Guilt Is A Four Letter Word

Ahh, guilt.  Along with regret, one of the most useless, futile and absurd of all human emotions.  And yet, almost all of us feel it at one time or another, to varying degrees.  Currently, I am experiencing guilt-overload, and it is crushing.

I've always been a guilty person. (No, not THAT kind of guilty!) I am a people-pleaser.  I want everyone around me to be happy, and to like me.  I feel so bad if anyone is put out, inconvenienced or upset. That has meant conflict avoidance (even when confrontation was really what was necessary) and some bottling up of emotion. Totally unhealthy.  But the guilt I've been experiencing lately is even worse -- Parent Guilt. The most intense of all the guilts, in my opinion.

Ever since my husband and I were told of my Little Guy's potential (probable) ADHD, our lives have really changed. I've, of course, being a mom, have scoured the Internet doing research. We've been a lot more patient with him, knowing a lot of his behaviors he just can't help.  But along with changes in our family life, there has also been guilt piling up on me.

I feel guilty...
about the expectations I had for my children.  My husband and I were always part of the sports-related crowd.  I was a cheerleader, he played lacrosse and soccer. We had friends growing up and were always part of a fun group of friends.  I always expected my children to be the same.  But, neither of them are athletes, and both are a little young for their age...especially my Little Guy.  His teacher has noticed he has some problems relating to the other kids, which is a hallmark of ADHD. I feel guilty sometimes that he struggles with friendship. I wish it were easier for him. I feel guilty that I sometimes wish they were what I'd imagined them to be.

I feel guilty...
about the kind of mother I am.  Is my Little Guy's ADHD caused by something I did? Did I let him watch to much television? Do I fail in making sure he has the best nutrition? Did I expose him to some toxin in his bottles, toys, anything? What did I do wrong??

I feel guilty...
about talking to people about ADHD. Sometimes, it feels like all my conversations, regardless of where they started, come back around to it.  I don't want to be someone that no one wants to talk to because THIS is all they talk about (hello? People pleaser!!).  So instead, I just find myself retreating into myself...and bottling emotions.

I feel guilty...
about being so worried.  I have friends with children who are struggling with issues that are way bigger than ADHD. There are lots of people who suffer from ADHD; where do I get off being so consumed?  There are so many people out there with far more consequential, even life-threatening, concerns for their kids.  This is nothing compared to what others have to endure.

I feel guilty...
about my Big Guy. Dealing with an ADHD child requires a ton of patience and temper-control (one of the first things I read about it was the importance of remaining positive).  What patience and responsiveness can I possibly have left over for my Big Guy? Is he left wondering why all of our attention is directed his brother's way? We've explained the situation to him and he understands what's going on, but he's only 9. He's just a kid, too and even though he understands, it has to be impossible for him not to feel a little neglected.

I feel guilty...
about what choices we are going to make.  There are so many routes to take as far as treatment. Therapies, medications, diets -- so much to decide.  What if I choose poorly? I run all the possibilities in my head constantly, and I know I'll second guess everything we do. I feel more and more like a child instead of a parent...aren't the grown-ups supposed to decide and tell us what to do? Oh, I AM the grown-up? Well, it sure as hell doesn't feel like it; I am too scared and uncertain.

So, there it is. Logically, I know feeling guilty about all of the above (and more) a.) doesn't change anything, b.) might be a little ridiculous, and c.) doesn't do anyone any good.  But I still do. Writing all this down does help; I can see in black and white how silly and pointless some of this is. I know I need to (wo)man up and stop catering to the stupid, illogical guilt. My energies need to be focused solely on helping my sons (both of them) through this.

I'm trying.

Redefining Compromise: Finding A Place to Belong

Compromise: [kom-pruh-mayhz] N. A settlement of differences by reciprocal modification of demands

When I became a mother, one of the most surprising (and to be honest, challenging) traits I had to quickly embrace was flexibility.  When it's just you, and even after you're married for the most part, you live life according to what fits you. In my pre-child existence, I had a vision of what I wanted my life to be: what was important to me and what I believed. When children come into your life, compromise obviously becomes necessary, and indeed vital.  And when they're small, there are the obvious adjustments to your lifestyle - sleeping patterns, social life, etc. But as they grow older, compromise becomes deeper, more meaningful. Not only is flexibility demanded in how you live your life, but also in how you grow as a person.

