The Plague of 2011

Although I do not celebrate holidays including Thanksgiving (as you probably know and if you don't, feel free to ask me about it), today I would like to extend a giant thank you to the public school system, parents who send their sick children to school, and also bacteria.  Of course I am being sarcastic because really, why on earth would I thank public schools or parents who are stupid enough, lazy enough, selfish enough or a balanced-blend-of-all-of-the-above enough to let their infected offspring attend school where (shockingly) they’ll be around other children with undeveloped immune systems.  Not that my kid is perfect and knows or follows the proper sick etiquette but these kids tend to wipe their nose on classroom items, cough in each other’s faces and then hold hands during circle time – one big happy germ-infested class.  And bacteria is just an accessory to the crime, it’s not his fault he’s being spread around haphazardly.

Because of the three culprits above, my family has been plagued with this superbug that refuses to die.  Like the villain in any horror movie, just as soon as you think the good guys have won, in an instant you are screaming at the hero/heroine to “TURN AROUND!!!” because the bad guy is baaaaack for one last hurrah (or in our case, more like the Rocky or Die Hard sequels – you lose count after the third or fourth one).  

What started as sniffles and coughs has developed into an all-around pandemonium of symptoms.  We’ve had two rounds of pink eye, a cough that manifests into dry-heaves and subsequently vomiting, diarrhea and diaper rash, bloody phlegm, fevers and chills, but most recently, the hives due to an allergic reaction to one of the antibiotics.  Last I checked, antibiotics were supposed to help, not make the situation worse!

The hardest part of this all was that this beast of a bug targeted my two innocent beauties, R and P.  It took a shot at the hubby and I which was also a tough blow since it’s impossible to take care of yourself when you have helpless munchkins who need you (and yes, I’m lumping the hubby into the munchkin category because we all know that men revert to infancy when they’re ill but I digress…).  There is not much worse than having a sick child, nonetheless two; and then to try to reassure them that they will get better, oy!  Kids have no concept of time so R likely feels like she has been sick for three years (although it’s only been three weeks but I can appreciate her misconception because it’s starting to feel like years for me too).  Each time R coughs, she nearly spews out anything in her stomach (which isn’t much since her already miniscule appetite is dwindling) and as she does, my heart aches for her.  Then there is P who has woken up twice over the past few weeks looking like she might go blind because her beautiful blues were crusted shut due to the colorful bug known as conjunctivitis.  She has remained pleasant despite the warm washcloth to wipe away the film of green yuck taping her eyes shut each morning and despite the three times a day I have to hold her down to put drops in her eyes.  Sadly, she’s at the point where she laughs about me practicing a half nelson on her to plant the drops in her peepers.

I feel like I haven’t seen my family or friends since jeggings were in style…oh wait, they’re still in style so scratch that.  Well, it still feels like it’s been since the 80’s.  I want desperately to be human again.  I’m starting to feel like our family belongs on one of those SyFy shows.  I miss breathing through my nose.  I miss my kids having normal poop.  I miss all the money I shelled out on doctor visit co-pays in just the last two weeks (almost enough to pay for medical school…in a foreign country albeit).  I would love to be taking the girls to the new Muppets movie today but alas, we’re stuck indoors watching the same old garbage that has been the background noise (that we can barely hear because we’ve all had or have ear infections) while we’ve all been basking in a cesspool of each other’s germs. 

This probably sounds like quite a negative rant and it mostly is; however, to turn it around, I know there are families going through much harder times with children who are sick everyday of their life with viruses or diseases much worse than what we’ve gone through even at our weakest.  Those parents and their brave children make my problems seem so insignificant (which they are retrospectively).  To keep the positivity going (because quite frankly, I need all the positivity I can get right now), I would really, truly (not sarcastically) like to thank the many family and friends who have offered to help us in whatever way we may have needed them.  Although we didn’t take you up on most of your generous proposals, just knowing you were willing to extend yourselves means the world to us.  And also, I am so appreciative of the ladies who work at my daughters’ pediatric office who were working today to see little sickos like mine who just couldn’t wait another day to be seen.  On that note, I will be going to lay down for a snuggle-infested nap with Little P in hopes of kicking our viruses’ butts to the point of no (and I mean, no) return!

