Adventures with Mom

When I was a baby, my mom used to take me everywhere with her. She would just plop me in my carseat and off we would go on an adventure. To a friend's house. To the grocery store. To the post office. To the pool. To the mall.

As I got older, she continued to take me along with her. While she still took me on everyday trips with her, she also took me on new adventures. As a toddler she took me places like the zoo and the circus. She would take me to the Harrisburg train station where we would hop on a train to Elizabethtown with a loaf of bread in tow. Once we got to Elizabethtown, we would walk across the street to the Masonic Homes where we would go to a little pond there and feed the ducks and fish. I'm not sure what I enjoyed more: feeding the animals or eating the bread myself! And I'm sure my mom will never forget the time I got bit by a goose!

The older I got, the bigger the adventures got. We traveled all over the country. New York City was a popular destination. My fearless mother would drive right into the city without hesitation. We would see a show and have dinner at a really fun restaurant like Hard Rock Cafe or Mars 2112, and we would usually make a stop in FAO Schwarz where I would gaze in amazement at all the toys, animals, legos and candy. And our stop in the toy store was not complete without a run on the floor piano from the movie Big. On an early trip to the City, when I was maybe five, we were in a theatre waiting for the show to start when my mom leaned over to me and very tactfully whispered, "Do you see that lady in front of us? That is Katharine Hepburn. She is a famous actress." As any 5-year-old would do, I stood up, pointed and said in a loud 5-year-old voice, "Who, her Mommy?" Needless to say, Ms. Hepburn was wonderful about it and even took the time to talk to us for a few minutes. On another trip when I was a bit older we happened to be eating at Planet Hollywood when Jeff Daniels made an appearance to donate the dog suit he wore in Dumb and Dumber.

But the adventures didn't stop there. In my middle school and high school years, my mom opened my eyes to the world. We went to the Caribbean together twice. We went on a trip with her mom (my grandma) to Greece and Turkey, and another year the three of us took a trip to Spain, Portugal and Morocco. I have so many memories of these trips and the time spent with my mom. Right now, if she's reading this, she is probably worried that I am going to go into the story about the candy bar in the Caribbean or the song she sang in Spain. But I'll save those for another time.

I am very fortunate to have a mother who had not only the resources to go on these adventures, but also the desire to include me in them. It is because of my mom and these adventures that I am the woman I am today. I have a huge passion for musical theatre and a love of travel that I never would have had without the experiences she shared with me.

Not only did my mom create these memories for me, but she also taught me how to be a good mother. She showed me unconditional love. She showed me generosity. She showed me strength. She showed me a good sense of humor. And now she is showing me how to be a good grandmother!

Now that I am a mother myself, I have a new appreciation for my own mom. I only hope that I can be half as good a mother to my children as she has been to me. I hope that some day Alec and Chase will look back and remember our trips to the grocery store and mall, the outings to Boiling Springs Lake to feed the ducks, the shows we see, and all the other adventures we have in the future.

Happy Mother's Day, Ma!!! XXOO

I'm Declaring a National Holiday

Exactly one year ago today was both one of the best days and one of the worst days in my life. It was one of the best days in my life because our second son, Chase Everett, was born at 4:38am, weighing in at 7 lb, 7 oz and 19.5", with a full head of hair. But what should have been such a joyful experience quickly became the exact opposite when the doctors and nurses immediately realized that something was very wrong with Chase. He was a pale blue-ish white color, he struggled to breathe, and he was not moving or making any noise.

After several minutes of trying to get Chase to cry without success, the doctors and nurses rushed Chase out of the room. Before I even had a chance to hold my new baby, he was taken away by strangers. The delivery room suddenly became eerily quiet and empty. Chad and I were left in the room with my doctor and one nurse, neither of whom had any idea what was wrong. No one wanted to say anything because no one knew what to say.

The minutes passed, seeming like hours. Finally the doctor from the NICU came into the room. We all held our breath, not sure we wanted to hear what she was going to say. Then the news came; Chase was alive. But before we could enjoy the moment, a "but" followed what we thought was good news. He was alive at the moment, but somehow he had lost 80% of his blood and was born with only 20% of the blood that most babies are born with. They had already started him on a blood transfusion with the universal blood type because he didn't even have enough of his own blood for them to figure out what type he was yet. But the transfusion was not guaranteed to save him. Even if the transfusion did save him, there were numerous complications associated with his lack of blood. He could have permanent brain damage. He could have organ failure. And the hardest part was that we just had to wait to see what happened.

