Namaste By Day

my reflection

2012-01-27T19:50:00.000-08:00

L has a baby book that lasts to about 11 months. G's only lasts to about five months. One thing I want to do this year is use this blog, among other things, to remember. I want to print the posts about my boys so they can read them one day and laugh. So from time to time, you'll see a post like this...a detailed post about how they are at this age. Feel free to read them...or not.
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I started wanting two boys back in high school. I was the worst teenager ever and knew that if I ever had a girl, she'd end up just like me. After all, my mom wished that upon me enough times that it'd surely come true.

So I figured as long as I had boys, I was golden.

It never occurred to me that I could create a boy just like me.

The older L gets, I look at him and see my reflection.

He doesn't know a stranger. We go to the grocery store and he strikes up a conversation with the checker about his upcoming first soccer game. He insists that I ask the drive-thru girl's name at Sonic when we go through for a drink he's earned. He likes people and he likes to talk to them. It takes most people aback, but I was the same way. (B would tell you that I still am. It's debatable. )

Tonight, he was telling me about his teacher working one on one with him at school. I asked how he felt when he is called over to her table; if he likes it. He bashfully shook his head. I asked him why not and he shrugged. The kid excels at school. I asked if it makes him nervous and he nodded, a bit embarrassed. The next ten minutes, I found myself giving him a pep talk about how he needs to think of that time as a time to show her how good he is; so Miss Mitzi knows what he knows. It appears that he's also inherited my lack of confidence...perfectionism. Mama's going to have to work on breaking that cycle.

L lost his temper a couple of days ago and hit G in the head with his new Cars matchbox car. He lost it for four days and it's killing him. The first day, the very first thing he said to me upon picking him up from preschool was, "It's only been one day." The kid has over 100 cars but he can't stop obsessing over it. Tonight, he asked us if he could "just wook at it." We stuck to our guns and said no. He ran to the counter, where it's put away, then sauntered back, and said, "If I pushed my stool to the counter, I could look at it."

Giving him the look, I asked what he thought would happen. "You'd get mad," he answered, quietly.

"But what would happen?" I asked. "You think you might lose it for more days? Then it would be even longer without your car?"

"Yeah," he quietly pouted, slowly walking away.

Me. That kid is me. I'd threaten to do the wrong thing, knowing I'd back down as soon as my parents told me I'd better not. I'd throw the world's hugest tantrums when I got sent to my room, slamming my door and screaming at the top of my lungs. I'd befriend the new neighbor. I'd talk so much that my parents would beg me to just stop talking for a few minutes. I'd sob if a teacher redirected me too harshly. I'd worry. I'd snuggle up under a blanket, absolutely drinking in a book that was read to me. I'd have to check out every public restroom. I'd cry at movies.

They say it's hell raising yourself. But I'm going to try to rock this. L deserves nothing less.

Two for Tuesday Wednesday: Conversations with L

2012-01-25T11:14:00.001-08:00

Scene: Upon waking up with a cough yesterday morning; on the car ride to school.

L: Mommy, I'm pretty sick. My cough, it's pretty bad.

Me: L, I think you're going to be okay. (Empathetic parenting is not my forte. So sue me.)

L: No, I don't feel good. I'm sick 'cuz I got a cough.

Me: You don't have a fever. If you don't feel well at school, tell your teacher and she can call me.

L: (brightening) Oh! Okay! I am very sick, you know.

Me: Now you need to know, though, that if you come home, you'll have to lie on the couch and watch tv.

L: (brightening more) Okaaay!

Me: And you won't get to play the Wii because you'll be too sick.

***dramatic pause***

L: I fink I'll be okay.

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Scene: Car ride on the way to school

L: Mommy. Hey Mommy. Did you know I have two heads?

Me: (stifles inappropriate giggles) Oh, really?

L: Yeah. (points to forehead) I got my forehead, and .... (pats the top of his head) I got a fivehead.

Namaste', L. Namaste'.

Messy Mom Mondays: Dirty dishes, messy drawers, and clean laundry, oh my!

2012-01-23T06:42:00.000-08:00

"Why are you taking pictures of our dirty house??" B asked, incredulously, as I snapped a few pics on my way out the door today.

