The Glass is 3/8 Full...

As obvious as it is for us to realize that we have so much to be thankful for and optimistic about, it is also just as easy (if not easier) for us to focus on what we don’t have, what we don’t like and what could go wrong.   I, for one, have the philosophy that if you expect the worst, you can only be pleasantly surprised when things turn out better than anticipated. 

For example, many moons ago, my now husband and I were dating long-distance for a year.  One winter Friday evening, he called to say he was leaving work to head home.  His commute was approximately an hour so when a few hours went by without hearing from him, I naturally panicked.  I called him back to back for at least an hour or two until he finally called me to explain that he had gotten a flat and had been out in the snow trying to change the tire.  Being the Girlfriend of Gloom (and now Wife of Worry) that I am, I assumed he was dead in a ditch (or perhaps cheating on me which would have ultimately led to him being dead in a ditch anyways).   Hearing his voice after what seemed like an eternity was so reassuring.  Even more traumatic was the night of my husband’s heart attack three and a half years ago.  Long story short, after a botched catheterization, he was rushed into open heart surgery for fear of an aortic rupture.  As you can imagine, that was the longest four or five hours of my life.  Time felt literally frozen.  It was the middle of the night and I was exhausted but it was no time to sleep.  Those doctors had my husband’s life in their hands.  Being a “Negative Nelly,” each time a doctor walked past the waiting room, I expected them to slowly come in (like you see in the movies) with their head hanging low as they pull off their surgical mask or cap to deliver the bad news.  “There was nothing we could do” or “it was too late – we tried everything we could.”  Thankfully, the doctor entered the room to tell me how the surgery went (successfully, if you didn’t already know) and to let me know when I could go see my husband in the cardiac ICU.  I could have kissed the surgeon for washing away my worst fears in that instant.  In both cases, knowing my hubby was safe, in one piece, ALIVE was like being zapped with a defibrillator myself – my lifeless heart was beating once again!

 It’s not healthy to live that way – always presuming anything out of the ordinary is the result of something horrible or tragic happening.  I am guilty of this to the hundredth degree.  In fact, I might be somewhat of a hypochondriac.  The second I experience a weird cramp in my leg or a headache with a side of dizziness, I am on my phone’s “WebMD” app to run a symptom checker to see whether I have a migraine or an aneurysm.  This is an especially fun game I play with myself right before bed.  As you can imagine, I sleep real well after discovering that I potentially have a life-threatening illness (or the common cold – it’s a tossup really).  My twisted mind runs all night, partly because I am making a list of things I need to do before I croak and also so that I can cheat the system and avoid passing away in my sleep.  You can’t die in your sleep if you don’t sleep, right!?  Demented, I KNOW!   Yet, here I am, awake, alive and kickin’ which leads me to an article I recently read.

The piece was on changing our perspective from negative to positive.  Instead of moaning and groaning about the lousy night’s sleep we got, why not raise and praise that we are living to see another day!  There are books about the power of positive thinking and the more I think about it, the more positive I am that this is effective.  It feels so good to see things through eyes of graciousness and calmness versus the high blood pressure inducing approach of angst and anger. 

Yes, it is easy to be overcome with road rage when you are stuck driving behind the world’s slowest driver -who apparently has no where important to be and is out for a rush-hour cruise – however, it is just as easy to crank up the radio, sing like no one is watching and enjoy the extra few minutes you get to jam to your favorite song!  Besides, if you’re in that much of a hurry to get to where you are going, perhaps you should’ve left earlier.  (Note to self: practice what you preach, Jessica!)  There is no sense in getting worked up about things we have no control over.  I am learning this lesson more and more.

This is not to say that if one of my daughter’s were ailing that I would brush it off because of my newfound optimism.  I will continue to use any “mother’s intuition” I might have as needed; however, I will do my utmost to abandon my first instinct which is to fear or dread (until I have to).

