Pushing Play

My Mama Jo passed away last Sunday. We had her visitation on Tuesday night and funeral on Wednesday. I was honored to be able to sing for her one last time. My little cousin played acoustically in classical style and I sang "When I Get Where I'm Going." Amazingly enough, I was able to keep it together during the song. I practiced and practiced and practiced because I just knew I was going to fall apart. It was soft and sweet and full of love, just like my Mama Jo. She always loved music and she is the one who gave me my voice, so I paid it forward in her honor. Here is one of the many takes of us practicing together. Excuse the black screen and the sound quality. I'm not going for winning a Grammy here, I just sat my phone down when it was recording so there is no grande production. Just music. Raw, heart, love, emotion.

Other than the celebration of Mama Jo's life, this week has been uneventful. We've been attempting to resume Family Fun Nights again. Wednesday afternoon, after everything was settled, we took Little C to the pool. Thursday night we made pizza together as a family and had a picnic for dinner and tonight, we watched Up and munched on stale popcorn (we didn't realize it was stale until Little C kept saying "Yuck!").

I've done some recent things around the house, and I hope I can blog about them on Sunday. I've "redone" our pantry, and I'm almost finished with Baby P version 2.0's nursery. I've also got some upcoming projects including organizing our laundry room, play room, and tackling my office (which has been steadily collecting boxes of stuff that I need to go through while I'm still in nesting mode).

I guess even when one life ends, you have to find a way to push play again and resume your own. It feels weird to know that even though I didn't see Mama Jo daily, I won't be able to just stop by and visit her anymore. Little C reminds us that she is still around. He has talked about her every single day since she passed. He tells us he meets her in his dreams, and then he wakes up talking about her which is pretty remarkable for a 2 year old, I think.

I promise I'll be back to "normal" soon. I'm still trying to figure out how I want to format this blog, if I want to do themed days, how to do it all... I just haven't had enough time to think much about it yet I guess. It will all come together with time.

Love,


Mrs. P

Sweet New Ride

I am now the owner of a mini van.

Did I just say that?

My list of life goals looks something like this:

1. Go to Italy and ride a gondola.
2. Ride in a hot air balloon.
3. Go skiing with Mr. P.
4. Lay on the beach in Hawaii.
5. Own a house with a yard and hire someone to take care of it (my thumbs are more blue, not green, and the blue is from the craft paint).

Owning a mini van never made the list.


With the reality hitting me that I'm about to be a mother of two, Mr. P and I decided that we needed more room for our boys, and we went shopping. Moments after we stepped through the doors at the Honda dealership at the Cary Autopark, I saw her: the 2015 Honda Odyssey. It was love at first sight and I had to make her mine.

So we played the game with the car salesman where he tells you a price way out of your budget and you tell him a price way under your budget and the game ends when you find a happy medium and a price you both can live with. His Citizen watch told me he wasn't going to miss meals, and playing this game was more in my favor than his.

We were able to get a great deal, much lower than the best deal on True Car, which Mr. P says is pretty awesome (I'm glad I have him as I know zero things about that), and we get free oil changes for life, and towing, and lots of other perks AND I'm getting a navigation system which is a pretty sweet deal since I can't get anywhere without it.

And so that's the story of how we officially joined the swagger wagon club.

The end.

Love,

Mrs. P

Life on Hold

We haven't been doing too much over the past few days. I've spent some time with my sweet Mama Jo at the hospice house that she is at, thanking God that such a wonderful place exists. While death is a tough thing to deal with, the staff at the hospice house makes it a lot more peaceful. They are doing a pretty phenomenal job of keeping her comfortable, and it's been nice to just sit and hold her hand.

Other than that, I've been trying to sleep. I think I haven't slept deep during the nights because my brain knows at any moment, I could get a phone call. My body just won't fully relax.

I've also been spending what time is left loving on Little C. He is going through a pretty big attachment phase right now where he wants Mama and Daddy all the time. Secretly I love it (but not enough to let him sleep in our bed, sorry kid). We've found him laying by the door a few times over the last few days, trying to get to us. We are contemplating making him a bed to lay on down there, ha!

Right now, it just feels like life is on hold. Mama Jo's life. Our lives. Just waiting for her to get to Heaven.


