Move over South Beach Diet!

I told the doctor that the abdominal pains I was having last weekend (which lasted a full 8 days) were comparable to labor pains. Only this time, there wasn't going to be some sweet little goo-covered face staring adoringly back at me when I was done (insert prayer here: Please, God, do NOT let me be those insanely stupid people on I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant).

So after 8 days of moaning and wondering if I would have something happen to me that was reminiscent of Alien, the pain stopped. Friday afternoon came, I was cautiously optimistic about feeling pretty ok. I went ahead and went to my doctor's appointment, although it was the kind of doctor's appointment where you are almost embarrassed because you actually feel better. Here words of advice were mind-blowing: keep getting better! Um... thanks.

Then I woke up... healthy! All the colors were a little brighter, the air smelled sweeter (probably because I'd been breathing the same air from my bed all week), and my two boys were well-behaved little angels again instead of grabby, needy, dirty boys.  Well, they were still dirty, but that was nothing a good scrubbing couldn't fix.

We decided to go on lots of field trips today (library, mall, grocery store, etc.) so off I went to get dressed. Grabbed my skinny jeans (only ones clean), mentally picking which top I would have to dig for out of the clean laundry pile on the floor. I knew the top would have to be loose-fitting because with this pair of jeans, my parting gift from my beautiful miracles (the grabby, needy, dirty ones) hangs over the top a little.

What?!  What's this?   The jeans are loooooose??? How is that possible? I haven't worked out in over a week! Oh, riiiiiigggghhhhttt.....  All I ate was 6 pieces of bread, a jar of applesauce, 3 bananas, 2 blueberry muffins, and some pizza (which doesn't really count because it only stayed in my tummy about 10 minutes before coming back up... ewwwww).  So there you go! 7 pounds lost! Pushing me to 15 pounds lighter than my pre-baby weight.

There are, of course, a few other secrets to my new diet plan that will be sweeping the nation, but I can't tell you everything - you'll have to wait for the book!  But don't you worry... when I'm famous, I'll still remember the little people! It's not a sweet little gooey face (thank goodness!), but 7 lbs?  I'll TAKE IT!

Nathan is going to starve if I don't get better soon.

Poor Nathan. For 75% of our marriage, I have made his lunch every day.  (The other 25% was when his work provided lunch, pop, coffees, and smoothies for him - along with about 20 lbs). For the last week and a half, I haven't been able to make it. I am literally curled up on the couch in the fetal position, willing my stomach pain to go away.

So he's made it. He hasn't complained. Hasn't even made one comment about it actually. He really doesn't mind making his own lunch. And contrary to the title of this post, he won't starve, because he has no problems finding his way to the kitchen. But I feel bad.

I love making his lunch. So weird, right? I get a satisfied feeling EVERY DAY knowing that tomorrow he'll be eating a well-balanced meal. He's got his main course (nothing fancy, just a sandwich or leftovers), he's got lots of veggies (which he loves to eat raw), usually some chips and crackers, and a 100 calorie pack for dessert. Totally balanced. Lots of food (even if it's low-cal), lots of love, and he's on his way! Sometimes when he cleans up the kitchen after dinner, he just makes it. Deep down, I suppose I'm grateful (woo-hoo! A night off!), but kind of sad too (just like a teeny bit).

It's just that I make food better than he does. We could have the same ingredients to make a burger - and they would both be good - but the difference is that in MY burger, every bite would be perfect. It would have bun, meat, cheese, veggies and condiments in every bite. My friends actually make fun of me. If I order a sandwich at a restaurant, when it comes to the table I take off the top, rearrange all the toppings, so they are equally spread out, put the top back on, and VOILA! Perfect sandwich.

Same goes for lunch. Let's say it's leftover taco day (one of the best!!). What Nathan would do is get a big Tupperware bowl, put his chips in, put the meat in, put the lettuce/cheese in, and take a little tiny Tupperware with salsa.  Sounds ok, except by tomorrow the chips are soggy, when you heat up the meat, the lettuce gets warm, and the overall quality is really compromised.  Me? Chips in the big Tupperware bowl. On top of that in separate snack baggies or smaller Tupperware bowls are meat (to be heated up individually), cheese, lettuce, and salsa.  Yes, it's more work, but oh, in the end you have such FRESH taco salad!

I can't wait until I "have to" make both my boys' lunches too. I'll have little assembly lines, the little -isms (N8 likes extra mustard, Cash doesn't like strawberries, Declan wants more fruit) and I'll be so organized. My boys will be grateful every day (they will learn this from Daddy, who makes a point to tell me everyday thank you for his lunch and that it was great).  And I will be happy knowing that they are eating well, and not complaining, and look forward to seeing what yummy surprises Mommy put in their lunch every day,

Does anyone want to come to a pity party?

