The fam and I put up our Christmas decorations the day after Thanksgiving (no earlier, people. no earlier.). We broke 10 ornaments, two of us were bleeding and Santa got decapitated.
A box broke open and 8 balls fell out and broke on the floor. G-man picked up two more balls and bashed them together (like he does with his wooden toys) and the ornaments shattered, cutting his hand slightly. So 10 balls shattered, one person bleeding. I rushed over to make sure he didn't step on the shattered ornaments and I ended up stepping on the shattered ornaments. So 10 balls shattered, two of us bleeding. I put him in the living room to sift through a box of not-ornaments and he picked out a foam and velvet Santa.
G-man ends up leaving Santa in the kitchen where Hubs promptly steps on him and his head pops off. Santa's head, not Hubs's.
So that's 10 broken ornaments, two of us bleeding and one beheaded Santa and we hadn't even made it to the living room yet!!
'Tis the Season.
Monday, November 26, 2012
Friday, November 09, 2012
Behind a Badge
My father is a sergeant on the police force outside of Denver and has been a cop almost my whole life. I grew up knowing my dad went to work with a gun and a bulletproof vest because his job was dangerous. We had breakfast once a week at a bagel shop near my high school and drew stares and questions from classmates wanting to know why I was dining with a cop. "What did he need?" "Are you in trouble?" "No, that's my dad," I'd say with a questioning tone. It was odd to them to see a uniformed police officer with his kid, a kid they knew.
It never seemed odd to me, that's just my dad.
It's a different way to grow up and as I got older I realized how different being a cop's kid was, and still is. Every time a cop is hurt or killed in the line of duty it hurts, even if you didn't know them, even if it was no where near home. Someone, somewhere just lost their someone. This is a reality every single day for those of us that love a cop.
People tend to forget cops are people too. They're brothers, sisters, moms, dads, daughters and sons. Friends, family. When you call the cops, that's my father or brother showing up to protect you.
A long time ago we decided that anytime a cop was injured or killed anywhere near his jurisdiction, he'd let us know so we didn't worry when it hit the news.
Today I got a call from my dad around 6am his time (we're two time zones apart). I was getting my son up and my phone was in another room. I immediately checked his message as this is a very odd time for him to be calling me. I could immediately hear pain in his voice.
My dad told me this morning a cop from his department had been killed, but that he was not involved and had been called in to help with the ensuing chaos.
I burst into tears; it was a mixture of relief and grief. I was grateful I wasn't the one getting "the call" all cop families fear. I was heartbroken for the family who wasn't so lucky. All cop families are in this together and I am devastated for this family I don't even know.
My prayers, thoughts and heart go out to the family of this cop and the members of his department
Next time you see a cop or need help, just remember these officers have families and they are someone's something behind that badge.
It never seemed odd to me, that's just my dad.
It's a different way to grow up and as I got older I realized how different being a cop's kid was, and still is. Every time a cop is hurt or killed in the line of duty it hurts, even if you didn't know them, even if it was no where near home. Someone, somewhere just lost their someone. This is a reality every single day for those of us that love a cop.
People tend to forget cops are people too. They're brothers, sisters, moms, dads, daughters and sons. Friends, family. When you call the cops, that's my father or brother showing up to protect you.
A long time ago we decided that anytime a cop was injured or killed anywhere near his jurisdiction, he'd let us know so we didn't worry when it hit the news.
Today I got a call from my dad around 6am his time (we're two time zones apart). I was getting my son up and my phone was in another room. I immediately checked his message as this is a very odd time for him to be calling me. I could immediately hear pain in his voice.
My dad told me this morning a cop from his department had been killed, but that he was not involved and had been called in to help with the ensuing chaos.
I burst into tears; it was a mixture of relief and grief. I was grateful I wasn't the one getting "the call" all cop families fear. I was heartbroken for the family who wasn't so lucky. All cop families are in this together and I am devastated for this family I don't even know.
My prayers, thoughts and heart go out to the family of this cop and the members of his department
Next time you see a cop or need help, just remember these officers have families and they are someone's something behind that badge.
Wednesday, November 07, 2012
Just Lucky I Guess
There are all sorts of scary things that go along with people who have had HELLP Syndrome. Clotting disorders, autoimmune problems, heart disease, and inexplicable high blood pressure are all lovely side affects that can come along with the syndrome.
I've had some testing done in the spirit of having all the facts before The Hubs and I decide to have another baby or not. Do I have these clotting disorders or autoimmune disorders that may have led to Munchkin's early delivery? Do I have some underlying condition that makes me predisposed to HELLP Syndrome?