Love,

Mrs. P

Life & Death Situation

... that's what I've been living for the past week.

One week ago today, I got the call from my Dad that my Mama Jo (my paternal grandmother) was being admitted to the hospital in the step-down ICU for some kind of stomach blockage.

It's been a long week without many clear answers as to why the blockage happened except that when you're immobile, you can have blockages. There was an ultrasound and a CT scan and a few different x-rays, but long story short, on Friday, they called in Hospice.

And we all know what that means.

Her body is shutting down. Like my step-mom said, not everyone's death is the same, but a lot of times when the body starts shutting down, the digestive tract is usually the first thing to go, and hers did.

My Mama Jo is the Mohammad Ali of fighting back against every negative hand life has dealt her. The "decline of her health" began in 2000 when she had a stroke (I use the term "decline of her health" very roughly because a lot of times since 2000, she has been very, very healthy and even since this moment, she lived a very productive and happy life). Since that, she lost her speech center which hindered her ability to verbally express what she wanted to say, she's battled dementia, Parkinson's disease, she suffered a few falls, she even eventually lost her ability to drive, but she never, ever lost her will to fight. Through it all, she got back up, put her hands up, and fought back, just as hard as she could.

She always had a smile for us when we went to visit, even as the dementia took away her ability to always recognize us, she would smile, and call us "Honey!" and tell us she loved us when we left. She was one of the first people at the hospital to wait for her first great-grandbaby to be born, waiting into the night with the huge cluster of family there. Then, when our Little C was born, she was at the hospital visiting him too. She always wanted to hold him. That couldn't have been easy for her (Little C is a pretty big and wiggly kid) but she didn't care. She wanted to hold him anyway and she always looked at him in amazement- she just couldn't believe she was holding the third generation of her genes!

It's been a tough week. When I went to the hospital on Sunday, things seemed optimistic, but by Wednesday, it became pretty evident that the inevitable was going to happen. Everyone dies, no matter who you are. It happens. Death is as natural as birth, although it's not usually as exciting and happily anticipated... but why? Why shouldn't death be a celebration? After all, my Mama Jo was at church every Sunday that she was able to be there, and I know she has accepted Jesus and believes in God. I'm not at all worried where she is going to go.

I'm trying to change my perspective on death through watching hers happen. My father-in-law passed away in 2010, and I saw him in his last weeks, but I wasn't there when it happened. I'm seeing Mama Jo's first-hand, and while it's hard for me to let her go, it's okay. As soon as she leaves here, SHE GETS TO GO HANG OUT WITH JESUS. FOREVER. And that's pretty cool. Someday, I just hope I've lived half the life she has and with half of the grace she has so I can see her again on the other side.

I'll always carry her everywhere I go. Every outfit I wear, I'm reminded I get my sense of style from her (all the way down to my funky and fun jewelry). When I get teared up at a toilet paper commercial because I'm so sensitive, I remember that Mama Jo was the same way, always tearing up and thinking everything was so sweet. Every time I sing, I'll remember where I got my voice from. Whenever I look in the mirror, or look at my child, I'll see her beautiful shade of blue eyes. When she goes, it will be weird to know I'll never hear her voice say "Love you, love you!" again, but I've been lucky enough to build a lifetime of memories with her that I will be able to tell Little C all about. And I am so lucky to have had her as MY Mama Jo. She's been my angel on Earth, and I know nothing about that is going to chance when she crosses over to the other side. It will just mean we'll have one more person watching out for us over there.

I love you, love you, Honey. Forever!

The Great Facebook Detox

You know you have a problem when your two year old has to physically cover up your phone with his hand because you're too busy looking at Facebook and not paying attention to him. That's sad, but that's the reality that slapped me right in the face last week. I knew I had a problem. I would tell myself I wasn't going to check my phone, then 5 seconds later, check it out of sheer habit. Not because anything was going on. Not because I had someone I needed to contact. Not because I needed to post anything vital. Just because. Checking Facebook was as routine for me as walking. Thinking. Breathing. It was something I just did, without ever thinking about it.