My oldest son is an amazing child. He is quirky and hilarious, loving and empathetic. He has an imagination the size of the moon, and gives the best hugs in the world. But, my Big Guy also marches to the beat of his very own, distinctly unique, slightly awkward, drummer. And, although he has played soccer for four years now, I don't think that drummer plays a samba beat.

Now, if you know my husband and me, or have read this blog before, or have any sort of acquaintance with us at all, you know that we are obsessed with soccer is a lifeblood in our family unit.  But just recently, my Big Guy has admitted to us that he has only continued playing to please us. Looking back, it was fairly evident. He wasn't the goal-scorer or even the most determined defender. My son just doesn't have an aggressive bone in his body. While some boys his age thrive on competition, Big Guy doesn't see winning as the be-all, end-all. He just wants to run and learn and be a kid.

My dear, sweet boy isn't a soccer player. Talk about deviating from the vision...and the need for compromise.

The Big Guy is only 8 and although he hasn't found a passion for any 'traditional' sport, that doesn't necessarily mean he never will. Maybe his coordination and drive will mature along with him. He takes swim lessons and really enjoys it.  Perhaps he will want to continue with swimming beyond just instruction, but time will tell. But for now, it has to be hard for him, seeing his classmates and peers playing and excelling at soccer, baseball, basketball, you name it. And we certainly aren't going to be another source of pressure, pushing him to do something that doesn't (and may never) feel natural or fun for him.

Where to go from here? As parents, of course we are intent on finding something for my son that makes him happy. A place to explore his world. Somewhere that offers him a place to develop his own personality and grow at his own pace. An environment in which his seemingly endless compassion can blossom in service to others. A  place where he, wacky drummer and all, can flourish. Somewhere he fits.

And this is where it gets hard.

The place where he can find what he is seeking might be the Boy Scouts of America.

Compromise: [kom-pruh-mayz] V. To make a dishonorable or shameful concession.

 
Simple human rights for the LBGT community is something I have enormously strong feelings about.  I can't wrap my mind around the fact that this has ever been, and especially that it is STILL an issue. People are people in my book, and why would who they love matter to me? The more love in the world the better.  So it bewilders me that people want to restrict rights, discriminate and crucify (well, it seems that way!) It is the year 2012, right?

So herein lies the dilemma. The Boy Scouts of America deny membership to openly gay individuals. I swore up and down, from the time my first ultrasound showed I was carrying a boy, that he would never, EVER be part of such a discriminatory organization. I haven't exactly been reserved about sharing how I feel, either.

And yet, here we are. Can I get past this? Am I selling out? Because that's exactly what it feels like. I have struggled internally and prayed, I have solicited opinions, and discussed this ad nauseum with anyone willing to listen. Because while I want to teach both my sons the value of a compromise (N), I am also afraid of teaching them to compromise (V).

It's bottom line time. I like to think of myself as a person whose convictions are rock solid. But I also know myself as a mother whose first priority is and always will be her children - their heath, well-being and their happiness. When it comes right down to it, I have to do what is best for my child. If the Boy Scouts are the ones who will help my son find his place in this world, so be it. But should the Scouts become a long-term fixture in our lives, make no mistake -  someday I will have taught him to believe so strongly in what is right and human and decent, that he will use the character-building and leadership skills they teach him to affect change within their own organization. And work from the inside out to bring the Scouts into the future without prejudice.

It's been a long journey of soul-searching...from admitting to ourselves that our son is not exactly what we'd envisioned, but is perfect nonetheless; to realizing what our duties as parents are, and fulfilling them in spite of having to alter our approach to society's issues.

Compromise. If my son has found a place to belong, we've done it right.

Manchester Is My Heaven Pt II: People We Met

This visit to England had plenty of 'new' aspects to it...new area visited, first time visit to Old Trafford; we even flew into a new airport! But one of the things that had made this trip 'new,' was also largely what made it so special. Our friends.

Through Twitter, I have been lucky enough to 'meet' supporters of Manchester United from around the world. My Twitter friends hail from India, Singapore, Portugal, Australia, Indonsesia, Ireland (and of course, England), just to name a few! After talking with some of them for almost a year, I was finally going to get to see the real, live them. It's a bit difficult to describe how significant and unique this is. When you to talk to someone so much, almost every single day, you can't help but feel incredibly connected to them. Even if it's only via computer. For me, it's still a little startling (in a good way!) how close I am to my friends who are thousands of miles away.