(Below is a picture of my two dear darlings in all their gooey-glory)

Family Matters

As I'm watching a movie that involves a paternity mishap, my mind has started wandering onto the subject of family - specifically inherited traits. The child in the movie has distinct characteristics (moans when he eats, thinks he has every disease in the book - hey wait, that sounds familiar…) - all of which link him to his real father. And so it got me thinking about some of the faces I make subconsciously, the protruding bunion on my right foot, my incessant need to ruin surprises or even the foods I refuse to eat just based on the way they look - all pieces of the inheritance that my parents and the generations before them have left for me.

Inadvertently, my parents and grandparents have bestowed upon me some of their worst traits; albeit, they are also responsible for my best traits but it's typically harder to see the good in people and even more so, the good in ourselves. For better or for worse, the mesh of good and bad equals me. That doesn't, however, mean that I cannot change and steer towards another course. After all, we are all granted free will (at least once we turn 18 or leave our parents’ home) which means we have a choice. For example, a child who is raised by an alcoholic father might be more likely to inherit a problem with self-control or addiction but that isn't a one-way ticket to Margaritaville; instead, that child might silently vow never to be anything like his father and push harder than normal to assure that he/she doesn't get to that point. Similarly, I can make the call as to whether I will have an uncontrollable sweet tooth like my father and grandmother or a constant curiosity like my mother. But as evident by my muffin top, I have made a stand on one of the above although I desperately wish I could rid myself of that innate love of all things sugar. As for my nosiness, I'm happy to say that it is a work in progress.

The point is - no matter how hard we try, we can't escape who we are...or who our family is for that matter (even if DNA is the only thing we have in common). We may not even like our family but it's important to remember that God gave them to us - they not only shaped us into the person we have become but they are the bridge that links us to our future (as quoted by Alex Haley).

Although I am no longer Jessica B. (insert maiden name), I have still carried much of the "B" into my own family. My daughters very much resemble my husband but are programmed with so many similarities to me and my side of the family. It's not exactly what I had in mind as an inheritance for my children but in reality, it's a priceless gift. After all, my father's mother is no longer around but seeing some of her quirks in me is a sweet reminder of her that lives on and will continue to live on in my children and so on. It's actually quite a beautiful thing!

There are some people I know that find their family a nuisance or perhaps even worthless. They feel they could do better without them and would rather forget them altogether. No matter how hard we try to avoid them though, perhaps even going across the world - the truth is that they are always with us – they are inside of us, deep within our bones.

To conclude, I think this quote sums it up nicely - "A man may travel the world over in search for what he needs and yet returns home to find it." Family is home - they are the only people in the world who know everything about you and still love you for who you are. Family matters - especially this one...

The customer is NOT always right...

....unless I'm the customer, naturally!  Well, I am back after far too long of an absence from blog-la land.  Oh how I have missed pouring out my heart on here.  Hopefully I will not allow as much time to pass the next time around.  I actually owe an entire blog to my beautiful daughter R who turned four last month.  We were away and therefore, she has been neglected in the blogisphere. 

So unto our topic at hand.  The age old saying that the customer is always right is a crock, to put it delicately.  Obviously, whomever coined it never had my client (for privacy and safety purposes, we'll call her Priscilla - safety purposes that I don't want to be reprimanded or terminated for using her real name in a negative connotation) as a customer.  And on a side note, I named her Priscilla because I went to school with a real "peach" (again, to put it nicely) with that moniker.  The originator of that phrase also could never have been a Dell employee which as you'll soon find out (and likely already assumed) is part of one of the examples I will be using to support my stance on the lousy "customer always right" mumbo jumbo.

I have had two (technically three) experiences recently and have been on both ends of the spectrum - client and service provider.  In all three instances, the inaccuracy of the statement has been reinforced. 

Humor me if you will...

