It's a Wonderful Life

I didn't title my blog It's A Wonderful Life because of the movie. Nope, it's because I consider my life to be pretty wonderful. It's only 9 am and already I love how this day is going. Here are some highlights:

*J wakes me up around 7:30, talking a mile a minute about how he's going to put the Nintendo DS in my purse, how he's cold, and how he's going to get clothes out of his dresser.

*J leaves my room, then comes back a few minutes later with some random clothes in his hands. He puts on his underwear, and then holds up the pants he picked out. Except it's a shirt. "A shirt? Oh yeah, it's a shirt. Need pants.", he said to no one but himself, and he ran back to his bedroom.

*J returns to put on his Elmo print pajama bottoms to 'match' his pirate t-shirt and then finishes off the outfit with a green sock and a blue sock.

*We come downstairs and I let the cat in the house from it's halfway house in the garage (that's a whole 'nother post for another day).

*J sits down to eat his cereal and the cat jumps up on the chair with him. The dog is none too pleased because he is the one who gets the scraps. And being that he's 80 lbs, he can't get a whole lot closer than sitting right beside J's chair. Dog glares at cat.

*J, who thinks the cat is getting a little too close while he's eating, keeps saying "no-no kitty. down kitty" and then kisses it on its head everytime he puts it back down on the floor.

*The cat loves our dog, our dog tolerates (but secretly loves) the cat, and J loves to chase and be chased by the cat and the dog. Chaos ensues.

*The dog chases the cat and gets too close to it and rolls it over. The cat jumps up and smacks the dogs nose with his paw. Dog looks shocked.

*Jack chases cat. Dog chases Jack and cat. I sit at the kitchen table with my laptop. Pure bliss!

It really is a wonderful life!!

Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened. -Dr. Seuss

What a great quote! My cousin posted this on Facebook today as her status and I absolutely love it! It's a great way to look at the ups and downs of life.

I am a planner. I make lists and more lists and lists of lists to make. In fact, before our week long beach vacation, I had 10 different lists going. Planning = good. But it also means that after a big event that I look forward to for weeks and months on end, I am letdown when it's over. No more planning and getting excited. Just back to everyday life.

Our vacation has come and gone. On our last day at the beach my husband and I stood together looking out at the ocean. I said, "Goodbye ocean. At least til we meet again at another time and another place." My husband just laughed and said, "uhhh, goodbye ocean. I guess." He apparently doesn't know that the ocean can hear you and looks forward to your return. I will admit that as excited as I was to get home and see our furry child who I missed very much, I was sad to be leaving the beach and ending our vacation.

But, I reminded myself that there will be plenty more vacations. And we can always come back to this exact spot.

I didn't cry because it was over, I smiled because it happened. It's the seasons of life. You look forward to it, you live it, you look back on it. Sometimes the cycle happens in days, sometimes it's a lifetime.

But keep smiling!

Mother Nature

I got my toes in the water, ass in the sand
Not a worry in the world, a cold beer in my hand
Life is good today, life is good today

This week we've been on vacation at the beach. I have watched my little boy feel the power of the ocean as it pulls and pushes against him. I have watched his eyes light up with excitement with one wave, and his eyes darken with fear of the next.

Mother Nature is not to be fooled with.

This week, the beach has been kind of crazy. Due to thunderstorms and a tropical storm out at sea, the water is unseasonably cold and the surf is very, very rough. We are in the Outer Banks, and apparently where we are there is a convergence of currents. So not only do the waves come at you head on, but also from the sides. It takes all your strength to stay upright when the waves hit you.

Yesterday, jellyfish invaded the beaches. There were hundreds of them laying on the beach and more in the waves. We stayed away for fear of getting stung (even though most of them were probably already dead from the strength of the surf).

I love the beach. I love the roar of the waves, the warmth of the sun, the push and pull of the water around my body and the feel of the sand sticking to my sunscreen clad body. I love watching my son and husband digging holes and building sandcastles in the warm sand.

But there are dangers: rip currents, sharks, jellyfish, getting swept out to sea. But such is Mother Nature. She gives us the beauty of the earth, the circle of life, babies (mammalian and otherswise) and seasons filled with colors and smells that thrill the soul.

She also gives up hurricanes, tornadoes, death and famine. It is a double edged sword that we both love and hate, depending upon the day.

As I played with my son in the waves, I encouraged him to have fun, but never, ever turn your back to the ocean. It will get you every time you let your guard down.

And such is life.

Western Pennsylvania. Beautiful scenery. Rich heritage. Neighborly people. Not much to do when you're a teenager.



Throughout my early to mid-teens, I was convinced that when I was old enough, I was going to move to California. Why California? I don't know. We all know the mess it's in currently and the problems that constantly plague the state. I think it had something to do with the Cosmopolitan and Seventeen magazines that came to my house each month, shoving down my throat svelte teenage girls and muscular teenage boys having fun playing volleyball on the beach and attending great parties. So, if I could move to California, I could have fun like that too. And be thin like that. And have a boyfriend like that. Don't judge me.



In my mid teens, I looked at Univ of California You-Name-It. Too expensive. Too far. Blah. Well then, graduate school and/or a job could be in California. I'd graduate from a PA university, then move to California.



