Friends are like a box of chocolates...

You never know what you're gonna get!  Well that's not entirely true - with some friends, you know exactly what you're gonna get because you can practically finish each other's sentences.  They are the friends that are like a classic favorite, one you can always count on and grab in the grocery store checkout line.  However, there are also those friends that continue to surprise you like biting into a candybar with multi-layers.  At first bite, you may think they are filled with one thing when really they are covered with another. 

With my friends, I love the variety I get when I open my "box of chocolates."  Some are nutty, some are filled with warmy goodness, some are harder to swallow but the aftertaste is delicious.  My friends are addictive.  Just one taste is not enough.  Life (and my appetite) is so much more fulfilling with these pieces of chocolate I call my friends. 

To all of my delectably delightful friends, I say thank you.  Whether in small doses or stuffing my face, you always hit the spot! 

The Usual

My name is Jessica and I'm a Frapaholic.  It has been five and half hours since my last frappucino (yes, I realize that sounds more like confession than an AA introduction).  That’s right, I am a member (potentially the founder) of Starbucks Addicts Anonymous although I don’t know how “anonymous” it can be when all of the baristas at your local Starbucks know you by name and drink order.  Even my three year old daughter knows my complicated order down to the double blending.  I can’t help but chuckle (and cringe at how far this addiction has gone) when I hear her little voice fire off my drink of choice – “decaf white mocha frappucino double blended with whip.”  Pretty soon, I’ll be her sponsor. 

She recently had a meltdown when we stopped for a fix and found the doors locked and drive-thru blocked.  They had closed early on Christmas Eve which certainly didn’t help with our withdrawals.  Needless to say, we weren’t feeling very merry at all! 

How did it get to this, you may be asking?  And how could I have dragged my daughter with me?  I ask myself the same question daily.  Never a coffee drinker, I used to treat myself to a Cookies and Cream Freezer at the Barnie's in the Florida Mall during shopping trips.  Barnie's was soon replaced gradually by a twice a week visit to Dunkin Donuts for a Cappucino Blast.  Before I knew it, I was introduced to a new "dealer" who had the most potent stuff on the streets - Starbucks and my drink of choice was the Cafe Vanilla Frappucino.  I was hooked!  What began as a multi-week visit became a daily necessity.  There were times, I admit, I would hit up my "dealer" for seconds.  I was a junkie but I didn't care, each sip of that liquid gold made it's effects on me worthwhile.  I suppose it isn't the worst addiction to have.  In fact, I have even watched in horror, individuals addicted to eating toilet paper or sleeping with their hair dryer.  I have heard Starbucks coffee being compared to drugs but in reality, my addiction is far less harmful.

Still, no more!  I stand (ok, you caught me), I sit here today, to say that I am quitting cold turkey.  Wait, let me be honest and realistic, I quit going EVERYDAY cold turkey but altogether is just plain cruel.  It will be a weaning process, where I allow myself one a week not only to satisfy my craving but to reward myself for my progress.  I tried this before and it worked for about a week before I fell off the wagon.  That is why I am enlisting YOU (yes, YOU) - all of my followers/readers - to keep me in check.  Do whatever it takes - send me texts, post on my Facebook wall, take away my car keys (you get the drift) - to encourage me to keep up with my mission.  My habit has come at a great cost - both financially and physically.  Instead of losing money and adding pounds, I want to drop weight and gain self-confidence! 

There's so much more I would rather be increasing than calories including healthier eating habits, an exercise routine, a better self-image - you get the picture.  This is not a resolution, this is a lifestyle change.  I do not want to turn back or relapse.  I want to do this for my girls and for my husband of course but most importantly, I want to do this for myself.  I miss looking in the mirror and liking the girl looking back at me. 

