To send or not to send...

Gracen is now a preschooler...that's right...a full-fledged circle-time pro.  Where has the time gone?  She has begged me for the past year to put her in school, and we finally did it!  Her first day was September 6th, and I have to tell you....she's a natural.  The bell rings and she barely kisses me good-bye! 

Today I was faced with my first dilemma as the mom of a preschooler.  Gracen has a cold that she's been working on for a couple of days now.  She is stuffy and has a small cough, but her nose is not pouring out snot, and she has no fever.  In fact, she's eating fine, drinking fine, sleeping fine, and bouncing off the walls like normal.  My question this morning was, "Send her to school or keep her home?"  So, here is the decision I made...

I kept her home.

I have to tell you that given all the circumstances (and the fact that I have gotten really used to that 2 1/2 hours of having only one kid), this was a really hard decision for me to make.  Soooooooo, I put my teacher hat on and remembered how I loathed the parents that would send their kid to me, doped up on Benadryl, hacking their heads off with snot pouring out of their nose and the need to get up for a tissue every 5 minutes.  Oh how I would shake my head in disgust and use my hand sanitizer every 2 seconds!  And people, I'm not exaggerating. 

SO, hence my decision came to keep my kiddo home and have her rest up (even though she didn't even do that).  She has "Donuts for Dad" on Thursday too, and I don't want her to miss that! 

Weigh in, moms...what would be your decision?

On the eve of Dad's 57th birthday...

Last year we celebrated in a hospital room.  This year we will mourn at a gravesite.  My dad would've turned 57 tomorrow had he not lost his battle with cancer. I have never really reflected upon just how young 57 is until I've had to project it as a "could've been/would've been situation".  Fifty-seven is entirely too young to meet The Maker. 

I have bittersweet memories of last year's birthday.  Sweet, because my dad was still with us.  Bitter, because he was so drugged up that he was giddy one minute and angry and in pain the next.  Bitter, because my children couldn't play with him.  Bitter, because we had to take turns going in and out of his small little room.  Bitter, because I had to watch my grandparents cry.  Bitter, because I had no idea that he would be taken from us 13 days later. 

Yes, in 13 days, our year of "firsts" will end:  first holidays without dad, first birthdays without dad, etc.
Dad became an angel on September 17, 2010. 

I have to shamefully admit that for years and years, I didn't fully understand the punishment that was given to Adam and Eve....and to the rest of us for the sin they committed.  And now I totally get it.  In theory, if Adam and Eve had never committed the first sin, none of us would have Original Sin and we would all live forever.  However, because of Adam and Eve we all had to experience mortality.  None of us will live forever on earth. Thus, Jesus died on the cross to save us from sin so that we may have eternal life in Heaven.  LIGHT BULB:  God gave humans the worse punishment ever; death.  In my opinion, there is no greater punishment than the absolute permanence and finality of death.  Nothing.

The nights are always the worse, which probably explains why I'm pouring my heart and thoughts out on to paper at this very moment.  For weeks, I've been thinking of what I would do on Dad's birthday.  I had an idea that I would hide out at my house; away from everyone.  I'm beginning to think that's not the best idea. 

Tomorrow, Dad will be remembered at the 11:30 mass at St. John's.  I am the one who asked that it be on that day.  What was I thinking?  I know a good majority of my family will be going, but I am sorry to say that I'm not sure I am ready for that.  In essence, all of my family gathered in memory of my father is too closely related to his funeral...all we are missing is a casket. I'm not ready for it yet.  Just as I am not ready to visit his gravesite.   He's not there anyway.  So, while I will be attending mass tomorrow in memory of my dad, I doubt that I will be attending the 11:30 mass.  I'm not ruling it out, but the odds aren't looking good.  I just want everyone to know why I'm not going.  I know I'm not getting any "Daughter of the Year" award any time soon, but in reality, I am weak and it's too much to take. I apologize in advance, Mom and Stephen and the Spalding Family. 

So Dad, Happy Birthday.  I hope you are able to tune into us down here from time to time.  I hope you were able to see Gracen tell Uncle Stephen today that it was not his garage, it was "Poppy's Garage".  I hope you were able to see Parker whisper "Pop" tonight when looking at your picture.  And I certainly hope you were able to see the horrific preseason game that the Cowboys had last night against the Dolphins.  Could you send a little help their way, perhaps? 

But in all seriousness, we love and miss you every second of every day.  You'll be in all of our hearts and minds tomorrow. Be with us.   Love to you always~ Shannon

Still Searching...

It has been almost a year since my father passed away.  I have spent 1 Halloween, 1 Thanksgiving, 1 Christmas, 1 birthday for Gracen, 1 birthday for Samuel Parker, 1 Easter, 1 Birthday for me, 1 Father's Day, and 1 July 4th without him.  I have one more "event" to go, and that would be his birthday, September 4th. He died on September 17, 2010.  So, it's been about 11 months, and I'm still wondering if I'll ever find God again.

As you well know, when Dad got sick, I took a leave of absence from teaching.  Part of my job description required that I teach religion everyday to my students.  I used to LOVE that first period in the morning.  I would get so excited talking about whatever the topic was for that day.  I swear, it was the Holy Spirit that would just pour into me, and I would find myself rambling on and the kids were either a) still asleep or b) totally engaged.  I just loved it, and the feeling I would get of absolute love from God was just unbelievable.  It would consume me.  Around Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter it was even more powerful.  Just the thought of our Savior coming into this world or dying on the Cross for us would bring tears to my house.  It was a strong and powerful feeling, and I'd give anything to feel that way again.

Of course, after my dad died, I went through the typical emotions/resentment/anger.  How could this happen?  Especially given my mother's background....how could this be?  We were good people.  My dad was a faithful Catholic, etc.  It just wasn't fair!  But over time, my anger has subsided.  It has been replaced with a void....this awful, non-feeling void.  I don't hate God, nor am I mad at him.  But do I feel like I have lost all connection and hope in Him?  Well....yes.  And this frightens me.  I frightens me and makes me sad.  I used to be a good person--a great person!  I used to CARE.  Now what?  There's nothing there but emptiness. 

I'm ashamed to admit that my visits to church are sporadic.  My husband works nearly every weekend, and I could take the kids to church by myself, but then I would come out looking like a ragic lunatic.  And even when my husband isn't working, it's hard to get out of the house and not lounge around and enjoy the few minutes we do have together.  I miss talking with my pastor.  Now, I'm ashamed to even show my face at church.

I have no desire to pray.  I feel no connection.  If someone asks me to pray for them, I do.  I just feel like a hypocrit...you know like why pray when I'm only asking for something and then I'm not even doing my part. 

I believe leaving my job has somewhat led to my downhill religious spiral as well.  Teaching at a Catholic School and being around the kids kept me IN my religion constantly.  I didn't just have to think about it or teach it...I had to live it. 

So there are my thoughts that weigh heavy on me tonight...and every night.  I can't believe it's taken me this long to put them in print.  Have you ever lost God?  How did you find him again?

A Walmart gift card....

"I don't want anything.  There's nothing I need.  Save your money....

Well, if you want to get me something, get me a Walmart gift card.  I can always find something out of there."

Every year for Father's Day, or every year for any holiday, these were my Dad's exact words.  He was a very simple guy.  He never needed or wanted anything expensive or fancy.  His garage was his haven...with anything a man could possibly ever want:  a large TV, grill, fry-daddy, chairs, picnic table, all the tools in the world, etc.  And just like he said...anything he could ever want/need would be found at Walmart.  I would always get so aggravated at this response from him.  Walmart, REALLY?  I would always beg him to think of something that I could buy other than that gift card---a real, tangible, WRAPPABLE gift, but his answer was always the same.

