome; it's all new; and it's all taking place in Alyssa-Land! Thank you, baby for sharing the ride.

Father Time, Slow Down!

It's been a year since my maternity leave was up and Alyssa started daycare. And it's been the fastest year of my life! I truly cannot believe, or even really fully grasp how the past twelve months have just gone by. A year ago, Alyssa was this fragile little baby who couldn't sit up on her own and wasn't even eating solid food yet. Today she's walking, speaking about 10 words, pointing at everything, has 8-10 teeth and is a voracious eater, sleeps with a pillow and a blanket, and knows how to manipulate Mommy and Daddy at will. When did this happen?!

When I think about it, I actually panic at the thought that it's gone by so fast... so Father Time, I beg of you - please slow down!

Why can't she stay a baby longer? Everyday she exerts some new form of independence; some new feat with a footnote that reads, "Mommy not necessary." Pause here for a long, deep sigh from Mommy. But then that's what being a Mommy is all about, isn't it? Come to think of it, I really only had nine months when she was mine, all mine. The moment she said "hello world" she was already making strides toward independence: breathing on her own; telling me that she was hungry, or sleepy or poopy; sitting up on her own; crawling; walking; climbing; eating; thinking... next thing I know she'll be asking for the car keys. I get that being a parent is about nurturing them, supporting them, loving them, and all along the way learning to let them go a little bit at a time.

But it really is the hardest job in the world. With every achievement my heart is so full of pride and joy; and at the same time it breaks a little to see her grow away from me just a teeny bit more. And that feeling right there, that is what being a Mommy is about.

So to my Mom: I get it now. You were right. I'm sorry. Thank you. And I love you.

Daddy's Little Princess

Princess Alyssa... and Lamby

I have always said that Dennis is my rock. And he is. He is calm, while I can be argumentative. He is cool, while I frequently blow hot. He is mellow, while I am loathe to sit still. He is strong, while I frequently feel vulnerable. So every time I see him with Alyssa I feel so lucky and relieved that he is her rock now too.

It's so important to have good role models as you grow up. And it's so important that the first, and ideally, best ones to have are your parents. I recognize that this is our job. It's my job to be the best Mom I can be. And it's Dennis' job to be the best Dad he can be. And I know he is trying... and trying successfully.

I still remember the first night in the hospital. I was exhausted (for lack of a better word), and Dennis was bleary-eyed and tired too... emotionally and physically, I know. And we were alone. My Mom couldn't stay with us and had to go home; and all the friends were gone too. And it was unnerving. The first time Dennis had to change Alyssa's diaper was his first time to change any diaper! And I couldn't help; all I could do was describe what he needed to do. It was a rough night, but here we are 15 months later...

Alyssa usually goes to bed around 8 or 8:30pm. Sometimes, like tonight, we hear a little whimper from her room and one of us will go to her and rock her back to sleep. So Dennis went to check on her and a few minutes later I peeked in the room ever so quietly. There he was holding Alyssa who was fast asleep with her thumb in her mouth. She's so big now that all you see is the swaying of her pink nightgown and arms and legs spilling out of her Daddy's arms. He looked at me through the crack in the door, shook his head silently to shoo me away, all the while still rocking her back and forth - not missing a beat. I just love that.

When he looks at her, I can see his eyes soften. And when she runs to him giggling, my heart melts. In the mornings after she gets ready for daycare, she runs out of her room straight to Daddy to show him her outfit (or shoes, after all she is obsessed with shoes). She is his little princess; Daddy's little princess. In my life, I've never seen anything more wonderful... Dennis and Alyssa: my rock and my light.

I Do This for You...

At about 2:30pm today my temples started to throb; I started to feel nauseous; and I had a slight tightness in my lungs. I'm not ill, nor am I pregnant (yes, I'm sure). I'm nervous. Tomorrow is a big day for me professionally - it is the Alliance for the Great Lakes' annual September Adopt-a-BeachTM Event, part of the International Coastal Cleanup. I spend the better part of the summer, and really of a whole year working towards this day. Last year I didn't organize the event (in Illinois and Indiana) because I was on maternity leave. This year, however, I'm back; I have fabulous assistance; and I have an inspiration - a reason to do my work well, a reason to be even more passionate about my work; I have Alyssa.