Sometime this week, I plan on hopping in my car and taking a drive to make a purchase towards something that I am hoping to turn into my new addiction: a bicycle.  I haven't had a bicycle since I was a teenager so I hope when I start riding, it comes back to me just like riding a...(uh, you get it).  I am also hoping to either join a gym or regularly attend a yoga, zumba, pilates or other aerobic/dance class.  It would be great to have a partner in crime as nothing is more motivating than someone to hold your hand (as they pull my lazy butt off the couch).  

I'm really excited about the new Jess.  Hoping by the end of the year, riding my bike, snacking on carrot sticks or apples and smiling about how great I look and feel will be the new usual for me!

The Boogeymom

As a mother, I wear many hats.  I am a personal chef, wardrobe consultant, chauffeur, bodyguard, teacher, maid (ok, who am I kidding, I threw that one in there for a chuckle to anyone who knows me), butt-wiper, tear-dryer, yada yada yada - you get the drift.  Sometimes I'm the good cop, sometimes I'm the bad cop (so mean, in fact, that my three year old declares she wants a new mommy).  Naturally, I offer suggestions of other mother's she is welcome to adopt but that is completely separate blog. 

Today, I am the "boogeymom."  This is the less intimidating version of the illusive "boogeyman" who threatens children although I'm not exactly sure what he's threatening to do to them - hock a loogey??  As the "boogeymom," I have the pleasant task of wiping drippy noses, suctioning snot, dispensing medicine, soothing whimpers and whines but mostly yearning for my babies to get better. 

I really don't know how parents of terminally ill children or parents of children with long-term health conditions do it.  Not to say that if I were in those circumstances that I would give up on my child or offer anything short of the best care I could possibly give.  I mean it from the perspective of watching your child suffer or struggle day in, day out.  How do they do it?  Using a bulb to clear my nine-month old's nose to help her breathe better breaks my heart and makes me want to discover a miraculous cure for the common cold besides "letting it run it's course" (so I've been told).  I cannot begin to imagine how the parents of a child with cancer or a heart defect or juvenile diabetes (just to name a few) must feel.  We are supposed to be able to take care of our children - nurture them, care for them, protect them.  Their helplessness and vulnerability is both beautiful and painful.  Beautiful because (admit it) it feels good to be wanted, needed, depended on but painful because at times, you're just as helpless as they are when there is nothing you can do to help your child. 

Thankfully, my children are both overall healthy other than these viruses that seem to be lingering.  That means that right now my shushing when I'm trying to calm them down and my tight squeeze as I hold them and rock them to sleep is exactly what they need.  It does the job!  I hope I never have to be the parent who distracts the child who has to receive chemo or radiation treatments or the mom who's hand is squeezed each time the child receives an insulin injection.  For those of you who read this and have ever worn those hats, I commend you.  For those of you who read this and have not, I pray you and I never have to!

Mommy Dearest

Today, I found myself ignoring my daughter R's calls.  Not on purpose, of course.  I heard her shouting "Mommy?  Mommmmmy?  Mommy, where are YOU?" but for the few seconds I was hiding in the shower while we played an impromptu game of hide and seek, I forgot who I was.  Not only did I forget that I was her mommy but that I was a mommy in general.  The sound of "MOMMY" rolling off her tongue sounded so foreign and awkward.  I can't explain it exactly other than to call it an "out of mommy experience." 

Don't get me wrong, I love being a mommy.  Who am I kidding?  Even more than that, I love being her mommy.  There is no greater sense of pride or love than what I feel for my two daughters.  I often lose my own identity which is perfectly fine because being the mother of these two girls is so much more interesting than being me. 

For the rest of the day, as R called me "mommy," it felt as natural as breathing.  It was only for those few brief moments that I felt like an outsider looking in.  I am so accustomed to being referred to as mommy now that when I stop and analyze what that term of endearment really means, it makes everything seem surreal.  That must've been why it sounded so odd hearing it today - it's just too good to be true.  But it is true, I really am a mom.

And all I know is that when reality set back in, I gratefully realized how much I love being called mommy!