All of you know our dear friend Carrie from the board.  How could you forget her?  She 's the pregnant one with the pretty auburn hair and the beautiful little girl who has a smile that radiate pure joy.  She's the girl who always remembers what you had planned to do the night before and asks you about it.  She's the girl who always sticks up for a friend, always has your back, no matter what.  She's the girl who would take what little money she has and buy a beautiful bracelet for your baby girl   And she is also the girl that a GIANT BLACK CLOUD follows EVERYWHERE.

Sure we all Bitch and moan about how unfair life treats us at times.  No money for vacations, no money for redecorating, no money to go shopping.  But seriously, I can almost guarantee you that Carrie's problems pretty much trump most of our trivial BS.  In the past year and a half she has lost 2 animals, her house blew away in a tornado, she unexpectedly got pregnant with a welcome, but surprise baby girl just in time for her husband to get laid off.  Her husband has had a multitude of health issues and lately, they just seem to be getting worse. Sometimes when I open my e-mail and read about yet another thing that has happened to her, I just say "I cannot effing believe this... When is this girl EVER going to catch a break?"  Of course Carrie doesn't like to tell us these things.  She feels like she is burdening us.  She could not be further from the truth. We love her so much that it hurts us that she goes through so much, so often.   

Anyway, I was posting this just so that everyone, regardless of who you are or if you have ever commented before can just post a comment to Carrie to let her know you care about her. I think she could really use a pick me up right now and I think an outpouring of love might be just the trick.

We love you Carrie.  Please know that.  I am so glad you are my friend.

The good thing about starting a new job is that I am taking next week off to do some super important things.  You know, like get my hair foiled, organize my clothes, get my kids on a better sleep routine.  But the most important thing I will do is on Monday.  Monday is Mister day.

Monday we have Dentist appointments at 11:30.  So at 8:30, we'll drop off the sister at daycare. Then I assume we will go for a bagel at this great place on the green, people watch.  Chocolate milk and a Cinnamon raisin bagel for the boy, tea and an everything bagel for me.  The mister will bring a book, probably about fire trucks or trains or construction equiptment, and I will read the Register.  We'll talk and laugh and I can guarantee that within minutes of arrival, the other customers will be capitvated by the tiny boy who says things like "Well, to tell you the truth, Mommy, I don't actually particularly care for that kind of bagel".  He'll get up every few minutes to open the door for an arriving customer and greet them with a heart "Good Morning.  My name is D*aniel.  What's your name?"  He does stuff like that.  He's a people person.  When he answers the phone he says things like "Hello, D*aniel here." or "McDermott Relatives (he prefers that to residence), D*aniel speaking".  It melts my heart.    Then, we'll head to the dentists and after that, the day is all his.

We'll do whatever he wants to do, my boy and me.  I'm sure he'll want to ride his fire truck.  Yesterday afternoon, he had me be his driving instructor.  I had to do a checklist and grade him as if I were giving him his driving test.  That was the fun part of going home early from work to take care of his sick sister and her poopy butt.  I'm sure he'll want to go for a hike in the trails near our house.  I'm sure he'll want to go to the train station and watch the trains arrive for an hour or so. He likes trains.  Mostly he likes to watch the people that ride trains.  Talk to them.  Ask them where they are coming from, what they were doing there. I'll bet he'll want to help me make dinner.  He is as in love with my kitchen aid and my food processor as I am.  He likes to help me measure and grate and pour.  He's pretty proud of what we create in the kitchen.  Who knows, he'll probably be a chef someday.  Or maybe a doctor.  He likes to wear his doctor costume.  Sometimes even out in public.  Last night he wore his fire boots, his police uniform and Daddy's dress Coast Guard hat to get his hair cut and go to the grocery store.  He likes to act like whatever character he is playing at the time.  He goes into this zone where you can't bring him into reality.  Maybe he'll win an Oscar some day.  He sure loves to perform.  Tomorrow I am sure he'll want to stop by the fire department.  He's a regular there.  Or maybe the police department.  He flagged down a cop in our neighborhood and made him stop a month ago so that he could check out his cop car. Officer Dan was the cops name.  And he told D*aniel that he could call him some time (he gave him his card) and get a tour of the police station.  He was here an hour.   He loves to sing.  And loves to hear music.  His school is in church.  Orchestras practices there.  D*aniel gets to go listen to the orchestra practice every week, depending on his behavior.  He is the only kid who has interest in hearing a string quartet or a woodwinds section practice. He'll sit still and watch carefully, until he is given an opportunity to ask questions.  And then he'll never stop asking them.  This a kid who I never have to worry about hitting other kdis or hurting anyone's feelings.  His heart is just pure...his spirit is just magical. He understands the concept of empathy and friendship and loyalty and he isn't even five. I am awestruck by his wise old soul.