I would give anything in the world to buy that gift card again this year.

Last year we celebrated Father's Day and my birthday together...on a Friday, June 18th.  I would be leaving for a week at the beach with my in-laws that Sunday so I wouldn't be around.  I didn't necessarily want to be absent for Father's Day, but I knew Dad wouldn't think anything of it, and I didn't have a choice.  Of course, I regret that this year.  Take it from me, don't leave things for regret.

Yesterday was my 32nd birthday.  The day was way more emotional for me than I had expected.  As we sat around the table last night at the restaurant, there was definitely a void.  Dad was surely always there for my birthday dinners, always called me separately from his cell phone, and even sent me an e-mail last year that read: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU AND YOU DON'T LOOK A DAY OVER 31 HA.

He was so proud of himself for beginning to master e-mail and the internet!

Every single one of us walks this earth as though we are immortal.  And that's a good thing because if we remembered that we weren't, every second would be miserable and anxiety ridden! Sometimes though, I stop and think about how I could be gone in an instant, or God forbid my children, or husband.  I think the cause of my grief and anger about my dad is that he was taken from us quickly...and what seems like a "young" age.  But in reality, I am no different than the friend of a 21-year-old just killed, the mother of a 6 year old with terminal cancer, or the young widow without a husband.  We all think that you get "old" and then die, but in reality there is no specific age or no way of knowing when your time will come. 

Back in May, a crazy group of "Christians"...and I use that term loosely, predicted that the end of the world would be May 21, 2011.  Well, it's June 19, 2011, and I'm still sitting here.  They may have been wrong about a cumulative judgment day for the whole world, but if you think about it, I'm sure May 21st was judgment day for many people that day.  Any given day could be judgment day for us. 

So on this Father's Day, I'm going to celebrate my husband, my father-in-law, and MY DAD.  Dad, you were certainly one of the absolute best Dads and Granddads in the world.  I wish I would've told you that more often, but I'm sure you know.  Happy Father's Day, Dad.   I hope Heaven has a Walmart.

Dad and Gracen

Taken June 18, 2010.

Short and not so sweet.

There are some days....and some moments in time...when I want to yell and scream and stomp and shake my fists in the air because I'm soooooooooooooo angry that my dad is gone.  Then I end up just crying myself to sleep.  This, is one of those times.  I miss you more than anything, Dad.  It still doesn't seem real that you are gone.

Children keep you grounded.

If you ever want to have your heart ripped out and stomped on....or just feel like you are going to hurl up everything you have eaten in the past week....just talk to my daughter for a few minutes.

I don't mean this in a bad way so please don't take it as that.  Tonight when I was getting Gracen ready for bed, she randomly started talking about my dad...her "Poppy".  At first I thought she was talking about her great grandfather, "Pop Lynch" (whom she had spent the day with), but when I asked her she said, "No, POPPY."  She spoke briefly about the two of them playing in the backyard together and then said to me, "Mom, Poppy doesn't want to play with me anymore".  Insert knife into heart, here.

For starters, this completely shocked me because this has never come out of her mouth.  She will talk about Poppy and how he's in Heaven and with the angels and all of that but has never said anything so sad.  It makes me wonder if she has thought this all along, and it also makes me wonder how in the world I can get through to a child who is only 3 years old.  How can I get through to her that she was her Poppy's world?  How do I make sure that she knows (and Parker too) that they were the absolute apples of my Dad's eye?

I crawled into bed with her after that and silently cried my eyes out while she watched.  I told her that Poppy LOVED her and LOVED playing with her very much but that he got very sick and had to go with Jesus.  That's the best I could do, but she seemed fine with that and was rambling about something else before I knew it.  Dad often comes to me in my dreams....sometimes even right on command when I ask him.  I hope he does that for her tonight. I hope that he can visit his "Baby Girl" as she sleeps and is able to reassure her that it had nothing to do with not wanting to play. 

Just when I thought my bitterness and anger had slowly faded away, they returned within an instant.  Gracen's words, and her sweet little voice as she was saying them, will haunt me for a long time to come. I'm unloading this onto my blog, not to depress you, but to try to get out it out of my head and into words.....maybe then it'll leave me alone. 

It's Holy Thursday and tomorrow is Good Friday.  It's also my wedding anniversary.  I think this is the time of year that I miss my Dad the most. 

Everyone is looking for something...thoughts about communication with the other side.

Ever since my Dad died, life has taken on a whole new meaning for me.  I know it's a cliche, but I have more questions than answers.  I wonder about things more deeply than I ever did before (and that's saying a lot), and I want answers.  I used to be content with what I "knew," but death has opened up a whole new realm for me.....and so, here are my thoughts.....

Growing up Catholic and with a very, very, very religious mother, I was always told that you walk by faith, not by sight.....or anything else for that matter.  So let me start out with this disclaimer first.  Yes, I do believe in God the Father, Jesus the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  I do believe that we are cared for by a very loving God who doesn't MAKE things happen but ALLOWS them to happen for whatever reason.  I believe there is life beyond this world and there are 3 places that you could possibly end up when you die.  I have no doubt about any of this.  There is another beautiful and wonderful place beyond this world and that's all we should live for.  I get that.  I just think that people forget we are human.

As humans, we need answers....we need rationality....we need to know or believe that there is a purpose or a reason behind everything or for everything.  And I believe God understands that need because we ARE ONLY HUMAN. 

My Dad was a great man, an awesome father, an awesome husband, and an awesome Poppy.  I want to know WHY God "allowed" this to happen to him.  WHY my kids won't have time with him.  WHY he died so young and WHY he suffered so much.  Fr. Ray says not to ask WHY but ask WHAT we can do and God will always give us an answer.  I totally agree, but it's still frustrating. 

So......here's where I'm going with all of this......

A dear relative of mine (who will remain nameless!) sent me a few books in the mail recently.  One of them is entitled, George Anderson's, Lessons from the Light.  Of course, here is another "no-no" as a Catholic.  You are supposed to believe and that's it----no questions asked.  And you are CERTAINLY NEVER SUPPOSED TO SEEK THE HELP OR ADVICE OF A PSYCHIC OR MEDIUM.  And now here comes my next disclaimer.
I don't deal with the oujia board---as I believe it can let in evil.  In the same respect I worry about psychics too.....but this book does have my attention.

As I began reading about George Anderson and his life, I learned some very important things.  Number 1 being that he was born and raised Catholic.  Number 2 being that he claims he "hears" and communicates with the saints a lot.....very interesting.  Number 3 being that from what I read concerning his discernments (as he calls his meetings with the souls)  and meeting with families that he's pretty right on the money.  This guy is pretty credible in many ways.  The thing I like most about what he says is that his gift is not something people should rely on....that one visit is pretty much enough.  He also says that it isn't for everyone and that it is not meant to take away grief, which is a healing process all on its own. 