Since the SCOTUS ruling on marriage equality, directly followed by the Charleston shooting and the great debate about the Confederate battle flag, I had thought more and more about deleting my page. Facebook is the biggest chalkboard on which you get to write your opinion in big, bold, caps lock colors. I saw so many memes. I read so many people's opinions. I saw charts. I read Bible verses. I saw pictures. I saw pictures that my friends had created to make fun of other pictures. I started to see a side of my friends that I didn't want to see- some of it got ugly and hateful and downright rude. Facebook was not a fun place to be. It became a place that made me anxious and angry. I didn't want to feel that way about people I liked. I didn't need to know those things about them.

I sat down and calculated the amount of "free time" I spent on Facebook per day and it was ridiculous. For me, Facebook was an all day thing (as in I checked it when I woke up in the morning and the last thing I looked at before going to sleep). I didn't have to text my family to check in because I already knew what they were doing because I saw it on Facebook. I didn't need to call and tell my best friend Happy Birthday! because I wrote it on her Facebook wall. Hell, I haven't gotten a party invitation in I don't know how long because everything is sent through virtual invitations (I'm still old fashioned though and I have (and always will) mail out paper invitations for my boys because I think those things are important to have). About 75% of my conversations with my friends and family revolved around what we had seen or knew because of Facebook. I would get upset if I saw some friends out doing something if I wasn't invited too. I would get jealous because so-and-so lost 30 pounds and looks amazing in her new bikini picture, which she proudly put up so everyone could see, and I'll never look like that. I would be worried that people may delete me as a friend on Facebook because of something I said. Seriously. This was my life. Then I got to thinking...

why does a social media site completely hinder our ability to actually be social?

So I quit. I quit Facebook. I've quit before. I've given it up for Lent. I've gone on hiatuses. I've come back. BUT not this time. This time, I'm reclaiming my life. If people want to tell me something, they're going to have to call me. If people want to invite me to a party, they're going to have to send me an invitation. If people want to know what's going on with my life, they're going to have to check in. I'm done putting my life on Facebook solely for the approval of 1,051 people while ignoring the 2 (almost 3) people and sweet puppy dog who live right here in my house. I'M DONE.

So I thought "How do I make SURE I'm done?" I've had a lot of skeptics (friends actually) that said I can't do this and I'm not strong enough and I'll be back on Facebook soon, but they're wrong. I made sure of it. I started by deleting all of my friends. ALL of them. Every. Single One. Even my husband. I didn't want to be tempted to sneak on one day and check in and get sucked right back in to the Facebook vortex. So that's what I did. I got some good finger/hand exercise and deleted every last person. THEN I changed my name. THEN I changed my profile picture and cover photo. THEN I changed my password to some combination of letters and numbers that I typed randomly into the computer and that was that. I was done.

AND let me tell you, it feels... weird. It's weird, but I'll get used to it. I've already picked up my phone (out of habit) about 18 times to check Facebook only to realize it's not there, and that's strange, but guess what?

I'll live. And I'll be a better wife, and a better mother, and maybe with all this free time, I'll try to pick up the Bible a little more and read it because I've been meaning to since I learned how to read, and goodness knows I have plenty of time to do it now.

Love,

Mrs. P

The Boo Boo Healer

Being a parent is awesome. There is one person in my life who (at least for now) thinks that his Dad and I are THE COOLEST people on the planet and wants to spend every single second with us, even if it's sitting on the couch doing nothing. Now, I'm a realist, and I know this won't last forever, but for now, we're the MVPs. The most popular people in the yearbook (the ones you used to highlight their name and put stars and hearts beside). The ones who get picked first in gym class. The king and queen of the homecoming court. Every moment I wasn't cool growing up doesn't matter right now because I am the sun, moon and stars to a little boy with a shaggy head of hair and the brightest blue eyes I've ever seen.

Even before Little C was and idea that Mr. P and I had, I knew that the following words were true: "With great power comes great responsibility." Embarking on parenthood isn't for the faint of heart. It's that black, tarry newborn poop that nobody can prepare you for. It's ridiculously high, unexplainable fevers that make you rush out to the closest 24 hour Walgreens for baby Tylenol at 3 in the morning. It's blowout diapers. It's bumped heads with gigantic eggs (and a very understanding doctor that will explain to you "that's why they're called toddlers and not walkers"). It's loads of snot and boogers and sometimes breathing treatments. It's a lot of mess that they don't prepare you for in health class during "sex ed" week, or even at the hospital's parenting classes. It's a lot of fun, but sometimes it's a lot of scary, and we've had our fair share.