I saw a movie last night where the husband and wife made it a habit of telling each other the things they loved most about their partner whenever they departed from one another.  I thought this was a quite beautiful thing.  I have always felt it was important to tell the ones you love how you feel about them because time and unforeseen occurrences can befall us all and it may have been the last thing we said to that person.  Now I see that I can take it to the next level – if I follow the idea from the movie – I can tell the person not only how I feel but why I feel that way!  I may be overly optimistic but I’d like to think that could really make someone’s day including your own.  Does it not feel just as good to give a compliment as it does to receive one?!   I try to make it a point to “show and tell” my love to my family and friends every day.  I love them and will tell them so all 365 days (or 366 on leap years) of the year without rhyme or reason.

Looking at everything from a more affirmative light is still a work in progress.  My hypothetical glass may not be quite half full just yet but it’s certainly not half empty...

Take a Picture, It Lasts Longer

If you know me, you know how much I love photos.  Actually, love is probably an understatement.  I am borderline fanatical (bah, borderline - good one, Jessica).  This obsession really spun out of control after my girls were born especially since the birth of my youngest, likely because she is the baby (the last and final creature to inhabit my uterus) and the full-circle completion of our family.  Capturing each stage and step on film (or memory card these days) means that I’ll forever hold onto those moments that otherwise slip through my fingers.  Call me crazy but if I could, I would cover every blank space of wall in my home with pictures of the ones I love.

Before discovering my dear photographer friend Jessica and prior to another great friend, Kristin, starting her own business, I spent close to a mortgage payment on packages and frames from Picture People.  You would have thought I was a company shareholder!  But no more!  Now I am heavily invested in the unbelievably ridiculous (ridiculous in a good way) talent of these ladies as well as another amazing superstar (Lori) who is unfortunately not local to Orlando.  I can’t leave out Ashley, Brie or Henna, other good friends who also take incredible pictures.  All of these women exude talent – it radiates through them.  Their natural creativity is inspiring!  It’s also a little dangerous for someone with an indulgence like mine (wink).  I am very proud of them and wish everyone could see how special they are and what they are capable of!

Why so “interested” (to put it lightly) in photography, you may ask? 

Pictures tell a story.  To the people that are in the photo or who were there when it was taken, they recreate the emotions and the situation that was taking place when the flash went off.  To someone viewing the picture in a frame on your wall or in an album, it puts their imagination to work trying to figure out what someone said to make you laugh or what the weather was like at the beach that day.  This tale-telling aspect of photography makes any expense involved priceless.  And it is an expense but one that I’ve created a “fund” for because it’s so important to me.

It deserves a spot in my budget because I will never have those moments back.  My girls will never be as young and innocent again nor will I remember them so small and pure.  As hard as I try to hold on to those memories, my imperfect brain will fail me.  A picture, as they say, will certainly outlast my fading recollection.  Some people are blessed with a photographic memory but sadly I can barely recall the day of the week majority of the time.  For those of you like me, a photo whether printed or stored on your hard drive, is a memory incarnate – a tangible instant. 

Often someone will reminisce of a time from our past.  They will narrate the story down to the song that was playing in the background yet I am completely at a loss because of my dulled memory bank.  It’s like hearing the account for the first time which is bizarre when I am an actual “character” in the story!  It’s those situations that really put into perspective the value of pictures, as they truly help me to jump back in and live the moment in a way that hearing the words cannot.

What is funny about pictures, especially ones of me, is that as unhappy as I may be at first with how I look (whether it's the dissatisfaction of my weight or a funny face I might have made) - I am eventually grateful for that photograph.  I am able to recognize the beauty of having been caught "as is" at that point of my life.

There you have it – a snapshot of one of my passions.  And if you’re wondering, I don’t always have photos taken professionally.  I do take some myself but of course, the caliber is incomparable to that of the ladies mentioned above.  It’s similar to the old saying “those who can’t, teach” - except for me it would be “those who can’t, pay others to!” 

If It Ain’t Broke...

Change – it can be exciting…or scary.  For me, in most cases, it’s frightening.  I am a creature of comfort.  I like knowing what comes next, what to expect.  I am the girl who wants to know what happens at the end of a movie or what I’m getting for an anniversary gift. 