I am a volunteer coordinator at a non-profit and I love my job. My job doesn't rake in tons of money, but it rakes in tons of good will and professional satisfaction. More importantly, I work towards the goal of safeguarding the Great Lakes; of protecting my drinking water - Alyssa's drinking water.

Ok, so as I typed the paragraph above I thought it sounded kind of scripted. It's honest and true, but it's kind of a speech I give. A speech that sounds great, but there is more truth behind it that I've wanted to say out loud for some time now. And that is I work in order to be an inspiration for my daughter. I love my career. It's hard work. It's challenging. And it can be frustrating at times. It's just really exhausting to balance work and home life. It's draining - physically and emotionally. But I've realized that I want to keep doing it so that Alyssa will grow up to hopefully be inspired by me. Much as my mother is an inspiration to me in the choices in life she made, I want to be an inspiration to my daughter someday.

So Alyssa, tomorrow is for you. For your drinking water, for your future. I do this for you... and I do this for me.

Lost in the Woods

There is nothing scarier to me than a sick Alyssa. The feeling of helplessness is overwhelming. The loss of control, the desire to give in to panic during an inconsolable crying session - it's like being lost in the woods... by myself... at night. You get the picture.

Ok, so I guess I should also say at this point - for all you family and friends starting to worry - that Alyssa just has a cold. It's nothing major. She has the sniffles: a runny nose, teary eyes, somewhat of a loss of appetite (I say somewhat because she IS a toddler now and starting to get picky about food), and a little cranky at the end of the day when all is said and done. Otherwise, she's still running around, babbling away, and laughing up a storm.

That said, every time she cries in her sleep I jump up and run to her. Every time she rubs her eyes and a tear squeezes out my heart breaks. Every time she sucks in her breath through her mouth or she struggles to breathe through her nose I die a little inside. Yes, yes - very melodramatic sounding, I know. But seriously, this is my reaction - and it's only a cold! Oh, of course I know I'm nuts! That's why I'm sitting here at 12:01 a.m. writing this entry. I know I'm crazy; I know my response is crazy; and I know that if I don't figure out a better way to respond to Alyssa when she's sick I will one day become crazy.

So what do I do? I need to find my way through the woods. I could come up with a long list of responsibilities I have as Mommy to Alyssa that could help me get out of this "panic mode" I've slipped into: wipe her nose, take her temp, make her soup, hold her for as long as she wants (or as long as I need), etc. But then it just occurred to me that really, I only have one job: I need to be a strong and nurturing Mommy to Alyssa - sick or healthy. I need to be there for her. This is about her. This is not about me, it's about her. Essentially, I need to suck it up.

And that is how I just became "un-lost."

Balance

Alyssa centering herself

A state of equilibrium. It's not easy to achieve balance. In fact, I think it's one of the hardest things to do. Personally, it's my overarching goal -on a daily basis. I try to balance my thoughts (all the tasks and to-do's for the day between work and home); I try to balance my body (making healthy choices against pushing myself too hard); I try to balance my attention (towards family, friends, the dog, and myself); and I try to balance my soul (reminding myself often that my daily struggles pale in comparison to what else is going on in the world, or even just in my life as a whole).

It's not easy to achieve balance. In fact, I often fail. Much like Alyssa these days who's great on her feet, but she'll still trip; she'll stumble and fall; but she gets back up right away, dusts herself off and keeps going. That's the only way to achieve balance, I think. You've got to work at it, and you've got to keep going.

My biggest struggle is balancing work and home life. I love my career, no question about it. It also helps pay the bills, no question about that either. But if I could have my way, in a heartbeat I would choose to stay home with Alyssa more. As it is now, Thursday nights are my favorite time of the week: because it's technically the start of three whole days in Alyssa-Land. I love working from home on Fridays. Most of my work gets done in the morning before Dennis leaves, and during Alyssa's two nap times. Lunch is a treat -especially now that Alyssa eats the same thing I do. The act of sharing a meal is centering. That is my mid-day achievement of balance. Alyssa balances me. She pulls me away from the challenges of work and brings me back to reality. She lifts my spirits when they're down and battered from a long day's work and pulls me back up. She makes me laugh when the frustrations of the day make me want to cry. And she makes me sigh in contentment when I'm seeing things half empty, instead of half full. I love Fridays.