Little C is in a boo boo phase. About once a week, he falls and skins both knees. He is 100% rough, tumble, wild, and boy and no amount of "Please walk!" or "Be careful!" can slow him down. The sweet irony of him getting boo boos is the cure: all it takes to fix them is a kiss from Mama or Daddy. Sometimes we call in special assistance from our friends hydrogen peroxide and Neosporin, but usually just a kiss does the trick. I think he sometimes invents boo boos so that we will kiss them. I didn't know that becoming a parent gave me super healing powers, but it's pretty cool to know there is nothing in his little life that is so big a kiss can't fix it.

The sad truth is, one day this little boy is going to grow up into a bigger boy, and then an even bigger one. One day he's going to get boo boos, but he's also going to grow out of letting me kiss them to make them better. The world isn't always a sunshiney place. It can be a beautiful place. A magical place. A wonderful place. It can also be a dark place. A scary place. A lonely place. One day his boo boos are going to move beyond bumps and scrapes. One day he will may be injured on the baseball field and require an x-ray. One day he may get into a fender bender and cause our car insurance to go through the roof. One day, some girl may break his heart into a million pieces and he may think he can never fall in love again. One day, people may say words that will hurt him. I pray that when that time comes, he will remember Mama and Daddy are still a safe place and that we will always protect him and help pick him up and get him back on his feet.

So World, I can't keep my little boy little forever. Please be gentle with him. Reading and watching the news, I read about people every day who have boo boos that they don't think can be fixed. Be kind. Be tolerant. Be loving. Be accepting. The same magic that allows me to heal boo boos with a kiss also empowers me to be like a lioness and protect my young at all costs. As a mother, it's my responsibility to do so.

And to Little C, I'll love you forever. I'll like you for always. As long as I'm living, my baby you'll be. And even when you're 35 and you get a boo boo from playing with your little boy, I'll still be here to kiss it and make it better.

Love,

Mrs. P

Free Fort Fun

Mr. P and I are attempting to stick to a budget (which we are traditionally terrible at). We wanted to try to do a few activities a week as a family, but if we had to pay for them every time, that can be expensive, so we have been researching fun things to do that cost zero dollars. Last night's fun: build a fort in the living room, then watch a movie from the fort!

Little C and I were tasked with building the fort while Mr. P grilled out for dinner. One helpful hint I used when building our fort was to run a string down the middle and the top to lift the fort a bit and give it a more tent-like feature. I was able to do this using the same hooks that we use to hang our Christmas decorations on. Score! I also used safety pins to help keep the big blanket in place on top, and because it helped stabilize the other blankets that we added on. After I got the fort built, Little C quickly figured out that it was THE PERFECT HEIGHT for him to run through to chase T-Bone (our family dog). They did circles and circles and then after they finished that, they ran even more circles. Once dinner was done, we had a picnic and ate, then we proceeded to watch The Lion King, which is Mr. P's all-time favorite Disney movie. Little C was amazed at all of the animals, but we fast forwarded to the whole Mufasa death scene because kids already have to grow up too fast and we don't want to rush the process. He lasted until Nala found Simba and the whole "Can You Feel the Love Tonight?" scene before he was ready to go to bed.

Little C isn't usually the most snuggly of boys. Instead he is one of the most wiggliest. A few times over the past week, though, he has let us lay with him before bed while he falls asleep. Last night he snuggled up to me and laid his head on my arm where he stayed until he fell asleep and those moments are my absolute favorite. After he finally fell asleep, I had to ninja creep and steal my arm back from him before going to my own room. I'm so glad I have moments like that with him (but not let him sleep with us because he likes his own space and Mr. P and I like having room in our bed *read: T-Bone and I take up most of the room while Mr. P prays for a little more than 1 foot on the very edge and hangs on for dear life*).

Stay tuned for more free fun things that we will be doing as we (try to) stick to our budget in the coming months leading up to Christmas!

Love,

Mrs. P