Peeing in the dark.

You know your life has hit a new low when you sneak into the bathroom to pee and don't dare turn the lights on because then the kids would know you were in there and it's your only chance for some peace and quiet for two minutes.

And that was the worlds longest run on sentence.

That is all.

So my lungs caught on fire today.

For reals.

Ya see, I decided to run a half marathon. And I know what you're thinking...

You: "Don't you like your Bailey's on the rocks and Dunkin Donuts and Starbucks?"

Me: "Like? Try love. Worship. Obsessed."

You: "Okay. And aren't you the girl that doesn't understand the sport of track and field because you can't see why people run for fun?"

Me: "Guilty."

You: "And you're actually going to run a half marathon?"

Me: "The operative word in there is run. But yes, I'm going to try."

You: "13.1 miles?"

Me: "Okay, now you're just being a jerk. Shut it."

Clearly, I'm on crack. I'm the girl that made fun of my sisters when they were training for their half marathons last year. I'm also the girl that listed every excuse in the book for why I couldn't do it.

But now, I'm sick of the excuses. Sure I have a bum leg. Yes, an entire leg. My knee down to my ankle and foot. But I'm hoping that running will help strengthen it. At least that's what I'm telling myself. See, psychotic. And not to get all sappy because it's not how I roll, but I want to be proud of myself for something. So...13.1 miles it is. Go big or go home.

Today, though, I went home.

The workout for today was an interval session. 3 minutes of a hard run, 1 minute of an easy run. Repeat 10 times. Sounds easy, right? Totally. NOT.

My lungs caught on fire halfway through the first interval and never recovered. The combination of the dry, cold air did me no good. Plus it was windy again today which threw another wrench into things. After that, it was sort of like a multiple system shut down. My knee and ankle started to fail me. My neck started acting up again. And let me tell you, my lungs still hurt and it's nearly 7 hours later!

So I went home.

But I won't give up. I have a 30 minute run tomorrow. 30 whole minutes. Ugh. Plus I can't give up now because I've put it out to the whole world that I'm doing this and it would be pretty f'ing embarrassing if I quit. Does that make me vain? Whatevs.

Hopefully tomorrow I won't have lungs of fire. Or eat a Munchkin as soon as I walk in the door from said run. WHAT?! Don't judge.

I chose to be a Mom.

If you remember, one of my New Years Resolutions was to quit the SAHM gig. We're in a place where I can go back to work full time and have child care handled. And the extra money right now would be so helpful.

One problem.

I've been out of work since May 2008. That's almost two years. And last time I checked, employers don't really find that desirable. Especially in a market where they are getting no less that 75 application submissions.

I've applied for 30 million jobs (maybe a bit of an exaggeration) and I haven't gotten a single interview. I'm no fool though. I know the reason.

I chose to be a Mom.

By choosing to be a Mom, I pretty much took myself out of the race. As mad/sad as I am over it, I can't say I blame the employers for tossing my resume to the side. If they have to choose between someone who has been working up until the present and me...well, the choice appears clear.

But it doesn't make it suck any less for me.

Once upon a time I was confident and awesome at what I did. I kicked ass in my field. People knew me and respected my professional opinion. I'm not saying I was the shit. But I was good. And I know that I still have it.

But I chose to be a Mom.

So I continue to check the job postings every day and apply as new ones pop up. I can only hope that someone will take the chance to interview me and see just how strong of an employee I am. I'm patient, organized and dedicated. I have excellent communication skills and plenty of energy.

Because I'm a Mom.

Relief.

Thank you all for your love and support in my last blog. It was so needed.

Big Poppa and I brought Avie Baby to the doctor, as I said, very discouraged. We left very surprised and optimistic though. Her case of Fructose Intolerance is VERY mild which means only minor tweaks to her diet. She won't outgrow this condition like we hope she'll outgrow her severe reflux and congenital hypothyroidism but 2 out of 3 isn't bad. Fingers crossed!

