It was the dead of winter. The snow had turned to ice on the city sidewalks, and everyone I knew was hibernating. Baby Ella was just two months old, and I had been fighting like hell to get my breastfeeding issues under control. Infection after infection, I just couldn’t get it to “work”, and what’s worse, I had a doctor I couldn’t talk to. I felt paranoid every day, all day long, that I was just making it up in my head, forcing myself to fail. The worst part was that I dreaded each and every time I heard my sweet baby cry. My skin crawled. This precious gift from God and I wanted no part of her. I know that Vann felt very helpless. I know he was doing his best to remain strong for all of us. But all I felt was great pain. I was underwater, gasping for breath, praying for release. We made the decision to send Charlie to Tennessee for a week or so to give me a break from juggling two in the midst of everything. Vann was going to drive her to meet his parents somewhere in Indiana. And as he was packing the two of them up, something shorted out in my fragile brain. What if they never returned, and I was left here to care for this child all on my own?? In the midst of all of this chaos, Charlie had her first ear infection. When we finally diagnosed it, the urgent care clinic was 30 minutes from closing and Vann made a mad dash to get her there to be treated. I remember standing in the living room after he drove away. That pit in my stomach, which I can now recognize as hopelessness, was so palpable I could taste it, like grit in my teeth. The world was quiet, and all I could hear was the sound of my beating heart. I had been sucked down into the depths of deep, deep despair. I must have fallen to my knees…the details are fuzzy…but I do know that what I felt that day scared me to my core. Because, this was not my first rodeo, and I had faced these feelings before. Today in MOPS the speaker talked about her struggle with post-partum. It stirred my heart, brought back those not too distant memories. Luckily for me, during that scary time I had a strong support system to fall back on…and a loving God who wasn’t going to let me go. And now I feel a greater stirring in me, a piece of my heart forever linked to any woman walking through this kind of pain. Because really and truly, when you get past all of the facades of life and the things we do to compete and keep up – we are all just a step away from our own collapse, aren’t we? Things are never what they seem. And thank the Lord that He sees inside our hearts and loves us anyway.

I’m so not a left brain person. Instruction manuals, recipe ingredient lists…it’s all just gibberish to me…maybe this is why I only went as far as Algebra in high school. I mistakenly thought that purchasing a new domain for my new blog would be easy, and merging it with my old blog address would be even easier. Turns out, not so much.

So bear with me as I experience some technical difficulties getting things just right.

Last night I went out with some new girlfriends, and had QUITE a few skinnygirl margaritas. So many that all of my little insecurities bubbled to the surface and I had a mini-breakdown in the car on the way home. Seeing all the fun these girls have together and hearing their histories as neighbors and friends made me really, really miss Chicago. And what can I say…I might have gone home and consumed my weight in pizza drowned in ranch dressing.

Sigh. In the light of a new day, I am constantly reconciling my complicated emotions. We are closing in on 9 months since we purchased our Texas home. At times if feels like we’ve been here forever…but most of the time it feels like we just ripped the band-aid off to reveal the fragile skin underneath. All those nerves exposed.

This morning, in an effort to comfort my dehydrated and addled self, Vann says to me, “This, my dear, is what Stevie Nicks calls a landslide.”

Oh. Ok. Now I get it.

Ah. There you are. The sparkly blonde you see in my new header is my “got it all together” doppelganger – what I long to be on my very, very best day. Thanks to Marina from Penny Lane Designs for making my blog dreams a reality!!

There is one other thing (besides being in the chorus line of a Broadway musical) that I would love to be when I grow up.

A writer. My whole life I’ve kept journal upon journal…you know, because back in the day there was no such thing as blogging. I would buy that pen that “wrote” the best and spend my nights sitting next to a space heater in the bathroom, simultaneously reading “A Wrinkle in Time” by Madeleine L’Engle and furiously scribbling in my journal until the very last page was filled.

And now, I find that I’m longing for some type of creative release – something that’s all mine. And because jumping back into the theatre world right now with small children seems impossible, I am jumping into the blogosphere with a newfound passion for writing…the good, the bad, and the ugly. Motherhood. Faith. And all that lies in between.

It’s my birthday today! 33. When I was 18 that seemed SO old.