4/5/10 Day 1 in the NICU: We were finally allowed to visit Chase in the NICU at 11:30am, when he was just over 7 hours old. When I first saw him the tears started flowing. I wasn't crying because I was sad. I was crying because while he was hooked up to tubes, wires and oxygen, he looked like a normal baby. He did not look like the ghostly baby that was the only image of him that I had up until this moment. He was finishing a second blood transfusion, now using his own blood type, which they were able to figure out. We learned from a test of my blood that Chase had bled into me, but to this day we still do not know how this happened.

4/6/10 Day 2 in the NICU: I was able to touch Chase for the first time. We still couldn't hold him, and we could only touch him very gently, but it was a start. He had a third blood transfusion, plus numerous tests on various organs.

4/7/10 Day 3 in the NICU: I was able to hold Chase for the first time. He was hooked up to lots of wires and machines, and I was so scared I would hurt him just by touching him. I felt like I was holding an injured animal, not my own son. He had more and more tests, and amazingly every one came back with good results. Chase was already improving greatly, but it was still a waiting game. I had so many questions that couldn't be answered. I wanted to ask the nurses so badly if they thought he would survive through all this, but I knew they couldn't answer this question; even if they could, I couldn't gather up the courage to let the words escape my lips.


My first time holding Chase

4/8/10 Day 4 in the NICU: This was the first day that they let Chase eat anything. They were worried that his digestive system needed time to recover from his trauma, so up until now all his nourishment came from his IV. I had been pumping breastmilk, and they allowed him to have only a few mL at first to make sure he could tolerate it. Once that went ok they allowed him to have a little bit every four hours. One by one, they slowly started weaning him off of all the tubes and wires and breathing support.

4/9/10 Day 5 in the NICU: Everyone is amazed with how Chase is doing. They let him eat whenever he is hungry today. I nursed him for the first time. He is now completely functioning on his own, without any support from machines.

4/10/10 Amazingly we were able to take Chase home after only 5 days in the NICU. I'm scared to death to have him at home without the support of the machines and the care of the nurses and doctors, but everyone assures me that they wouldn't be letting him go home if they had any hesitations. They tell me that they have fixed what is wrong and that we should view him as a normal baby now. I wonder if I will ever be able to do this. Big brother Alec gets to meet his little brother for the first time.

Our first family photo, right before leaving the hospital

In Chase's first week of life, we learned a great deal about him. We learned that he is a fighter. We learned that he does not give up. We learned that he wanted to be here with us.

4/10/11: One year later. I have a happy, healthy 1-year-old who I thank God for every day. Chad & I are so blessed that things turned out the way they did. Miraculously Chase has no long-term damage from the trauma he sustained at or before birth. We still need to watch his development very closely to make sure he hits all his milestones, but to date he's been doing this and has even hit some earlier than Alec did.


Chase as a happy almost-1-year-old

While most parents use a child's first birthday (and following birthdays) to celebrate the birth of the child, I would like to celebrate something else today. I would like to celebrate all the doctors, nurses and other staff at NICUs across the world. Because of their training and dedication, Chase is here with us to celebrate his first birthday. Without them, my life today would be a very different life. I know I can't officially declare a national holiday, but for me, April 5 will always be a date to honor these individuals who work long hours doing everything they can to provide outcomes like Chase's. There are holidays for veterans, mothers, fathers, grandparents, religious figures, historical figures and even groundhogs, and while I take part in celebrating most of these holidays, it seems only appropriate that I should set aside a special day to honor my other heroes. And I can't think of a better day than the day they saved my son's life.

Most parents also use a child's birthday to remember the day the child was born. I can tell you that I don't need a birthday to remember this day for Chase. In the last 365 days, I have thought about his birth every single day, at least once. Sometimes I think about it while I am rocking him to sleep. Sometimes I think about it when he is screaming and I am ready to lose my mind. Sometimes I think about it when he is happily playing with a toy. Sometimes I think about it when I'm watching TV. I never know when the memory will pop into my head. But I do know that I remember it as if it were yesterday.

Thankfully I called my doctor on April 4, 2010, Easter Sunday, because I hadn't felt the baby move in almost a day. Thankfully the doctor didn't just tell me to drink some juice and lie down (which I had already done). Thankfully I was in a hospital with a Level III NICU that was able to handle our case. I honestly feel that every doctor and nurse that helped Chase was an angel that God sent to save my baby.

