Did you know today is National Best Friend’s Day? Neither did I. But it is and I’m always looking for an excuse to love on the incredible women in my life so here we are.

The Hubs makes fun of me because I have more then one best friend. He says that’s impossible and I say it’s not. Some of us, like the Hubs, are destined to have a very few, special select friends in their lives. And that’s wonderful. Some of us, however, are destined to have more from all stages of life. My friendship cup runs over and that’s freaking awesome.

I have my sister because everyone’s sister should be their best friend. We weren’t as kids and even today there is no one that can get under my skin faster then her, but she is the one I talk to almost every day and she is the one who loves my kids like her own. She’s the one who laughs when I talk/whisper right in her ear and ask her how she’s doing in a certain tone of voice because she’s the one who gets that inside joke. She’s the one who will tell me when something doesn’t look right and she’s the one who taught me how to pack a diaper bag less like a suitcase 9 year ago. She talks me off the edge at least once a week and I can’t imagine a world without her in it. I love her deeply.

I have my friends from growing up. These are the incredible ladies who remember my bad perms, awful fashion choices and even more awful taste in boys. They rocked to NKOTB with me, learned how to remove paint from car bumpers when we accidentally hit something when we took our first solo trip to the mall and spent long lazy summers at the pools with me. We grew up going in and out of each others houses and knew that we couldn’t get away with anything because our parents would always check in and up on us. That didn’t mean we didn’t try though, so these are the women I made memories with sneaking out of each others homes, trying booze together and growing up together. We cried at our high school graduation and promised to always keep in touch. And we did. We are a year shy of our 20th high school reunion and even though we may not talk as often as we like, when we do, it’s like no time at all has passed. They keep me grounded and I love them fiercely.

And then there are my local friends now. My sisters in parenting and marriage and life. The women I see weekly if not daily depending on the sports season. These are the women that keep me sane, the ones who co-parent with me on the nights I need it. The friends that will help out in a pinch and who know my children almost as well I do. They are the ones who see me at my worst and my best and love me regardless. They know by the tone of my voice if it’s been one of those nights and will listen with compassion and humor when I need to lose my shit at someone just so I don’t lose it at my husband or kids. They give selflessly and help make my life 1000% times more smoother thanks to carpool and play dates and communal dinners. They are the ones I can’t wait to share the next 11+ years with as our kids hit their milestones at the same time- elementary school, middle school, dances, sports, proms, dating, graduation, college and all the little pieces that make up life in between. They are the ones I’ll be calling and checking in with as our kids try to sneak out of our homes and get into trouble together. They’ll know the reason behind every gray hair on my head and wrinkle on my face. They’ll parent my children when I’m not up for it and I’ll do the same. My love for them is boundless.

I’m a very, very blessed woman. #friendsrock

This past month our local community has gone through unspeakable tragedy. A 6 year old was killed in an devastating and completely preventable car accident. A 16 year old was killed on Prom night by her ex-boyfriend. She broke up with him, then refused his efforts to get back in touch with her, so he showed up at her home with an imitation Army knife to scare her, so she’d see how much she still loved her. Then this weekend, two talented, smart high school seniors were killed in a car accident. They were coming home from the mall and lost control of their car.

We didn’t know any of these kids, although we certainly knew of them and have many friends who mourn them deeply. I haven’t written about this because I didn’t want to exploit their tragedies or make it seem like there is a personal connection when there isn’t much of one.

However, this latest tragic hits close to home because when I was turning 16, I lost my friend Paul in a car accident. I hope what I posted about what happened after Paul’s death helps those that mourn to know their family and friends are in a good place even though they are so desperately missed here. Here is what I shared:

Paul was a sweet kid I went to school with. He was short with dark hair and amazing eyes not unlike my Scorch. He was a wise-ass and a charmer and he always, always had a big grin for everyone. He was honestly one of the nicest people I ever have met.

Paul died the summer I turned 16.

The day is etched into my brain. I spent the afternoon driving around country hills with my boyfriend- with no particular destination in mind, we just enjoyed the day. When I got home my parents were literally standing in the window watching for me. Paul was in a car crash- he was driving on a windy road and crashed head on into a dump truck. He was killed instantly.