Alyssa has a great way of achieving her own equilibrium - when she gets too excited, too tired, or too upset, she comforts herself quickly by sucking her thumb. She's learned very early on how to cope and soothe herself on her own. I should learn from my daughter. My own version of the thumb suck is thinking of Alyssa. She is my comfort, she is my safe place, she is my equilibrium. Alyssa balances me.

Bellybuttons & Squigglies

Need I say more?

So my daughter loves to walk around with a finger in her bellybutton and a thumb in her mouth. I think it's absolutely adorable. And it means something more to me... That bellybutton is a cute and constant reminder of the physical connection that Alyssa and I shared for almost nine months. That little dimple in her belly that she is so fond of playing with linked us in the most physical way any two human beings can ever bond. There it is - a cute dimple that Alyssa likes to show off to anyone who will look. I love burying my face in her belly and tickling her. I love that I sometimes spy her bellybutton peeking out of a tiny shirt Alyssa is wearing around the house. And I love that she loves her bellybutton right now. In my heart of hearts I hope that she understands, somehow, someday, why this bellybutton is so loved by Mommy. I hope she doesn't let go of this adorable habit yet.

Now what on earth are squigglies? Well if you must know, a squiggle is a squirmy wiggle. Or, as I like to apply it to Alyssa, a squirmy wiggler! And today, as I was carrying Alyssa up the stairs after picking her up from daycare, she kept squiggling and trying valiantly to leave my arms. It occurred to me that almost from the moment she was born, Alyssa has been doing just that... squiggling away from me. That thought made me sigh deeply. Because really, that's what children do, right? Their job is to squiggle away. Meanwhile, mommies must watch, support, and cheer on our precious babies no matter how hard it is to let them go.

So precious Alyssa, as you set out to conquer the world, know this: Mommy will always hold dear the thought of two very silly sounding things - bellybuttons and squigglies - and I hope someday you'll realize how much both of them mean to me.

Mommy Instinct

It's 11:46pm and I'm sitting here stewing. We have no water! There is a water main break somewhere near our neighborhood and the city is working to fix it. This is the first time this has ever happened to me in Chicago since I moved here in 2004. As soon as Dennis determined that it wasn't just us, I called the city's hotline immediately and filed a complaint and demanded a case number. Not more than 10 minutes later I demanded that Dennis call them back and follow up. I have also emailed everyone in my condo building to do the same. I have searched my alderman's website to figure out how to get in touch with him after hours, to no avail of course, and have seethed that I couldn't. I have, of course,  in my mind, strangled every city official that is remotely connected to our lack of water.

I have quite literally, flown into a panic about not having water - my first thought being 'no water for Alyssa.' Not that she really needs it more than any of us do in the house. First of all, my in-laws are in town and I have a stack of dishes in the sink from a long, leisurely dinner earlier tonight. Surely those two reasons require water first, or at the very least, before my quietly sleeping 14 month old who has a gallon of milk and tons of filtered water that's sitting in the fridge. Nonetheless, I am upset [sic] because... well, because my Mommy instinct has kicked in.

I just realized that. It just occurred to me that my Mommy instinct is alive and well! I guess I should be rejoicing. Certainly, one of my fears while pregnant with Alyssa was that I wouldn't have that Mommy instinct once she arrived. How does a new Mom go about getting it anyway? Is it something that just magically turns on after you've put in the requisite number of contractions and pushed enough times to move a small mountain? Or is it something that slowly descends on you like a magical gift the first few hours after you hold your little bundle of joy in your arms? I don't really know what the answer is - which one of my guesses is correct, or if the actual answer is not one I came up with here. Bottom line, however I came about getting it - the Mommy instinct - I'm glad it's here. And I suspect it's been here all along. But it's just really nice to find out I've got "it." Now where's that damn water?!

I Think My Baby is So Smart

I just love "Moo Ba Lalala!"