This has been a rough week. Boys were sick, then I got food poisoning, which lasts about a week (I'm still not able to work and it's day 6), then Nathan got sick. This meant a not-so-great Father's Day, followed by me missing out on several hundreds of dollars worth of missed work. Unfortunately, working for yourself, you don't get paid sick days.

So I basically spend HOURS at the computer. Playing my game, checking Facebook, refreshing my email (no, Molly, you haven't gotten any new emails in the last 3 minutes since last checking). While on the computer today I found out a friend of a friend, who I don't even know is dying. He's been dying a slow and terrible death, and finally, today he will be at peace. I don't know him, never met him, he's never heard of me, and he lives like 8 states away, and yet I keep crying over this poor man. He's my age, has a 7 year old daughter who doesn't understand what's going on, and a wife who has to go on living even though I'm sure she'll just want to crawl under the covers and die too.

In the meantime, I'm already crying, so why NOT listen to the several voicemails I have saved on my computer from my mom, who died 9 months ago? I'm already sitting here with Pain and Sadness at my pity party, why not add in Torture? So I listened to my mom's voice for the first time since September. Some made me laugh, like the one where she went on and on and then said goodbye, but didn't hang up. I could hear her walking and talking to the dog, and then she must have looked at her phone, thought someone had called her, and said, "Hello?"  And some just made me sad, like where she mentioned Declan and Cash's names, and how she wanted to spend time with them, but in the end they weren't enough motivation to keep her here.

Sorry this is so depressing but it is, well, a pity party. It will go on for exactly 12 more minutes, then I'm going to get up, make something to eat (gee, will it be bananas, rice, applesauce, or ... hmmm... toast!?) and maybe maybe clean up the house a little, and wait for my 2 favorite little boys to come in and give me big hugs and kisses. The odds are also in my favor that Cash will randomly yell, "Happy Mommy Day!" like he does so often. Declan will inevitably drool all over me (more drool = more love, you know). We'll snuggle together and read, and I'll probably think back to my friend's friend, and get a little teary eyed. I'll squeeze them tighter and kiss them til it annoys them. And I;ll be thankful for everything that my life is.

Sniff, cough, hack, barf, and screams of agony: the sounds of our week

When it rains, it pours! As any family with children will tell you, it is very difficult for just 1 or 2 of you to ever get sick. Almost every time, it culminates into a factory of disgusting sounds, an array of varying meds (some cherry flavored, some chalk flavored), and no one is exempt.

Such has been our household the last week! It started off last week with both boys getting a virus, coughing and very high fevers. At one point Declan's fever was up to 104.7! Talk about giving a mama a heart attack! Just as they were getting better, Nathan got it too, but his cough is even worse, and comes with a dose of congestion. But mine takes the cake. I had gastritis, which is an inflammation of the stomach lining. Talk about painful (I was the source of the screams of agony)! I went to urgent care, and after getting some numbing stuff that worked for about an hour, I spent the next 48 hours in bed not moving. No fun for any of us!

I think we'll all be in fine shape to enjoy Father's Day tomorrow, but here's to hoping we are over the diseased hump and on our way to recovery!

Mrs. Murray - the teacher side of me.

I think that I could have been a great teacher. I really enjoy teaching people. For instance, there was the time I taught my friend how to turn her eyelids inside out. Or how about the time I showed my niece how NOT to melt butter for cookies (in a metal bowl in the microwave). And let's try not to remember the time I showed (the actor) Powers Booth's daughter, Parise, how to give the finger to her swim teacher when she was 4 (I was like 6 years old). Thanks to my brother, Matt, for teaching me that one.

As I've gotten older, the things I enjoy teaching have somewhat matured, thank goodness. I do enjoy teaching friends how to cook my few key recipes that wow guests. I love showing people how to use a computer including all those shortcuts on Word and Excel. They are impressed, and as a sidenote, I look really smart. :)

But the best thing is teaching my sons. What an amazing opportunity. I took Cash with me to the library today to pick up my books on hold. I decided on the way in that today would be the day he could actually check some out for the first time instead of just going to read. So we talked all about how you borrow them, and you have to be gentle, and take good care of them (we have several books with headless dogs or no 'peek-a-boo flaps). Then how we will bring them back and can check more out. He was very excited and as he perused down the aisles and aisles of books he said in a breathless gasp, "There's so many books!"  I'm so proud of him, and I love that he loves to read. Thanks to my dad teaching me about books, I still have an endless passion for books and the stories and characters that lie within. Such a small thing to teach: the literal process of checking out books, how to respect the books, and the responsibility of having a library card. But wow. I did that.