As I describe my friends, I'll use their Twitter handles - to protect the innocent, of course! ;)

After we completely destroyed City (ahem), we made our way to the Trinity Statue in front of Old Trafford to meet some of our amazing Twitter friends. After some initial hugging and "I can't believe it's!!" we made our way to Sam Platts' Pub. I have to admit, it felt a little silly introducing myself as 'Red Mama!' But as I matched up user names with real names and Twit-personalities with faces, all the sheepish grins and awkwardness disappeared. I hugged every one of my darling 'tweeps' with the wholehearted joy of embracing a long lost friend.

There was RATompkins, one of my favorites on Twitter. He's always the first one to say good morning, never shies away from his own opinion, and has a wicked sense of humor. And did I mention he loves Star Wars and Harry Potter, too? I could kick myself for not spending more time with him, but I am very happy that I at least got a hug from my favorite chef.

DoronSolomon came up to Manchester from London with yolkie_ and MrsYolkie. Poor Doron, on crutches from a recent surgery. (Although he might have considered himself lucky; I restrained myself from too much hugging because I didn't want to knock him over!) The Yolkies have recently gotten married in our mutual favorite place, Walt Disney World. The Mrs and I share a love of cupcakes and all things Disney. She loves America as much as I love England, so it might have happened that we were born in the wrong place! After our many wonderful chats, it was so good to finally meet her! She was as beautiful as she is nice. As for her husband, he is the founder of 7 Cantonas and False10 websites. Another one I didn't get to talk to as much as I would have liked, but he and my husband discussed football from one end to the other! I think they had a great time trading perspectives on the beautiful game.

There was another Orlando enthusiast in our crowd that evening, none other than PhilGatt. Loving, hard-working, down-to-earth husband, father, and United fan - I have truly enjoyed getting to know him through Twitter, and it was amazing to get to meet him in person. And, exactly as I had imagined, he had a wonderful, infectious smile. He had lost his voice shouting for United at the match, which just goes to show he works as hard at being a United fan as he does for everything else he does. :)

As I was chatting, a wonderful, exuberant blonde came up to me, "Hi! I'm Ellie!!" Known as 16Ellie on Twitter, this lady was full of energy and Manchester United enthusiasm. It was impossible not to be the same around her! She also introduced me to Almanuman, a tall, distinguished gentleman with a very welcoming manner. They both conveyed a great sense of belonging to this Yank girl.

And then there was HappyHero. Where can I begin with this guy? Only one way -- Winkbang! (sorry, little inside joke, there.) And that pretty much sums this one up. Anytime he and I are on Twitter at the same time, you can be sure I am laughing. His quick wit is a sure-fire way to make you LOL. ;) But behind this funny guy lurks a heart of gold. During my ticket fiasco, he offered me his, and his kindness is something I will never forget. Thankfully, I didn't have to rob him of seeing the spectacular Rooney bicycle kick, but I was incredibly touched no matter.

They always say "small world," or "6 degrees of separation," positing that we're all connected in some way. This was never more evident than when we met Manutdot. First of all, let me say, this guy was the only one who was nothing like I'd imagined!! For some reason, I had darker hair and not as tall in my head. But, he was definitely as nice in person as he is on Twitter. He actually contacted United to put our names in the match program(me) as first time visitors to Old Trafford from the States! What an incredible keepsake. After the match as we were talking, we came to find out that he not only works for the same company as my husband's best friend from university, but he actually knows him!! Small, small world! We went to college in the one of the smallest states in the Union, the University of Delaware. To travel all the way to England, happen to meet a friend from Twitter, who happens to work with our friend? Total shock. And to say we got along well with Darren is an understatement. I (and especially my husband) really enjoyed his company, and we hope to see him every time we visit Manchester, and of course, if he ever travels to the States.