If you are reading this blog (and still reading now, since this is a pretty lengthy one!), I have two requests of you. My first request is that you take a few minutes out of your day to sincerely thank anyone you know that works in a NICU. Even if it is someone you haven't talked to in years, please let them know that their work is appreciated more than they will ever realize. My second request applies to parents. If you are a parent, please tell your child(ren) that you love them one extra time today. Even if you've already told them 100 times today, tell them 101. Give them an extra hug and kiss and just take a moment to hold them and be thankful that they are a part of your life.

Happy first birthday Chase!

Then and Now

The other day I stopped at Sheetz to get gas on my way home from picking Alec up from preschool. In an attempt to ignore the number that was rising way too high on the pump's price read-out, my mind wandered to my college and early marriage years when Sheetz was at least a weekly stop for me. Stopping at Sheetz used to be a quick all-in-one trip for gas and lunch. But now if I want to get something to eat there, it ends up being a 45-minute outing:

Fuel the minivan: 5 minutes
Lug kids out of van and into Sheetz: 5 minutes
Make our way to the MTO screens and begin to order: 2 minutes
Pause order to pick up chips that Alec has knocked onto the ground: 2 minutes
Restart order because screen reset: 2 minutes
Cancel order and start over again because Chase has touched the screen and ordered me 17 ham subs: 2 minutes
Explain to Alec that he can choose one snack and that he has to put the other 14 things down: 1 minute
Pick up the 11 things that Alec dropped on the floor and put them back: 2 minutes
Explain to him that he still needs to put three things back: 1 minute
Force Alec to pick up the 3 things he threw on the floor in protest: 5 minutes, including a tantrum
What was I ordering again? Restart order: 2 minutes
Where did Alec go? Brief search for toddler: 1 minute
Find him dangerously close to the self-serve soda, which he can now reach; run faster than I ever have before: 2 minutes
Pick up the items that Chase knocked over in my hurry to prevent the Coke flood of 2011: 2 minutes
Back to ordering: 2 minutes
Detach Chase from the customer's shirt that he has decided to start teething on: 1 minute
Screen reset again; opt for something in the take-out case, which I should have done to begin with: 1 minute
Wait in line to pay and hold my breath that Alec doesn't make a run for the soda again: 5 minutes
Lug kids back to van and into car seats: 5 minutes

Actually that's 48 minutes for anyone counting. And this is why I haven't had any food from Sheetz in almost a year. I never thought I would consider a meal from Sheetz to be a luxury. But this is just one of the things I took for granted before having children. Here are some more examples:

Then: Saturday night involved a date with Chad at a nice restaurant or a show or hanging out with some friends at a bar.
Now: Chad & I frantically try to get the kids to bed early so that we can watch a 90-minute movie before passing out from exhaustion at 10pm.

Then: I could make a quick stop at the mall to grab a birthday present for a friend and try on a few shirts that I know I won't buy.
Now: After moving plans around, I finally find a rare evening with nothing going on that Chad can stay home with the kids so I can fit in 6 months worth of shopping into 2 hours (or I drag the kids along with me and speed shop, but this tends to turn into a Sheetz incident too).

Then: I could occasionally sleep in on Saturday morning and lazily stay in bed until lunch time.
Now: I pretend I'm still asleep at 7:15 on a Saturday morning so that Chad will get up with the first child; then I guiltily drag myself out of bed at 7:25 to help with the second child who was woken up by the first child (and yes, those extra 10 minutes were luxurious and worth any guilt I have).

Then: I could take a day off from work to go on vacation or recoup from being sick.
Now: A day off? What's that?

Then: Remember the "Disney Store" game? That's the game we used to play to see if we could get to the back of the Disney Store and back out without being attacked by a sales clerk. It took an average of 30 seconds, and we only succeeded about half the time.
Now: The "Potty" game. I see if I can take 30 seconds to use the bathroom before my bladder explodes without a child spilling something, falling off of something, falling into something, breaking something or stuffing something somewhere it doesn't belong. I still only succeed about half the time.

Then: Dinner was at 7pm and included some nice conversation that didn't include the words "poop", "time-out", "play date" or "don't push back in your seat".
Now: Dinner is at 5:30pm and includes some shouted conversation between me and Chad (over the flinging of sweet potatoes and singing of "Wheels on the Bus") that usually includes all of the above-mentioned words.