Scenario 1: Jessica versus Priscilla - I play the role of the service provider while Priscilla is the never wrong client
My job is to provide Priscilla and her team with qualified applicants for her job openings which I have done.  However, Priscilla has unrealistic expectations and desires that not only go against company policy but also that flat out make no sense.  I would love to tell Priscilla to stick to her job and I'll stick to mine.  Afterall, when it comes to recruiting, I am the subject matter expert.  I would not presume to know how to do her job and even if I did, I certainly wouldn't have the chutzpah to tell her how I think she should do hers.  I would also be much obliged to fulfill her requests if she had the decency to handle herself in an endearing manner.  Heck, I would be happy to help her if she would use any form of manners.  Instead, she is stubborn, demanding and ungrateful.  I am usually the type to "kill with kindness" when someone doesn't warm up to me but in this case, I prefer to have as little interaction with her as possible and would rather invest my kindness elsewhere.

Scenario 2: Jessica versus Dell - I play the role of the client while Dell is the service provider
At the beginning of May, our family computer crashed and burned.  I subsequently was on the market for a new PC (or Mac, although very, very interested in one - I wasn't quite convinced that I was ready to make the switch to a whole new operating system or invest that much money (though in retrospect, the extra few hundred probably would have been a wiser investment but that's neither here nor there)).  After going back and forth for nearly three weeks on whether I was going to purchase or not (and also which brand to select), I settled on Dell because there was a sale which included a basic version of Microsoft Office, a two-year warranty and some other crucial features I insisted upon.  I also have a credit account with Dell which was handy since I had not been saving up for a new computer until our other malfunctioned.  Alas, when interested in purchasing the Dell, I was reached by every method of contact besides a knock at the door.  Fast forward to a week later, my brand new (house-payment equivalent) computer had arrived.  In less than 24 hours of possession, this expensive new member of the family was not charging while plugged in to the A/C adapter.  Lovely!  Naively, I figured I would easily chat with their support folks online and quickly have the issue resolved.  Not so fast, Jessica!  My computer was not recognized so I was instructed to call for support.  Low and behold, when calling, I was told that my computer's warranty had expired (mind you, they were using my phone number to pull up my account and completely neglecting the fact that I had previously purchased products from them that in fact were no longer under warranty).  After an hour and a half of being re-routed to customer service specialists who not only had no idea how to resolve my issue, let alone speak audible English, I finally spoke to someone who was able to "fix" the bug that was causing the charging issue.  Ah, happy Jessica!  The feeling of contentment and excitement lasted a mere twelve hours when later in the evening, the Microsoft Office programs were not opening.  After another merry-go-round with Dell's incompetent help desk, I was told that I would have to reset the computer to factory settings to reinstall the Microsoft Office program as there was no other way to download it or be provided with a hard copy of the software.  Awesome!  At this point, I had already loaded this oversized coaster with photos, music and other goodies.  There was no way I was going to wipe it clean and start from scratch.  I made sure to express my disdain to the poor soul on the other line advising that I was almost to the point of sending the hunk of junk back.  I found it rather funny that when they wanted my money, I couldn't hide from them but when they had my money, they were no where to be found!  I'm still pretty livid about the poor treatment I received and the unresolved Microsoft issue but thankfully a dear friend came through and helped me out in that regard.  (Shout out to V)

Scenario 3:  Jessica versus Anonymous Resume Client - I play the role of the service provider to Anonymous
As some of you know, I run a side business in which I create or revise resumes.  Earlier this year, I was asked to revise a resume for an acquaintance.  Because this was a close enough acquaintance, I offered to provide the service at a discounted rate.  I completed the revisions and sent the finished product off which in turn received stellar reviews.  Everything was great...or so I thought.  A week or so later, the client contacted me requesting that I review their resume which they made some "slight" changes to.  I agreed, however, I was stunned when upon opening the document I realized that "slight" changes translated to new font, new formatting, new verbiage, etc.  It was basically a completely new resume other than having the name and address formatting in common.  I was honestly more than "slightly" offended not only that the client was dissatisfied with my revisions but that they neglected to approach me to adjust to their liking and instead handled it on their own.  Even more so, I was annoyed that I had invested time and energy into developing a product that I knew was good, in fact, better than this new hot mess they had sent for my review.  My blunt opinion would have been that they should have stuck with the version I had provided especially since I look at resumes daily and (not to toot my own horn) know what is considered a strong resume.  This person completely disregarded my expertise as well as my hard work and expected me to critique (and possibly revise) this new and not-so-improved version.  I was flabbergasted.  To date, I still have not received payment but figure this client may not have the funds if they are using that resume to find employment. 