So now we proceed with all this medicine that's making her so happy. Unfortunately she can't eat ice cream and pudding for every meal of the day but there's worse things in life.

Once again, a big thanks for all the love!

Got some bad news on Avery :(

If you've been following this blog then you know we've been going through a lot of testing with our sweet Avie Baby for her failure to thrive diagnosis.

To make a long story short she was diagnosed with severe acidic and non-acidic reflux and a mild case of trachealmalatia. They increased her Prevacid dosage and honestly, it was like we had a new child. Our sweet baby girl was back and we were finally seeing her happy, smiling personality again. Up until three weeks ago, life with her was hell (maybe harsh but really honest...it was bad). But after her diagnosis and subsequent med change she has been a dream come true! I have fallen in love all over again. And she's gaining weight! We're talking nearly two pounds in just three weeks!!!! That's HUGE!

Anyway, we thought we were moving towards healing and then I get a phone call from her GI doctor. The last round of testing that was done included a pH and Impedence Probe as well as a Fructose/Glucose Intolerance Test. Fructose Intolerance is pretty rare. It pretty much means that your body is missing an enzyme called Aldolase B that is needed to break down fructose in your body. When the fructose isn't broken down it collects in the liver and kidney. It can be deadly if a strict no fructose/sucrose/sorbitol diet is not followed. But if the diet is followed, it is a non-issue.

You know where I'm going with this now. She was positive for a Fructose Intolerance. Fucking a. I was finally feeling really optimistic that we could control everything going on with her and keep her happy and thriving. And now I'm just lost again. She's eating everything in sight at the moment and now that's going to change because we'll have to remove fructose from her diet (which hello...fructose is in everything!).

So we're off to the GI today to discuss this latest diagnosis and our next step. I was so excited to come to this appointment and talk about how happy I was with her diagnosis and treatment. But now....

I'm just sad. And discouraged.

PLEASE VOTE for The Gwendolyn Strong Foundation!!

Another blog that I stalk recently posted about the Chase Community Giving

competition going on. I'm just going to c&p what she posted on her blog. It would be much more effective in persuading you all to go and vote immediately! Here it is!

Dear Friends and Family,

My daughter's best friend, Gwendolyn Strong, is the same age as Reese, and has a terminal illness called Spinal Muscular Atrophy (SMA). Children with SMA lack a gene in their DNA that keeps the motor neurons thriving: Gwendolyn's body is completely paralyzed, she breathes from a machine, and eats from a tube. Her mind, however, is completely normal and she's actually quite a spunky little gal. She loves to play with Reese and has an affinity for princess items :) Reserachers at UC Irvine are really REALLY close to a cure for SMA, but they need funding to push it towards FDA approval. It is so exciting (yet frustrating) to know how close it is!

JP Morgan Chase Bank has committed to donating $5 million dollars to non-profit organizations, $1 million of which was already distributed in December. Through a Facebook voting system, the top 100 non-profits were awarded $25,000 in cash. The Gwendolyn Strong Foundation was one of these winners (yippeee!), and 100% of the funds were sent directly to UC Irvine's SMA research team. Next up is the final round of voting for the BIG prize: $1,000,000. One million!! This voting is all done through Facebook, and it starts tomorrow: Friday, January 15th, 2010.

This video sums it up: Gwendolyn Strong Video

Imagine this: $1,000,000 towards SMA research could actually end this disease. Not "get the ball rolling" on research, not "hope for a cure," but actually end it. And, most importantly in my eyes, it could save Gwendolyn's life. The research that is sooooo close to FDA approval is one that could affect babies who already have SMA (like Gwendolyn), and could completely remove them from symptoms. Can you imagine Gwendolyn running into our playgroup and giving the kids high-fives and hugs without a breathing machine? I CAN!!!!!!!