Just to be fair, I get to teach him some of the not-so-great stuff, too. I taught him how to jump out at Daddy and say, "BOO!" every time he walks in. I taught him how to play with his food. And I (woops!) inadvertently taught him how to say "dammit!" and "shit!" (which by the way, he does use correctly). I'm always amazed at how quickly he learns, especially the inappropriate things.

What are the dangers of baby barf in your eye?

How did you start your morning? Maybe a steamy shower followed by a hot cup of coffee? Feeling refreshed after a solid 8 hours of sleep? Your children cheerfully jumping out of bed ready for the day and following all instructions for getting out of the door on time?

Ok, now I'm just stretching it. Knowing that most of my followers are fellow moms, I understand that the previous paragraph is laughable. But laughable with a few sighs of hope, because really - wouldn't that be amazing? So even though I know everyone has mornings that followed a night of babies crying, or waking up having missed the alarm, or just having a plain old stubborn toddler (because they grow out of this, right?), I feel that on this morning, mine was grosser than most.

Apparently both the boys have some sort of virus that includes a cough, runny nose, and as a bonus, Declan's came fully equipped with an ear infection. It was already a sleepless night for all, but the cherry was when Nathan brought Declan back to our bed around 6:30am. Deck had already sucked down an entire sippy of water (N8 says, "Boy, he's so thirsty!") and is halfway through his second cup (that N8 gave him, after I said, "He doesn't need more water,") when I took it away. Declan cries and cries and spits up a little on my pillow (never Nathan's) and I go to pick him up. When he's at the 45 degree angle from the bed to my shoulder, suddenly his mouth opens wide and he does his best impression of the girl from The Exorcist and all of the water (and thankfully not much else) erupted FULL FORCE all over me. And I want you to know, when I say, "all over me" I don't mean a little on my shirt. I mean covering my face and hair, all over my chest and legs (I was somewhat scantily clad as I was in my pjs) and the worst part: in my eye. MY EYE! I shrieked very loudly, which in turn made him cry more, and I made Nathan delay going to work so I could immediately get in the shower.

Since then my morning has been as you would imagine: trip to the doctor, lots of snuggling, and just in general taking care of two somewhat happy boys (Declan felt much better after throwing up). Like most moms, I wish I could just be sick instead of them. It's so hard to watch anyone you love being sick, but the little ones are the worst. Although I complain sometimes (did I mention my eye??), I take what I can from it. And you'll never hear me complain about the 2 little arms wrapped tightly around my neck while a heavily-breathing baby is resting his head on my shoulder. I secretly want him to stay this little forever. I know what happens. They grow up. They don't want to hug and kiss anymore (at least, not their mom). And then they leave you (or rather, go on to be strong independent men of the world if you want to be all fancy). So until that happens I'll take the poopy diapers, the bloody teeth falling out, and even vomit in my eye. And I'll love every minute of it because it is a part of this amazing life that I am living. I wouldn't trade my sick little Decky-Doober for any other little boy who didn't barf in my eye.

What am I getting myself into?

I am somewhat hesitant to begin a blog. Nathan mentioned to me recently that I often have big ideas and I get over-excited about them, then don't always follow through. While I feigned being a little hurt at this, his words rang true, and I knew it. Some of these ideas have included writing a book (which I still want to do - but probably won't), starting several home-based businesses (which, actually, I did quite well but then lost interest after awhile), running my own massage business (as my only job), and training to do a triathlon this summer. Now, you might be saying, "Molly, the summer isn't over! You still have three months in which you could prepare to do a triathlon!" But the question is, will I? Really?  Those of you who  know me well probably know the answer.

Now sometimes I surprise even myself, so who knows? Case in point: I decided earlier this year that I was going to run a 5k. HA! Molly... RUNNING?!  The only thing I run towards is food (especially if it's free!). But lo and behold... I got the running bug, wanted to prove to myself that I could do it, and so I did! March 19th, 2011, I completed a 5k. Not only did I complete it, but I finished in 34:29 minutes which was under my 35 minute goal.

Back to my point: I am hesitant to start a blog in fear of losing interest. It's a valid concern. But I see my role models in the blogging world and know that my best friends will hold me accountable, even if they have to guilt me into it (which they will). My niece, Jessica, who will successfully (as of June 20th) have blogged her entire first year of marriage, day by day, and Katie, who blogs often to document all the milestones, memories, and little -isms that her daughter achieves. These blogs will be made into books that they (and their children) can keep forever. Amazing the world we live in today.

Usually this blog will be geared more toward all my boys (yes, Nathan will often be referred to as one of them), and our simple life and all the things that make it shine. Most of them will be mundane, and uninteresting to anyone who doesn't know our family, but to me, it is my whole world. And I love it.