Then: My car CD-player was filled with some Dave Matthews, Josh Groban, Broadway favorites, Billy Joel and whatever my current favorite CD happened to be.
Now: Ok, some things I don't compromise on... car music is still my music, with an occasional kid's CD thrown in for long car trips. My kids will just have to learn to appreciate (or deal with) my taste in music!

The list could go on and on, but those are just a few of the things that I really took for granted before having children. I knew my life would change when I had kids... I just didn't think about all the little things that seemed so easy when I didn't have children. But of course that makes me look at my life now, and I realize that there are just as many things that I could be taking for granted right now.

Then: My life was full of very loving family and friends.
Now: My life is still full of very loving family and friends, but now I have two extra people who tell me and show me they love me every day - through messy scribbles that are "pictures" of me with my kids, flowers (dandelions) picked just for me, someone crawling into my lap to lay their head on my shoulder and snuggle.

Then: I watched friends' children and thought "look how cute they are."
Now: I see the joy in my own kids' faces when they are having fun learning something new or playing with a friend. I have so much pride watching them and knowing that I am playing such a huge role in how they are growing up.

Then: Work involved long hours at a desk or computer screen (often staring out the window, wishing I could be taking advantage of the gorgeous weather outside), professional clothes and meetings.
Now: Work involves singing silly songs, having animal birthday parties, playing games, play dates and unlimited time outside, all while staying in sweat pants if I feel like it.

Then: "Mommy" was the word I used to refer to my own mother or someone else's mother.
Now: The word "Mommy" has a whole new meaning. I wait months to hear one of my children say "mama" for the first time, knowing it means me and only me. I could pick out Alec calling "Mommy" from 100 kids. From hearing this one simple word, I can tell if my child is hurt, excited, scared, happy or just plain bored.

So yes, my life is very different now than it was five years ago. And while I took little things for granted then, I am trying my hardest not to do the same thing now. Because five years from now I will be able to make a quick stop at Sheetz for gas and food, but I won't be able to hold my sleeping 1-year-old or have animal birthday parties with my 3-year-old.

Be Patient Cookie Monster

We have a book in our house called Be Patient Cookie Monster. It's a short book that covers the basics of patience. In the book, Cookie Monster goes to the bakery to get cookies but the cookies aren't ready yet. Cookie Monster doesn't like the fact that he has to wait for the cookies, so Elmo, Big Bird and Abby take turns showing Cookie Monster how they are patient. Elmo counts groceries in the grocery cart, Big Bird practices his ABC's, and Abby thinks of rhyming words. By the end of the book, Cookie Monster decides he will think of his favorite foods, and just as he starts to think of them the cookies are ready.

I've heard many parents claim that having children taught them patience. I would really love to know their secret because the only thing having children has taught me about patience is how much respect I have for those people who actually have patience. I have never been a patient person, and if anything I think I have less patience now than I did before having children.

I'm in the midst of potty training Alec, and if this isn't a test of patience I don't know what is. Alec is a smart kid, so I know he "knows" what he is supposed to do. And actually everything went really well for a few days. He very quickly caught on to going "#1" in the potty, and we only had a day or two of a few accidents before he started letting me know when he had to go. It's the "#2" that started becoming the challenge. After only two days of potty training, Alec told me he had to go "poo-stinky." I took him to the potty, he went, and I thought I had the easiest potty trained kid in the world. I should have known it was too good to be true. The next day, Alec decided to boycott going #2. Not just in the potty, but altogether. See, he understood that he wasn't supposed to go in his underwear or pull-up, but he didn't want to go on the potty either. So when he got the feeling, he would frantically yell "Eeee! Eeee!" and clench his cheeks together (and I'm not talking about the cheeks on his face). By the end of the day, all the clenching in the world wasn't going to stand in the way of nature running it's course. So four pairs of underwear later Alec felt much better, although disappointed that he wasn't going to get his sticker at the end of the day for having no accidents.

