Life and the sweetest moments in photos

My husband and I just got back from a five-day trip to sunny California to see one of my childhood friends get married. My mom and dad agreed to stay with the kids so we could have a nice, relaxing trip. A chance to recharge our batteries, so to speak.

It was so incredible. Being able to do what we wanted and not have to worry about the kids was so nice. It took me back to our first five years of marriage. Plus, we got to hang out with my best friends at the same time as a bonus. The weather was amazing - bright sunshine and perfectly warm days followed by crisp evenings with a slight nip in the air.

I thought about the kids, don't get me wrong. My parents texted pictures of the kids so we wouldn't miss them too much. But the moment I saw my mom's number pop up on my phone as we were sitting out by the pool having cocktails before dinner the second night, I knew something was wrong. They had to bring her in to Urgent Care because when my mom was lifting her out of the bathtub, the little princess felt she needed to exert her authority by sitting down as my mom was pulling her up by her hands. My immediate thought was that her shoulder popped out of the socket. But the doctor determined it was her elbow and after reviewing the x-rays, the little lady turned out to be just fine.

Her mom on the other hand, was a little shook up. But I knew she was in good hands with her Grandma and Poppy. After finding out everything was fine and her arm was doing much better the next day, I was able to relax for the remainder of the trip and enjoy the time with my friends and hubby. We did sightseeing in Los Angeles (saw Rodeo Drive!), went out to eat at some trendy restaurants, and witnessed our friends tie the knot on a gorgeous ranch property overlooking Malibu beach. Dinner and dancing followed and we took tons of photos, so as to capture the perfection of the day in frames that we could cherish forever.

On the flight home I started to feel melancholy. I love the times I have with my friends, but I get so choked up when I sit down and think about how little time I actually get to spend with them each year. We all have families and careers and other responsibilities that seem to fill up our calendars so that when we do all eventually get together, we usually start planning our next get-together. One of my friends coined it our own special "bucket list" of things we want to do together. On the list so far is a camping trip, a sailing trip, and the wedding of the last of the six of us to get married.

Then I get home late Sunday night and the next morning I start feeling anxious and teary. I couldn't put my finger on it as to why, other than I had read an excerpt from a book of a woman who had lost her husband in the 9/11 attacks and it made me so scared and sad. I've always been afraid of death, afraid of whether I've done enough in my life before I die. It didn't help that my mom joked that she doesn't think she'll be around for her granddaughter's wedding (she'd be in her 80's).

I'm even more scared of losing someone I love, than I am of actually dying myself. The only people who I've lost who I was close to were my dad's two college friends and I didn't have day-to-day contact with them, just lots of memories from growing up. I worry about what will happen to me when my Grandma passes, or if I ever lost a close friend. I don't know if I could handle the hurt.

For now I am thankful to have an appointment with my therapist tonight. I'm going to discuss this all with her to see what she thinks. I'm sure she'll have some ideas for me on how to cope. In the meantime, I'm looking back over all the pictures we took this past weekend and am smiling at the memories with friends whom I love dearly.

Just Write

She just hasn't been herself lately. Her bubbly, sweet as a fresh, juicy strawberry personality has all but disappeared and in its place has left a cranky, clingy, super sad toddler. This has been going on for two days now. The piles of dishes on my kitchen counter are evidence to all of the cuddling we've been doing. It is so much more important to me than the housework right now. My baby's tears make my heart sink. I cannot stand seeing her in pain. The first dose of infant pain medicine took effect after twenty minutes, but it's now wearing off again. And we're right back where we started this day: lots of crying and even more comforting. Big brother and I do everything we can to distract her. We try playing with the wooden toy food and plastic plates on the fuzzy new family room carpet. That helps for a few minutes, but before we know it she's crying again, asking to be picked up by her mama.

We head upstairs so I can get a shower and get us all dressed for the day. I plop her in the portable playpen that has been stationed in our master bedroom for us to be able to accomplish tasks like showering and dressing, as her brother assumes his position next to it with the ipad in front of him. He chooses a fire truck show and I turn on the water full blast.

Five minutes later, as I'm blow drying my naturally curly hair straight, I peek over to find my footie-pajama-clad baby girl laying on her tummy clutching her lovie {paci in her mouth, of course}, fast asleep while her brother's noisy video blares two feet away from her.

Sleep, sweet baby. Rest and let those stubborn new teeth break through your swollen gums so that you're back to my bouncing bundle of trouble and giggles again.