My Dad just surprised me with a free night at any Hilton in the DFW area. So, yay, Vann and I have a little staycation within our staycation this weekend. Room service???

Being new at a school was something I knew very well growing up. When I was about 15 years old, we moved from a small town in Colorado (where we had lived since I was 5) to a “big” city, Dallas. I was about to enter Lake Highlands Junior High School, and to this day I don’t remember if I started school at the beginning of the year or the middle of the semester – I’ve probably blocked it out.

I don’t think I ever had a doubt that theatre and the arts would mean something to me in my life. Both of my brothers were/are actors as well – when you are up on stage you are playing a character, another person, not yourself.

You don’t have to be the girl who walks into the lunchroom during lunch and stands there, in the corner, scanning the crowd to find some sort of friendly face. You don’t have to be the girl who clutches her fake Dooney & Burke purse so tightly that her knuckles turn white – the purse you begged your mother to buy you so that you wouldn’t be so glaringly outside the lines of what is considered “cool”. Maybe if they don’t look too close…

But even in the theatre crowd, cliques are present and rejection rears it’s ugly head. I managed to get through the rest of junior high and went on to Lake Highlands High School, which boasted a theatre department that is prestigious and has a record of turning out accomplished artists. I was cast in the chorus of “Hello, Dolly!”, and let me tell you, that cast party was enough to make anyone’s insides churn. I had perfected this mask: one where on the outside I was “normal”, but on the inside I was screaming for release from the irrational thoughts that reigned there. Inside, I just wanted to be wanted. Pursued. Approached with a smile.

Low and behold, junior year came and so did a new town and a new high school – one where groups of friends had been formed since kindergarten – and although the newness of being a “city” girl in my new smallish town lasted all of the summer, when September rolled around it was very clear where I did not belong. Having spent time with these girls I thought were my friends and flirted with the boys I thought were into me, the reality of the first day of school was like a brick thrown into my glass house.

I should have taken the hint when some of the girls I had been hanging out with were supposed to pick me up for a party on someone’s “land” (a popular destination for kids who drink in a small town), and after painstakingly applying my makeup and picking out just the right outfit, I sat outside on my back deck to wait for them.

And waited.

And waited some more.

Until the clock showed they were two hours late and it appeared they weren’t coming at all. I will never, ever forget that feeling. I don’t really remember what happened at the end of that summer but I do know when I approached the lunch table filled with my “friends”, I was instructed to find a new place to sit.

Please, put me out of my misery.

Lucky for me I met a kind theatre friend who brought me into her fold and I wasn’t so alone anymore. I had a place to sit at lunch. But I toiled there for two years, waiting and waiting to be set free from the bonds of high school.

I’ve been thinking a lot about these moments lately. I’m not bitter, I’m not angry, in fact, I’m sure most of those girls are normal, grown-up women now (one would hope), some even moms. I’m just trying to learn more about my patterns – and pathology. Pathology is defined as “the study and diagnosis of disease”. What disease, you might ask? Well, in my case, it’s the all-consuming sickness called insecurity.

I’m going to be 33 years old next Friday. When I was in high school, I’m sure my thirties were a very distant thought – or maybe I never thought of them. Who knows. I thought I’d have this sickness kicked by the time I reached my 30’s – but it appears it’s hanging around, nipping at my heels, waiting for me to crash and burn.

So once again I am the “new” girl. And although I am an adult, and a grown ass woman, I am still that girl just wanting to be liked and seeking a fold I can be wrapped up in.

It’s time for a change.

My creative side, the side of me that pounded the pavement of Chicago with no apologies and no fear, has been dormant for over 4 years. And while I know my life has changed forever, I need to find a way to tap into that side of me that longs to be heard and seen.

So I’m going to be taking this blog in a new direction. Just an FYI for those of you that follow the musings of this complicated, frazzled, wanting-to-be-liked mother of two small girls – the Chicklets, as they shall now be called.

Coming Soon!!

I’ve never been a very faithful person. It’s a good thing I married a man who is.

Even though I am surrounded by people that love me – it’s so weird how easy it is to feel very alone. This week, sweet friends have really reminded me what faith is about…or, maybe, what it’s not about. Hebrews 11:1 says that “faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.” Faith isn’t about what God does for us but who He is. So in these moments when I feel alone, when I feel like nothing is happening or progressing – that’s when God is His most present.