His book contains chapters with full transcripts of meetings he has had with individuals who have suffered the loss of a child, spouse, etc.  He provides a connection and peace for these people....and sometimes even closure that no one else can.  In some respects, he's even given me a little bit of peace.  For instance, he speaks of some souls who have come through to him....people who have died in tragic ways.  He says that when the souls come through that they tell him that they never suffered.  That even when their body was in so much trauma that God took care of them and their body went into a state that allowed no pain or suffering in.  I would love to believe this was the case with my dad, who not only suffered greatly the last two months of his life, but who also suffered greatly during his last hours. And if believe that makes me feel better, then what's so sinful?  He also says in his book that souls have told him they communicate through dreams with their loved ones.  This is especially meaningful to me as my dad appears in my dreams quite often.  Whether the dreams make sense or not (sometimes they do and sometimes they don't), I still love when he visits them.  For a minute, it feels like he is still with us.

There was a time long ago when I would've been an extremely narrowed minded person and spit on this book as blasphemy.  Now, having been through something so tragic, my mind is a bit more open.  Could this man have a real gift....a way to bridge us to the other side? Maybe or maybe not.  It's up for each individual to decide.

I have some dear friends who are really going through a rough time lately, and my heart aches for them.  I've been there....on a different level....but still hurting.  I really think this book would be good for them. 

So what do I believe?  I believe that God knows we are all human....therefore imperfect and sometimes needing a little more (He made us, right?).  I believe that all humans are put here on earth to help one another.  Some of us do and some of us don't, but we are all MEANT to help in different ways.   And I don't believe (anymore) that it's all "sinful" to need a few answers every now and again.  There is a fine line, which is not to be crossed......and I don't plan on crossing it. 

Everyone is looking for something, don't you think?  Are you looking?

And with all that being said, I'm going to let my good, Catholic guilt set in now for writing this blog. Think I'm kidding?  Nope, definitely not.

The life of a charter mate widow...

Tomorrow is the start of Trophy Rockish season on the Chesapeake.  I have a love/hate with this season. 

My love:
The money.  The money is incredible.  And often times my husband is generous with it (generous to me).  Now that I'm not working, the money is also very needed.  We can "survive" on one salary, but extras are a source of stress and arguments = not a fun way to live.

My hate: 
No one person should have to work 7 days a week.  Stephen works no less than 12 hours each day on the weekend.  Most of the time it's more like 14 hours or more.  The work is hard on him.  It racks his body, and it makes me feel awful.  He likes the money, and he used to like the work, but it's no longer fun for him.  In fact, I'm pretty sure it's something that he resents after the first few weekends.  I know he's happy that he still has the opportunity, but I'm sure that if there were "another way," he would do it.

In addition to the stress that the boat puts on my husband is the stress that it puts on me.  Last year at least I was working with adults 5 out of 7 days during the week, but now I'm "stuck" all 7 days during the week without any help or companionship from him.  Thank goodness I have no problem taking the kids out by myself and I get help from the grandmas, but it's not like having my husband here. 

Our weekends of actually getting out and being with other adults are permanently put on hold as well since Stephen has to get up and leave around 4 each morning.

Last but equally as important, I feel sorry for my poor kids.  They love their Dad to death, and it's going to rock their world that's he won't be here on the weekend. 


...And so begins my life as a charter mate widow.  IN addition begins my quest to take on more tutoring kids and to find another way of making money short of selling crack or my body (laugh, people, laugh).  Guess I need to be a little more faithful to my blog....think of a cool invention..... or something! 

And of course as if this drastic change isn't bad enough, I seem to be missing my Dad WAY more than usual lately.  I think it's the Spring weather...and something about Easter approaching.  Gracen informed me today that her "other Poppy would help her hunt for eggs this year.  Last year was her first year doing it, and Dad helped her.  When I asked her who helped her last year she said that Poppy did.  I asked where Poppy was now, and she said, "In Heaven Mom, feeding the cows."  I chuckled and said, "Oh he is feeding the cows in Heaven?"  She said, "No, he's an angel, Mom." 

Seriously, I couldn't make this stuff up even if I tried.  She has an incredible memory of time with her Poppy, and I am so thankful for that.  I hope she will always be able to remember their time together.   I have done nothing but sob while looking at these pics of Dad and Gracen together last Easter.  It just can't be possible....

And to throw ANOTHER loop into this crazy...all over the place, blog.  The Tiki Bar opened today--WOO HOO!  All I know is that 4 years ago, Tiki Saturday fell on April 21st.....the day of my wedding. :)

Mom's gettting a pool...

And it's bittersweet.

For years now, we have been bugging my mom (and dad) to put in a pool.  Every year, we have failed.  Dad swore up and down he would "never have another pool." They were too much work he said, and we never used it when we did have one (his other excuse).  And so, the announcement that Mom had decided to put in a pool has brought excitement and elation...but also a very bittersweet feeling.  Sitting at that pool this summer and staring over at Dad's garage, will be a painful reminder of his absence.  Basically, the only way we would've ever gotten one was "over his dead body" as he used to say.  Unfortunately now, that's true.

I had to pick up Mom this morning from the local mechanic.  She needed to get her oil changed so the kids and I headed out early and I gathered my clothes and stuff together so I could shower at her house. 

It sounds funny, but when I go into Mom's house, I still search for any "signs" of Dad.  Until recently, his shoes were still on the stairs in the garage.  They are gone now.  His clothes are no longer hanging in the closet.  I don't blame my mom for packing these things away. I know it must be painful to have them lying around. 

As I brought my things back into my old bedroom and bathroom in my parent's house, I closed the doors and turned on the water to let it get hot.  I pulled out 3 collages that were put together for my Dad's funeral.  The pictures of him are all so real and alive.  For seconds I still think that it's another ordinary day, and he's at work.  Then I remember.

I got into the bathroom and close the 3rd door (my bedroom was attached to the hallway bathroom, so in all there are 3 doors between it and my bedroom.  The door in between my bedroom and the bathroom has a full-length mirror attached to the bathroom side. I still remember my dad hanging it there for me.  For a split second, I see the "old" Shannon, and I suddenly feel ten years younger again.  The sound of my children are drowned out, and I feel like I'm getting ready to go to work or go out on a date again.  Crazy, but such a great feeling comes over me. 

I can still remember getting out of that same shower and getting ready for work, walking out in the kitchen and seeing Dad standing there----leaning up again the countertop---most likely eating a banana...haha.  In the same instance, I vividly remember stepping out of the shower and getting ready for an important date with Stephen, heading up to Mom Mom's house, heading out to get food on a Friday evening with Dad, or even going out to have my hair done the morning of my wedding.

I think there will always be comforts that you receive from the "house you grew up in".  I think I would give anything to curl up in that horribly hard mattress tonight, with the ceiling fan on, and sounds of the tv coming from the living room.  There really is, "No Place Like Home."

Sooooooo I'm pretty sure I have....

Seasonal Depression
and
Rage with my small living space

I've decided that I can no longer look at the weather forecast.  It's too depressing.  I see the pattern of SHOWERS, SHOWERS, MOSTLY CLOUDY, 58, 45, SHOWERS, SHOWERS. 

I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!  ENOUGH ALREADY!

I think if I had a 9-5 job, things would be very different.  Rain everyday?  Oh well, I'm stuck inside anyway.  However, the fact that I am now flanked by a 3 year old and 1 year old everyday certainly changes the equation.  They're going crazy, and I'm going crazy...and vice versa.  It's springtime right?  So why did it snow an inch on Sunday morning? 

In addition to being stuck inside with a 3 year old and 1 year old, I'm also stuck inside with tons of clutter.  Samuel Parker's 1st birthday party was a huge success, and I'm so very grateful for everyone that came and shared in his day. 

I just have no idea what to do with A) everything left over and B) all of the gifts! 