The next day, after about our sixth run to the bathroom following "Eeee! Eeee!", I finally felt my patience giving. Considering I had already made it through five unproductive trips in under an hour, I was pretty proud of myself for being patient as long as I had. But the sixth time was it. I even warned Alec that I was losing my patience. Of course that went in one ear and out the other, just like any other time I try to reason with a 3-year-old. I think the families in the next development probably saw the steam that came out of my head. After a very well censored yelling fit (which I think also went in one ear and out the other), Alec looked at me and said, "I not need to go." So I did what I think any sensible mother would have done. I looked at him and said "You do too have to go!" I know, very mature. This, of course, was followed by a chorus of "no, no, no, no, no, I NOT need to go", including tears and everything. This child really knows how to pull out all the stops. By this point I was about ready to burst a blood vessel, so I picked Alec up, carried him to his room and plopped him on his bed while I took a few minutes to cool off.

When my blood had returned to a slow simmer I went in to retrieve Alec, who was calmly playing with his stuffed animals. We made amends and continued about our day, which was shortly interrupted by some more "Eeee! Eeee!'s". Finally, about two hours later, the "Eeee! Eeee's" became very close together and after something like our 50th trip to the potty (I think I lost track around trip 27 or 28) we had success.

The next few days were each an improvement over the day before, and now he is doing much better and there are considerably less "Eeee! Eeee!'s". He has even gotten his five stickers that he needed for his reward of going to a new play place that opened near us.

I can't say that I'm proud of my lack of patience, but I almost have to wonder if it actually helped in this situation. If I were a nurturing mother who had the patience to calmly take Alec to the potty every 10 minutes for weeks on end, it may have taken Alec months instead of less than two weeks to get better at going to the potty. Sure, I can be a loving, caring mother when I want to be. But I can also stand my ground, and my kids definitely know when I mean business.

As much as I'd like to say that having children has taught me patience, I'm pretty sure I will always be the person who is yelling at the car in front of me in stopped traffic, glaring at the nice granny who has parked her grocery cart right in front of the cereal that I need to get, tapping my foot and sighing while the person in front of me at the coffee shop methodically counts out exact change for their order, and losing my temper when my kids have pushed my last button. I think it's going to take more than reading about a blue monster waiting for cookies for me to learn patience.

Facebook Tells All

A few days after New Year's, I was having a rare morning of "me" time while Alec was at preschool and Chase was at home with Chad. I decided to go to Panera Bread and enjoy a leisurely cup of coffee and catch up on the latest gossip in my Redbook magazine (even if the "latest" gossip is really the October edition that has been sitting on my desk unopened for four months). Being the Facebook addict that I am, I also had to share this as my status. So I opened up my phone and typed, "Alec is at school, Chase is hanging out at home with Chad, and I'm enjoying coffee and a magazine at Panera Bread. I'd say this is a good way to start the New Year!

After a half hour or so, I checked my phone to see if anyone had commented on my status. A few people had "liked" it, and a few others had offered comments telling me to enjoy the time. But the more I thought about it, the less I liked what I had really said. Was I really saying that a great way to start off the New Year is without my kids?

I've never been a fan of New Years resolutions, and this year is no exception. I've just never seen the point in waiting until a new year starts to try to achieve something you want. But I do use the start of a new year as a time to reflect on what is going on in my life. And this year I turned to Facebook to help me out. After considering the status I had just posted, I thought back to other statuses I had shared over the past year or so... "All I want for Christmas is for Chase to sleep more than 30 minutes at a time during the day...", "...looking forward to date night tonight...", "...taking a deep breath, counting to 10, and repeating over and over to myself I love my children, I love my children, I love my children...". I think you get the picture. Basically a lot of my statuses had to do with my frustrations with my children or enjoying time without them. In fact, if someone who didn't know me were to visit my Facebook page, they might just wonder why I even had children in the first place.

But just as I was about to put myself up for nomination for worst mother of the year, I realized that for every one frustrating status there were two or three statuses that showed my love for my kids. There were statuses about the fun trips we took, like to Zoo America or to see Yo Gabba Gabba. There were statuses about trying to find home remedies for my poor little guy who wasn't feeling well. There were statuses about what Alec or Chase happened to do on a particular day that made me laugh. There were statuses about not being able to believe how quickly the kids are growing up.

Before I knew it it was time to pick Alec up from school. On the way to get him, I think I figured out what I was really thinking when I made the initial Facebook post that got me onto this whole train of thought. I was thinking that I had a wonderful time on New Year's Eve day with Chad & the boys. We played at the Whitaker Center for a while before heading over to see some children's theatre and a kid's countdown to noon, and we ended the day with a trip to Christmas Candylane at Hersheypark. And while I had a blast watching Chase play in the water table at Whitaker and watching Alec on all the rides at Hersheypark, I also had a blast at Panera Bread sipping my coffee and reading my magazine (even if I barely made it past the table of contents because I really spent all my "me" time thinking about the kids!). So a great start to the New Year was actually spending some quality time with my family, while also escaping for some non-mommy time. Now if only that would have fit into a Facebook status!