Meeting TreacleTart99 and Moscow21508 was like opening a gift that you didn't know you were getting, and it turns out to be exactly what you wanted. I wasn't sure what their plans were, and hoped they'd make it to the 'tweetup.' She might be surprised to learn this, but after becoming her friend on Twitter, I was a bit in awe of Treacs. She was just so funny and confident - it sounds cheesy, but I thought she was really cool! And when I met her in person, she was exactly the same. And, of course, completely genuine and kind as well. Moscow was the same. Funnily enough, during the match they took a photograph of the stand we were sitting in. They had no idea where our seats were, but after working it out looking at my pictures, they have a shot of us in the stands! Another fantastic memento of our trip to Old Trafford. We were extremely grateful to have met them both and spent time with them. Laughing and getting to know the two of them was a highlight of our trip.

I don't even know where to begin with SparklyDevil and Luzhniki2008. Because of them, this trip felt less like a tourist's journey and more like coming home to visit family. We have become indescribably close during my time on Twitter, discussing everything and anything under the sun. Our likes and dislikes are so similar and we are so like-minded in our values and priorities - I really mean the word when I call them family. They made us feel that way, nothing less. From dinners, to playing chauffeur and tour guide, the experience of having these two share their city with us was nothing less than magnificent. I know I have used a lot of superlatives in this post, but I don't know of any to describe how authentic, generous and kind-hearted these two people are. My gratitude for having them in my life (now and always) knows no bounds.

And, of course, last but certainly not least, we met Mike and Damon. Mike is SomersetReds' dad, and he and Damon met us outside Old Trafford to give us tickets to the match. Not only were they bestowing on us something akin to a golden ticket, but they seemed genuinely happy to be helping us. After giving us the tickets, Mike gave me an incredibly sweet smooch on the cheek and said how nice it was to meet me. I loved him :)

Going to Manchester is intrinsically momentous for a Red. But going to Manchester and having the pleasure and honor of meeting these people made the whole experience that much more special. You all have become so much more than names on a computer screen. Thank you for making our trip one we will never forget.

We can't forget to mention Blissbubbley, Spursboy, and the artist formerly known as MsMozza. We didn't catch up with them this time around, but you can bet I'm making sure of it next time we're in Manchester!

Arthritis, Schmarthritis!

The other week, I received two e-mails from different friends about arthritis. A friend's friend's daughter was diagnosed with the illness. A high school classmate was diagnosed. And they both got in contact with me to talk about it. I feel truly honored that they would want to share their diagnosis and feelings about it with me. I am no expert by any means, but I have been battling this disease for almost 20 years now, and it makes me so happy share some of the many lessons I've learned from it with other people in similar situations.

In 1990, I was a senior in high school. I was a cheerleader, had a fabulous group of friends and a great boyfriend. I was headed to the University of Delaware the following year, and you couldn't find a happier, more outgoing teenager than I was. The world was my oyster.

In the fall of that year, though, small things started happening with my body. I woke up one morning and couldn't straighten my elbow all the way out. On a vacation to Walt Disney World with my family, my hip gave out and was too sore to walk on. Eventually, all of the annoyances piled up, and even I had to admit there was something going on with me. I went to see so many doctors and had so many tests done! I saw an orthopedist, an orthopedic surgeon, was tested for Lyme disease...I even went to Childrens' Hospital in Washington, DC to have their specialists try and figure me out. In the end, I was diagnosed with Juvenile Rheumatoid/Osteaoarthritis.

The blow was devastating. There was no cure. I was going to have to live with this pain for the rest of my life. I was set to go to college, something I had been looking forward to for years. How could I walk across the campus if I could barely move? Why would anyone want to be friends with me and my stupid swollen joints? There was no more cheerleading, of course. I'd be lucky to walk across the stage unassisted at graduation. My boyfriend was 18 - how would he deal with a girlfriend who'd gone from a partying captain of the cheerleading squad to a fragile teenager in the body of an 80 year old -- all in the space of a few months? And the meds to keep me somewhat mobile - I couldn't drink alcohol on them. So fraternity parties were pretty much out the window, too. I was heartbroken and I grieved for what I was losing.