My living space is roughly 1100 square feet.  I don't have any room left. Everywhere I turn, there's a pile of this here or a pile of that over there.  I'm ready to being pitching things, but most of everything that is upstairs IS being used.  I'm ready to pull every strand of hair out of my head.  Even if I DO have some ideas of how to store things, the question is WHEN will I get the time to do it?  I certainly can't begin tossing toys with two children standing next to me. 

So, I'm reaching out in an effort to alleviate my frustration!  A) How are you dealing with the weather and B) Any ideas for producing extra space?

Happy Birthday, baby boy...

A year ago tonight, I was fast asleep in my bed.  Okay....probably not fast asleep as I was big and fat and uncomfortably pregnant with Samuel Parker!  I had no idea that in just a couple of short hours, I would wake up and think I had peed my pants....go back to sleep and wake up again....still thinking I had peed my pants a second time but deep down really knowing better.  We called my mother-in-law and off we went at 12:30 a.m. to St. Mary's Hospital.  There, the nurses confirmed that indeed it was not a case of a weak bladder, but rather my water had broken! 

At 9:37 a.m., March 22, 2010, we welcomed Samuel Parker Armsworthy into this world.  He was out within a push and a half.  I just remember thinking he was so tiny.  7 lb isn't really THAT tiny but he was such a little peanut!  I just remember looking at his wide little nose and thinking....."Man, he looks just like Dad!"

And a year later, that pretty much still stands true.  You'll be hell bent to find someone who DOESN'T say that he looks just like my dad or my brother.  And when you hear someone say that, you'll never get a bigger smile out of me.

I can't believe that I want to cry while sitting here writing this.  My little boy will be 1....ONE!  There is something so special about a Mommy and her little boy, and I never would've believed it until I had my son.  The best thing is that now he walks around saying, "Momma, momma."  Oh, talk about melting your heart! 

This year has been filled with the greatest sadness I have ever known....and the greatest happiness.  I find it hard to grasp the fact that my dad only got to see the first six months of Parker's life here on earth.  He missed Halloween...Christmas...his first birthday.  He was able to experience all of those things with Gracen and Gracen was able to experience them all with him.  I can't help but to think that Samuel Parker has been cheated out of one of the greatest blessings ever....getting to know his Poppy. 

And then I glance over at him....two little bottom teeth and a smile that would light up the room, and I think....I know that Dad lives on IN Samuel Parker.  I realize what a special thing it is that my little boy carries on the name of his grandfather AND great-grandfather.  I know that people smile when they see Sammy Parker because he reminds them of dad....he is gentle and approachable...and has a chuckle that would melt anyone's heart. 

Thank you, Samuel Parker Armsworthy, for being such a joyous, sweet, kind, loving, and handsome little boy.  You are loved soooooooooooo very much!

I think I'm becoming neurotic in my old age.

The images that have been coming out of Japan over the past few days are beyond horrifying and frightening and they are serving as quite the wake-up call to me in more ways than one. 

The first thing I keep thinking about are my children.  I can't imagine being in that situation (and I hope I never have to) and feeling the panic that the Japanese people felt that day....especially those with young children.  I would do anything to protect my babies and the thought of them in harms way or suffering in any way absolutely rips me to pieces.  What would I do?  How would I respond?  I would hope that God would grant me serenity and calmness to know what to do.  And then I begin thinking, "Well, how prepared am I?"  I look across the street at a wide open and beautiful field.  I am not surrounded by water, tall skyscrapers, or millions of people, and I am so thankful for that.  I do feel as though living out in the country makes me a tad safer and the thought of living in a close city terrifies me.  BUT, with the power plant not far from here, I've started thinking about what I can do and what I will start to do to make sure my family is as safe as possible in case of a catastrophe.  Here are some of my ideas...

1.  I need to be better about keeping my car at least half full of gas---extremely hard to do these days with the way gas prices are, but necessary nonetheless.  If something were to happen, God forbid, I'm sure I'd be hell bent to find a gas station that I could get in and out of quickly.

2.  I'm considering putting together a duffle bag of clothing with one pair of pjs and one pair of regular clothes for my children and me and Stephen as well.  I just bought a case of water at Target the other day, and I haven't taken it out of my car.  I think I'll keep it there actually.  In addition to clothes, I will probably pack a few small toys or familiar things that my kids can take with them.

3.  I had actually considered getting my entire family, passports.  Although, my husband is probably right in saying that if we ever need to flee this country then we may as well forget about it all.

4.  I'm really bad about keeping cash on me.  I normally ALWAYS use my debit card. Just like the gas stations though, ATMs and banks would probably be closed or not working more than likely.

5.  A long time ago, I started sleeping with three things beside me (not just the baby monitor); my car keys, my purse, and my cell phone (charging).  If I needed to make a run for it, for any reason, these 3 things are of the utmost importance.

6. Lastly, I need to have a plan.  Even though I cannot wait to go back to teaching, times like these make me thankful that I am at  home with my babies and know that they are with me a majority of the time.   Stephen of course is at work so it would probably be a good idea to formulate a play where I could meet him.  If he's at the shop, we can meet up at the house but he's normally not there so we need to think of a place where we could meet and take off. 

In addition, to all of this "disaster-preparedness" I've also been thinking even deeper.  You know, I've always been taught to believe that God doesn't MAKE things happen; He ALLOWS them to happen.  Then again, that would totally contradict the whole "destroying the world by flood" thing too.  Anyway, I'm not gloom and doom but I really do believe that events such as what has happened in Japan are a big wake-up call for all of us and perhaps even a nudge from the Big Man.  I do believe that natural disasters and events such as these are a result of sin in the world.  I'm not sure of the exact correlation but that is what I believe....and if I think about it hard enough, it scares me.  Honestly, I'm very thankful and more motivated now than ever to make sure I attend mass every weekend, stick to my sacraments, and live my life as a good person.  Will I have my days?  OF COURSE!  But, I'm going to try.  Especially during this season of Lent, I'm trying to readjust some things and change my life around a bit. 

So, let me apologize in advance if this blog was a bit Debbie Downer-ish to you, but it's been weighing on my mind.  Who knows?  Maybe it's been on yours too.

Happy Shrove Tuesday...

Or Fat Tuesday....or Mardi Gras....or whatever you celebrate.  As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.


Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent.  The beginning of all beginnings in my opinion.


I absolutely love Christmas time---even with my extreme confusion this year, I still loved it.  I love the tree, the warmth of cuddling with the kiddos, and the anticipation of the big day.  However, I'd have to say that the Lent and Easter season not only run a very close second, but might actually beat my love of the Advent/ Christmas season.  Yes, there I said it. 


To me, there is something so very "magical" about Lent and Easter.  It's probably cliche to say that it's like a "new beginning" because in essence, that truly IS what it's all about.  But there is just something about this time of year; the weather and the promise of spring coming and then the beautiful story of the ultimate sacrifice ---it just can't be touched. 


Lent is a new beginning because it's a time for reflection and change (Atheists would like to call this "New Year's").  We can look back on what we would like to "fix" in our lives and then have the perfect "excuse" to do it.  I'm not sure what I'm giving up for the next forty days or what I'm going to do, but I'm sure it'll come to me by tomorrow.  I need some quiet time for reflection, and well......you know quiet time around here doesn't come freely!  :)  Besides, if I boldly stated what my Lenten promises and sacrifices were then of course I would be boasting...and that's a no-no.