How did I get so lucky to have a baby like him?  I tell him when I lie down to sleep with him that he is the best thing that ever happened to me because he made me a Mommy.  if it wasn't for him, I'd have never gotten the chance to become a mom to him and his sister. And then I tell him that I am so glad that he is mine. Because I am. Sure there are kids that are alot easier, alot less of a challenge.  A ton mroe compliant.  Ones who listen eagerly and don't fight you everytime you attempt to change their clothing or brush their teeth.  Ones who won't fight you on bedtime for 2 hours or get sent home with notes from school referencing their "colorful" language. But as hard as it can be sometimes, I would not trade this kid for the world.  Because as hard as it is to admit it, this child, this spirited being, this indigo baby, is almost exactly like his Mama. 

So, on Monday, the day is all about D*aniel.  No laundry, no house cleaning...just D*aniel...doing exactly what Daniel wants when he wants to do it..........................

And I cannot wait.  For Monday....for the coming year, for every single year of his life. I cannot wait to see what he becomes, who he becomes, what impact he has on the world around him.  I know in my heart of hearts, that whatever road life takes him on will be one that leaves me immensely proud of him.

Yes.  It's 2:00 am.  Yes, I am wide awake.  I have real issues with change in my life.  I am sad about leaving my current job and nervous about all the responsibilties of the new job. I have not gotten more than 4 hours sleep a night in a week.  And that is with Tylenol PM.  I start thinking abou saying goodbye to my friends and I start getting all emotional.  I think about how hard it is to start a new job and I get panicky.  Like anxiety attack panicky.  I feel like my chest is going to cave in from the pressure. I am worried about fitting in.  I am worried about doing well.  I am worried about getting there on time.  I am worried about not doing well in the 90 day probation period and being booted on my ass.  I feel such a tremendous amount of financial obligation towards my family that I really worry too much about effing up at work. I just have fears of leaving my children penniless and homeless.  Mostly I am really sad about leaving my current job.  Sure the job blows and the commute sucks ass as well, but I love my co-workers.  I have never felt more at home at a job as I have the past 3 + years.  I just clicked with everyone.  They have listened to me cry, made me laugh, shared my joys.  They even threw me the best baby shower ever.  It's really hard to just walk away from these people that I have grown to love, knowing full well that I may not see many of them again. Sure, you have the best of intentions, but I was laid off from my last job 3.5 years ago.  I have seen 3 people from there a few times and that was it.  Sure we talk occasionally, but it just is not the same. I'll miss them more than I ever imagined.  Sorry.  Just feeling blue.  I know I am running towards something and not from something, but all the same...it's making me melancholy.

I think it is time I rediscover the joy of the little blue pill.

http://www.onetruemedia.com/shared?p=1d26d4385ccd2473275c76&skin_id=0&utm_source=otm&utm_medium=text_url

  and yes Carrie...that is the one..

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1dmVU08zVpA

Do not click on this if you are easily offended or if you are at work in an open space. 

Seriously.  This is offensive than any hand gesture...But Oh My Goodness...I cannot stop laughing.  Seriously.  I have watched it probably 10 times.  My husband finds it totally not funny, but me...I am HOWLING.