This blog is about a side of me I have not yet spoken to – my career.  My employer recently merged with another organization.  So far, the pros are outweighing the cons which has made for a very smooth transition.  There have not really been any noticeable changes so it’s been business as usual.  The tides seem to be turning however and changes are rolling in.  As someone who loves my job, my role and my manager, I cannot help but feel a little uneasy.  The impending changes may be as discreet as a new person signing the checks (so to speak) or they could mean restructuring or department shifts.  I really have no certainty as to what is in store but can only hope that the waves of change feel more like a splash than a tsunami.  I know how to swim so I am confident I can weather through whatever may come but I am quite anxious to see which “shore” I wash upon!  Hoping I don’t end up as a castaway…

Being a fan of routine and habit, I have a hard time jumping on board with the vision that our new leadership team has in the works.  I like to think that they have everyone’s best interest at heart but being the worry wart that I am, I naturally fear the worst.  It almost feels like what military “brats” might experience when they are suddenly uprooted from their home and friends.  Thankfully, they usually bounce back by making new friends and discovering new cultures.  The change brings a newfound appreciation for diversity as well as adaptability, well-roundedness and worldliness.  Similarly, I may not understand or even like the looming changes but who’s to say I may not come out on the other side with stronger skills, more business savvy and experience that I might not have otherwise encountered.  As intimidating as change might be, I choose to embrace it.

A friend of mine shared a quote that I thought was quite insightful (mind you, it’s from a rap song which makes the line both amazing and puzzling):  “A chance is like a picture – it would be nice if you just take it!”  Isn’t that true?  You’ll never know unless you go for it.  You may look back and hate the outcome, wishing you had never done it…or you might not.  You might look back and wonder what took you so long to take the leap!  I am really in no rush to make any sudden movements anywhere, as I am truly content where I am especially with the amazing manager and coworkers I have.   Yet if everyone else is moving forward and the train is leaving the station, I do not want to be left alone on the platform waving goodbye.  I certainly have no desire to be stagnant, so instead I will be eager and enthusiastic!

On an intertwined side note, I want to take a few brief moments to sing my manager’s praises.  She is a leader but to me, she is much more.  She is a mentor, an inspiration, a sounding board, a dose of reality when my head is in the clouds, a great judge of character and a sympathetic (or empathetic) nurturer.  She is wise but humble, determined but diplomatic, kind but defensive (especially for those she cares about).  She is strong in her convictions and gratefully, she believes in me so I can always count on her relentless support.  I am blessed to have worked with her for the last (almost) four years and hope we’ll continue to work together for many years to come.  However, if things are to change, I am at least comforted knowing that I will have a friend for a lifetime!

Finally, change can often be an amazingly wonderful thing.  For example, changing from a family of three to a family of four was perfect for us.  It makes our family whole.  Baby P completes our lives and fills any empty space in our hearts that may have existed.  Her sister R, too, created a new and invigorating dynamic for us.  Those two small individuals have forever changed me and in this case, I can honestly say, change is good!

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly!

This afternoon, as my 10 month old napped on my chest and my three year old entertained herself in the playroom doing who knows what (don't worry, I know what you're thinking, "Mother of the Year"), I was able to have some "me" time.  How did I spend the "me" time, you ask?  As much as I would have enjoyed a run on the treadmill at the gym, a mani/pedi or other spa service or heck, even a nap, I had a sleeping baby on my bosom which stranded me in the La-Z-Boy much to my displeasure.  I shuffled through the guide to see what was on the tube and discovered why I typically get out of the house on Saturdays - there is nothing on TV worth a second blink.  I thought of purchasing a movie On-Demand - something that had piqued my interest with a titillating preview that I never got around to seeing because let's face it, that requires a sitter and about a hundred bucks these days.  Instead, I opted to watch something I had recorded months ago that I kept putting on the back-burner - a movie called "Motherhood" starring Uma Thurman and that geeky doctor from "E.R." (a.k.a. Goose from "Top Gun").  In retrospect, I should have kept it on the back-burner until it auto-deleted from the DVR.