I can't write this blog without reflecting on my past Lents as a religion teacher at St. John's.  I am going to miss spending the next 40 days with the most awesome faculty and students ever.  I used to love working on Lenten projects and having special guests come visit our school during this time of year.  I would begin each religion class by reading from the little Lenten booklet  that the parish would provide.  It always had an interesting fact for the day, a Bible verse, and then an explanation of that Bible verse.  In addition, it would leave you with a little "thought" to ponder for the day.  This book always opened up such great discussions and really worked the minds of 9 and 10 year olds.  It was fabulous, and I cannot tell you how sad I will be to miss all of it this year.  I hope this will be the first and only year I ever have to miss it.  Oh...and Stations of the Cross....how could I forget that?  If you haven't been to Stations of the Cross in years (or at all), I strongly urge you to attend a few at St. John's.  They are normally held on Thursday afternoons during Lent (check the school website http://www.sjshollywood.org/).  There is nothing more refreshing and uplifting than remembering and celebrating the way of the cross with young children. 


I was very large and pregnant during Lent last year.  My dad was still alive and we had no idea of what was to come.  I've said it a thousand times, but things can change so dramatically in one year.  There is no better time than Lent to make a new beginning.  There is no better time to start over.  I still have many feelings over the passing of my dad.  I still close my eyes at night and see his immense suffering, and I cry over it.  I still wonder why it all had to end...I'd even be satisfied to know why it had to end THAT way.  But I've also realized that my bitterness and anger will not bring my father back.  If I truly believe that my Dad is in Heaven, then I have to believe there is a Heaven.  I have to believe that there is a greater and more wonderful being that governs that Heaven.  If I don't then I'm either a fool...or a hypocrit.  And who really wants to be that? I'm not totally healed....but I'm getting there.


We've all heard of the "30 Day Challenge"...it's going around everywhere, and it can be anything from a silly facebook photo game to a diet challenge.  So I say why not start the "40 Day Challenge"?  You in? 

Before I lay me down to sleep....

I have purposely tried to avoid writing blogs like these lately.  No one wants to hear someone constantly whine about missing a loved one.  Just tonight though, I had to write.

I just finished about a 1/3 of Samuel Parker's birthday party invitations.  I can hardly believe that in 3 short weeks, I'll have a one year old. 

It's a cliche, but it absolutely amazes me how much things can change in one year.  This time, last year, we were just nestling into our new home, teaching at Holy Angels.  The snow had finally cleared and spring-like weather was rounding the corner---just as it is this year.  We were already into Lent, and I was thinking that on or around April 3rd, I'd give birth to my baby boy.  Little did I know that he would arrive just three weeks from tomorrow. 

As I was writing out Parker's party invitations, my Dad sat next to me the entire time.  I couldn't help but to be sad and shed a few tears, thinking about how he'll miss out on his namesake's first birthday.  I was able to see Dad with Gracen at that age, but Parker will never know his Poppy...and even though his Poppy can see him from Heaven, he'll never have a relationship with him.  There was something so special about the relationship between Dad and Gracen.  I can't even imagine how wonderful Dad and Parker's relationship would've been.  Unfortunately I'll never know. 

The past two weeks have brought a couple random days of warm weather and oh how it makes me miss my Dad.  He loved to be outside, and I long to pull up into my parents' driveway and see those garage doors open, with Dad sitting on his stool...watching T.V. and waiting to greet us.  I vividly remember strolling the kids down the road last year in early May.  I walked past Mom Mom's house to see my Dad and my Pop Pop both out in the garden. I just remember thinking how lucky I was to be able to witness that and how lucky my kids were to have that.  I always thought watching the two of them side by side was such a gift and that everyone should be so lucky.  It sounds kind of strange, but I feel like Dad will come back with the warm weather.  Somehow, 70 degree days will return and so will Dad.  He'll pull up in his big silver truck one day after work, just to check on the kids.  Oh how I wish it was that simple!

In a year that I would most certainly like to forget about, my little Samuel Parker has been a blessing for which there are no words.  Both of my children are blessings, but Sammy Parker---he even looks like Dad.  I have had so many people outside of my family (so they aren't bias) tell me how much Parker looks like my dad.  I just grin from ear to ear because I have to confess...I love hearing it.  Parker makes everyone smile with his two little bottom teeth and devilishly handsome little grin and chipmunk cheeks. 

When we celebrate Parker's birthday on March 22nd and then again with the family on March 26th, you won't be more than a thought away, Dad.  I know you'll be celebrating with us.

Sleep training

Gracen turned 3 in December.  Last week we started sleep training.

Confused?  Apparently so were we. 

Being our first child, Gracen was rocked to sleep for every nap time and every bed time.  Of course, I can't take total blame for this as my mother and grandmother couldn't stand to have her cry it out in her crib while I was at work.  Truth be told: I couldn't let her cry it out myself when I was here with her.  Gracen was a colicky mess for the first 6 months of her life.  After 6 months she was bearable and some would even say pleasant, but she was never a good sleeper.   Eh hem, I should say that she was never a good napper.  She basically slept through the night from 3 months on but she should've....her naps never totaled more than 60-90 minutes during the day.  In fact, she never really took decent naps until she turned almost 2, when we moved her from two naps to only one nap a day.  Even now, with her going to bed a little before 9, she is up and at 'em by 7 or 7:30 the next morning.  Heck, sometimes she'll even surprise you with 6:30!  EEEEEK!

So, as I was saying.  I used to lay down with Gracen for every nap and every bedtime.  Then I had Parker.  And guess what, I STILL did it.  Parker was the one taking the backseat.  He was the second child who had to learn how to soothe himself while the first child got the golden pass.  This was almost working out until Gracen decided that now at bedtime, she wanted one more story.  Or.....she wanted to say more prayers.  Or....she wanted one more lullaby.  This started going on every night and became so bad that at times it was taking me up to 45 minutes to get her to bed!  Meanwhile, if it was nighttime, Stephen was struggling with Parker who was waiting for ME to put him down (Insert EEEEEK here again).

I began dreading bedtime when it should've be my favorite time.  So, one day I just decided it had to end, and it did. 

Much to the dismay of a few people, I began letting Gracen cry it out.  I kept telling myself, "When she is old enough to understand..." I would sweetly tell her that she was a big girl, there was nothing to be afraid of and that she would have to go to bed.....without me.  Believe it or not, it hasn't been so bad.  She's definitely had her crying fits, but they are more like whining fits.  I make sure I check under the bed for her and in the closet when she says, "Something's coming!" I hug her repeatedly when she cries so dramatically, "Mommy, get me outta here!"  BUT, I don't give in.  It's getting easier now because she realizes that I will not give in.  Even when she so sweetly looks up at me and says, "Mom, do you want to way (lay) with me?".....it breaks my heart, but I can't do it.

As a child, I slept with my mom for a long time and my dad had the couch for a LONG time.  I don't want Gracen to be like me.  I do not want her to be afraid of her own shadow.  I've lived like that a majority of my life, and it's not a fun way to live.  It's miserable, and I don't want that for her.  I'm trying to break that mold...no matter how sad it might be. 

However, I have to admit that the whole reason I am writing this blog right now is because of what my grandmother and mom have told me repeatedly over the past few weeks of sleep training.  One day, you're going to look back on this and wish she wanted you to lay with her again and hold her hand again.

