So I came up with this fun little game this morning, when I was trying to figure out the last time I had showered. I hope you play along; if you do, just let me know in a comment so I can check out your post!
The Last Time You...
...took a shower: last Wednesday (oh yuck!)
...shaved your legs: so long ago I don't really remember, but based on the length of my leg hair, I'd say at least 10-14 days ago
...got your hair cut, colored or professionally styled: the beginning of February -- my MOPS group had a "spa day," and I got my hair trimmed for free! I think DH has had at least 4 haircuts since then!
...wore mascara: since I spend a lot of time at the pool, I never wear mascara, even the so-called "Waterproof" kind... although I did wear it yesterday to church!
...read a non-children's book: April? I'm being euphemistic...
...cleaned your kitchen: last Thursday, after my in-laws left after a four-day visit
...changed the sheets on your bed: eeeeek, maybe May? I know it's almost July, don't judge...
...kissed your children: about five minutes ago
...took a vacation: does going to the beach for one night at the end of May count?
...took a vacation... without the kids: May 2010, for our 5-year anniversary
...went to the gym: last Friday -- thank goodness the YMCA has childcare!
...talked to your mother (in person or on the phone): last night
...told your spouse you loved him/her: last night, after I talked to my mom on the phone
I hope you'll play along! I'd like to do this every month or so, so if you have any ideas for future "the last time you..."'s, let me know!
Where were you a year ago? Five years ago? Ten? I love looking back and comparing my life then and now, so when one of my VERY best friends in the whole wide world wrote a post about just this topic on her blog, I had to do one of my own. By the way, my friend's blog -- Sloppy Joes and Tater Tots -- is brand new, so please visit her and give her some bloggy love!
THEN: red wine in a nice big goblet
NOW: grape juice stains on the carpet
THEN: my sunroom was a dedicated reading room
NOW: my sunroom is a dedicated playroom
THEN: high-literary works on my coffee table
NOW: five coloring books and a few dozen broken crayons on my coffee table
THEN: Gorgonzola, feta and brie cheeses in my fridge
NOW: string cheese in my fridge -- sometimes the cool "cheddar and mozzarella" twisty combo!
THEN: lacy bras with matching underwear
NOW: nursing bras and granny panties
THEN: romantic weekend getaways to the mountains or beach
NOW: overnight trips to the Great Wolf Lodge
THEN: matching placemats and fabric napkins on the kitchen table
NOW: three sets of matching placemats with fabric napkins with stains, and a fourth place setting featuring a plastic Sesame Street placemat
THEN: the dog slept in our bed
NOW: the dog sleeps in G's bed
THEN: our third bedroom was an office/guest room
NOW: C sleeps in the third bedroom, our computer is in the family room and our family is forced to stay in a hotel
THEN: I always had time to straighten my hair after getting out of the shower
NOW: shower? huh? haven't seen one in weeks...
THEN: working 50 hours a week and putting all my earnings into savings
NOW: working freelance from home -- when I choose -- and putting all my earnings to pay for preschool, dance and swim lessons, cloth diapers and medical costs
THEN: feeling like something was missing from my life
NOW: knowing my life is complete -- not only because of my two beautiful children, but because of all the amazing people I've come to know (and love!) because of them
The winner of the $50 gift card to Novica.com is...
Congrats, Momma! Send me an email so I can get your prize to you!
I had a dream last night that made me happy -- relieved -- to wake up. In the dream, I was on vacation with my mom when she got a letter in the mail: a divorce summons from my father. Without so much as contesting the proceedings, my mom gave up her Mrs. for Ms. 12 days later. For some, it might be reality; for me, it was a nightmare.
It's no secret that I get frustrated with my husband; most women probably do, and if they don't admit it, they're either saints or liars. Because I am not the most patient of wives, there are times when my frustration boils over to anger, and sometimes, to resentment.
The "D" word -- as in "divorce" -- has been mentioned in our house before, usually (ok, always) by me. You don't need to tell me it's wrong to use that word as 
a threat; Ladies Home Journal tells me on an almost monthly basis already. The thing is, there's no way I'd ever actually follow through with this threat because, no matter what he might do or not do, say or not say, or how angry I may get at him for any, all or none of the above, I took a vow and I intend to stand by it.
50% of first marriages in this country end in divorce. What's more, statistics show that 36% of women (and 38% of men) who marry between the ages of 20 and 24 -- which DH and I did -- end up divorcing their spouse. You'd think the odds are stacked against us.