The movie follows a frustrated Manhattan mom (former book author) who just wants ten minutes to write a blog to submit for a contest with hopes of winning a job as a contributing writer.  She finds herself getting caught up in chores, grocery shopping, dropping off something to her daughter's class - you know, being a mom!  Of course, it's a movie so other not so everyday real life things occur but overall, I can't find myself sympathizing with this woman who misses her pre-stretch mark and sippy cup days.  Welcome to "motherhood!"  I was, however, inspired to write this blog so I guess that hour and a half wasn't a complete loss.  When this movie came out in theaters for five minutes last year (surprisingly enough it was not straight to DVD), Parenting magazine ran their own writing contest.  Naturally, I wanted to enter being the passionate writer that I am.  I'm sure you're wondering where I miraculously found five minutes to write an essay considering that I'm a M-O-M (gasp).  Well, for one thing, I wrote the essay when I was in possession of one less child and I likely wrote it with a sleeping child in my lap.  The contest stipulated a 300 word essay describing what motherhood means to you (me).  Easy enough, right?  I had a harder time figuring out an appropriate picture to include (also a requirement) to portray your theme. 


In relation to the title of this blog, here is the good (in fact, great) part of motherhood as described in the piece that I sent to Parenting for the contest.

R’s mom.  Suddenly, it seemed I was no longer Jessica but rather mother of R.  Although it may appear I had lost my identity, the truth was that becoming a mother to this extraordinary girl helped me to find myself more than I could’ve imagined.  Motherhood to me equals fulfillment, growth and purpose.  As early as I can recall, being a mommy was all that mattered.  I had other aspirations but soon determined becoming a parent would be the most rewarding and worthwhile accomplishment that I could make in my life. 

Since her birth, seeing R reach daily milestones has brought an enriching fulfillment to my soul.  Each day I witness discovery and exploration through her innocent eyes and it reminds me to appreciate the little things and life’s precious moments. 

Watching R blossom before me inspires me to grow into the woman and mother she deserves – one that she can respect, admire and aspire to be like someday.  My heart has expanded to make room for the overwhelming amount of love that I feel.

Many believe their purpose is to change the world.  I believe being a parent can change the world, maybe not everyone’s world but certainly your own and that of your child.  I have the opportunity to shape R in both significant and insignificant ways whether teaching her a lesson on inner beauty or showing her how to apply makeup (someday).  Being her mother and making even a small impact on who she becomes gives me reason.

Motherhood means everything to me and has not changed my individuality.  Instead, R is an extension of me; in fact, she is truly the best part of who I am.  Now expecting my second daughter, I am excited to start the cycle again while still evolving as R’s mom. 

There you have it - the joys and blessings of being a mother.  Now, of course, I have two beautiful girls who are my all and bring such definition to my being.  That does not mean that there aren't bad moments when I too reminisce on those days when I could sleep until noon or hop in the car to take a road trip on a whim.  The "bad" (and it's not really bad - more so hard and less than enlightening) means picking up toys over and over and over again, wiping tushies over and over and over again, saying "no...NOOOOOO" over and over and over again after each breath when the three year old wants candy for dinner or when the 10 month old repeatedly tries to pull a cord out of the electrical socket.  Not to mention the way your heart stops when you hear your 10 month old gagging on a Puff or when you lose sight of your three year old in Target for two minutes.  Times like that certainly put into question the wonder and amazement of parenting.  Thankfully, the good certainly outweighs the bad.  Love certainly conquers all in relation to motherhood - that's why they call it unconditional.  The moment you hear the breathtaking, melodic sounds of your baby's cries as they enter the world - your life changes for the better and although you may at times question what you got yourself into, there are no regrets.

Well, that's not completely true.  I have one regret.  I totally should have used that 90 minutes today to do something more constructive today versus suffering through the bad acting that is Uma Thurman, ergo the ugly part of this blog.  The day wasn't a complete waste - I spent one on one time with kids and that is (in the words of Miley Cyrus) pretty cool!

By the way, in case you were wondering what the picture looked like that I submitted for the Parenting contest (and shockingly I know, I didn't win) - here it is:

By the way, R's name is on the blanket in the background so that explains the heart (blocking it out).  Unfortunately, I don't have any fancy photo editing software - just Paint, ha!!

A Swim in Denial

Where to begin?  I started thinking of this blog last week.  It's a little all over the place so bear with me please!