Flash forward 20 years. I have all the the things I never thought I would: a wonderful husband, two fantastic sons, an incredible experience working on Capitol Hill. And I kinda think, without the arthritis, I wouldn't have any of it. Having arthritis ended up giving me so much more than I ever lost:

• Acceptance. When I was first diagnosed, I was so afraid of being 'different.' When you're a teenager, and especially when going off to college, you desperately want to fit in, and be like everyone else. I didn't want to talk to anyone in the same situation as me, because they weren't like me. I was normal, they were not. Through my 20 year journey, I learned to accept not only my own situation, but also to accept that everyone has something that makes them different -- and special.
• Determination. Although I came to realize and live with what my life circumstances had become, I had so many things I was looking forward to doing, and through sheer power of will, I did them all. I was determined to have the full college experience, and through working with my rheumatologist, we found the right medications that allowed me to lessen the pain considerably. I joined a sorority, lived with roommates, attended parties and graduated on time. I was determined to fulfill my dream of working in the United States Congress and I did. I was determined to have a family, and I did.
• Patience. This might be the number one lesson I have learned through all of this. Nothing in life is quick or easy. Nothing worth having anyway. It's tougher for me to do anything, even open jars sometimes. I have had to become an exercise fanatic to keep my joints mobile. But, I know if I work hard and I am patient, I can accomplish anything anyone else can, even if it takes me a bit longer. This lesson has been extraordinarily valuable in all facets of my life - in the workplace, in my marriage, and especially when raising two crazy little boys!
• Understanding. When I was diagnosed, my boyfriend, whom I thought was the love of my life, broke up with me. I was inconsolable, and I bemoaned his selfish, shallow behavior. I couldn't grasp why he couldn't help as I was going through all of this. As I got older, I started to understand a bit better. He was 18 years old. He was just starting his own life. Of course he was a bit selfish. He was just a kid. It was scary and overwhelming and of course he had to split. I wished I could! I guess this goes along with learning acceptance. In life, you have to put yourself in others' shoes, not only to empathize with their perspective, but also to shed light on your own situation.
• Optimism. At the time of my diagnosis, I truly thought my life was over. Nothing in my future was going to be what I'd envisioned. I was in the darkest of places, and I couldn't see any way out. But life kept coming in spite of me, and I had to face it. I could either let this dastardly disease beat me, or I could show it who was boss. Nothing has ever been the same since I heard the word "arthritis," but that isn't necessarily a bad thing. My attitude since then is one of hope and sunny days ahead. No one ever got anywhere always anticipating the worst, and being frightened of what the future holds.
  

I would never go as far as to say that I'm glad I got arthritis. It's a terrible disease and I hate it. But, I have to respect it. I found medications that let me live my life relatively pain-free, and thanks to the exercise, I'm in the best shape I can be in. I have learned some incredibly important things from this disease that I might not have otherwise. I've determined that arthritis is what I have and not who I am, and I can recognize it as much a part of me as my blond hair. But make no mistake -- I am in charge. I did (and do!) what I want to do, and arthritis be damned. Arthritis, schmarthritis!

Disjointed December...

Whew! I'm finally sitting down to write on this last day of December, and the final sunrise of 2010. It's has been a crazy month -- traveling, shopping, celebrating, etc. I have felt surprisingly out of sorts without having the time to organize my thoughts here. I am so happy to be back!

The Saturday after Christmas, we packed up the boys and drove to Orlando, Florida and Walt Disney World. It was a 15-hour trip, and suffice it to say, long in many ways other than just duration. But, we did have a fantastic week at WDW, and this time the boys have drunk the Kool-Aid. They were just old enough to really appreciate every last bit, but young enough to really feel the magic (Disney magic = something you feel as a young'un, sometimes lose as a teen, but get it back as an adult!). More on our trip later.

After we got back from Florida, the Christmas season was in full-swing! I felt so behind, it was as if I'd woken up late and couldn't catch up with the rest of the class. We lost one weekend in December traveling back home, so we were forced to fit a month's worth of Christmas fun into only two weekends (it didn't help that Christmas fell on a Saturday). We went to the tree farm, decorated the house, rode the Christmas train, and did all of our gift shopping in what seemed like a whirlwind....all for the big day, which, as it always does, passed by in the blink of an eye.

All in all, December was a crazy month in which we didn't slow down even for a minute. I am so ready for 2011...I am looking forward to spending the winter getting organized, sharing some downtime with the family, and we are fortunate to have many exciting things to anticipate in the new year. Happy New Year, everyone!

Happy Thanksgiving!

As I reflect today (before I start my patriotic duty of overeating), I feel very, very lucky that it takes as long as it does for me to count my blessings.

I thank God for:

• My family. Those people who have known my my entire life and helped me become the woman I am today. My amazing husband, who has stuck by me through thick and thin for close to 14 years, who is my best friend and partner in crime. My beautiful boys who are my entire world, and who make my life sparkle.