Then a magical thing happened. I met and fell in love with a boy whose was also born and raised in Western Pennsylvania. And he was perfectly happy staying in Western Pennsylvania. Well, HOT DAMN, so was I. Cali-what? Never heard of the place.

We both attended and graduated from a Western Pennsylvania university, got married, moved into a house aboutthisfar from where hubby grew up, and worked in (you guessed it!) Western Pennsylvania. By this point California was very, very far from my mind. We were making our lives here and I was very happy.

In September of 2007, we had our son, J. He will be a born and bred Western Pennsylvania boy.

A few night ago, I sat in the grass in the backyard watching J and M play. I glanced around at the trees and the hills. Good ole' Pennsylvania. And then I glanced around at what was closer to me - the barn where we've just recently started a collection of animals, the pond where we swim and play, our house that we love, the swingset where Jack love to swing 'as high as the sky' as he giggles uncontrollably, and a yard that allows our son to run and play.

This is our Pennsylvania. This is our life. There is no where we'd rather be. Our family's roots run deep in Western Pennsylvania, and now M and I are adding and spreading out those roots further.

I expect the day to come that one of my children will say, "Mom, it's so BOOOOORING around here. I can't wait until I grow up and move away." And I'll go pack their bags. And my heart will hurt a little. But, deep down I'll know that this region will ALWAYS be his home and his heart.

Last evening, three teenagers from our area were involved in a car accident just a few miles from my home. One was ejected from the car and killed, one was life-flighted to a Pittsburgh hospital with severe injuries and the other had minor injuries, but refused treatment. I didn't know any of the three boys or their families.



But my heart still wept when I heard the news. Not only because a young life was senselessly snuffed out. Not only because a mother has to bury her son. Not only because this boy's young friends will have to see someone their age in a casket, and realize, maybe for the first time, that life is fleeting and death is final.



My heart wept because I have a child.



A child that, though only 2 and a half now, will grow. And at some point in time, he'll tell me he's a man, when he's really just a boy in a man's body.



He will grow, and he will continue to test his boundaries. He'll see how far, how fast, how much of the world he can conquer.



He will remember what his parents taught him. Responsibility. Kindness. Common sense. Safety. Self-respect.



But friends. Friends that push at weak points. Friends that can fuzz the common sense. Friends that make you forget to be kind, forget to be safe, forget to respect yourself. But boy, those friends can be alot of fun.



And then they get in a car. Or they find themselves in a bad situation. And they get silly. And their testosterone starts. Faster. Faster. Don't slow. Don't stop. And then the lights go dark. Phone calls are made. People cry.



My boy, my sweet baby boy, will one day be old enough to drive. To go to college. To make his own decisions. And then he is truly free. No matter how much I scream, yell, threaten, cajole, praise, or bribe: at some point I have to sit back and hope that everything I have taught that child will be remembered and heeded.

My heart weeps because I know that not everything I taught will be remembered or heeded. And I hope and I pray that my son's decisions will not be life altering or life ending. I hope and I pray that J's 'bad' choices will be road bumps, not roadblocks. But, in the end, children must make their own decisions. Sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. And that is life.


And my heart weeps because I have no control over it.

Pizza Party

Last Friday night we ordered out for pizza for dinner. We ate, and the rest of the pizza (about 8 slices) was left on the kitchen counter (thanks to hubby forgetting) all night. I wake up the next morning, and think to myself, "mmm, pizza for breakfast. Exxxcelent!" (a'la Mr. Burns from the Simpsons).

So I meander downstairs. No pizza box to be found. Oh, I think to myself, M must have put the rest of the pizza on a plate in the fridge. How sweet of him to think of that.

Nope. No pizza in the fridge.

M is in the shower. I go in for the sneak attack. "Where the hell is the pizza?" I yell.

M: What pizza?

Me: Uhhh, the leftover pizza from last night.

M: You ate most it. I ate the last two pieces this morning for breakfast.

Me: I didn't eat any pizza. I wanted pizza for breakfast. ::Doing quick math in my head:: Well, it was a 16 cut pizza. We had 8 slices between the 3 of us for dinner last night and you ate two this morning. So where's the other six slices?

M: I don't know. But there was a piece of cheese from the pizza on the kitchen table.

I walk out to the living room and ask Jack if he ate pizza this morning.

"Yeah!"

Me: "Uh-huh. And did you share with Bandit?"

J: "Yeah!!"

Me: "Did you eat about, ohhh let's say . . . SIX slices of pizza?"

J: ::Apparently doing the math in his head:: "YEAH!!"

Me: "So you had a pizza party without me?"

J: "Yeah." ::Shrugs his shoulders::

Me: "And how did you get up to the counter?" (I already know the answer).

J: ::Points to the dishwasher and shrugs his shoulders:: (He opens the dishwasher and stands on the door to reach stuff on the counter all the time.)

I tell M that Jack and Bandit apparently had a pizza party without us. M says that explains why the dog wasn't hitting at his bowl this morning and why J didn't want anything for breakfast. Ha, no freakin' kidding! Six slices of pizza between a 30 lb boy and a 70 lb. dog is alot! It also explains why J brought at least 2 capri suns up to my bedroom for me to open around 6am.

This whole scenario still makes me laugh out loud and reminds of what kind of a nuthouse our household is sometimes. And I love every minute of it!