The lesson of the day is that if the saying were true, Priscilla would be Queen of the Universe, Dell would have sent me Microsoft Office 2010 on disc and a $100 credit for my patience and Anonymous could have free lifetime revisions to their resume.  Fortunately or unfortunately (for me), that's not "the way the cookie crumbles."  Life isn't a box of chocolates and the early bird doesn't always catch the worm (ok, ok, enough stupid cliches)...the point is, "you can't always get what you waaaaant...but if you try sometimes, you get what you neeeeeed!"

On a lighter note, I promise to sing a happier tune in my next blog which will be dedicated to R, one of my best and favorite lil customers!

Men are from Mars...

Let me preface this blog by saying that I truly do love my husband.  Now that I've gotten that off my chest, I can move forward with the true theme of this blog - the differences between men and women are out of this world. 

Case in point - we had both been sick recently.  Symptoms were almost identical yet the manner in which we handled our ailments varied greatly.  It's as if I had allergies and he had pneumonia.  The comparison both amused and frustrated me.  I'm certain I'm not alone here when I say that my husband suddenly manifests his inner infant when he's not feeling well.  It's rather sweet how dependent they are but when you're already caring for two real kiddos, it can be a little daunting to say the least.  On the contrast, I could have bodily fluids coming out from every which way (apologies for the visual) but still be expected to carry out my motherly duties.  That's right, believe it or not, life goes on when mom is sick because afterall, the little bugars can't wipe themselves (neither the literal or figurative ones).

Another way in which men and women are at opposite ends of the spectrum are in emotions - specifically concern and worry.  Sure, there are men out there who have anxiety.  My husband expresses nerves or anxiousness about many things - his health, speaking in public, etc.  Women, on the other hand, worry about e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g!  We are experts on the subject.  I, for one, analyze then analyze some more and top it off with some more analyzing until there is nothing left to analyze.  Whether it's over-analyzing something I said (or didn't say) to a friend or over-thinking a look someone gave me, my stomach is in knots for hours (if not more) wondering what if I had (or what if I hadn't), why (or why not).  When I voice my concern to my husband, he so breezily says "Who cares?  Why do you care what other people think so much?" or "It is what it is."  But what if "it" isn't?!  Call it my inner control freak but I want everyone to like me and everything to go smoothly and that's just not the way life works.  For men, that's perfectly fine.  Not so much for women!  As one of my friend's put it (today, in fact) - women especially moms - want to solve the world's problems starting with our own and those of our family's.  That constant need to make all well is exhausting and stressful but it "is what it is!"

I could probably drag this blog on endlessly on the countless ways in which we differ from our counterparts but that would be going overboard and I already do enough of that.  I will say, however, that as much as their intracacies might eat us up inside, those same manly traits are a lot of the reason why we're attracted to them in the first place.  The differences can be so refreshing!  I thoroughly love and value my husband's carefree nonchalance because he will either reassure me that nothing is wrong in the first place or that if something is wrong, that he will be there to support me through it.  And although I might roll my eyes (mostly in jealousy) and send angry text messages about him when he is under the weather and sleeps all day, I secretly want him to do whatever he needs to to feel better - because I too worry about his health. 

No matter which "planet" we came from, I am grateful that both genders decided to "land" on Earth because my world is a much happier place with my man by my side!

Where Would I Be Without My Little Sweet "P?"

It’s hard to believe that a year ago today, I woke up, spent some time with my then only child, R, before driving to the hospital to have a baby – a baby that I could never have imagined loving as much as I do.  R, my first born, was my everything!  I had a hard time feeling that immediate “over the moon” kind of love with R, most likely because I was a nervous first-time parent who was suffering from a wee bit of post partum depression; however, as soon as it hit me, I was love struck.  My world revolved around her and I couldn’t have been happier on “Planet R!” 