• My friends. My old friends. My new friends. My Twitter friends. I love each and everyone of you, and my world wouldn't be the same without all of you to love.

• Our home. It might not be the biggest house in town, and there are some projects around here that need doing, but we have nice warm beds to sleep in, a snuggly couch to watch movies together, and a stocked up kitchen to keep our bellies full. Some people definitely don't have it as easy, and thank God for our house.

• Work. In this economy, there are many, many families who have lost jobs and are struggling to make ends meet. I am so grateful for my husband's job. Yes, he works crazy hours, and sometimes misses some of the fun stuff the boys are doing, but he has a job that puts food on our table and clothing on our backs.

• Strength and health. The boys are healthy! They both must wear glasses, but if that is the most of my worries, I am quite lucky!! So many parents and children must struggle with life-threatening illnesses and disabilities, and I am in awe of their strength. And speaking of strength, I am so blessed that God gave me a certain amount of strength during some crazy times...the strength to deal with my arthritis -- live with it for 20 years now, and keep on truckin'...the strength to have a stroke at a young age but persevere through it and continue on without a scratch.

• Last but not least, I'm thankful for a little football club up in the North of England that provides us with drama, entertainment, and passion for the entire family...! :)
  

I have so many, many blessings in my life. I am truly thankful for every little bit of my life. Thank you, Lord! :)

Movin' On Up...

Today was registration for the Spring soccer season at our township's recreation department. Now, we've done this six times in the past -- twice a year since Big Guy was 4 years old. So really, not a big deal, right? We should be old hands at this! But, something's a bit different this time -- Big Guy is moving up to U8.

I am sure you're probably scratching your head and wondering why this is blog-worthy at all. But, if you're a parent, and especially a football-loving parent, this a pretty big deal.

The first season we played U6, it was basically everything a soccer team should be for a four-year-0ld. They had cute little t-shirts (not kits), they played on a field with orange cones as goals, and they basically all swarmed after the ball up and down the field like one big rugby scrum! It was unbearably cute, all the little preschoolers running, dancing, twirling, and falling down on the pitch -- basically doing anything but actually playing the ball. Positions? Pah - even the goalkeeper didn't stay in the goal. And you can forget about passing. Most of the children were stealing the ball from their own teammates! Big Guy was the epitome of all of this...and my husband and I thought -- will he ever be ready for the big leagues (U8)?

This last season for Big Guy was different though. Towards the end of the season, my little attention seeker had stopped running along the sidelines, waving to the crowd. No more was he on the opposite side of the pitch from the swarm of kids around the ball. He wasn't dancing anymore -- he was dribbling, and he was scoring. All of a sudden, it was like a light switch turned on in his mind. He knew what to do, and he was doing it.

I can't even begin to tell you what this means to my husband. He's been an avid football player his entire life, and still plays twice a week. He'll say, "Whatever the boys want to do, it's fine with me. As long as they're happy." But you can bet your bottom dollar that seeing the Big Guy in action as he scored his first goal -- his big old macho heart was just bursting with pride.

Who knows where our son's big epiphany came from...coaching from Dad? The fact that we watch Manchester United religiously every week on television with him? Brainwashing? Haven't a clue. All we know Big Guy is really starting to develop the skills he needs to match the passion he has in his heart. I can only imagine his excitement when he dons his numbered jersey for the very first time. The look on his face will be priceless and I can't wait. He may be only moving up to U8, but for him, this will be a dream come true.

(Now we just hope and pray for the same epiphany for Little Guy! :)

Palace Baltimore -

I am consistently bemoaning the fact that the United States lags behind the rest of the world when it comes to support of football. Soccer. (We even call it the wrong name.) And although my heart and my family's belong to the mighty Manchester United, we try to support our local teams, if only to offer our patronage and encouragement to growing the sport here in this country.

Of late, we've been attending Crystal Palace Baltimore matches. CPB is a small, professional soccer team that competes in the United States Soccer Federation's 2nd Division. It's a really fun club to watch, and while not on par with the skill & talent level of United, it's a great way for the boys to get to watch live football. It's also a small enough club that they are able to go meet the players and get their autographs after home matches.