I miss you, Sweetie.

Just Write: Making memories

Why is it that whenever we're on a family trip, I neglect to take the pictures I so desperately want to see when I get home and download my camera's memory card to my computer? The past six days we spent visiting the two sides of my husband's family. Despite the heaviness of fatigue that was pulling at my shoulders and making me ache to be in my bed sleeping off the travel, once the kids were in bed I rushed to my computer to dump my camera's contents out so that I could see what I had collected.

My heart sank when I realized that I forgot to get a picture of my father-in-law and his brother with his mom. I missed the chance to get a picture of my husband with his grandma. I barely got any photos of my mother-in-law with her grandkids. And there weren't any pictures of my husband's aunt or his cousins and their kids.

Being the pessimist I am {yet wish I could say the opposite} who always tends to look at the glass half empty, I couldn't help but wonder if that might have been our last visit with his grandma. It may have been our last chance to take pictures with her. Our last chance to see her sweet smile and hear her soft voice tell us stories about when she was a girl.

I'll never know, but I will hold tightly onto the memories of the time we spent together this past week. I will try to think less about the pictures we forgot to take and more about the time we spent together making memories that will last in our minds as long as we can hold onto them.

Just Write

Yesterday morning both kids were completely quiet on the monitor as I tried to rub the sleep out of my eyes enough to drag myself out of bed. I took a quick peek at the screen to see my little man sound asleep in his bed, laying on his side towards the wall, and my baby girl silently tracing her cheek with the knotted corner of her super soft lovie blanket. I was excited at the chance to get her up and fed {if I was lucky} before her big brother woke up. He needed the extra sleep since he missed his naps over the weekend. I tip-toed into her room and peered over the rail at the front of her crib. She lay flat on her back, paci securely in her mouth, with her lovie tucked under her arm and its head in her chubby little grip. I smiled and said my usual "Good Morning, my love!" to which she replied with a happy grunt and a quick flip over onto her belly. She popped her bottom in the air and pretended to not want to be picked up.

I snuck out of her room as she was lying face down, and waited a few seconds for her to notice I was missing. She started to whine and I peeked my head into the doorway so she could see me. Instant smiles.

I picked up my little bundle who was zipped up in her sleep blanket, and placed her gently on her changing table. I asked her if she "had a good sleep?" as I normally do. The corners of her pouty mouth crept up slowly into a warm grin {paci still in her mouth} as she pointed to her chin and said, "Mama".

I had spent months watching her point to her head and say, "Dada" ~ her own unique way to use baby sign language to ask for her Daddy.

But today was my day. And I couldn't think of a more fitting day than the day after Mother's Day. I'll treasure that moment forever.

A Mother's Day memory

In the spring of 2008, my bulging mid-section was the giveaway that I was five months pregnant with my first child. We had just moved in to our first single-family home the month prior, and had excitedly invited our parents over for a Mother's Day brunch to celebrate. Mine were up visiting from Florida, and were staying with us for the weekend. My mom had brought her lapdog with her, a toy poodle she had called her baby ever since she brought him home when my brother and I were in high school. That Saturday night as she took the dog out for a walk before calling it a night, she accidentally left the front door open when it didn't catch the latch, and our cat slipped out of the house, undetected. In the morning, the house buzzed with the excitement of Mother's Day and the brunch that my husband and I were cooking for our moms. I was slicing fresh strawberries for yogurt parfaits, when I heard my husband ask if I had seen the cat lately. I hadn't, and we both thought it was strange since he was usually roaming around the house, stopping to rub his head against any shin he could find in the morning especially.

We immediately began searching the house for him. Calling his name and peeking under beds turned up nothing, and so we put two and two together and realized he must have gotten out the night before. The search party was on, as we began walking and then running through our new neighborhood to try to find our precious bundle of fur, our first baby.

 After half and hour of searching we still couldn't find him. I called my in-laws and asked them to come over earlier so that they could help us look for him. I was in tears as I raced up and down the streets in our little subdivision, while my husband shook a package of treats to try to lure him home. Another thirty minutes passed, and I started to really get scared. My husband said we should drive behind the neighborhood by the highway to see if he was out there. Dead probably, was my first thought. My poor baby!