At almost-16, I had never lost anyone close to me before who wasn’t elderly. My friends and I had lived a charmed life up until that point. Paul’s death shook us to the core.  The days after his death are still so clear to me. The crying, the huddling together, the wake, the funeral, spending time at Paul’s mom’s house trying to prop each other up.

About 10 days after Paul died, I spent the evening with two friends. As it often did, our conversation turned to Paul and how we wished we knew that he was at peace.  On the walk back to my house, we sat down on the side of the road and asked Paul to give us a sign that he was OK.  We sat there in silence- waiting, watching for that sign. After a few minutes we realized how silly that was- because anything from the owl hooting to the car honking could have been a sign. So we got specific.  We told Paul if he was OK to please please cancel swim lessons the following day. The three of us taught swim lessons for 4 hours a day and wanted a break.

That next day while I was driving to swim lessons, I saw one of my friends and her mom driving away from the pool. When I got to the pool, the director was sitting outside. She told us that lessons were canceled that day- the pool pump broke in the middle of the night.

I still get chills when I think about that.

And here’s a follow up from last year:

A few weeks ago, I had the chance to talk to a psychic. I realize there are a lot of fakes out there, but I also know that some people  have a talent that I’ll never understand.  It was towards the end of my 25 minute conversation with this woman and I wasn’t entirely convinced I was speaking to the real deal. She got some things completely right, but other things seemed to be entirely off base. She asked if I had a last question so I asked about Paul. Here is what I asked word for word: “When I was 16, I lost a friend of mine. We asked for a sign to see if he was OK and we got what we thought was one. Was it?”

There was a pause and the woman I was speaking to started to laugh:

Your sign had to do with water. And yes, don’t worry, your friend is wonderful!

I hope this brings those who mourn a small measure of peace.

This morning was a big one. Today was Muffins for Mom where the 1st grade class gets to have breakfast with their moms and then put on a little presentation for Mother’s Day. I kid you not when I tell you it’s one of my favorite traditions at the kid’s school. This was my last one and I think I was more excited then the Bean.

But, like life goes, nothing went according to plan.

All was fine until Scorch’s stomach got upset. Why? Who knows. So poor Scorch spent more time in the bathroom than out of it this morning all the while worrying that he was getting sick. Beaner is trying to tell me that we have to be at school at 7:45 but I’m convinced that Muffins for Mom doesn’t start until after morning assembly at 8:15 so I’m not worried. If we had had two cars at home, I would have taken the Bean just in case and the Hubs could have brought Scorch when he was ready. But, we were down to one car this morning because mine is in the shop getting the snow tires taken off. (No, Mother Nature, this is not a dare).

We finally made it out the door and over to school. We walked in to take the kids to morning assembly to find the Muffins for Mom presentation just starting. My stomach is in my feet and I felt so badly. But Bean just looks at me, smiles and darts off to join her class like it’s no big deal. I get to watch the whole song (which makes me cry), get presented with a flower from Beaner and it’s amazing.

After the song, we realize that breakfast was before morning assembly and not after and again, I’m a little sick over missing this. But Bean’s teacher graciously offered to let us go eat, just the two of us. So we do. And as we’re eating, the Bean tells me that this is the best morning ever.

So, my sweet kids, this morning did not go like it was supposed to. There were tears (mine), nerves (Scorch) and a little stage fright (Bean). It wasn’t perfect like we had envisioned it- not even close- but it was perfect for us. And sometimes that is all you can ask for!

Lots of years ago, the Hubs and I decided we wanted to grow our family. I was 24 and had no reason to think getting pregnant would be difficult. So I stopped taking the pill, started paying attention to my cycles and was convinced I was pregnant two months later when my period was late. You know that stupid saying that you’re over the moon? I hate that statement- but we were over the moon imagining how life was going to change with our little one. But the pregnancy tests kept coming back negative even though my period didn’t show for over 3 months. We just assumed it was my body’s reaction to going off hormonal birth control after so many years and didn’t get too concerned.

After a few more months though, we knew something wasn’t right. My cycles were crazily erratic, I was putting on weight rapidly and my skin was a disaster. Shortly there after, I was diagnosed with PCOS and we realized that our path to having a baby was not going to be an easy one.

This is National Infertility Awareness Week. Did you know that 1 in 8 couples deal with infertility? Think about that for a minute- 1 in 8 is a lot of people. It’s your friends, your family, your coworkers. It could be you.