Here are some facts:

• Dr. Kierstad (UC Irvine) has dedicated his life to spinal cord injuries. He has already successfully performed a lab experiment on mice that allowed the previously-paralyzed animals to literally get up and walk. He is now focusing on SMA research, which is closely related to spinal cord injuries, muscular dystrophies, ALS/Lou Gehrig's, Parkinson's and Alzheimer's diseases. It is his belief that a groundbreaking surgery (so close to FDA approval!) could allow the body to re-build the proteins that are missing in children with SMA. That means Gwendolyn has the potential to be symptom free! Forever!
  
• Money is holding back a cure. Other diseases, such as breast cancer and AIDS, have massive amounts of funding and reserach behind them, but "cures" are still unknown. The "cure" for SMA is just around the corner, but nothing can be done until the funds are there to continue the research.
• SMA is the #1 genetic killer of children under two years of age, and 1 in 40 adults (unknowingly) carry the gene to pass it on.

I really dislike forwards and spam emails, but I am going to send out an email, Facebook posting, and blog entry EVERY single day while the voting is open (Jan 15 - Jan 22). It's really simple, just three easy steps (I'll list them in tomorrow's email once the voting is open). In turn, I ask that you do the same...post it on your Facebook accounts (or heck, create a FB account if you don't have one already!), your blogs, your email contacts, etc. This is an effort sheerly driven by people voting: the GSF needs every single vote it can get.

Reese wakes up each morning and asks to play with Gwendolyn. She loves to hold her hand and help wipe her mouth when it is wet. I'm looking forward to explaining to Reese why Gwendolyn doesn't have to wear a breathing machine anymore ("she's cured!") instead of giving her the opposite devistating news. So, please, please, please, PLEASE vote and spread the word to every person you know.

Click on the button below to vote! THANK YOU!!!

If I could describe myself in one word yesterday...

...it would be neurotic. Totally, completely, absolutely neurotic.

And why am I so neurotic, you ask?

Pre-school registration.

Who knew that 3 year old pre-school registration would make my heart race and put me in the heat of a competition? Let's start from the beginning.

Big Poppa and I want to put Luca in pre-school next year. Easy, right? Um, no. Apparently there are only 3 pre-schools in the town we live in ranging in price from $3,000 (I'll wait while you pick your jaw up off the ground) to $1400.

Anyway, we had our #1 pick. A local church. Bonus points that Luca was gonna get some education and some God. The director tells me that church members and siblings of current students got first priority for registration and then it would open to everyone. At that point she would mail out registration applications. We were to fill them out, mail back an application fee and then she would number them as they came in. Essentially we would be on the waiting list until the 2 week window for the church members ended. Then she would go through the open registrations and start placing kids.

Now, do you wanna know what I heard while she was explaining that whole process?

It's a race. You must get your application in if you want your kid to get a spot. Don't let anyone beat you. Classes fill up immediately. If you aren't #1 on the wait list you will be labeled the worst mother in the town. Pft. You won't be quick enough. I dare you to be first on the waiting list. Double dog dare you.

So for the last two weeks I've been stalking the mail truck and subsequently running (yes, literally running) out to check the mail for that application. When I hadn't seen anything by earlier this week, I did what any sane, logical, concerned mother would do. I called and called and called until she finally answered and asked where the fuck they were at (okay, I didn't say it exactly like that but you get the point). She told me to simmer down and that they'd be mailed out this week.

Today was the day. I swear when I opened the mailbox bright light came flooding out. There it was. Like the golden ticket from a Willy Wonka chocolate bar.

I ran (again, yes, I fucking RAN) into the house and filled that shit out at lightning speed along with the check for the registration fee.

Then I grabbed my keys and went to jump in my car to drive it to the school. Screw mailing it. That would delay me the application for at least a day or two. And who knows? I could have been #150 on the waiting list by then. That would NOT be acceptable. So I go to jump in the car and FUUUUUUUCK!! Avery's napping! GAHHHH! Damn kids getting in the way again!