I know I’ve said this before, but being a mom to small children can be very isolating. This is why mom’s groups and MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) exist: we simply can’t do it alone. I know there are a lot of blogs out there that make motherhood look perfect – that’s never been me nor will it ever be. I like to call it like it is because maybe, just maybe, someone else needs to know that they aren’t alone – that it’s totally normal to feel frustrated and inconvenienced and burdened at times.

What I was reminded of this week was that even if I feel like I am totally alone – God is there, standing by as I change diapers and pack lunches and give spankings and kiss boo-boo’s. When I think that nothing is happening with Ella and it seems bleak to me – God is there, with His hand on my shoulder as I step out of the room to take a breath when I feel like I might explode.

We have two pieces to Ella’s therapy:

1. Feeding

2. Physical – pulling up, cruising, walking

What has come to our attention this past week is that ECI, as wonderful as they are, may not be meeting the feeding needs we have – that’s where Baylor’s feeding clinic comes in. For friends who have prayed for the little surprises (Michelle) – we have received so much positive feedback about Baylor that we are very anxious to get Ella in for her evaluations. We have them scheduled, OT (occupational therapy – sensory, etc.) and PT (the actual physical movements of eating/bringing the food to her mouth) for the week after next.

I realize that this is a positive thing – the fact that we don’t have to wait months – but I am impatient and frankly, Ella is 15 months old and it’s time to do something drastic because it’s time for the girl to feed herself. It’s time. Get how I think it’s time??

The physical part of her therapy is being met by Ms. Rhonda, but we have been stalled the past few weeks because of the ice storms and Ella’s ear infection. So, not much has progressed this month.

The biggest question we have is, does it benefit her to be working on both things right now? Obviously, the feeding issue is priority #1. I don’t want to pause her physical therapy, but depending on the time commitment in regards to Baylor – well, there are only so many hours in the day and so many days in the week. And this mama needs “me” time, time with friends, a life – as do the girls. This is something I will probably ruminate about in the coming weeks, but my loving husband encouraged me to not let myself spin out of control, as I am wont to do 9 times out of 10. My greatest fear is being stuck in this house with therapists and a 3 year old with cabin fever and truly feel like a prisoner. See?? See how I spin??

I’ve heard that the people at Baylor take their job very seriously, that the parents are often the ones that struggle the most – you know, handing their kids off to the experts. I say, bring it. Please, take her! I recognize my limitations and I am fried. I need help!!

I have really missed my Chicago community this week. I think that has made everything a little bit harder – that although I have met so many lovely people here I would give anything to walk into my old mom’s group and sit down and cry and pray and work through it. The familiar…is comforting. Being the new girl and having to explain myself all the time…is not.

I just want to move on from this. If there is no glaring reason why Ella can’t feed herself, then damnit, let’s just move on from this!

It’s time. This next week I’m going to work on remembering that God is with me, always and forever, never changing. And I will try to have faith. I will really, really try.

I’m trying my best to keep it together today. I’m afraid I’ve already left some pretty tearful messages.

I’ll be brief: We had Baby Ella’s 15 month check-up today and her weight has basically stalled. She’s gained only a few ounces since November. Our doc told us not to panic – and I’m really trying not to – but it’s hard when you realize that this might be bigger than you can reasonably handle.

We’ve gotten a referral to Baylor Hospital’s pediatric feeding clinic. It actually looks pretty amazing – I was concerned it was only a place for severe cases but it appears they deal with all sorts of feeding problems (behavioral, etc). I’ve left a message and hopefully will hear something back soon.

About 95% of me really wants to feel sorry for myself right now. But Marla reminded me that this might be just what we need to find our way out of this mess. And if we have experts at our disposal, maybe it’s time to seek out that expertise.

So I’m sorry that I haven’t taken any recent pics of the girls, and I’m sorry that this is Valentine’s Day and I have no cute post about the adorable heart dress Charlie is wearing today. I just ask for your prayers as we navigate through this time. We really, really need them!!