....As I put Parker to bed tonight and walked past Gracen's room, I stopped for a minute.  I gazed at the little blonde "helmet," with her body stretched across the bed, and I sighed.  So many emotions flooded me at that point, and I wanted to cry because the love I feel for that little girl is so intense and so wonderful (Parker too of course).  I have to confess that at that very moment,  I wanted to crawl into bed with her so badly, scoop her up in my arms, and sing her to sleep.  She is the sweetest and most beautiful little girl I have ever known.  I have no idea what my life would be like without her, and I don't want to know.  She amazes me every day with her innocence, beauty, and intelligence.  I tell her every chance I get how proud I am of her and how much I love her, but my words will never be enough.  I have not just one, but two enormous and wonderful blessings in my life.  *sigh*  ...Everyone in the world should be so lucky.

The hubby left for 3 nights and 4 days...

...And my house has stayed really clean, the kids have been well behaved, the house is more peaceful, and I actually really missed him.

Now, I hope you aren't too offended by reading that first line or thinking that I'm kind of a *&^^%.  Honey, if you are reading this, just hear me out! 

For starters, I really believe that in every relationship, you need a small break every now and again.  It really is true that "Absence makes the heart grow fonder."  In the case of me and my husband, you can find no better phrase. 

Stephen is the type of person that honestly needs his "time".  Now, I will agree with all of you when you say (A) That time vanishes when you get married and have kids or (B) Where is time for the wifey (I agree) or even both A and B.  I used to scream A and B all of the time, until I realized that no matter what argument I gave, I wasn't going to change his thoughts or mind.  In fact, I'm beginning to agree with him.  I, for one, am not the type of person that enjoys being away from my kids for more than a day at a time.  In addition, I don't need days upon days to recuperate and regroup myself.  My husband does.  AND I'M OKAY WITH IT.  It's his personality.  It's the way he has always been and always will be and there's no changing that so why bother trying.  Before we were married or engaged, it would be nothing for Stephen to take off one weekend and travel up to PA in his Honda Civic hatchback.  There, he would camp by himself and fish for the weekend...completely cut off from civilization (he had no cell phone).  On Sunday evening, he would return; refreshed and ready to begin the week. Things have changed in the fact that now when he goes away (which is seldom), he can't go away for more than a day without calling and telling us how badly he misses me and the kids.  I actually believe him. 

I was lucky enough to have my cousin Erika come stay with me while Stephen was away.  I am so thankful that I was able to stay in my own house without being afraid all the time.  In addition, I was able to avoid packing up the kids (and half the house) to go stay with my mom or his parents.  It was definitely a win-win situation.  Erika is an awesome help with the kids as well.  Thanks to my mom, my grandma (GG), and Stephen's mom, I was also able to keep all of my tutoring gigs which = me being able to keep my income for the week. 

I became somewhat renewed while my husband was away.  Sure, I had to work twice as hard, but it was rewarding.  I wasn't just part of a team; I was THE team for four days, and I'm pretty proud of what I was able to accomplish.  I made sure I provided breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the kids and it WASN'T McDonald's.  Gracen began falling asleep by herself for naptime and bedtime (a HUGE ordeal since she hasn't done that in her 3 years on earth).  Samuel Parker is starting to take more and more steps. I've gotten bath time down to a really quick and efficient routine.  The house is super clean and laundry is all caught up.  I do all of these things during the week, but this time, I did them daily and all by myself.  I know it sounds silly, but I guess I just needed to know that I am worth more than I thought I was. 

I'm not sure why things don't run quite as smoothly when Stephen is home.  It really hasn't nothing to do with him.  I think that sometimes we are so consumed with bickering about WHO should do WHAT that we forget the WHAT needs to be done regardless. 

Apparently, this fishing trip was exactly what Stephen had hoped for all along. So.........I'm really looking forward to seeing a well-rested, happy, and content husband within the next few hours.  I know it won't last forever, but it should last for a little while.  And that's good because I want my husband to be well-rested, happy, and content. 

I have a confession...

I want to be fabulous.

Yes, you heard me. FABULOUS.  Call it stupid, call it a mid-life crisis, call it whatever you want. 

Over the course of the past few weeks, it has been called to my attention that I have numerous friends who "have it all together".  I get my hair highlighted once every 3 months, and I think I'm doing something.  I think the last time I ever felt fabulous was on my wedding day.  In April, that will be 4 years.

Here is just a "brief" list of what's running through my head right now.  Well, what's running through my head while I'm watching the train wreck known as Jersey Shore.

I love my mini-van, but I think it may be time to switch that up----well, after it's paid off.  What I really want?  Hmmmmm, a Tahoe or Land Rover perhaps.  I doubt I get either one, but I can dream, right?    And maybe some new clothes----that would be nice too.  I've spent the past 3 years (since Gracen was born), worrying about dressing her in the latest and now, the same goes with Parker.  Me, I'm making shirts work that I had even before she was born.  I would love a classier look.  It's way too easy for me to walk out the door in my Rocket Dogs and Gap sweatshirt.  I'm not throwing them away altogether, but it's time for me to make a slight change.  I just need to be coached!  any takers?  hahaha  I used to think that I knew what was in style, but hmmmm, not so much anymore.  I've let myself go.  I did what I said I'd never do!   

I long for a few nights out a month too---either with the hubby or with my friends or both at the same time or whatever!  Stephen and I went out a few weeks ago with our friends.  I was able to put on some "decent" clothes, fix my hair and do my make-up.  In addition, I had some drinks too!  Oh it did WONDERS for the soul.  Catching up with long, lost friends is on my list too.

I'm pale and white, and I hate it!  Oh I long for spring and summer and warmer days.  I used to go tanning, but I have sworn myself off of that entirely.  Not only is it costly, but of course, incredibly bad for you.  There's just something about a nice tan, flip flops, and the beach that makes me the happiest girl in the world. 

I'll never get back to the size I was before Gracen, but a little weight loss wouldn't hurt.  I would like to have another baby eventually, but until then a smaller size will do.  Unfortunately, with 2 kids, I skip meals and eat things that are bad for me because they are convenient. 

*sigh*

Lastly, I want to be (and I hope I already am) a fabulous Mom to my kids as well.  I don't want this blog to be mistaken for a "Shannon's going to go wild and leave her husband and kids" blog.  Don't laugh.  Is there a woman out there who can say she's never wanted to be fabulous?

Every action....

....has an equal and opposite reaction.   Gotta love that Newton guy!

Driving down to Target Saturday evening, with Gracen in tow (Target....shocker, I know!), this sentence popped into my head.  Almost 4 years into this marriage/kids thing, I have realized that all my life really needs is that sentence.  Everything I say and everything I do, whether it be with my husband, kids, friends, etc., needs to be done with Newton's law in mind.

If Gracen takes a dramatic fall, and I come rushing to her side with panic, she will respond with tears and panic.  If I slowly come to her and tell her she is okay, then she normally is; same with Parker too.  If I become enraged or aggravated with something my husband says or does, it becomes a direct catalyst in lighting his fuse (or keeping it lit) as well.  This law of Newton's can basically be applied to anyone in my life...even people I don't know.  Isn't it true that if you smile at a stranger, they are more than likely to smile back at you in return?

Now, you may say, "Shannon, that is an equal reaction---not an opposite one".  I can see what you're saying, but here is what I am saying...

Stephen and I argue.  He raises his voice to me and so I raise it back to him in a higher tone.  My purpose is to get him to back down or calm down or prove that I am right.  However, the reaction I'm looking for ends up being the opposite of what the situation needs.  Just like the example above with Gracen falling down.  I rush to her with panic and urgency, thinking my immediate and quick reaction will calm her down when she sees I'm coming.  However, all it does is make her panic---complete opposite of what I'm looking to do.  My reaction produced an equal and opposite reaction of my purpose for doing it.  Hope I'm making sense!