I was reflecting on the relationships in my life, some of which have thrived and flourished and others that have slowly started to wither.  Like a flower which takes water and sunshine to grow, a friendship takes work from both parties.  You can water a plant everyday but if you keep it in a dark closet, what's the point?  Likewise, you can set a plant on the windowsill with the sun shining upon it daily but without nourishment from water, how will your precious plant blossom?  Enough comparing people to botanics.  What I am trying to say is that I have found it quite disheartening to put in so much effort when it is not being reciprocated.  A successful relationship is not one-sided yet I continue to find myself making excuses for the other person's absence in the friendship.  What can I say, I'm knee deep in denial.

I then started thinking about how uncomfortable I am when someone compliments me.  Why?  Your guess is as good as mine.  It's not that I would prefer to be criticized, as that certainly doesn't feel any better but receiving kudos is about as easy to bear as a root canal (for me, at least).  My husband will often tell me how attracted to me he is and all I can do is casually laugh it off with a roll of my eyes.  If it weren't just us in the room, I might just turn around to see if he were talking to someone directly behind me.  But why?  I look in the mirror everyday - it's not like I'm a grotesque beast or anything so I'm unsure of the reason for a lack of self confidence.  I really have no explanation but do know that it is something I need to work on.  I've taken steps to improve my esteem including eating better, exercising regularly and thinking more positively.  I know it will take time before I see results and ultimately agree with any compliments I receive.  So here I am now, waist deep in denial and potentially treading into deeper waters. 

But thankfully, my two daughters are both an anchor to keep me from sinking (or drowning) and also lifesavers to bring me back to shore (reality).  They are two of my best friends who always give back towards the efforts I put forth.  Their love will never be fruitless or in vain.  And when they tell me they think I'm pretty, I believe them because I know their eyes are nonjudgmental and pure.  I truly hope that they will always believe me when I tell them how proud of them I am, how beautiful I think they are (and not just because they are my spawn), how much I love them and how much they have enriched and changed (for the better) MY life!  I never want them to be in denial about my unconditional feelings for them so I will make every effort to tell them how I feel - showering them with praise and shining my love on these two delicate flowers everyday so that they can never deny the value they have in my world and in my heart!

Taste of My Own Medicine

I have recently been diagnosed with a serious condition.  The condition is called Obsessive Impulsive Disorder and yes, I diagnosed myself.  Obsessive Impulsive Disorder is a hybrid of OCD, as it incorporates obsession.  As I'm typing this, I've rewinded the TV several times to watch the same song on Glee over and over again.  See, obsessive!

The impulsive part is my incessant habit of buying something, saying something, becoming obsessed with something without any forethought.  This disorder of mine explains why I can't walk out of a Target without having shelled out at least a Benjamin or two.  Naturally, I have spent my fair share of time at the return counter after having come home and taken the time to determine whether I really needed that Playstation 3 game that was on sale.  Mind you, I do not own a Playstation 3 but a deal is a deal - right?!?

To go off on a side tangent, I also have a condition in which I buy things that I may not need right now (or ever) because it was on sale.  An example of this was last night when I bought a bag of coffee for the hubby that was on sale even though we probably have enough coffee to open our own cafe.  I'll have to come up with a witty name for this other disorder.

Back to the topic of the evening - my OID.  It has become a serious problem.  When I find something that garners my interest, I obsess over it and impetuously do whatever it takes to obtain it.  Past impulsive obsessions include a DSLR camera (even though I knew I would never pursue photography professionally), taking a family vacation, the iPhone 4, family photos (and what we were going to wear), starting my blog (yay!), a bicycle - just to name a few. 

Most recently, I have become consumed with getting into shape.  As soon as the idea entered into my mind, I began recklessly running online searches for gym membership specials, nutritional information on my favorite foods, fitness class schedules, you name it - anything to do with losing weight and becoming fit!  Last week, my preoccupation with taking better care of myself came to a head when I went to get some more information on LA Fitness.  I stopped in on my lunch break expecting to bring home some pamphlets and walked out with an agreement, a key ring and an appointment with a personal trainer.  If anyone is available, I might need help washing "SUCKER" off my forehead...