I wanted to explain that some of us were showing solidarity and not pretending that we were perfectly neat, tidy, and put-together moms on Messy Mom Mondays.

I wanted to rave about how much I already loved Jess and Brittany but now I adore them even more because of Messy Mom Mondays.

I wanted to tell him a million more things. But, as you can see from the time on the clock, I was running late, as usual. So I told him I'd explain later, even though, let's be honest, I probably won't. He won't get it.

Behold, first and foremost, my kitchen. Honest to goodness, this is the way I left it. I literally snapped these pics with my phone as I was walking out the door.

I'm not sure what my favorite part of this picture is. Maybe the textbooks, waiting to come to work with me? Or the pj's that my mom bought G, that not only have not been washed yet but have also not even made it into the hamper? Or the freeze-dried strawberries and box of coconut milk which needed to go in the pantry, just a few feet away? Or the plethora of other crap? It's a tough choice.

Ahhhh, the dishes in the sink. These are a result of clean dishes in the dishwasher, and the fact that with two children, we go through that many dishes. The dishwasher is busting at the seams with clean dishes. And of course I didn't have time to empty it and/or refill it this morning. Superwoman I am not.

So that's the sight that awaits me when I walk in the door this afternoon. Awesome. Only not so much.

******

And if the messy kitchen wasn't enough, how about two bonus shots of my bedroom? You in?

This is the inside of my top nightstand drawer. I've almost turned into my grandma...her drawer was filled with meds too. I'm just missing the candy but if I'm being honest (and I should...it is MMM), there were gummy Lifesavers in there just last week. Call me Joan.

But that's not all....

Our bed never gets made. The laundry never gets truly caught up. This picture was taken last night, but those baskets of clothes are currently just sitting on the floor. They didn't get done. There's a possibility that they might, tonight, since I'll be sitting in there watching The Bachelor (oh yes, I just admitted that too) but then again, they may not.

Thanks, Jess, and Britt, for letting me air my ~~dirty~~ clean laundry and helping me make hundreds of other women feel better about their own houses. I'm not perfect. I'm not even close. I'm kind and I'm creative and I'm intelligent, but I'm human. And I love being able to proclaim that that's okay.

Namas-freakin'-te'.

Easy Peasy Amazing Chili

2012-01-22T17:29:00.000-08:00

Tonight, I made The Best Chili in the History of the Universe. I took a recipe from my father-in-law and tweaked it a bit for our taste. We love spicy (G ate two bowls of it), and it has a bit of a kick. I had a few Twitter requests for the recipe...and like your fairy godmother, I'm here to make your wishes come true.

1 lb ground beef (do yourself a favor and just try 100% grass-fed beef. It's amazing.)
1 tube of "hot" pork sausage of your choice

Brown, remove grease, and throw in a crock pot with:

3 cans of kidney beans (we love Trader Joe's organic beans)
2 cans of organic diced and fire roasted tomatoes with organic chiles
1 small can of tomato paste
1 tablespoon chili powder
cumin to taste (I think I used about a tablespoon)
pepper to taste
onion salt to taste

Cook on low for at least 3 hours...the longer the better. Enjoy!

Food Allergy Fridays: Going out to eat

2012-01-20T05:00:00.000-08:00

One question that I get asked on a consistent basis regarding the boys' food allergies is "How do you go out to eat?"

The answer: Very carefully.

We have two restaurants that we frequent pretty consistently: Jason's Deli (which I believe is a chain and I highly recommend it) and Chipotle (who doesn't love them some Chipotle, right?). I did my research ahead of time. Most restaurants (even fast food restaurants) have allergen information on their websites. But don't assume anything is safe...for instance, McDonald's frozen lemonade contains milk! Allergyeats.com is another good website for searching too.

I know what we can get at Jason's Deli and Chipotle, and as importantly, I trust them. I know how they prepare food and I don't have to worry about cross-contamination. (Much. I always worry about cross-contamination, but that's what allergy mommas do.)

But when we get invited to a restaurant or birthday party, we have a system. I used to worry about matching L's food as closely as possible to what everyone else would be eating. But I learned that L has a few old faithfuls that he would prefer to eat over anything anyone else is eating. Our biggest go-to is a peanut (or almond) butter and jelly. I feel zero guilt about it because we get the peanut butter with two ingredients (peanuts and sea salt) and all natural fruit spread.