Luckily at just that moment my Mom walked through the door. Sweet baby Jesus in a manger! I yelled at her to watch the kids as I bolted out the door. I think she heard the words "registration," "pre-school," "waiting list" and "win" as I whizzed past her.

I get to the school, catch my breath and deliver the application. It was done. And get this...

I AM #1 ON THE WAITING LIST!!!

Fuck yeah, baby!!! Take that suckas!

Now I need to focus on potty training Luca because he can't attend said school until he stops crapping in his pants. Did I fail to mention that in the beginning? Yeah...fully potty trained in order to attend.

I swear to all that's holy if this kid doesn't potty train and I just completed my own mini-Ironman for him, I'm gonna be hotter than Hades! Or I could look at the bright side and think of it as my way of burning off that entire sleeve of Oreos I ate last night!

I think I have a problem.

This was a full sleeve of cookies when I started.

Clearly I am a hippopotamus.

Why I get no love...a list.

So in the last week I've had at least a handful of people tell me that they read my blog and love it. Thank you. But I'm mad at you.

Why?

Because you don't leave me any comments. You're lurking. Stalking. A peeping Tom. At least have the decency to peek in my window, see me naked, and say, "hey Ame, your fat ass need to lose a few pounds." At least it's something!

So in honor of my no love leaving blog readers, I've composed a list of why I feel as if I get no love. Without further ado...

1. I curse too much. My answer to that? Fucking deal with it.

2. I refer to my kids as Satan's children. So they aren't really Satan's kid. They are Big Poppa's. But they certainly act like Satan's kids most days. And if you have kids, you can relate. And if you are all about loving God and not Satan, well, then just replace Satan for Judas. (And yes, I needed to ask Big Poppa who another "villain" type guy from the Bible was. His response, "from the New Testament?" Christ. God bless his heart. And he's still giving me a hard time that Judas is still not being used in the right context. Sweet Jesus.)

3. I use too many of these: "..." You know how people grossly overuse that certain punctuation mark. I think its called an ellipsis. Yeah, color me guilty. I love me some ellipsis...

4. I drink too much. But that would just be a crazy, silly excuse for not commenting. Therapy is WAY more expensive then a $20 bottle of Baileys. Duh.

5. My kids are so cute that they knock you out of your chairs rendering you unconscious and therefore unable to leave a comment.

Yeah. I like that last one. I'm gonna go with it. So in an effort to not knock you unconscious with their adorableness, I will omit pics of the kids in this post. Hopefully that will encourage you to comment.

You don't have to tell me your life story. I probably won't read it anyway (I kid, I kid). Just give me a HOLLER or ask a question! Whatevuh...I'm an OPEN book!

I fought the devil and the devil won.

The devil, in this case, is Wegmans Buffalo Wing Cheddar Spread. I tried to stay away but well, it didn't work.

I'm weak in its presence. I can't stay away. It's like heaven on a cracker! Most people prefer to eat it warm or hot which technically is how its supposed to be consumed. But I've never really been a technical kind of gal so I just eat it as is. I think God sent it to me to brighten my days a little. Well, either God or the fine culinary Wegmans Gods. Same diff. Either way, I thank them for such an honorable contribution to the world of fine foods.

And ps - no, we will not be discussing the amounts of cheese, milk, mayonnaise, eggs, salt and butter it contains. Actually, I think the ingredient list should read: "Deliciousness." Nor will we be discussing that in a single 2 tbsp. serving there are 12 grams of fat and 130 calories. What I WOULD like to point out is that 10% of that itty bitty serving is calcium. And 4% is vitamin A. That's like, an assload of calcium and vitamin A!

So actually, I'm doing my body some good by eating 30 servings. Which in turn means there is no need to workout today, right? HA! Take that Jillian Michaels!

Sweet, sweet exam room.

Never in a million years did I think I'd ever speak those words. But today, it was all I could think and subsequently whisper to myself as we were escorted back to exam room #4. I've always liked the number 4.