Blood test after blood test, doctors visits, sticks, pokes, and a chat with the OB later reveals......
Nothing.
Nothing at all.
They didn't find anything that lends itself to HELLP Syndrome or Pre-Eclampsia, at least what they know of those syndromes. I'm a perfectly healthy woman of child bearing age that, for all intents and purposes, had no reason to develop these life threatening diseases.
I'm just lucky I guess.
I've had some testing done in the spirit of having all the facts before The Hubs and I decide to have another baby or not. Do I have these clotting disorders or autoimmune disorders that may have led to Munchkin's early delivery? Do I have some underlying condition that makes me predisposed to HELLP Syndrome?
Blood test after blood test, doctors visits, sticks, pokes, and a chat with the OB later reveals......
Nothing.
Nothing at all.
They didn't find anything that lends itself to HELLP Syndrome or Pre-Eclampsia, at least what they know of those syndromes. I'm a perfectly healthy woman of child bearing age that, for all intents and purposes, had no reason to develop these life threatening diseases.
I'm just lucky I guess.
Thursday, November 01, 2012
It Doesn't Go Completely Away
When Munchkin was born, I envisioned myself thinking about his dramatic arrival every day. I thought I would thank God every second of every day for this little miracle and kissing the ground he walks on.
Don't get me wrong, I'm completely obsessed with my son and he amazes me every single day. But I get burned out just like any normal parent does. I get frustrated when he just throws his food on the ground over and over and refuses to eat or irritated when he just will..not...go...to....sleep. I don't think about the trauma of the his birth all day every day, but I do recognize things every day that make me even more proud of how far he's come.
The fact that he can stand up in the middle of the living room and walk to get a popsicle. The fact that he can even ask for a popsicle. When I ask him what he does when he's happy and he gives me the cheesiest smile ever.
But we go on with our lives too. In many ways we're just like any normal family of three.
Every once in awhile it hits me hard just how lucky we are and how hard Munchkin has worked to be "normal". A few nights ago I was editing a video I made of Munchkin's NICU stay and somehow I had forgotten just how little and helpless he looked and just how hard he fought.
When I checked on him before I headed to bed he was peacefully sleeping with his hands above his head like he normally does. It hit me like a ton of bricks; I could've lost him. He woke up when he heard the floorboards creek and I picked him up to rock him back to sleep.
The smell of him, the heat of his body and the weight of him on my chest choked me up. It brought back the memories of Kangaroo Care and just how small he felt. The first time I held him he was barely a foot long, less when he was curled up, tucked up under my chin. Holding him that night, so warm and peaceful, he lays on my chest but he reaches all the way down my torso, almost to my knees at 35 inches long. I lost it. I spent 45 minutes rocking my sleeping toddler, tears streaming down my face.
No matter how long it's been, I'm still completely grateful for this little miracle man and am constantly in awe of how far he's come. My son is my hero.
Don't get me wrong, I'm completely obsessed with my son and he amazes me every single day. But I get burned out just like any normal parent does. I get frustrated when he just throws his food on the ground over and over and refuses to eat or irritated when he just will..not...go...to....sleep. I don't think about the trauma of the his birth all day every day, but I do recognize things every day that make me even more proud of how far he's come.
The fact that he can stand up in the middle of the living room and walk to get a popsicle. The fact that he can even ask for a popsicle. When I ask him what he does when he's happy and he gives me the cheesiest smile ever.
But we go on with our lives too. In many ways we're just like any normal family of three.
Every once in awhile it hits me hard just how lucky we are and how hard Munchkin has worked to be "normal". A few nights ago I was editing a video I made of Munchkin's NICU stay and somehow I had forgotten just how little and helpless he looked and just how hard he fought.
When I checked on him before I headed to bed he was peacefully sleeping with his hands above his head like he normally does. It hit me like a ton of bricks; I could've lost him. He woke up when he heard the floorboards creek and I picked him up to rock him back to sleep.
The smell of him, the heat of his body and the weight of him on my chest choked me up. It brought back the memories of Kangaroo Care and just how small he felt. The first time I held him he was barely a foot long, less when he was curled up, tucked up under my chin. Holding him that night, so warm and peaceful, he lays on my chest but he reaches all the way down my torso, almost to my knees at 35 inches long. I lost it. I spent 45 minutes rocking my sleeping toddler, tears streaming down my face.
No matter how long it's been, I'm still completely grateful for this little miracle man and am constantly in awe of how far he's come. My son is my hero.
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