I refuse to think so. I am blessed that my parents -- and DH's as well -- are both still married, nearly 80 years together between them. It's why last night's dream nightmare was so terrifying. All of DH's aunts and uncles are still married to their first spouse. Most of mine are as well. Having this kind of beautiful example of the longevity of marriage has been critical to my own relationship. It's shown me that while no marriage or person is perfect (ha!), we have the tools to build a perfect life... whatever "perfect" means to you.
And don't forget to enter my giveaway -- a $50 gift card from Novica.com! This giveaway is open globally (how cool is that?) now through this Saturday, June 25th at 12pm EDT. To enter, leave a comment telling me how you'd spend the $50 on Novica. You can get a second entry by following this blog on Google Friend Connect; just leave a separate comment telling me you do! Good luck!
Baby C reached a big milestone this week: he turned six weeks old.
This is a milestone DH has been eagerly anticipating. No, not because it announces the end of sleepless nights or marks the start of C's ability to hold up his own head. Nope, it's because of what it means for us... you know, after the kids go to sleep.
Yes, I had my six week OB checkup, and I am not-so-pleased to report that my doctor gave me the green light to get back in the saddle. While I am not-so-pleased, DH is beyond pleased. He is ready, willing, and... well... waiting.
He'll be waiting for some time. After G was born, DH misheard the doctor's instructions as I was released from the hospital. Rather than hearing "no sex for six weeks," my DH heard "no sex for six months." I will openly admit that I did not correct him; unfortunately for me, a friend did that.
Over the past week, DH has gotten a little grabbier, a little friskier, a little hornier. He's dropped hints that he's eager to resume our sex life. Even though I don't have that six month cushion like I did the last time, I am not ready to resume these "relations." My body is still recovering from -- and in some cases, still bearing the battle scars of -- pregnancy, labor and delivery. Without getting into the nitty gritty, my boobs are saggy and tender (thank you, breastfeeding), my stomach and hips have stretch marks like you wouldn't believe, and I'm not exactly back to my pre-pregnancy weight. And let's not even get into how I feel down there.
At least I do have one excuse for not jumping back into the saddle right away. My in-laws are coming in just a few days... and they're sleeping on our living room floor, which happens to be right below our master bedroom. I've never loved my mother-in-law quite so much!
And don't forget to enter my giveaway -- a $50 gift card from Novica.com! This giveaway is open globally (how cool is that?) now through this Saturday, June 25th at 12pm EDT. To enter, leave a comment telling me how you'd spend the $50 on Novica. You can get a second entry by following this blog on Google Friend Connect; just leave a separate comment telling me you do! Good luck!
It's been forever since I've done a giveaway on Confessions From A Working Mom. Several companies have offered, but with the massive changes in my life in the last year, I just didn't feel I had the time to dedicate to promoting a giveaway... but I've made an exception for one company.Novica -- in conjunction with National Geographic -- is a microlending website that works with artisans in countries across the globe. From accessories to womens scarves, walking sticks to pottery, Novica has it all and it does it with a cause. Their mission is to promote these artists, providing their amazing crafts with a worldwide marketplace for sale.
I'm giving away a $50 gift certificate to Novica.com. What can you get for that price? Well, glad you asked! Not only are the friendly folks at Novica giving one of you $50 to spend on their site, they gave me a $50 gift card as well.
I chose to review this beautiful set of drinking glasses. The six glasses are made by Mexican-based artists Javier and Efrén. Lined with a bright blue hue, they're (appropriately) called "Cobalt." Each glass holds eight ounces of liquid, so they're perfect for my morning orange juice (and they look so pretty holding it!). These glasses are sturdy too, which is something I must have in a cup; I don't like drinking out of flimsy glasses.
The set of six glasses cost $41.49. Factor in the great deal Novica has on shipping right now, and my total was just $44.48.
Now it's your turn to go shopping! To enter this giveaway for a $50 gift card to Novica.com, leave a comment telling me how you'd spend the free cash. You can score a second entry by following this blog on Google Friend Connect; just leave a separate comment telling me you do! The giveaway will be open thru Saturday, June 25th at 11am EDT, at which point a winner will be selected using Random.com. Good luck!
I was given a set of six "Cobalt" glasses by Javier and Efren for the purpose of this review and giveaway sponsored by Novica.com, totaling $44.48.
I promise, this will be the last post about death and dying for a while...
I've always been the type of person who masks my sorrow with laughter. If I find myself in a sad or uncomfortable situation, I tend to make a joke or try to say something clever to lighten the mood.