And so, it is my mission that I will make more of an effort to apply this law (or rather pay more attention to it) in my interaction with everyone on a daily basis.  I know it will be very difficult at times, but I really think it's essential for having a more peaceful life. 

Being a stay-at-home mom has not been easy for me, as I have blogged on more than one occassion.  It's about 8:33 in the morning right now.  Both of my kids are dressed, and here I sit, in all my skanky glory, until Parker goes down for his morning nap and allows me to take a shower.  My living room looks like Toys R Us exploded and Sprout is on television.  Parker has my camera, but I don't care because he's on carpet and it's keeping him super happy.  It's another cold day in Clements, and I long for A) a super snow storm or B) a tan and flip flops.   Either way, I'm sick of the bitter cold with nothing to do.  Bright side:  my tutoring business has picked up so when Stephen gets home, I'll leave and do that for a couple of hours---sa-weet!  I'm still thinking of my "get rich with one quick idea" scheme, but I only have a few ideas thus far, and I'm not talented enough to make any of them!  Anyway....it'll happen...one day!

Lastly, please check out my friend's blog.  She did a Top 20, "You Might Be a Mommy" things----laughed my butt off!  Here's a shout out, Brandy!  http://sutorfam.blogspot.com/2011/01/you-might-be-mommy.html

Nap times are just a SHOW around here...

Lately, my 3 year old has been fighting her nap time.  This is a problem.  She wakes up too early every morning to even think about letting her skip the nap, and I'm certainly not ready to give up my 2 hours or so of bliss.  99% of the time, Parker and Gracen go down for a nap together too....which is EXTREMELY NICE. 

On Friday, Gracen decided that instead of taking a nap, she would roll around in her bed, throw the stuffed animals off of it repeatedly, sing loudly, flail her legs up in the air, etc.  After repeated warnings, and a couple of leg smacks to boot, an hour and a half later, she wasn't asleep (and yes, I tried the super nice way too....filled with a soft voice, lullabies, stories, etc.).  In fact, it was worse....she was exhausted from crying and being so hyper but wouldn't fall asleep at the same time.  In addition, she woke Parker up, giving him only a 30 minute nap.  She later wanted to fall asleep at 5 pm when I was trying to put her shoes on so we could leave to have dinner at Outback with  my Mom.  Needless to say, it was one of those days that I       a) wished I was at work and b) wished I had been the mom who used the "cry it out" method with her as a baby. 

I never let Gracen cry herself to sleep.  I didn't have the heart.  And she was a horrible napper until her naps were cut to one a day---and even then it took some time for her to build up to a 2 hour nap or so.  My mom and grandma watched her while I worked so I can't be solely responsible.  They would never have let her cry it out either.  Therefore, at the age of 3, I still lie down with her to get her to take a nap during the day and to go to sleep at night.  This creates a real problem when trying to get them both to sleep at the same time.  I used to be able to stand and hold Parker and then sing to her and they would both be out....but not anymore.

And so, poor Parker (second child of course) is the one who has to endure the "crying it out" test.  It doesn't bother me as much as it did with Gracen....even though Parker is such a sweet baby.  I guess it's because I'm so busy that I don't have time to listen.  And in reality, I must confess, I'm still a pushover.  I don't let him cry for too long, and when I go in there finally, he's so tired that I can lay him down, rub his head a bit, and he's out like a light.  In addition, letting either one of my babies cry it out was never successful for me.  All my children have ever done is work themselves up enough to where they almost throw up....and at that point, there's no turning back and no sleep. 

Yesterday, she tried to be silly on me once again during nap, and I was so aggravated with her that I slammed the door and told her not to get up.  I hate to put her to sleep like that, but I was at my wit's end.  And believe it or not...I checked on her about 5 minutes later and she was sound asleep.  Such a mystery, my child. 

Today wasn't nearly as easy.  When Parker finally went down, I had to crawl into bed with her.  Sometimes it's kind of nice....I have to admit.  I even get to snooze maybe 20 minutes or so too.  Call me crazy, but if someone is going to tell me to take a nap, I'm going to listen!

And now at night, Gracen is in my bed by at least 2 a.m., which really has to stop.  It's hit or miss, but for some reason, she will randomly wake up about 3 out of 7 nights of the week and climb into bed with us.  My husband is almost comical when he says he kind of likes it----makes him feel safe to have Gracen snuggled in between us.  I can't stand it as she is the worst sleeper in the world, and I'm tired of her feet in my face and waking up with a stiff neck or back.  BUT, no one wants a scene during the middle of the night or the middle of a nap for that matter.  I have an extremely small house and would rather give into her than have her yelping and waking up my little boy from his sleep.  Then I would end up with two, totally awake and angry children and who really wins in that case---no one.  I can't say that she steals it either as I slept with my mom until I'm too embarrassed to even say! 

So yes, we've created a monster here, and I'm in the process of trying to prevent another one from rearing his ugly head.  So far, so good I guess.  I do believe that I have something to do with my children's poor sleeping habits, but I also believe it's who they are and it's their personalities as well.  The other day on the news, there was a story about letting your kids sleep with you.  I am not going to say either way what's right and what's wrong, but if I had things my way, my kids would sleep soundly in their OWN beds all night long.  However, when I look around I see so many worse things in this world involving children so if this is one of their only vices....I guess I'll take it :).

I don't pray anymore....

And it really bothers me....like REALLY bothers me.

Let me take you back a few years....

When I first began teaching, every one would come to me asking me questions about the Mass or different Saints or maybe even what they could do for their religion class...even as recent as last year they did this.  I was always very into prayer, "preaching" about my belief in Jesus and Mary and God and the saints....oh the saints were MY favorite.  I still have no doubt that I am where I am today (married with babies) due to the wonderful saints who saw me through and interceded for me through it all. 

And now...I can't even pray? 

Every night I have vivid images of watching my dad taking his final breaths....they were painful and drawn out...and I remember looking over at a picture of Jesus that my mom had hanging in my dad's hospital room, and I asked her to take it down.  And I feel like from that point on, my line to Jesus was cut----severed.

Now, let me clarify some things....I do still greatly believe in Jesus and all that my Catholic religion entails (for the most part), but I have never in my life felt so far away from Him.  The sad part is that I know deep down that everything wonderful in my life is owed all to Him.  So why, when I go to bed at night, can I not bring myself to say thank you for all my blessings and ask for another day?  Okay, let me change that, I can actually say those things, but once again, there is no "connection".  There is no glorious feeling of gratitude that used to come over me when I would say my prayers at night.  I don't get it.  It makes me sad. 

Every night, Gracen and I say the Our Father and Hail Mary and we do our blessings of everyone.  I want my children to grow up in a faith-filled environment.  I want them to make all of their sacraments and go to Catholic School.  Oh yeah...that's the other thing---church.  I haven't been to church in Lord only knows how long, and I have a horrible guilt about it.  Before Christmas, my problem was that my husband worked every weekend, and I couldn't take the two kids by myself.  Now, some would say I can take them to Target by myself, but in Target they don't need to sit still and stay quiet for an hour either.  So after New Year's I really wanted us all to go back to church but we were sick for about 3 weeks.  This past weekend was the first weekend we were well and did we go------no.  And then it's like, well, all the masses either fall during Parker's nap or feeding or Gracen's nap or something like that.  BUT, I refuse to be a twice a year Catholic so we have to get back there soon. 