Sometimes I've tried to make L pizza for pizza parties, etc., but he typically requests a PB&J. The best thing we did was find something that he loves that gives us no guilt. Seriously...L eats those almost every single day for lunch.

We have a fabulous gluten-free bakery not too far from us that we stock up on pre-made cupcakes. We keep one or two in the freezer at school for impromptu class parties and always bring one of those (or a homemade cupcake or brownie) to family celebrations in restaurants so when desserts are served, L doesn't feel left out.

And we bring food everywhere we go. I mean everywhere. And when I say food, I mean lots of it. Snacks are as important additions to the diaper bag as wipes. Maybe more so. I try to keep lots on hand so he can have a choice, and include things like individually wrapped fruit leathers, Pure protein bars, individual bags of potato chips, gluten-free cereal in baggies, trail mix.

Is it all sunshine and roses all the time? No. Fairly often, L will look at me and say, "When I get bigger I won't be allergic to anything and I can eat _____________, right, Mommy?" And every time he says that, I feel that dagger twist in my heart a bit. But it could be so much worse. I know this. And L is amazingly understanding that those foods will make him very sick. He knows just how bad they make him feel. So he knows it isn't even worth it. Wise beyond his years, that one.

I remember feeling so much negativity regarding packing up the food and making the lunches and always throwing food together. But it's gotten easier and easier. These days, I can get lunches made in a matter of minutes. I can throw a diaper bag together without even thinking about it. We know where to go to get "special treats," as we call them, for L.

The other important thing to note is that once you start researching foods (and you will, with a child with food allergies), you might want to adopt their diet. I used to say I'd never go gluten-free, until I did it. Knowing what I know about food, I can say with honesty that I don't miss my beloved McDonald's cheeseburgers or Taco Bell meximelts. Now the pasta and Italian bread, however...sigh.

If you have any specific questions, don't hesitate to e-mail me at namastebyday@gmail.com

Namaste!

The Key to Life

2012-01-19T06:37:00.000-08:00

I really like the Word of 2012 Train. I don't usually follow the internet/bloggy trends, but I'm a word nerd (hello, speech-language pathologist) here and I love the idea of something to focus on. God knows anything to help my distractability is a good thing.

But as I read other people's eloquent posts on their Words of 2012, I wasn't sure what mine should be. I'd love to say it's focus. Or calm. Or something along those lines.

However, I am one of those people whose minds never.turns.off. Ever. I prefer to go to sleep listening to mindless chatter on television because otherwise my mind races, scanning my to-do list, coming up with new worries, and just thinking-thinking-thinking.

So as much as I'd like to say I'm going to have a quiet mind; a focused life...let's be honest. It's not gonna happen. Yet. We'll shoot for that in 2013.

But as I struggled with every single balance pose in my Power Yoga class the other night, it hit me. Balance.

That's exactly what I struggle with but what I think is a reachable goal. While balance is the hardest part of yoga for me, it isn't just me holding a perfect dancer pose. As Kim reminded me the other night, "real yoga happens on the street, not just in the studio." And that is true. Reason #206980236 why I love yoga.

Like most other people, when I make a resolution, I break it. Because I feel like I fail the first time l lose my temper or don't stay organized or religiously keep up with my workouts or floss my teeth every single day. I tend to be impulsive and dramatic, so once I screw up, I throw my goal out the window. After all, I've already failed.

But balance? That's something to strive for. It lends itself to success, because if I'm starting to get lazy, I'll allow myself those five more minutes of ridiculous reality tv, then get my butt to the gym. And I still am rocking it out, even though I sat on the couch for an hour. (And five minutes.)

Being present with my kids is something I want to work on, but I feel like the balance thing helps with that. I'm going to probably get a few judgies thrown my way for saying this, but sometimes I just need to escape to the internet for a while, while G eats a snack or L watches an episode of Curious George. I need my down time too, especially on the days when the whining is epic and I'm PMS-ing and dealing with a trying day at work. But balancing that with the presence is what seems healthiest to me.