Remember our snow day last week? Well, it turned into a snow WEEK. To make matters worse, both girls started getting sick and then Vann and I caught the crud. On Thursday the roads were supposed to be a TAD better – although the whole Dallas/Ft. Worth area was at a standstill because neighborhoods weren’t being salted and the roads were sheets of ice. Literally, you couldn’t even drive down your street! And as it turns out, apparently Dallas doesn’t even use salt – they think it’s bad for the roads – and instead use SAND. Which you know is a big, muddy mess when things start to melt.

Anyway, the funniest part about it was how unified everyone was. Facebook is an amazing thing. We couldn’t leave our homes, so we had a running commentary on what each and every person was doing to survive their day. My fellow mommies, especially, were using every trick in the book to keep their kids occupied without going crazy. And every day, right around happy hour, you’d see mobile uploads of homemade martinis and bloody mary’s – and we’d all drink together, knowing we weren’t the only ones.

So when Thursday rolled around and Vann and I were getting worse and I saw a window, I took it. We piled in the car and the girls and I drove the treacherous tollway south to the heart of Dallas. And when I say treacherous, I really mean it. It was a sheet of ice. I drove very slow and prayed. The whole time.

Once I made it into the city the roads were better. I headed east on I-20 towards Tyler and it was a piece of cake the rest of the way.

The next day, Baby Ella took a turn for the worst. She couldn’t be consoled and was obviously miserable. Mom said she saw her pulling on her ear, so I ran her up to the urgent care clinic, literally, 10 minutes before they closed. Ear infection. Perfect.

Saturday Charlie woke up with a fever of 102. At this point, I’m like, what else?? Really?? How can you not laugh?? I had brought a viral plague into my parent’s home.

Back to urgent care we went, basically to rule out strep, and Charlie was fine – just a virus, nothing more. We ended up driving home first thing Sunday, and thankfully, my Mom still wanted to keep Ella, even with her immense crankiness (and poor thing, who can blame her for feeling yucky!). Mom has been getting up throughout the night with her, rocking her to sleep and giving her antibiotics. That’s what I call love.

Selfishly I am glad that Charlie and I can be lazy and stay in bed today. It would be much harder to do that with a roaming and curious baby. We are planning on staying in our pj’s today, and I might eat chocolate cake for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Praying that we are all on the mend very soon.

I’m gonna say something that might be tad controversial.

My daughter, Ella? Yeah, you know, the really cute one with the Cindy Lou who do?

I don’t like her very much.

There, I said it. Am I a terrible mom for admitting the way I really feel about my darling baby?

Today was a snow day. Texans don’t know how to deal with ice and snow and when a big storm comes through it pretty much debilitates us all. I think I can say this (after 10 years of living in the frozen tundra, I’ve earned it), thank the LORD Vann was home today because not being able to get out of the house with these kids just about drove me over the edge.

Knowing that I’m just days away from dropping my darling child off with her grandmother isn’t helping my patience (kind of like when you put in your notice at a job and have to work two more weeks??)…in fact, with the weather we may be heading to Mimi’s house a day or two early. We’ve got a lot going on next week, so I’m shipping her off.

Here’s the thing: she whines. All. day. long. I know she appears to be an angel, but I swear to you, she’s a little rascal who is hell-bent on world destruction.

No. I’m just kidding. It’s partly the age. The year between 1 and 2 is so freakin’ tough. Unless you are blessed with an “angel baby” (and we aren’t friends anymore if you are/were) you KNOW what I’m talking about. What is it? “Little people with BIG emotions”. We are trying to teach her some sign language, but I’m not sure she’s really into that. Vann thinks maybe she’s just our more “sensitive” child. Which means we may have to “handle” her differently. Guess who THAT sounds like?? I’ll give you a clue: she’s blonde and is addicted to Lululemon hoodies, Louis Vuitton handbags, and US Weekly.

On a more serious note…the lack of sunlight today had a palpable affect on my spirit. I felt…sad. Like, what if we are in this stage for a long time? Because right now, it is incredibly exhausting giving and giving and giving and getting so little (a smile, for instance) in return. I have dear friends who have shouldered so much worse in regards to their kids. But to us, this is big! And sometimes seems, insurmountable.

But, I take heart – God must have known what we needed because Mimi is just a short drive away.

And, just to clarify – just because you don’t like someone, it doesn’t mean you don’t love them. I would throw myself in front of a bus to protect her (and her sister, for that matter) – I just wish she’d chill out and give me a BREAK, for goodness sakes.