When the Hubs and I first realized that having kids was going to be a challenge, we kept it to ourselves. I literally only knew of one other couple that had trouble conceiving and their child bearing years were 20 years earlier. I was scared and confused, ashamed and guilt-ridden. My body had failed me- had failed us– in a monumental way and I had no idea how to deal with that.

A year and 3 months after we started trying to grow our family, I got pregnant for the first time. We told everyone when I was about 5 weeks along. We didn’t think anything of it, we had never heard of anyone miscarrying. Then we became that couple who miscarried.

We were reeling and all the well-meaning people telling us that I’d get pregnant again soon just ate away at me. The dam broke and I told everyone everything. Words like PCOS, Clomid, IUI, Injectables and Reproductive Endocrinologist became a part of almost every conversation I had. Sadly, Miscarriage, Repeat Pregnancy Loss, Clotting Disorders and ANA did too as we dealt with 3 losses. (You can read how we eventually went on to have Scorch here.)

The crazy part was, the more I talked, the better I felt. No one could take away the pain, jealousy and heartbreak I was dealing with but the more I spoke out, the more people I found in the same boat as the Hubs and me. I found an amazing online community pretty quickly, but slowly I found local women in my life dealing with infertility. We called ourselves the Broken Vag!na and Limp D!ck Club. Not the most politically correct or medically accurate name, but it made us laugh. Our monthly dinners were sanity saving and one of the rays of sunshine during a dark time.

Eventually we all graduated from that club in one way or another. Some of us by having kids, some of us by living a fulfilling child-free life. Either way, we had each other.

It’s been almost 13 years since infertility reared its ugly head in my life. Since that time, at least a dozen women in my life have dealt with infertility in one form or another. The two kids I love just about as much as I love my own are IVF babies. I’ve held hands with more women than I’d like as they’ve mourned their losses. It’s been heartbreaking- but I’m so glad we’ve had each other.

Medical advances have out paced my knowledge and experiences, but I still share my story and lend an ear to anyone going through something similar. To know that you are not alone can sometimes be one of greatest blessing during a horrible time. The more I’ve talked, the less ashamed I am. My infertility wasn’t something I asked for, it just is-  like my brown eyes and wavy hair. I don’t wish that journey on anyone but I’m so very, very happy that infertility and pregnancy loss isn’t a topic talked about in whispers anymore. No one wants to be part of the Broken Vag!nas and Limp D!ck Club but if you are, come talk to me. I’ll listen.

I’m not exactly blaming the Bean and her homework for the gray hairs on my head, but I am saying they may be related.  It’s not that her homework is hard- thankfully in 1st grade, I more or less know how to help her (unless it’s math, then we’re both screwed). Nope, these gray hairs are there because she refuses to ask for help and when you do help her (so, you know, she doesn’t get the whole thing wrong) she is Not Happy.

Tonight in honor of Earth Day, she had to make something from materials we got out of our recycling bin. She chose to make a snowman out of an empty OJ bottle, an empty tomato pint, paper towels and straws. She then had to write down what this item could be used for. In this case, she wanted it to be a Christmas decoration.

The Bean asked for help in spelling Christmas but she was convinced she knew how to spell “decoration.” Now, I know she doesn’t know. I don’t expect my 6 year old to know how to spell that nor do I expect her to get it right when sounding it out, but I did ask her to try. So she wrote: deck or a shun.  Honestly, not bad for sounding it out! The issue came when she refused to believe me when I told her it was 1) one word and 2) spelled the way it was. Around and around we went with me trying to convince my 6 year old that I was not an idiot.

Do you know how I got her to believe me? By asking Siri how to spell “decoration.”

Today, the state tests in NY started for all 3rd – 8th grade students.  We opted Scorch out of these tests, so he had an hour and 10 minutes to read. That’s a loooooong time to read when you’re 8 so I spent some time this weekend finding books to hold his attention. One of the books I picked out was a “Choose Your Own Adventure” book about the Revolutionary War that I figured he’d get a kick out of.

Evidently I picked well because when Scorch got into the car, the book was all he could talk about. He went through the adventure 6 times and he died 3 of them (which is way cool when you’re 8 and sheltered and thinking being hung as a spy is amazing). I asked about the other 3 times.