I think my baby is so smart. There, I said it. Do I knock on wood now? Should I feel a little guilty for being so forward? Honestly, I just can't get over it! So I'll let you be the judge...

She is obsessed with books. She flips through pages and "talks" as she goes. Albeit most of the time the books are upside down, but yeah- she's "reading aloud!"

She is following commands. I'm shocked that she understands full sentences when I or Dennis ask her to do something. Tonight, we were Skyping with Nana Lita and I asked her to go into her room and bring out the green toy (that her Aunt Mary Eileen gave her) to show her Nana. She stood up and looked at me, uttered something and pointed to her room. I said, "yes, the green toy." And she promptly walked in, picked up the green caterpillar (and mind you she has A LOT of toys in her room, and a lot of green ones too) and brought it out to me! Also, when it's time to put her shoes on, I've taught her to sit in my lap. I used to have to ask her to sit in Mommy's lap, now she just picks up her shoes, sets them down in front of me, sits in my lap, looks up, as if to ask, "What are you waiting for Mommy?"

She is headstrong. Yes- I know, that's a euphemism for stubborn. And she is. I can admit that too. There are two things at home she is obsessed with but not allowed to touch - the dog bowls, and our open shelves in the dining room (yes, yes, we're planning on buying a cabinet with doors). No matter what I or Dennis tell her, no matter how many "no-s," "don't go there-s," or "Alyssa (stern voice)," she always manages to pretend she's deaf. And when we reprimand her, she cries and then buries her face in her hands because she knows she wasn't supposed to do that.

She understands computers. Remember how earlier I said we were Skyping with her Nana Lita? Well, she understands that it's her grandma in the Philippines, and she knows the difference between Skyping with her Grandpa Anatoly and Grandma Bella in Springfield. Amazing.

She plays pretend. One of her favorite games is to drag her changing pad that now lives underneath her crib out to the dining room. She then pretends that it's time for bed. She lies down on the pad, sucks her thumb, and then she laughs and gets up. Round 1. This can go on for a while... Another favorite game of hers when I need to corral her and put her in the play yard, is the game of "pick-up-tiny-things-and-give-them-to-Mommy." It's exactly how it sounds. She bends down in her play yard, picks up teeny-tiny things with her forefinger and thumb, stands up and hands them to Mommy very gently, one at a time. I have no idea what the teeny-tiny things. Go figure.

I know this is just the tip of the iceberg. She knows how to choose her own clothes now. She knows how to complain when Marley is lying on her changing pad - by pointing to him, screaming while looking at us. She throws a ball back and forth with Marley because Daddy taught her how. So now, you tell me- is it ok that I said it? Is it ok that I said, my baby is so smart? :)

Welcome to Alyssa-Land!

Sucking her thumb, hugging Brownie

So a couple of years ago Dennis and I decided that we were emotionally ready to start a family. By then we understood that fretting about whether we were financially-ready was not a good way to gauge our "readiness." It was the emotional part that was important. If we were going to wait until we were financially ready it would be a long time before we could start trying! So one day we just decided - we were ready to try.

Two years later, here we are. Alyssa is 14 months old, walking, babbling, understanding what we say to her, what we ask her, and she's got a mind and personality of her own. I can hardly believe it sometimes. How quickly did we go from that morning when I looked at a stick in the bathroom that said PREGNANT, to today? I'm turning 36 this year and I've never experienced a year that went by so fast as this past year has. And I've got to say, I'm kind of dizzy.

Of all the adventures I've had in my life, this one takes the cake. This one is the most fun, the most emotional, the most overwhelming, the most scary adventure ever. I have never laughed so hard, cried so much, loved with all my heart as I have in the past year. What's amazing about it all... it's just the beginning. She's really only a year old after all!

What new adventures await? How much more will I laugh? How many more tears will I cry? And is it possible for my heart to burst with so much love?

I started this blog so that I could begin to write more lengthily about my reflections on Mommy-hood and my travels in Alyssa-Land. Why Alyssa-Land? Because it's a whole new world I could never have dreamed up on my own. It's a world I get to see through her eyes. I can't tell you how excited I am to explore! I hope you come along for the ride.