My husband and I knew we wanted another child in time.  We both grew up with two siblings so we knew how nice it was to have brothers or sisters to play with, look up to (or to be looked up at) and to become friends with as we transitioned to adults.  We weren’t sure exactly when to add that other child – we didn’t want to have two “babies” as we thought it would be too much of a struggle for us (huge kudos to my friends who have had children essentially back to back) and we also didn’t want our kids to be spaced too far apart as we wanted them to share common interests and keep each other company/entertained.  We were planning on waiting until R was about 2 ½ to start trying but a few weeks after her second birthday, I was struck with baby fever so we began trying in May (although baby fever did not coincide with my fertility schedule so really, June was the first month that counted). 

It was middle July and I can remember having a feeling but to my dismay, three pregnancy tests felt otherwise.  I was oddly disappointed even though we had only started the month before.  I just knew I was pregnant but Clear Blue had a different opinion.  I went to my primary care doctor’s office for a cold and mentioned that I had been “trying” so they took a urine sample and again – NOT PREGNANT!  There was blood in my urine, according to the nurse, who dismissed it as being the early signs of my period.  My cycle came and went, so after three days of nothing, I had one more pee stick left and thought – why not give it one more whirl!  My “ah ha!” moment came as my intuition was confirmed with two pink lines which equaled PREGNANT!  I was overjoyed and couldn’t wait to share the news with my husband.  I drove out to his office and gave him a “present” (which was the pregnancy test in a fancy pen giftbox).  We shared the news of a new baby Erickson with everyone else via a picture of R wearing a shirt that said “I’m Going to be a Big Sister!”  It was such a happy time!

Fast forward two or three weeks and I was starting to question what would have been wrong with leaving R as an only child.  Why?  This creature growing inside of me was sucking the life, appetite and gag reflex out of me!  Never have I felt so sick in my life (with no relief – tried ginger cookies/candy/ale, motion sickness bands, Preggo Pops, teas, peppermint, lemon, Zofran, you name it) and with what seemed like no light at the end of the tunnel.  Ok, there was light (obviously my baby was the light) but nine months seemed soooo far away!  Of course, I knew it would ALL be worthwhile but a small part of me had a little regret for “messing up a good thing” (our trio that had been working so well).  My concerns even played out into a poem that I wrote titled “Who’s Idea Was It?” in which I wondered out loud who’s bright idea it was to have a second child.  I thought it was selfish to not only take the attention away from R when her sister would arrive but also selfish because I was feeling so under the weather constantly which meant that I couldn’t be the best parent possible to R during those nine (looooong) months.  Shame on me for writing that nonsense poetry!  Now, in hindsight, I see that it would have been selfish of me not to provide R with a sister and her best friend for life, baby P! 

Thinking about having ANY regret now makes me angry with myself.  If I could go back, I would surely slap myself in the face for ever feeling anything short of elation even if I seemed like I had a 280-day stomach “bug.”  That “bug’ is now a one year old girl that melts my heart!  Because of how sick I felt day-in, day-out while pregnant with P, I was sure she was going to be a tough baby.  I was expecting a colicky, night owl but was pleasantly surprised with a snuggly, sleep-long-stretches-through-the-night, sweet baby girl.  Granted, she had me nervous a few nights while in the hospital when I let them take her to the nursery (yes, gasp, I let her out of my sight…with your second baby, you’re a little more liberal about these things…or at least I was) and they called me 20 minutes later to ask me to come get her, as she was keeping all of the other peaceful babies awake with her screams.  Thankfully, by the time we made it home, she decided to take it easy on her folks!  She actually slept for longer spurts then more so than she does now. 

So here we are – my infant is evolving into the toddler phase.  She still holds several traces of infancy that I intend to hold on to for as long as possible (fighting tooth and nail if I have to) – little cooing noises for example.  Just thinking about those sounds and her soft-as-satin skin takes my breath away and gives me goosebumps.  My heart hurts at the fact that she is already a year old when it feels like I have only started to enjoy her as a baby.  If her first year went this fast, it’s all downhill from here. 

Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited to see what kind of person she will turn into.  I can definitely see indicators of who I think she will be.  She is playful and feisty, silly and smart, a beauty and a brute.  Sometimes (most times) she is a mommy’s girl, sometimes she is a daddy’s girl but she is always her big sister’s girl.  The way she lights up at the sight of R, lights me up like the evening sky.  I am intoxicated by my love for the two greatest children I could have ever been blessed with.  To take a line from wacky Charlie Sheen, I am on a drug and it’s called love for my wonderful family – hubby, R and P!

I guess I do have some regrets.  I regret thinking there wasn’t room in my heart to love another child.  There’s plenty of room in fact because your heart just doubles in size (and this time, it was instant love because I wasn’t a nervous wreck).  Although I think they are just the right age difference apart, I almost regret not giving R a sister sooner because P brings out the best in her.  They both certainly bring out the best in me and make me want to be a better person.  I can’t even remember what life was like before two – it just feels so natural and meant to be!  As she turns one today, I regret taking this precious time for granted and not soaking it in more.  It’s like waking up from the most wonderful dream and wishing you could go back to sleep so you can relive it again but sadly, you can hardly even remember it at all.

What started as a dynamic duo, turned into a terrific trio but pales in comparison to our fabulous foursome!  We are complete and completely overjoyed, overcome with love and perhaps even overly blessed (not that I’m complaining).  P, as one awesome friend put it, is truly the cherry on top of our sweet little family!

Baby Love

Today was a special day for two friends of mine, as they each welcomed their first baby into the world.  The excitement, relief and instant bond formed as your little one exits from within your womb into your arms is like no other combination of emotions.  It is truly indescribable! 

For nine months, you become acquainted with the life form taking residence inside of you but nothing compares to finally meeting your child. Hearing their goat-like cry for the first time (which by the way is the most beautiful sound EVER!), counting 10 fingers and 10 toes to confirm appendage perfection or looking into their eyes as they wonder where they are and why they have been plucked from their comfort zone - all moments of pure bliss!

Any and all of the pain endured during your pregnancy (and labor - which I wouldn't really know about with two Cesarean sections under my belt) instantly washes away like the tide and is replaced by immediate unconditional love.  It is a beautiful thing!

I have been 110% confident that our family circle is now complete.  As soon as I rule out one more, I am engorged by that rush of feelings that takes you over as you meet your flesh and blood for the first time.  I imagine that moment when your heart gets bigger to make room for all of the joy and love for your new child and I become uncertain. 110% sure slowly shrinks little by little.  I probably stand at 103% as of now so as long as I avoid "A Baby Story" on TLC, home birth and newborn photo sessions (cough, Jessica and Kristin, cough) and pretty much any pregnant women in a 50 mile radius.  Thankfully, each temper tantrum my girls throw or fever of 101 that they run brings that number right back up and spares me of any wild idea to procreate again!

Naturally, my husband wants to try for a boy.  I'm not exactly sure why since in our situation, he is the King of the Castle.  He will have three women to dote over him, care for him, feel safe because of him; although I'm sure he sees it as three shopaholics with mood swings and menstruation!  Don't get me wrong, I love little boys.  The thought of a baby boy looking up at me like there is no greater woman to have ever walked this earth is endearing and even tempting but I am blessed enough to already have two girls who look at me that way.  They will grow up to be my little sidekicks.  I have an amazing opportunity to be a role model to them.  Alright so maybe I see why my hubby would want a son - someone he could watch Sunday football with or play a round of catch with, all while shaping and molding him into a strong young man and good person.  I certainly see the appeal, however, I'm just not convinced we would even have a boy (or that we could handle being outnumbered with a third rugrat). 

I think the best option for me will be to practice patience for the next thirty years at which time I will become an elated grandmother.  It will be the perfect arrangement - I'll be consumed with love for another baby that I will smother with so many hugs and kisses then give that beautiful pride and joy of mine right back to his or her mommy and daddy before the sun goes down!  I'm sure those of you reading this are thinking I am crazy for even bringing up the grandparent factor when my girls are only three and 11 months but if I don't think ahead like this, that 110% (or 103%) certainty will continue to dwindle to the point of peeing on a stick.  So please, humor me!