I am so mad Emily does have net access for 10 days...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dmRvzXXN4aU

Oddly, I have developed a crush on JT now...

The Girl's 2nd Birthday party was about a month ago.  I was already feeling sort of melancholy and sad about it and I have to say, I was a little disappointed in some of the people in our lives the day of the party.  I really try to live my life keeping in mind that I can't expect other people to live by my standards.  But I guess when it comes to your kids, you get  a little more emotional than you would normally conduct yourself.

I was a little sad that some people that are dear to me couldn't be at the party for one reason or another. I know that to them, it was just another kids party.  But to me, it was the anniversary of the day that the 2nd brightest light in my life entered our world, forever changing the dynamic of our family and bringing us unspeakable joy. December 2, 2004 was the day that we went from a family of 3 to a completed family of 4, the day that Mike and I had our last child, a daughter.  A whole new journey for us.  I'm sure to the casual observer, it was just another winter day.  But to us, especially to me, it is one of the few days in my life that changed my life in ways I never imagined possible.

Her first birthday was a flurry of activity, one in which I ran around like crazy, trying to get everything done and perfect.  As in most families, the Mama is not only the chief party planner and hostess, but also the lead photographer.  In all of the festivities and all of the responsibilties that go along with having a party, I was not able to get pictures of everything.  Unfortunately, neither did anyone else.  There is no photographic record of my daughter smashing into her first birthday cake and I am beyond sad about.  I have spent a year asking everyone in attendance if they have a picture of this momentous occasion. No one does. I vowed that for her 2nd birthday, come hell or high water, I was getting a picture of her with her cake, damn making coffee or getting desserts out.  If I couldn't be sure that someone would record this for me, I was going to make damned sure that it was done. Unfortunately, we never got to her cake at her 2nd birthday party.

Her party started at 1:00.  By 3:00, most of Mike's side of the family had failed to show up.  I had waited to put out the food until they got there and then finally gave in to the idea that they were simply no shows and put everything out (apps were out before, but this was the main meal piece that I was waiting for late arrivals for).  Mike's family finally arrived at about 3:30.  The birthday girl had fallen asleep in her high chair by this point, 2 hours away from her nap time.  Again, no pictures with the birthday cake for me.  I steeled myself from flipping out when I heard his family members talking about the reason for the delay being that that were Christmas shopping. Instead of getting confrontational, I went into the guest bathroom and proceeded to cry my eyes out.  I don't know if it was the lack of cake pictures or simply the lack of care about the importance of this day by the late arrivals and no shows that made me start sobbing.  All I know is that it took me 10 minutes to get out of the bathroom before I felt like I could control my emotions enough to be polite and cordial.  

We had the Girl's Birthday Party a week before her actual birthday.  Her actual birthday was spent at Socks Over Jean's Girls son's 1st Birthday party, a decision we had made a year ago on December 1st, 2005 when he was born.  I know how important a first birthday is and I wanted to make sure that SOJG got the pick of days for her son, born 364 days after my girl.  So, we went to Jack's party, The Girl and I. 

After we sang Happy Birthday to Jack, out of nowhere SOJG appears with a pretty cake and makes an annoucement that today is another special little girl's birthday and could everyone sing Happy Birthday to Miss Car*oline.  I didn't even realize it until after, but the tears were streaming down my face, as they are right now as I type this.  I am sure I looked ridiculous, like an oversentimental mom on her kid's second birthday, but that wasn't it at all.  No one has ever done anything this thoughtful for me in my life.

I say thoughtful for ME, rather than for my Girl because SOJG just got it.  She knew how sad I was at The Girl's party and how disappointed I was by the people I care about.  In purchasing that little Custard filled birthday cake for my sweet girl, she really restored my faith in my friendships and relationships.  She let me know how much she cared about me and my little girl and never in my life have I ever felt as cherished as a friend as I did on that day.  I know it probably doesn't seem like such a big deal to you all, but it was huge to me.  