He quickly drove us the five minutes to the busy freeway, but there was no sign of him, thank God. We rushed back home so that I could start calling the animal shelters in our area to see if anyone had turned him in. I was back outside, walking the sidewalk with my cell glued to my ear, trying to comprehend the questions the woman at the shelter was asking me. My eyes were scanning the perimeters around me for any sign of my white and orange tiger-like fur ball.

All of sudden I saw him. His white face and orange ears peeking out from beneath our backyard neighbor's deck.

"Riley!" I shouted, with no regard for the woman I was talking with at the shelter. "I found him! He's here!" A wave of relief swept over me, as I thanked her for her time and scooped him up in my arms at the same time.

His white fur was brown with dirt, damp from the humidity that was in the air. But he appeared to be in perfect shape, other than a little scared. Looked as if he had spent the night under the deck, so he hadn't wandered too far. Just wanted a taste of freedom, I guess.

That day is so vivid in my memory because I remember thinking, "so this is what it must feel like to lose a child in a crowded park or mall". My motherly instincts were so strong, even though I was not yet a mother myself. I wrapped my arms around my swollen belly that evening in bed and made a promise to protect my baby with all that I have, forever and ever.

The most important words

{Words} I am the type of person that needs to hear certain words at times in my life. If I don't, I feel lonely and sad. If I do, I am able to persevere, no matter how difficult the challenge I am faced with.

{I am sorry}

{I support you}

{It's going to be okay}

{I missed you}

{Money is not important}

{We can get through this}

{I am here for you, no matter what}

{I love you}

To me, those last three words are the most important, by far. They can substitute, in a pinch, for all the others, and they make those other phrases even more warm and fuzzy when said together.

But for me, if I never heard any other words in my life but "I love you", I'd get along just fine.

I make it a point to say it to my husband and kids throughout the day because it makes everyone feel good. To know you are loved has got to be one of the best feelings in the world. I know it is for me.

Linking up with two amazing blogs:

and

My manuscript

Sometimes when I think about it, I get all excited to sit down at my computer and start writing again. Especially after receiving feedback from the few individuals who I've asked to read it. When they say it's good, that it's really good, it motivates me so much.

Then life gets in the way.

Diapers need changed, meals need to be served, baths need to be given, stories need read, little ones need to be tucked in.

And after all that, I'm usually too exhausted to open up my manuscript and write. There just aren't enough hours in the day, it seems.

Do I at least get points for thinking about it? Because I think about it a lot. Usually more than once a day.

Sometimes I think I should sit down and at least outline the major points I hope to cover in this story of living my life as a parent with bipolar disorder. You know, an intro, middle and ending. Tie it up with a neat little bow.

The last person who read it and sent me feedback {incredible, detailed, awesome feedback, let me just say} had a good point: it's hard to outline the book because it's not finished yet. I'm still living this life that I am writing about.

Speaking of not being finished. My husband and I are so incredibly grateful to have two precious little ones, a girl and a boy, nonetheless. Sometimes I think we hit the jackpot. Especially since I took medication during my second pregnancy. But I had a surprising feeling emerge after the birth of our daughter.

I don't think I'm done yet.

Surprising because I had intense morning sickness during her pregnancy. So much so, that I took Zofran for six weeks. I had early contractions that sent me to the hospital for monitoring overnight, not once, but twice before she was born. I had awful heartburn almost daily, a bladder that constantly felt as if it were going to explode, and a good night's sleep was distant, distant memory.

But the day after she was born, I knew I could do it again. My husband used to say that he always wanted to have three kids. He and I were both the product of 2-kid families, and I could see his interest in maybe adding another to the mix, but I thought I only wanted two myself. After we found out she was a girl I proclaimed we were done. Then she arrived and I instantly forgot about all the discomfort that the pregnancy caused.

I think you just have that feeling as a woman. You know when you are done and when you're not. And I don't think I'm done yet, plain and simple.

Know it or not, we're not planning on crossing that bridge yet. And so the story isn't truly finished yet. If we do go on to have another child, one thing is for sure: I will continue on Lithium during the entire pregnancy. There is an increased risk of a heart defect, but the benefit of my staying on medication - the medication that works so well for me - vastly outweighs the risk of taking the medication during a pregnancy, for me. For me, and the experience I've had thus far, it's a no-brainer.

So for now, I will go to the manuscript from time to time to tweak and write, but my focus at the moment will be this blog and reaching people through this medium. There are so many ways to reach people, and I hope one day to be in print, but right now I think that one of the best ways is through blogging about my journey.

I will blog on.