Liar Liar Part 2: The Disappearing Biffy

A few months ago I wrote about Alec's addiction to his pacifier (or his biffy as we called it) and my dilemma of how to get rid of it (http://mommys-always-write.blogspot.com/2010/10/liar-liar.html). I am happy to report that we are now a biffy-free house!

Are you ready to hear my secret that worked like a charm? I simply didn't give it to him at night. I didn't say a word about it, and neither did he. Yes, it really was that easy. All the plotting and planning and scheming was pretty much for nothing. I didn't need to lie; I didn't need to hold him down while he kicked and screamed for his biffy; I didn't need to make him exchange it for a toy that I probably would have gotten him anyway; I wasn't up multiple times overnight to serve as his replacement comfort item. Now I'm wondering how long ago I could have done this!

After the first biffy-free night, I thought for sure it was a fluke. I just waited for him to ask for it the second night. But he didn't say a word about it on the second night...or the third...or the fourth... It's been over a month now, and he hasn't asked for it once. It honestly amazed me how easy it was.

I guess I really shouldn't be that amazed. This isn't the first time he has surprised me with how easily he adapts to what I consider to be a major change. When he turned two last January, we moved him into a new room so that we could use the nursery for Chase. Not only did we move him to a new room, but we moved him from his crib into a double bed. Chase wasn't due until April, and we wouldn't need the nursery right away since we would use the bassinet in our bedroom for the first few months. But thinking that our little creature of habit wouldn't handle this change well, we decided to move him in in January so that we had a few months buffer for what we were sure would be a failure at first. We were convinced that Alec would take one look at his new room and bed and have a meltdown on the spot. But again he amazed us. He was thrilled with his new Thomas-themed room. He climbed right into his bed that first night and slept in it like he had been sleeping there his whole life, never even asking about his crib. Now, almost a year later, he just views the nursery as Chase's room.

There have also been other situations that Alec handled much better than I expected: the start of preschool, the transition out of his high chair, and most recently the change to a new car seat. Maybe this little creature of habit isn't as dependent on his routine as I once thought. Or, more likely, he's just growing up. It kind of makes me wonder what else he is ready for!

Giving Thanks the Kids' Way

Last week Alec brought home a craft that he made in school. It was a Thanksgiving placemat, and on it was the phrase, "I am thankful for..." Each child in the class picked something that they were thankful for to put on their placemat. Most of the kids put something like "Mommy" or "Family." But what did Alec put? Apples. I don't even want to think about what his teachers now think of me. At least he didn't put something like soda, cake, BB guns, or worse! I did see another placemat that said "Popcorn" so at least I know he's not the only child in his class who values snacks more than family.

Sometimes I try to look at things the way a child does so that I can understand where my kids are coming from. Take, for instance, Chase's toys. Today I was sitting on the floor with Chase while he was playing, and instead of playing with his toys, he wanted to play with my shoelaces. But if you look at it like he does, this makes sense. To him, a shoelace is just as new of an idea as a toy that lights up and plays music. At 8 months old, everything around him is something new and exciting, even if to us it's something that we use every day and don't even think think twice about.

So I guess I can understand where Alec was coming from with his thankfulness for apples. As an almost 3-year-old, he is just starting to understand the concept of being thankful. To him, being thankful means something that he is happy to have. And on that particular day he was happy that he had an apple. If he had done the craft on a different day, he could have been happy for Dora the Explorer, or swings, or the moon, or maybe even Mommy or Daddy.

Some days I think that kids have the right way of thinking. They have such open minds. They really see the world a different way than adults, and I don't think that's such a bad thing. They smile openly at people. They see almost everything as a game. While this may not always be the best way to think (and I think we all know adults who act like kids a little more than they should!), I think the world might just be a better place if adults thought like kids every once in a while.

When taking some time during the recent Thanksgiving holiday to think about what I am thankful for, I covered the basics. I am thankful for my family and friends. I am thankful for my health. I am thankful for a roof over my head. I am thankful for the means to enjoy a hot meal. But I am also thankful for shoelaces and apples.

My next Mommy's Always Write topic: Liar Liar, Part 2: The Disappearing Biffy