So, I did get to get pictures of my little girl with her cake on her 2nd birthday after all.  And all because I had the good sense to pass the girl with the big Aquanet sprayed hair (only in the front, for some reason, SOJG never did the back of her hair...ATTRACTIVE) in Mrs. Nagle's English class a note in 1987 asking if she was going to the big party that weekend.

It went by so fast.  They warn you it will happen, but of course, you never ever listen. How can she be two years old already?  I can practically still feel her kicking me from the inside.  It is like one day I woke up and it was March 19^th, 2004 and I got my BFP and now it’s December 2^nd, 2006 and I have a 2 year old. 

It makes me overwhelmingly sad.  Sure, all of the Mister’s milestones were bittersweet, but there is something absolutely heartbreaking about all of the Girls passages. I know it stems from the fact that that she is my last.  She is it.  She completed the McFamily. With the Mister, I knew there were other (s) to come down the pike, so the big moments were not so unbearable.  However, this has set me into full-blown depression.

There is something about the age of two that makes a Mama want to cry.  Two means no more talking in months.  Two means let us get this potty training party started.  They are getting too big to lie on your chest.  They no longer have an incessant need to be physically close to you.  They talk.  A lot.  They really start developing their intellect. The worst part of two?  It means…….. they are no longer babies.

The thing is, I am mad at myself.  I feel like I squandered away a lot of time wishing stages would pass.  I did it with both my kids.  If I could go back, I could drink in a lot more of their newness.  I would not be so overwhelmed by things that really aren’t as overwhelming from the outside looking in.  I would take more time to snuggle with them.  The Mister is getting to the age that he no longer wants to snuggle. It makes me sadder than I could have ever imagined.

2 years ago on December 2nd, I woke up in the morning and had a sudden burst of energy.  I did not expect to have a baby that day.  In fact, I was assuming she would not be born until her awful parents picked a name for her.  I went for my NST the day before and was full of fluid, so I figured I would be hanging out until the sixth or seventh. I dropped Mister off at DC. I went to Babies R Us to exchange a Christmas Dress that I knew would be too big and to buy Mister a gift from Baby Sister. The cashiers name was “Caro*line”.  When I was in BRU, I started having severe stomach cramps.  I went to the bathroom, did my business(and a lot of it) and left.  I was in the car and got my first contraction.  Very bearable and totally what I expected in my first labor (I had all back labor with Mister). I went to Filene’s.  Bought a nursing bra.  The contractions had picked up to every 12 minutes.  They paged a “Caro*line”.  I had to sit on the makeshift bed in House wares at one point. The bed linens were Ralph Lauren.  Someone asked me if I was okay.  I said “Yeah, just in labor”.  Mind you, this was a male I said this too.  He asked if he needed to call anyone.  I said “Nope.  It takes me forever to have babies.  I have more shopping to do”.  I stopped at Wetzel’s Pretzels.  I got in my car.  It was about 1:30.  I called my sister.  I told her my contractions were about 10 minutes apart.  She asked me what the doctor said.  Doctor?  I told her I had not called.  She said, “Suzie, this is your 2^nd baby, not your first.  Call the doctor.”.  However, I still had more shopping to do. 

After I stopped at Casual Curtain to get a runner for the Girl’s bureau, I called my doctors office.  They told me to come to the New Haven office. I called The Daddy.  He asked if he had time to stop at Home Depot.  I ignored him.  He asked again.  I told him to get his A$$ home.  At this point, my contractions were 7 minutes apart.  I got home.  Jumped in the shower.  Called my sister.  Arranged to bring Mister there. Packed Misters bag and laid out all of his clothes for when I was in the hospital so that he did not look like a rag a muffin when he came to meet his baby sister.   Straightened up my house. Talked to Emily who called to tell me that the internet was going crazy wondering if I had birthed yet.  Waited for the Daddy.  Got more and more pissed at the Daddy.  Daddy calls and says, “Why don’t we just bring Mister to my mothers.  Um, no. The last person I need to see when I am laboring is my MIL.    I yelled at him.  A lot.  He finally gets home.  I tell him to shower.  It is going to be a long night.  It is now 3:00.  I can hear him cutting his cuticles.  Why is this necessary? I am ready to throw him out of the house, yet I need him to drive me to the hospital.  Oh, eff it.  I’ll drive myself.  In my mania, I told him I was leaving with or without him.   He did not fight back.  That was odd.  He must have known I meant business because surely he would yell back at me at any other time.