Of course, the depth of my sorrow hadn't reached the extreme level it did earlier this month with my uncle's death in quite some time, and neither had my level of humor. Yes, I am somewhat shame-faced to admit, my family and I dared to laugh in the face of grief.
First, there was the ceremony itself. Two minutes into the minister's opening prayer, my darling son ripped a fart you wouldn't believe. Normally, I'd admonish that kind of behavior, especially at a funeral, but I gave the kid a break because, well, he was only a month old. He got a pass. But that wasn't the funny part -- that happened when my adorable two year old screamed, "That was a BIIIIIIIGGGGGGGG toot!" for all to hear. I laughed. The stranger in the row behind me laughed. Even my barely-lucid grandmother laughed. (Thankfully, my aunt and cousin didn't hear it, although when I told them the story the next day at breakfast, they too laughed.) Take that, grief!
Then, there's my mother's somewhat unusual perspective on funeral and burial services. Not only is my mother very anti-embalming (she argues that no person looks good dead, no matter how talented the mortician), but she has absolutely no desire 
to be buried in a traditional cemetery. You heard right. But no, she doesn't want to be cremated (that's my dad's preferred method of internment). She wants a "green" burial. Unfamiliar with this process? Basically, instead of burying her in a casket, her body would be placed -- above ground -- in a private wooded area for natural decomposition. Oh, we could plant a tree in her honor. I'm vying for the "turn your loved ones into diamonds" approach (yes, it does exist), but she'd rather be mulch than a gem.
I am convinced that if I invited my mother's family and friends to a wooded area off Route 91 to watch her body thrown into a mulch pile, they'd be absolutely horrified. Which is why I made my mother write up her wishes and have them notarized. I plan on handing out copies of this document during her wake (hopefully decades from now) to appease the questions of any critics. My mom and I had a good laugh about all this -- yeah, we're a bit looney that way, but it got us through an otherwise difficult conversation.
It may be inappropriate, but it's how we coped. After my uncle's burial, my aunt, cousin and all our close family and friends sat around rehashing funny stories about his life. In a way, it felt wrong to laugh just hours after saying goodbye to one of the best men I'll ever know, but it was cathartic too. After all, laughter is the best medicine.
My uncle's death is proving to have a lasting impact on my day-to-day thoughts. After having avoided this very real fact of life for so many years -- remember, it had been almost 17 years since I last attended a funeral for a close friend or family member -- I now find that death has gripped my psyche.
It's a funny thing about death: it forces us to focus -- rather sharply -- on life. That's exactly what I've been doing in the midst of my grief. Although I am still in denial to some extent over losing my Uncle Gerry (hard to believe, especially since it was an open casket), I am using this experience to take stock of my life and what I want out of it.
Hence, my bucket list. This is only a start, very much a rough draft of the things I'd like to do, see and become in the time I have left (which, as I keep telling God, should be after my 80th birthday but well before the demise of DH or my children). So, here it is in no particular order:
1) Figure out what I want to be -- yes, this is something many people figure out during their college years, but I somehow missed the boat. Being a stay-at-home mom is fabulous, but it doesn't challenge me intellectually, which I know is crucial to my ultimate and complete happiness.
2) Get another degree -- preferably a PhD in something utterly useless like Theology, Religion or Divinity.
3) Watch my children grow up, get married and lead happy, healthy lives.
4) Attend a Final Four, but only if Duke is one of the participating teams!
5) Visit Yosemite, one of the only national parks I have not had the pleasure of visiting already.
6) Build my (our) own home; I want a chance to craft a house from the ground up, instead of being dictated by a previous owner's style.
7) Gain a true sense of financial security, independent of my husband's. That's why #1 is so important and #2 is so trivial.
8) Have room for a piano in my home and take lessons once again. I abandoned Suzuki-method lessons at the age of eight, but have always loved this instrument. I want to relearn it.
9) See Yoyo Ma in concert. Bet you didn't know I'm a huge fan of the cello!
10) While we're talking about concerts, I'd also like to see Billy Joel in concert. I think he is one of the most talented, groundbreaking musicians in American history.
11) Visit a foreign country that isn't part of North America. One of my best friend's is about to head off to England to get her MBA, so hopefully I'll get a chance to see her there over the next few years. Ideally, I'd love to visit Greece and Turkey, particularly the Turkish region known as Cappadocia.
12) Learn the art of wine pairing. I know you're supposed to drink red with steak and white with poultry and fish, but beyond that I'm clueless.