“One time, to live I had to shoot someone before he shot me. The book told me after I shot him, I immediately fell to my knees and started vomiting over the fact that I killed a man. The book said the guilt from my actions will haunt me forever.”

Huh. Well, way to get way too real there, Debbie Downer.

This afternoon I  took the kids to the local bounce house to blow off some energy. About a half an hour after we got there, a boy came in with his mom.  He looked about Scorch’s age and Scorch was thrilled when another boy showed up to play.

He immediately asked if he could play with Scorch and Bean so my kids pulled him into their basketball game. Less then a minute later, Bean came out of the bounce house saying that John hit her in the neck. I didn’t think much of it as they were playing a very spirited game and, well, kids get hit. The boy’s mom piped up from her chair, “JOHN- no touching!”

Beaner sat by me and not a minute later, Scorch came out saying that John was pulling his hair.

Hmmm, well, that’s a little harder to do playing basketball so when John emerged from the bounce house right after Scorch, I just reminded all the kids that we keep our hands to ourselves when we play. I didn’t single out any of the kids, just issued a blanket statement. The kids all nodded and went back off to play.  John’s mom didn’t look up from her phone.

A few minutes pass and Beaner comes out to sit by me because John was bothering her. John followed her over and slung an arm around her shoulder, messing with her hair, asking me if she was shy. Now Bean doesn’t really like to be touched so I told John as much and reminded him to please keep his hands to himself. The mom, sitting not 4 chairs over from me, yells at him to not touch.

Scorch and Bean are trying to play by themselves at this point, but John keeps following them around. I tried to come up with games (races, etc) the three kids could do that didn’t involve touching or rough housing but somehow John was always touching them. Bean finally gave up and came to sit by me but Scorch still wanted to play, so he tried to engage John in another basketball game. That quickly devolved into a game where John tried to peg Scorch in the face with the ball repeatedly. Again, I spoke up (loudly for the mom to hear, but not yelling) that we play nice or we don’t play together. Hitting our friends with a ball was not nice and won’t be allowed.

Mom yelled again at John from her seat. Which clearly had been really effective.

Scorch decided that basketball wasn’t the smartest idea, so he moved onto another bounce house that requires climbing a ladder up to a slide to get out. John followed and within seconds, I hear Scorch saying “Please stop touching me. Please stop. I said stop touching me.”  I can’t see what’s going on, so I climbed into the bounce house to see Scorch trying to get up the ladder and John either smacking him lightly on the butt or yanking at his feet.  At this point I finally raised my voice directly to John and told him to leave Scorch alone. That Scorch had asked him repeatedly to stop touching him and that he needed to listen. I was semi- yelling, speaking firmly, and John immediately agreed to stop and apologized.

The mom? She did nothing. She didn’t say a single thing to me or the kids as we left immediately after the last incident.

Based on some of the other things I saw John do, I tend to think he may have had some special needs. None of his touching seemed to be mean spirited in any way, it was simply like he didn’t know how to interact properly with the kids. By the time we left, both my kids were in tears wondering why John’s mom didn’t do anything to stop John’s behavior other then sit on her chair and yell his name a few times. And I was at a loss as to what to tell them.  It was a really uncomfortable situation all around.

So what would you have done? Should I have engaged the mom more? Should I have raised my voice sooner at John? Should I have told the owners of the bounce house? Should we have just left?  I feel badly that my kids ended up having a crappy time even though they, to their credit, did everything I’ve ever told them to do when someone is bothering them.

So, here’s the deal. I’m not a very good care taker. At all.

The Hubs either has the flu or a very bad cold (getting tested tomorrow to determine which). Either way, he’s a coughing, ear-plugged, nose-blowing, body-aching mess. He can’t hear right now, so he has the TV blaring as he moans on the couch and refuses to go to bed. I have to work until 11, so I’m just doing my best not to smother him to put him (me) out of his (my) misery.

Then you add in sweet Scorch. The plague is going around the kid’s school- a fun mix of the flu, strep and the stomach bug. Last Friday, there were 9 people plus the teacher out sick from Scorch’s class alone. Oddly enough (knock on wood), my kids have thus far stayed healthy*. Completely hale and hearty, which is awesome. But that doesn’t stop Scorch from worrying. A lot. And when Scorch worries, he talks and paces and talks some more.

Do you think I’m sick?

