Happy Holidays and all that jazz....

His first Christmas...where has time gone? Daddy will not be with us this year and so the holiday has been hit with a little hum drum, but, on we march...the tide ever changing and life flowing just as it always does. Little Punky...ready to shred the paper and eat the boxes! He is so precious and the best Christmas present I will ever get for the rest of my life. He's quite busy this kid...all over the place is an understatement. I don't think I will ever have to worry about dieting again cause I don't have time to eat!

Here's to a very happy holiday and a new year full of hope, joy, acceptance, forgiveness, new beginnings, the shedding of old and the rebirth of new thicker, tougher skin. Here's to letting go of regret and embracing the life and love that is ours for the taking. And here is to the selflessness we achieve as parents that is cultivated by unconditional love.

Our love to you all this Christmas and always!

Punky's First Thanksgiving

Here we are...the prime rib spread, the garlic mashed potatoes, the bacon boiled green beans and fresh, warm rolls...a pumpkin pie and a cherry pie on the counter. The napkins match the placemats which match the dishes which match the kitchen. And in the midst of all the colors and smells and flavors is the one and only Punky Bear...knawing on a rib bone...celebrating yet another first.

His appetite is as endless as the joy he brings every life he touches. At nine and a half months he is 27 pounds and 31 inches tall. He's our big boy...so independent and smart and funny. He has a facial expression for every thought accompanied by a hand gesture. He waves hello to people only he can see and cries very little. He's talking and trying very hard to walk. For a little guy that has been through such transition in his life already he is social, happy, adventurous and fearless.

He is what makes grown men cry, women swoon, mothers hug their children tighter, expectant mothers anxious to hold their own and single women, craving a family of their own, that much more impatient for Mr. Right. And as much as he is mine...he is a gift to this world sent from God to remind us that someone is in charge, that love still exists in our world and that perfection is possible. He is life.

Big Boy

Little Xander is growing at alarming rate...just under 4 months old and he's already over 17 pounds and nearly 27 inches! He is everything they promise babies to be...purely magical...and each day means a new discovery. His new favorite toy is his pee-pee which he plays with ALL THE TIME and heaven help you should you distract him. He is so special...commanding the attention of the room the minute he enters it he laughs and drools and uses his tongue in conversation like Italians use their hands!

We are enjoying every waking second of him.

Race for the Cure

Falling in line with the "cha-chas for the ta-tas" little Xander and I participated (thank you again, Uncle David) in our first charity event. Though it took a lot out of me as I'm still not feeling up to par there is a nice sense of achievement coupled with a happy heart for being a part of an event like this one. There were over 7,000 participants in Spokane this year which is a drastic increase from last year's 3,000. It was moving and motivating...humbling and thought provoking at the same time. You cross the finish line and turn to applaud the survivors crossing via their own personal line and receiving a ribbon metal all the while thinking...WOW...and I complained about my coffee being too bland today? The once, twice, three time survivors...the mothers, daughters, grandmothers, aunts, sisters, cousins, coworkers, friends as they proudly sport their pink
t-shirts are a reminder that we are all effected in some way by this disease and that day by day, cancer continues to take lives.

I received news shortly after finishing the walk that my dear friend in California is ill again and I sighed with a deeper understanding of why our participation in this fight is so important. I shed tears for the strangers who wore the names of their family members and friends on their backs and made eye contact with them, silently acknowledging our kindred spirits. To my sister, my girlfriend, my kindred spirt, Sonja...I'm rooting for you, girl, and you're heavy on my heart and mind today and always. The sore feet and achin' thighs are the least we can do to bring a smile to your beautiful face. I love you, my friend.

I have decided to make this a tradition with the baby and I and to shadow box his t-shirts and a photo from each race so that he can keep them as souvenirs but more importantly as a reminder of how imperative it is to join in this fight...how important it is to care...how even he, asleep in his stroller for all three miles, made a difference that day just by being there because THAT, my friends, at 30, 40, 50, 60, 70 and even at two months old is what this journey we call life is all about.

Just say no to...grass?

Little Punky had his first out-of-sock experience this weekend and was none too impressed with the feel of wet grass between his toes. Doing his best impersonation of a pink flamingo he stood on one foot with Uncle David as an anchor and sent dirty looks in our direction. Of course I didn't have the camera on and of course I have had ZERO success recreating the moment.

Lessons we Mommies learn one oops at a time I suppose.

Easter and suits and shots...oh my!

Hello all...

So the little guy experienced his first Easter. He didn't make much sense of the basket although he touched it and stared curiously at the contents. He liked the touch me book and still makes funny faces when I pull his fingers across the fishy scales. The clip on tie was not a hit...but thank god for stuffed ducks that squeak! The goodies seemed to redeem the day a bit. I think he's convinced he's famous with all the pictures we take on a daily basis and he would be correct in his assumption. No doubt a little confusing to be so loved and so tortured at the same time. He woke up to kisses and quacks and was hauled to the doctor's office for his first real set of shots. There were two injections and one oral given when all was said and done. He did cry...but not for long. He's a trooper this kid. Mommy was more traumatized than baby was! And Daddy, for being a guy who doesn't like needles so much, handled himself quite well.

Another adventure in child rearing.
My oh my the things we learn as the days goes by all too quickly.

So this is what the buzzzz is all about

There are sleepless nights and moments of complete and total exhaustion...
There are tears I don't understand and a different cry for everything...
There are minutes of peace and hours of panic...

And through all of these things...as moments morph from joy to fear and just when I think I know something I realize I know nothing he looks at me with those big blue eyes and he sees his mother.

It has defined me...
It has changed me...
It has brought me to life.

And I wouldn't trade this feeling for anything in the world.