I wouldn't be writing about this if it didn't REALLY bother me.  I'm not angry with God over the loss of my father so it's not about that.  I guess I'm just one of those people that must hold things....like I hate to be let down, and I guess that's what I feel like.  BUT, I hate being a hypocrit too, and I refuse to be one of those.  I don't want to go crying to God when something goes wrong and then ignore him the other 99% of the time.  It's just not right. 

I've really been wrestling with so much lately and this just adds to the mix.  And then again, if I could get this part of my life straight then I'm sure everything else would fall into place.  Being at home all day is wonderful and depressing all at the same time.  I miss the interaction with adults and friends at work and being part of something bigger.  Thank goodness I have started tutoring more children recently which is giving me a couple hours out, a taste of teaching, and some pocket change so that's good.  It doesn't make me feel like such a prisoner in my own home. 

And for any of you who read this as a family update---hehe---the kids are great.  Gracen is in Gymanstics on Saturdays and LOVING it.  Samuel Parker is a man in motion----crawling and pulling up everywhere.  He LOVES to eat from the big people table and dances and claps for himself.  Thank God (there ya go) for my kids. 

Thanks for letting me "rant".  I promise my next blog will be more interesting.  It's just that this one has been dancing around in my head for quite some time.

Got my hurr did, and I feel like a million bucks!

You know, I have to say that I have a love/hate with getting my hair done.  It's not the cut that I mind....it's the ALMOST 3 hours it takes to have it colored, cut, and blow-dried.  That's why I only do the highlighting about 3 times a year.  But I have to say that having my hair highlighted and cut tonight was just what the doctor ordered. 

I must admit that I dreaded my hair appointment right up until the very moment tonight.  For some reason, sitting still for 2 1/2 hours, while drinking a glass of wine (if I so choose) and reading a People magazine just isn't what it used to be.  I sit there the whole time worrying about my kids and if I'm taking too long....or the house chores that need to be done, etc.  It's ridiculous.  I'm a hard-working mom so why do I feel like I can't spend 3 hours or so on myself?  Who knows?  Anyway, I'm so completely happy with my hair tonight though----thank you, Chris!   I even bought some "product"!  What a nice evening.  If you are looking for an awesome hair stylist, check out Chris Nelson at S-Kape-----love him!  He's just a baby in the biz but definitely knows what he's doing.  In addition, you don't have to sit there all stiff and uptight either.  He's an absolute pleasure to chat with!

Really, being so blah lately, a little different hairdo was exactly what I needed to feel human again.  I'm losing a little bit of weight and I have my new Bobby Brown make-up that I got in NYC so watch out world, here I come!  I love feeling like a young woman again...and a young mom at that.  I'm so motivated right now to keep it going.  I hope it does.  We'll see how I feel in the morning!  For 2 1/2 hours tonight--I WAS one of those fabulous women I was reading about in People.  *Sigh*....I can always dream, right?  I really love my kids, but as I've mentioned before....I need to get out and work!  A little make-up...something other than sweatpants....and a paycheck is something I long for!  I have to say though, I am cherishing each and every one of these days with my babies.  They are at the coolest age and really sweet kids, and I'm not just saying that because they are mine.  I find myself really making a conscious effort every day to capture all the memories I can.  I'm really sad that they are growing up way too fast.  I guess in a year or so, it'll be time for another one---hehe!

Well, make-up off and sweatpants on, this momma is on her way to bed.  I have every intention of heading to St. John's tomorrow to catch the 8th grade play, and I'm so excited about.  I miss my job so much, and I'm so excited to see everyone and the new school building.  Fingers crossed that my kids cooperate. 

Nite everyone!

So long, 2010!

I'm having very mixed emotions about beginning 2011.  My first thoughts about leaving 2010 were "Good riddance."  Except for the birth of Samuel Parker, the middle and end of 2010 pretty much stunk for my family and me.  The more I think about it though, the more I think that maybe I shouldn't be so quick to lock 2010 away somewhere, never to think of  it again.

It's true that 2010 was the year that my dad became really ill and died of cancer in two months.  But it's just as true to say that 2010 was the last year I ever had with my dad as well, which makes it pretty bittersweet.  From December until July 15th, I got to watch Gracen and her Poppy grow closer than they had ever been.  Gracen was getting older and interacting like a little adult instead of a toddler.  I will always fondly remember pulling into my parents' driveway and seeing the garage door open.  My dad would no doubt be perched on one of those old bar stool chairs, watching some ridiculous old movie....which more than likely starred Clint Eastwood or Steven Seagal.  The minute he saw my van, he would immediately get up and head over to Gracen's side to get her out.  His catch phrase everytime..."Who is this coming to my house?"  I thoroughly miss that high pitch tone he had to it.  I will cherish and miss the times when the two of them would disappear for hours on the gator....often visiting Mom Mom and Pop Pop's or the Jennings' house where Gracen actually got a pretty good boo boo on her chin with Dad.  He felt so bad about it.  The scar just went away a couple of months ago, and I was sad to see it go. 

2010 was also the year I was able to name my little boy after my dad.  Samuel Parker was born on March 22, 2010.  I remember just wanting to name him after dad so badly for some reason (haunting when I look back on it).  My husband even suggested that maybe we shouldn't have done it and let my brother do it instead.  Wow, I'm so glad we did that now.

I spent my last birthday with my dad in 2010, my last Easter....the first one where Gracen really knew how to hunt for eggs, and I have dad on film helping her every step of the way. 

There is obviously no way that on 1/1/10, I would've thought I would be writing this blog.  There is nothing in life that can prepare you for such a tragedy....all you can do is learn from it and try to move on. 

The cards I have in my hand right now are not even close to the ones I want....but who's to say you can't be dealt a new hand?  You never play an entire game of anything forever or with the same hand, right?  This year is about making my own luck...my own success.  It's going to be about making myself happy and my family happy.  I am not a fan of resolutions and don't really keep them so I rarely ever make them.  I truly want to make 2011 different though so here are my thoughts.  I'm going to write them down as a "gentle" reminder that I need to KEEP them.

1. As a person who sometimes stresses herself to the point of being anxiety ridden and wanting to rock back and forth in the corner, I vow this year to take a couple extra deep breaths.  I am going to do my best to NOT sweat the small stuff.  It doesn't get me any where.
2. This entire family has taken an extra deep dive into the realm of unhappiness lately, and I desperately want to change that.  And if I want to change that, the change needs to start with me and then hopefully others will follow suit.  I am going to make every effort I can to be SUPER nice to my husband every single day and "allow" him to do some things that he really enjoys....a.k.a FISHING.  A miserable husband doesn't make for a great marriage. I am going to try to say thank you more and let him know how much I appreciate him as well.
3. Even though I am currently only tutoring twice a week, my goal is to take on at least 2 more kids in the new year.  In addition, I plan to SAVE some money and spend less of it.  It's an ambitious thought, I know....but I have to try!  I also want to continue my search for a job as a medical transcriptionist and land one soon into the new year....I'm thinking part-time as of right now.
4. I used to be a nicer, more generous person, and I miss that.  2011 is the year that we bring back the "old Shannon".....the "Heal the World" Shannon.  I need to clean up my potty mouth too.
5. Lastly, here's a pretty mundane and overused resolution....I would like to lose a bit of weight and keep it off.  I need to stop eating so much crap...for lack of a better word. 

So, while I don't think you need a new year to have a new beginning, I do enjoy a clean slate.  Who doesn't?  Join me in this New Year's quest!  What are your ideas for 2011?