What if I get sick?

Everyone else is sick, I could get sick too.

Do I have a fever? Can you check? Where is the thermometer?

My stomach hurts. Do you think I’m sick or do you think I’m just nervous.

Feel my cheeks- do I feel like I have a fever yet?

Over and over and over, people. I try really, really hard to be sympathetic. Usually I succeed for the first 5 minutes, then I start running out of answers because no matter what you tell Scorch, it doesn’t matter. He’s still going to be nervous. Today I told him he could stay home from school, which I thought would make him feel better. Nope, he wanted to go to school. But he didn’t want to get sick there. So what should he do? We debated this for 2 hours (from 5:30 – 7:30 am) until he decided to go to school 15 minutes before we had to leave.** I’d like to say I was compassionate, understanding and the picture of calm this whole morning, but at one point I may have screeched to him “what do you want me to say? I don’t live in your stomach!”

Parenting and marriage – glamor and sunshine 24/7.

*Now that I put this out in the universe, I full expect the plague to fully hit our house within the next 24 hours.

**The kiddo had a wonderful day- no sign of illness at all once he got past his nervousness. He even crushed it at baseball tonight.

Yesterday morning I brought my A-game. The Hubs had to leave for work early which meant I was flying solo during the morning routine and I was determined to rock it. I woke the kids 15 minutes early so we could get a jump start on things. Both kids woke up happy, we had a great breakfast together and then…

Well, things fell apart.

First, I think my kids lost their hearing between breakfast and walking to their rooms to get dressed. There is literally no other explanation on why I had to repeat myself over and over until I finally resorted to yelling to get them to finally get dressed, brush their teeth and do their hair. You know, the things we do *every* *single* *day* before we leave the house.

I’m also pretty sure they lost their ability to keep their hands to themselves because there was a heck of a lot of taunting, teasing, snatching of each others clothes/toys/lovies. Which may have resulted in more yelling from all of us. Miracle of miracles, we finally made it out the door.

The weather was a wintery mess yesterday morning, so I opted to drive the Hub’s car that day since it has 4 wheel drive. I got the kids in the car through the rear passenger door and walked over to the driver’s side door opened the door and saw snow. A lot of it.

Inside the car.

I was so shocked that I stood there blinking for a minute trying to process why there was a huge pile of snow on the drivers side seat, the middle console and all over the jackets, book bags, my purse and my laptop bag in the passenger seat. Then I hear the panicked voice telling me loudly and quickly that it was an accident, I swear!

According to Scorch, the Bean “accidentally” opened the moon roof. A two step process that includes pulling back the shade and pressing a button. All of which was done “accidentally.” Bean, the savvier of my two children, wasn’t saying a word. She just sat very quietly in her chair and buckled up while Scorch kept babbling.

And I just started to laugh. Because, really, what could I do? Yelling wasn’t going to get the snow out of the car and having to help me get it out of every nook and cranny in the car was punishment enough for the kids. As we (finally) drove away to school, I told the kids that we can clearly gotten all our bad mojo for the week out that morning and the rest of the week had to rock.

Happy Monday, Universe- you won yesterday. But today’s a new day!

This evening, Scorch and I were out and, in out travels, we drove by one of the local restaurants. I’ve only been there a handful of times over the years, but I distinctively remember the first time I was there in December 2011 because I sat at the table and cried in front of my girlfriends.

Scorch’s anxiety was just making itself apparent at the time. He was terrified of hairless cats and the boy, in Kindergarten at the time, wouldn’t sleep. He was terrified of going to sleep and would wake up numerous times a night. Putting him to bed would literally take hours and often times end up with all of us yelling and crying. It was an awful time and, that night out, I was just done. I dreaded going home knowing that Scorch would still be awake, and that I couldn’t do a damn thing to fix it. So when I sat down with my friends, I just let the tears flow. Thank goodness we were the only ones in the place that night.

Tonight I told Scorch that story. I told him how proud I was of him for coming so far and we had a laugh over the vision of me sobbing and sniffing at a table out in public. Then I teased him a little about having a phobia over the oddest thing ever.

Yeah, mom- I’m pretty much over being scared of hairless cats. 

From my crazy family to yours, we wish all who celebrate a very Merry Christmas! I hope this holiday season is filled with joy, love and lots and lots of laughter!