However, I am proud to say that I am sticking with my new obsession (not throwing it to the wayside and moving on to something newer and more exciting like usual).  Instead of buying those cupcakes that were staring me in the face at Publix last night - begging for residency in my kitchen, I opted to walk to the seafood counter to buy some fresh mahi mahi as well as the poultry aisle for some lean turkey breast.  This is an obsession that will prove to be good for me and I couldn't be more excited or proud of myself!

Before I finish my blog, I want to add one more example of my ailment.  When I met my husband, I liked him but nothing more.  It wasn't until someone else expressed interest in him that I realized just how much I liked him.  The thought of losing him made it that much more important for me to have him.  I aggressively pursued him (ok, I threatened him - you caught me) until he was mine.  Here we are almost ten years later, happily married for five years with two of the world's most beautiful children.  Sometimes those instinctive urges pay off.  In this case, I would say that I have hit the jackpot.  It's a diagnosis I can easily live with!

I Always Feel Like...Somebody's Watching Meeeee

I'm sure my kids feel that way.  They probably always have an eerie feeling that someone is staring them down.  You know, that feeling where you just know someone is watching your every move or that their eyes could burn a hole in your skin.  That person staring my kids down is me! 

What can I say?  I can't help but stare at my beautiful girls - especially when they sleep.  I thought about this blog topic as I was laying down with my 10-month old this afternoon trying to put her down for a nap.  I was overwhelmed by just how precious she is.  I could have laid next to her all afternoon just counting every golden hair on her head or watching her rosebud lips quiver as if sucking on an invisible pacifier.  When my three year old sleeps, I love the tenderness of her pink cheeks and the way her eyelashes curl.  I am in such awe of these beautiful creatures, I really could stare at them every second of the day.  It's just too bad gawking at the kiddies doesn't pay the bills, am I right!? 

Riley has caught me gazing over at her with misty eyes, a crinkled forehead and pout and asked me "Mommy, what are you looking at?!"  It's too hard to explain to her that I am mentally begging and pleading with the hands of time to stop where they are, somberly watching their childhood go by at super speed with no pause or slow-motion button or that I am looking at her trying to freeze and capture that moment or the look on her face to store it in my memory bank.  I simply tell her that mommy is looking at her with love.  It depresses me deeply knowing that they will not remember much about this time in their life and more so that I will not remember much about this time either.  Pictures and videos can only do so much - they don't capture the way your baby's breath smells, the softness of their sweet skin, the way your heart flutters when they smile at you or tell you they love you (whether with words or with the way they embrace you). 

Of course, there are many other reasons for watching them like a hawk other than for the sheer pleasure of it.  I have to constantly keep a watchful eye to ensure my three year old isn't using our white walls as a canvas for her latest artistic rendering or to prevent my 10-month old from sticking every object under the sun into her mouth in her own game of "Is This Edible?  Let's Find Out!" 

It's a special treat seeing their little personalities develop.  My three year old is extremely considerate, sensitive and creative.  I just love watching her nurture her sister, show emotion when she sees something that brings her joy or draw a picture of a turtle or our family at the beach.  She reminds me so much of me when she dances around while singing "we're always, gonna be together" (her own version of "We Go Together" from Grease) or when she plays waitress and jots down my dinner order on a notepad.  My 10-month old is playful, curious and strong.  I smile ear to ear when I see her devilish grin as we play our own little game of "I'm gonna get you" (my version of a tag/hide-n-seek hybrid), when she cruises around seeking something new to discover and get her hands into or when she tumbles like it was nothing and gets right back to whatever she was doing (which was probably something mischievous).  I see my passion and stubbornness in her when she continues to try something over and over again (until she gets the hang of it or until she gets her way). 

No matter the reason for my intense stare down, nothing gives me greater joy than having the privilege of watching these girls grow.  Although I'm not thrilled about the growing bigger or older part, I am certainly enjoying their growth as individuals.  Their unique intricacies combined with their stunning similarities is visually (and emotionally) stimulating.  Clearly, I am in love with my girls.  I just hope my love is as transparent to them - now and always!