In conclusion, I would like to sincerely congratulate Stephanie and Teri on the births of their firstborns this morning.  Ladies, welcome to motherhood!!  It is everything it's cracked up to be...and so much more!

Like Sands Thru the Hourglass...

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.  The ticking of my life's clock is exceptionally loud today.  Not for any particular reason (don't worry, I'm not on my death bed or anything); simply because I am dwelling on it.  I may not remember much about my early youth but I do recall the rush to grow up.  Becoming an adult had such a sense of urgency when I was an adolescent.  For me, it meant freedom and everything I wished for in life becoming a reality.  Little did I know that you're never really free nor do you get everything you dream of. 

Ultimately, we have freedom in several aspects such as "freedom of speech" or "freedom of religion" (thankfully) as well as other choices we are each entitled to.  Sure, we have the choice as to whether to work (unlike school, where it is a requirement to attend either public, private or home school); however, as adults, if we were to choose not to work, we would subsequently be destitute (unless we had gullible parents who allowed us to mooch on them forever).  For most of us, we cannot afford the luxury of being unemployed (and if you're married, I am referring to both parties being unemployed as I know many families who are able to live comfortably  or at least survive off of one income).  Therefore, we technically do not have freedom to come and go as we please unless of course we sacrifice a stable home and many of our daily staple of necessities.  As a student, I felt trapped but in reality, your education at least culminates with graduation after 13 or so years; whereas, employment only ends with retirement which sadly can take 50 years to achieve. 

As for reaching all of your dreams, that too is something that can be accomplished either by setting realistic expectations or working so hard that once again you are making sacrifices.  I had two dreams that I was extremely passionate about: 1) becoming a mother and 2) living in Manhattan as a magazine editor.  Although there are likely many magazine editors that juggle their career with a family of their own, it was not ideal for me to mesh my two dreams together.  I sacrificed my dream job for the dream that held much higher value and weight which was to start a family.  I have absolutely NO regrets!  However, I am guilty of skimming through the pages of Cosmo and daydreaming about what my life could have been like had I pursued that pathway but then I look at two of the most beautiful faces I've ever seen (R and P) and in an instant, I know I am right where I should be! 

As I watch time slip through my fingers with my oldest daughter approaching four and my youngest on the verge of one, I cannot help but fall into a fog.  Where has the time gone?  I feel like I literally laid down for a nap after school one day, only to wake up as a wife and mother of two creeping towards thirty.  My friend Tanya telling me "you're only 12" when I desperately wished to be 18 still rings in my ears as if I'm a pre-teen with a push-up bra all over again.  I guess I got what I wanted - I blinked my way into adulthood.  Yay for me! 

Now, I can only hope and pray that my girls relish in the days of their youth.  They will never have that innocence or carefree spirit again.  In a few short years, they will be crying on my shoulder about feeling so limited or sheltered and wanting to explore the world.  If only my words and experience were enough to assure them that they will have plenty of time to be all grown up and instead to enjoy every passing moment of their precious younger years.  Before they know it, they too will be mommies cringing at the thought of how time flies.  I wish there were a bottle that could contain my favorite things about each of them.  I wish R would say "tookies" instead of "cookies" forever and make up her own words to all of her favorite songs instead of singing the actual lyrics.  I want P to always laugh like Beavis (or Butthead - I'm not quite sure which one it is) and to put the dishrag over her face for an impromptu game of "Where's the baby?" until she's 85.  Sadly, there is no way to hold onto those amazing quirks that I cherish so deeply.  In fact, in a few years, I may have to look back at this blog to be reminded of them.

Thankfully, barring any unforeseen occurence, my lifespan currently consists of more time.  Time I plan to use towards soaking up my beautiful family, as they are, each second of the day.  If my daughter wants me to carry her in my arms even though she is a bonafide "big girl," I will do so because before I know it - she will be a teenager pushing me away or locking me out of her room.  And if my 11 month old refuses to show interest in walking, I am not going to rush her because in the snap of a finger - she will be a blushing bride walking down the aisle. 

I am hanging on to one more dream - that my babies never take their childhood for granted.  There is no counter-clockwise in life...