CPB is the sister club of the English Crystal Palace Football Club. Unfortunately, we are now hearing that the American club is facing the same financial problems as its UK counterpart. However, here, the club's problems lie with their lack of support. They don't have very many fans, and they don't even have their own stadium. And, as CPB was only founded in 2006, they don't have the history of their sister club, nor the deep bond with the fans they do have. I find this situation to be very sad...although my family has only been to two matches so far, both of the boys loved every minute. Especially the Big Guy. It is simply amazing how moved and inspired he was when he watched live football. It is safe to say that it solidified his love for the sport and his passion for the beautiful game. Between his loyalty to United, and seeing football played "in real life" right before his eyes, there is no doubt that he will be a lifelong football enthusiast.

And that's what makes the woes of CPB even more regrettable and disheartening. It feels as though they weren't even given the tools or the opportunity to succeed. All I can do is continue to give my family's support for the club, and desperately hope for some miracle to turn things around for CPB, like the happy ending that arrived in Selhurst Park.

Out of the Mouths of Babes...

If you're a parent, no doubt you have uttered the words, "When did he/she get so big?" It's amazing how quickly time passes when you have children. Every day they seem to be achieving a new milestone...my Big Guy is in first grade, and I could have sworn I just gave birth about a week ago. And my Little Guy? I don't even know when he got here!

The time passes so quickly, I need to slow down and start savoring these little people. On a daily basis, they crack me up with some of the comments they make and conversations they have with each other and me. I really need to start writing everything they say down -- they will be mortifying memories in high school, but they will love it when they get older...or at least their wives will!

Here is just a sampling of gems -- one day in the life of the Big Guy:

• "Can I wear my Manchester United jersey to my First Holy Communion?"
• Getting ready for CCD: "God school is fun!"
  
• As we are driving to my dad's birthday dinner: "So, how old is Papa now? One hundred?"
• Looking at his new winter coat: "Wow!! That is brilliant!"
  

Back To School...Blues? Bliss?

Well, after a summer of swimming lessons, karate class, and football games, it all came to an end today. Big Guy had his first day back at school.

This year, he started the 1st Grade. He was beyond excited; he couldn't wait to go to sleep last night to make sure he got "good rest" for his new year. He woke up this morning, and immediately wanted to get dressed and put on his backpack -- who needs breakfast?!?

I have mixed emotions about the boys starting back to school. We have had a great summer together, laughing, playing, just being together. I am going to miss not having my little buddies with me all day long. We've had a blast being bosom buddies for three months!

The beginning of another school year also serves as a milestone marker: they're another year older, and another year more independent from me. When they were babies, they relied on me for everything...and while they're still only 4 and 6, I see them getting their own snacks, going to the bathroom by themselves and getting dressed solo and it makes me realize: they're needing me less and less. Case in point: yesterday, a song came on the radio, and I started dancing around the family room. While they used to jump in and dance along with me, Big Guy said, "Mommy, can you please stop it?" It's going to be a tough transition for me from the center of their universe to the 'embarrassing mom!'

On the other hand, I do have to admit a little part of me is excited...Little Guy will be in preschool three days a week, and with Big Guy in school all day long -- that means Mommy will actually get some 'me' time!! There will be errands I can run and just jump in and out of the car -- no handing holding in parking lots or buckling and unbuckling of carseat belts. I can spend some time shopping for me or getting my nails done, stuff I can't do with two crazy boys in tow. Even cleaning the house without little messmakers following me around is (somewhat of) a luxury...

At any rate, school is here, whether it makes me happy or sad. They're growing up and stepping out, and I can either long for the days of babyhood or look excitedly to the next phase of their lives. Every year with them has been an adventure, and this one won't be any different. And, it doesn't hurt that a little bit of my 'pre-kids' self is coming back slowly as they grow. I'll just hold on tight to their little hands for as long as I can and say, "Bring on the future!"

5 Year Meme

Tag!! You're it! :)
This blog brought to you thanks to Sarah's Blog

Question 1: Where were you 5 years ago?
Five years ago, I'd just had a stroke (see more here). I had no residual effects, and I was well on the road to recovery. I actually had no idea just how 'normal' I was...two months after my stroke and subsequent neurosurgery, I found out I was expecting a child!! After everything my body had been through, my husband and I had a sort of unspoken agreement that we were lucky to have our family just as it was, the three of us. But, apparently, God had a different plan for us. A complete shock, and a lesson to all you young people -- it only takes once! :)

Question 2: Where would you want to be in 5 years time?
This is a tough one...one which I ask myself on a daily basis, though. In five years, the boys will be 11 and 9 years old and obviously in school all day. I would love to be working in the political arena again, with a job that's incredibly important yet extremely flexible. A job where I can do meaningful work, but yet allows me as much time as need or want to continue to raise my family. Does that exist?