Taking a kid to the doctor is never fun. They learn pretty quickly that doctors are the enemy. My kids are no different. Luca has gotten better about having his ears and nose and throat checked. Avery...not so much. She loses her ever loving mind as soon as the doctor and that little tiny light come within 5 feet of her. So much so that I have to physically restrain her. And let me tell you...homegirl is strong.

Anyway, I had the brilliant idea to schedule the kids ENT appointments together. And to take them by myself. You think I would have learned from the last time I had this stroke of genius, but alas, that was not the case. Apparently I hallucinated and thought my kids had gotten more patient and calm as they've entered toddlerhood. (Are we noting the sarcasm here? Good. I'll continue.)

We were called back relatively quickly considering the place was mobbed. Luca was an absolute saint (WTF????) as he had pictures of his eardrums taken and a hearing test (props to the old lollipop trick). Then we were sent back to the waiting room. Fuck. I thought we were in the clear. This waiting room was huge and of course my children go in opposite directions. Avery in her waddle walking "new-ness" just a waddle away from slamming her head on one of the 1,000 things that weren't child proofed. And Luca. Sweet Luca who is in the full blown phase of saying "NO" and just not giving a shit what I tell him to do and doing whatever the f he pleases. This was good times, folks. And I swear to God everyone was staring at me in all my no makeup, hair falling out, fat clothes glory.

We get called back to exam room #4 and all I could think was, "thank you God...they'll be contained." I used to hate that containment especially because their piercing screams and whines echo in there. Not good for Mama's eardrums! But I actually was relieved to get them back there and locked in a room. Even if said room had a trash bin of biohazard waste sitting on the floor. If it didn't kill the kid before then mine would surely be fine, right?!

We finally leave with Avery screaming bloody murder and everyone, again, staring at me. And my hair was so much worse this time. We Luca even got a compliment as we were leaving. Get this...about how well behaved he was. My kid?! Hells! Take that, judgers!

So what you ask was the most logical thing to do after a traumatic experience for them me? Inhale a McDonalds extra value meal. Duh. Oh and I threw a couple nuggets back at Luke. Not Avery though. WHAT?! She was already sound asleep from screaming so hard. I think.

"You can find me in the club..."

"...sippy full of milk..."

Back and ready for a new year of blogging!

My hope is to get back to my light hearted blog of days past. Things have been super busy as I'm sure you all (the whole 2 of you that actually read this blog) can relate.

So on that note, let's discuss my New Years Resolutions!

1. To get Luca to stop saying "oh shit" all.day.long. I might not be as worried about him saying it if he weren't using it in the proper context. Unfortunately, he is. And it's so freaking hard not to laugh at him.

2. To get Avery sleeping in until a more appropriate hour. Say, 6am? That's not too much to ask, right?

3. Oh and while we're on Avery...to break her bottle obsession. Homegirl loves her some bottles. She was ready to be done with them a couple months ago but her GI doctor wouldn't let me stop because of this special formula she's on. Well, now she's hooked. And gets royally pissed when you hand her a sippy instead of her beloved bottle.

4. Drink more wine. Hello, my kids are 14 months apart...this is a crucial one for my sanity!

5. Complete the 30 day Shred. Even though Jillian Michaels and her stupid plank positions can suck my butt.

6. Quit the SAHM gig. While I love being home with my kids, I've been on a couple interviews recently and it re-ignited something. I think I'm ready to venture back out into the working world. Plus the money would be so clutch right now.

7. Get my new car and say peace out to the stupid one I have now. Well, say peace out and hand it over to Big Poppa.

8. See my bestest friend, Porno Bean, some more. I miss her. She doesn't even read this blog so I'm not trying to earn brownie points. I just miss her and want to see her more.

9. Stop eating ice cream after I've worked out. Kind of counteractive, no?

10. Marry my iPhone. It seriously rocks my world.

Happy New Year, ya'll!!!