We pick up the Mister.  My contractions are getting stronger.  We get to New Haven.  It’s 4:30.  Doctor on duty is of course, the doctor I have an inappropriate crush on.  But of course.  Because that is who I really wanted to see me lose my shit in front of. I’m 4 centimeters.  He asks me what I want to do.  I tell him that I need to drop my son off in the next town over at my sisters and I would love to eat dinner.  He tells me to knock myself out and he will meet me at  Y*ale when I am ready.  As we are driving to my sisters, the contractions get stronger and closer together.  The Mister tells me to keep making “The Bubble Face”.  It makes him laugh.  It keeps me from crying.  By the time we get to my sisters, it is clear no dinner will be eaten.  It is 5:00.  My contractions are 3 minutes apart.  I am dying.  Seriously.  Dying.  I call the doctor.  I told him “Yeah, you know how I was going to eat dinner at my sisters?  That is not gonna happen.  I’ll see you at the hospital shortly”.  We arrive at the hospital.  The admitting folks want no part of me.  I am sobbing.  They send me up to L & D.  They do not want me having a baby in the lobby.  I get in my room.  It is 5:38.  They page a nurse named “Carol”.  They hook me up to monitors.  They check me.  I am 6 centimeters.  The doctor breaks my water.  Not to be outdone by her brother, she had already pooped in it, of course.  We talk about whether or not I want an epidural.  To everyone’s shock (and mostly me), I decline.  They hook me up to Pitocin.  I have no idea why.  I walk.  And walk. And walk.  Only stopping to be hooked back up to the monitors and checked.  The Daddy and I talk and laugh.  We look out the window and see the building where we met.  So much has happened to us since that day years before. 

I am 8 centimeters.  It is 7:00.  The doctor thinks I will deliver before 8:00.  I tell him I am not brave any more. He tells me it is too late.  If I wanted and epidural, that window of opportunity has closed since my baby is well on her way here.  I do not scream.  I do not cry.  I have serenity, a calmness that lets me know that everything is going to be okay. At about 7:25 I feel the sudden urge to poop.  The doctor hears me say this as he is walking by.  I hear him say “Magic words” and in a flash, he is suited up.  I push once.  Her head comes out fully.  I barely feel it.  There is a whole bunch of yelling that they need me to stop pushing and wait for peds to get down because of the meconium. They have looks of horror on there faces.  Um, no.  I cannot.  One more push and she comes out so fast that he barely caught her.  They place her right on my belly. Cord attached and all. She is so pink. Her head is so round.  And she is SCREAMING. That should have been my first indication of things to come. She starts to nurse right away. The time is 7:28.  She is here.  And she is perfect.  It takes them longer to clean me up than it does to birth her.

Her birth was beautiful.  It was just me and the Daddy, laughing and talking and joking, anxiously anticipating her arrival.  No one was waiting outside, no one was bugging  me.  It was just the girl, her Daddy and her Mommy.  It was the most wonderful experience of my life. And we named her Car*oline. Her name means "Pretty song" or "Beautiful Melody".  To me, it just means joy.

Happy Birthday Princess Car*oline Mar*garet Luc*y. You have bought us more happiness than you will ever know....Bless your beautiful little heart and every other beautiful Little part.

PS.  I am so sorry you have to share your birthday with Brit*ney Spears.