13) Become a savant in anything. Yes, I know savant-dom is something intrinsic rather than learned, but I think I can do it. At one point, I could tell you the day of the week of any day of the year (past, present or future) in under 15 seconds using a crafty formula I worked out in my head one day on the way to the YMCA. Of course, I forgot it.
14) Learn to appreciate silence and solitude. This is something I've always struggled with. As much as I crave alone time, I am unable to appreciate it once I have it, and always end up doing chores instead of spending time with myself in silence.
15) Become a real "yogi." I love yoga, and would love to go on a full-fledged yoga retreat at some point down the road.
16) Read more of the books on the top 100 list. Of course, I'll have to really master #14 to accomplish this!
17) While we're on the topic of books, I'd love to write one. I have had an outline for a book loosely based on my own adoption from the point of view of the adopted child, the birth mother and the adoptive mother, but that's about as far as I've ever gotten.
18) Play an active role in a philanthropic organization. I like to think this item might be tied to #1, but if not, working as a volunteer would certainly do.
19) Figure out if I've actually "been saved." I've heard a lot about this through a non-denominational church group I attend, and even though I'm a devoted Catholic, I'm not sure if I've been saved. I know, weird...
20) Work on a political campaign. Again, maybe as a career, maybe as a volunteer. Of course, first I'd have to find a candidate or an issue I'm extremely passionate about... and since I happen to think the American political system is headed in a downward spiral, that might be easier said than done these days.
21) Start a garden and keep it alive. These two things go hand and hand, since starting a garden is one thing, but putting in the day to day effort to make it thrive is something totally different.
22) Arrive at and maintain a healthy weight. Naturally, this is an obsession for most post-partum women and I'm no different. I liked the size I was at before Baby C was born, but I'm not sure it's sustainable over the long term. I don't care WHAT size I ultimately become, I just want it to be healthy and stable. I'm sick of vacillitating between different sized clothes!
23) Spend a night at Disney's Grand Floridian resort. Frivolous, I know.
24) Save 90% or more using coupons and discounts on a trip to the grocery store. Not every time, just once. Some people skydive for an adrenaline rush, I guess I coupon.
25) Be more patient with my husband. This may be the most challenging item on my bucket list. Patience is not a virtue I possess, and he certainly knows how to try it. While I'm at it, I should probably learn to be more patient with my children, my dog, the woman in the line ahead of me at the grocery store, the bad driver who just cut me off...
That's just a smattering of the things I want out of life. Some are trivial, some are not.
I was all set to write a post about the so-called "tragedies" in my life -- a microwave that exploded the first day DH went back to work after C's birth; my computer crashing; the absense of any clothes that really fit in my closet.
Then a real tragedy hit my family, hard.
My Uncle Gerry -- yes, his real name, the first time I've used a real name on my blog -- died last week on his 61st birthday. Gerry wasn't really my "uncle." Rather, his wife and my mother have been best friends since 1964. When Gerry and my Aunt "S" married in 1974, Gerry became my dad's best friend by default. Over the years, my parents became Godparents to Gerry and Aunt S's only daughter; they, in turn, are my Godparents. They were in each others weddings; I was in their daughter's wedding, and she was in mine. Although I have several other aunts and uncles on both sides of the family, these pseudo-relatives are the best of the best.
Our family's tragedy began on Memorial Day. My "Cousin K" called me from Florida, where she lives with her husband and two children. She told me her dad had a heart attack, but it was minor and he was, by all accounts, doing great. My mom updated me the next morning from the hospital, where Gerry had just had a catheterization to get a closer look at his heart. It showed a leaky valve (which we knew about, as he'd been born with congenital heart disease) and three blocked or partially blocked arteries (which we did not know about). His doctors scheduled open heart surgery to repair both issues for later in the week.
Last Wednesday morning -- as DH, the kids and I were preparing to head to the beach for a quick getaway -- I wake up to a text to my mom that simply said, "Call me." I hate to admit this, but it took me two hours to make the call; that's how good my uncle had been doing the night before. Despite the brevity and seriousness of my mom's text, I simply didn't think it could be anything disastrous.
It was, of course. My mother told me my uncle was dead; his heart stopped at 4:27 that morning.
It's been 17 years since I went to a funeral that broke my heart -- it was 1994, and it was my grampa we were burying after a long struggle with cancer. Since then, I've been to a few funerals, but just about all were for either people I only knew peripherally or were very old -- funerals where family and friends were more celebrating life than mourning death.
This funeral was different. It was filled with my Aunt S and Cousin K -- along with the rest of Gerry's large extended family -- crying. I saw my dad cry for the first time, struggling to carry his best friend of 37 years coffin. I saw my uncle's five-year-old granddaughter wailing with sorrow, unable to express or even understand her complex emotions.