Question 3: What are 5 things on your "To Do" list today?

1.) Make an eye doctor appointment for the Big Guy.
2.) Fold laundry
3.) Get in touch with the travel agent about November trip to Disney
4.) Order United shorts for the boys for football camp next week
5.) Finish this blog entry! :)

Question 4: What are 5 snacks you enjoy?

Well, enjoy and let myself indulge are two very different things!! I am very fitness-conscious and try really hard to eat healthfully - most of the time!! If I am being good, I love Rita's Italian Ice, guacamole, a juicy peach, popcorn or pita chips. If I am splurging, I love salt & vinegar potato chips, gummy bears, fudge, cookies or an ice cream cone!

Question 5: What would you do if you were a billionaire?
Wow, I could write a book to answer this question! If I won the lottery, first things first, I would take my family (including grandparents and cousins) to Walt Disney World. This would not only be a vacation, it would be time for the husband and me to figure out exactly what our plan would be for the money. We would make sure all of our family and extended family were taken care of. We would buy a new house. (Not too huge, mind you, but with all of the latest green technologies.) We would set aside a trust for the boys' university. And then we would travel. We would see everywhere and do everything. My goal would be to become as familiar with all of the great cities of the globe as I am with my hometown. Finally, last but not least...I would buy a little football club in Manchester, England...!

I'm supposed to tag 5 fellow bloggers, but other than the two fabulous ladies mentioned below, I only follow football blogs! :)

Soapgirl at Soapgirl's Thoughts
Sarah at Sarah's Blog

Five Years and Counting...

Five years ago today, I was living with my husband and the big guy at my parents' house. Our home was being remodeled and expanded, and we were staying with them during the construction. The day started much like any other. We were sitting in the family room, enjoying a little raisin toast, watching the then 18-month-old big guy run around, and following the "Today" show's continuing coverage of the previous week's London bombings.

As we (my mother, husband, son & I) were enjoying the morning, I started to get a ringing in my ears. It was not the normal ringing that everyone gets occasionally. It was so loud, it drowned out everything, the television, my toddler, everything. I started to panic and exclaimed to my husband, "I can't move!!" and indeed, I felt like I couldn't move my arms or legs. However, according to my husband, I was flailing wildly, thrashing all of my limbs about.

My husband called an ambulance and I was taken to the hospital right away. We spent the entire day in the Emergency Room where none of the doctors could figure out what was wrong with me. I was in and out of consciousness while they ran myriad tests. They were reluctant to give me a CT scan to check me out neurologically, because I was too young for that type of ailment. Finally, at the end of the day when the doctors had exhausted all of their options, they scheduled me for a CT scan. Turns out I'd had a stroke with a cerebellar infarction, which had caused a clot in my brain.

I was pretty much out of it as they came to this diagnosis, and my parents were home taking care of my son. The neurologist and the neurosurgeon were at odds on how to treat me. The neurosurgeon took my husband into a utility closet, and basically said to him, "If we don't operate on your wife, she is going to die." My poor husband, he said he immediately wanted to call a 'grown-up' because he didn't know what to do. He decided to sign the consent papers and go ahead with the surgery.

To make a long story short, they put me into a medically-induced coma, performed the surgery to remove part of my cerebellum and I stayed in the ICU for about a week. While this was an excruciating time for my family, I barely remember any of it. The recovery wasn't too bad either. I was in physical therapy for about a month, and then I was released. I have a huge scar from the base of my skull to about half way up my head but that's it. I have absolutely no residual effects.

I would never, ever say I am glad this happened, but I am thankful for the awesome perspective it gave me, and how it demonstrated what is important. My family, friends, health, happiness are really all that matters in this life. It also really taught me that things I thought were so vital, like material possessions or petty jealousies, really aren't worth it.

So, five years later, not only going strong, but almost like my stroke never even happened. I never much thought about the phrase, "What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger" until this. I'm happy to say I'm living proof.