But in the past few days, I've also seen amazing resilience, mostly from my cousin and aunt. First there was the post-burial luncheon; my aunt managed to socialize with everyone there, then sat down with Gerry's closest family and friends to reminisce about his amazing life (turns out, my uncle's decision in 1969 to turn down a contract by an NHL team to go to college instead literally changed the face of the sport at his large state university!). For I-don't-know-how-many-years, my parents, Gerry and Aunt S had gone to the same little hole-in-the-wall diner for breakfast on weekend mornings; it was a ritual DH & I loved joining in whenever we came in town for a visit. Much to our surprise, Aunt S wanted to come just 24 hours after laying her husband to rest. I don't know how she found the strength to sip that decaf cup of coffee and eat one egg scrambled, but she did. I don't know if I've ever been so proud of a person.
I know the tears will continue to flow, for her, her family and everyone else who loved my Uncle Gerry. He's the only person I've ever known in my entire life of whom I cannot say one bad word or remember one bad memory. He was kind, compassionate, honest, dedicated...
I want to end with a story the minister told at Uncle Gerry's funeral:
wondered whether there was hockey in heaven. They decided that when one of them died, he'd return to the other on earth to let him know.A few months later, the defenseman died and returned to visit his friend, the goalie.
"Well, I've got good news and bad news," said the defenseman.
"What's the good news?" asked the goalie.
"Hockey's great in heaven. We play every day, the equipment is great and the ice never gets too rough," replied the defenseman.
"So what's the bad news?" asked the goalie.
"You're in goal next Tuesday."
This is the type of post I love to write, but hate to publish. In fact, I almost didn't publish it at all... but it's something that's been on my mind a lot lately, so here goes...
When Judy Blume released her book "Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret" in 1970, it quickly made the list of banned books. Why? Because apparently, even in the midst 
of the sexual revolution and the woman's liberation movement, a young girl talking about her menstrual cycle, her sexuality and her relationship with God was just too much for pop culture to take. In the past 41 years, this book has gone from banned to culturally acceptable. My mother didn't bat an eye when I picked up a copy in the early 90s (although I still remember feeling so uncomfortable with the topics included within its pages that I would only read it behind my closed bedroom door).
I think American society today is far more conservative than it was during the 70s, when Blume first published this book, or than it was when I read it during my childhood. Look around -- we have groups like Westboro Baptist Church telling parishoners that "God hates America" (seriously, that's a major message of this group, which also protests the funerals of U.S. servicemen and women), right-wing evangelicals playing a major role in our political system, and an increasingly secular public.
What kind of response would Margaret get if she asked that same question in America today?
My fear is, she might not get a response.
Now, before you go on accusing me of being an atheist or an agnostic, let me say this: I am a practicing Catholic. I like my church, both the parish I attend with my family and (for the most part) the concept of a religious home in general. As a religion minor in college, I studied Christianity and Judaism extensively, and to a lesser extent, several so-called "Eastern" religions -- Taoism, Buddhism and Hinduism. I don't think there's a "right" or a "wrong" religion; I think we all basically worship the same God, we just call him by different names. And I wholeheartedly believe that no matter what you believe, as long as you lead a positive life that you will go to Heaven... or whatever your faith thinks is desirable after death.
But I think America is teetering on the brink of something Europe went through years ago: a religious revolution. And I don't mean people turning towards God; I mean people turning away from Him. Just as Blume found out when she published "Margaret" a generation ago, God -- and any frank discussion of His presence in our lives -- is being pushed to the periphery of American culture. It's not as acceptable as it was 75, 50, or even 25 years ago. Openly talking about your religion, and encouraging others to explore their faith, is to make oneself a pariah -- it's social suicide in many circles.
I'm not saying everyone needs to be in church every Sunday; I can't even claim to make it to mass every week myself -- tantrum-throwing toddlers, over-worked fathers and exhausted mothers are all excuses I've used in the last six month for skipping services. And I do believe that everyone should be allowed to worship in his or her own way, whether that be before the altar or in the privacy of your bedroom. But I think we also need to remember that the concept of "Separation of Church And State" wasn't directly mentioned in the U.S. Constitution -- it's simply freedom of religion that is a protected right, the idea that the U.S. government can't and won't tell you what religious path you should follow (although I fear certain political elements have forgotten this over the years).
"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" -- Jesus asked this while dying on the cross. In this country, I don't think it's God who has abandoned us... I think it's we who have abandoned him.