I can apply this to everything in my life. Balance cooking with bringing home Chipotle once a week. Balance frustration with gratitude. Balance keeping my house neater with not stressing when it looks like a tornado ripped through it.

And if I make progress on the mat as well, and I learn to rock out the standing split/revolved half moon/warrior III poses? Bonus.

After all...

Namaste'.

(Not really) Wordless Wednesday: Ask and you shall receive.

2012-01-18T06:59:00.000-08:00

I'm granting your wish. Voila...my two pictures from my movie that I posted about HERE. Sorry about the quality. They are pictures of pictures taken on my phone.

Me with Zachery Ty Bryan (yes, the oldest son from Home Improvement) and two of the actual soccer players (who played different parts in the movie).

Swooning over Louis Mandylor. Did I tell you that he told me that I was beautiful? And blew me kisses (unscripted, thankyouverymuch, during the wedding scene)? Sigh.

When I get discovered, you can say you read my blog way back when. Namaste.

Like nails on a chalkboard

2012-01-17T06:43:00.000-08:00

I tend to be a bit sensory defensive (as well as sensory seeking). And lately, I've noticed that my sensory issues have been extra crazy lately. I have theories on why; I've wondered if it's due to hormone changes from ending breastfeeding or slowly introducing gluten/dairy back into my diet to prepare for our trip.

Regardless, I've felt like my sensory system is completely whacked out as of late. I've always hated touching cotton balls and last night, after some dental work, I was whining to B about the fact that I had to bite!cotton!ew!! and it turned into a discussion about my sensory issues.

I told him that I recently have developed a hate of construction paper. I don't like even touching it but folding it or cutting it...ugh...just the thought of it gives me the heebie jeebies. B just couldn't understand it. He claims he has no sensory issues. When I asked him if there was really nothing that is like nails on a chalkboard to him, he replied, "Oh, yeah, I don't like nails on a chalkboard."

Sigh. Men. So I turned to my trusty Twitter and asked for empathy. And goodness, did I get it. Girls told me of their hate for chalk, brown paper towels, glass, cotton balls. In addition to the construction paper, I have all those too. Oh, and anything gritty... water chestnuts, watermelon, pears...blech. I'm also don't like many ball-point pens. *shudder*

The only things I didn't relate to was the sound of someone brushing their teeth, styrofoam, and elevator buttons.

However, this discussion was fascinating to me, although I got so shivery that I couldn't even keep track of who I replied to on Twitter. Just thinking about those things not only made my skin crawl, but clearly affected my mental capacity. Like I said, sensory issues. Big ones.

So tell me: what makes your skin crawl? I really want to know.

Namaste.

Messy Mom Mondays Take One

2012-01-16T17:04:00.000-08:00

I saw the Messy Mom Monday posts hosted by my girls Jess and Brittany today and I thought that I could ROCK this linkup. If they thought their houses were messy, I'd help a sister out and show them the disgustingness that was my crib.

And cringing, I took some pics. Nervously, sure I'd lose followers if I posted them, I e-mailed them to myself.

By some stroke of (good?) (bad?) luck, when I checked my email, they didn't send correctly. And I deleted them as I sent them. But I promise you they were doozies.

I'm talking pics of the highchair in our bedroom because I stuck G in there so I could get a shower.

And a big bag of toys that have been sitting on a kitchen chair for a month, waiting to donate them to our church's nursery.

There was a picture of our unmade bed with two baskets of unfolded laundry on it.

Dishes in the sink. An applesauce container on the counter. A cluttered kitchen table. While I'm not dirty, I am supah messy. Always have been, always will be. It does get to the point that it bothers me, like today. But I am just so stinkin' disorganized that I can't even pretend to be one of those bloggers with a perfect house, even for a day. Sigh.

Fortunately for you I got a few pictures to prove it....

This is my dresser. These books have been sitting there for a week because I keep forgetting to bring them to work. The water bottle should have made its way to the kitchen but I guarantee I got distracted by something shiny. The makeup has its own story behind it, also ADD-related.

***

My bathroom sink. I have the ever present bobby pins, a foot file that G stole out of my shower, an overflowing trash can, my favorite necklace that I took off last night, and more. Lucky for you, this shot doesn't show the dirty clothes on the floor.

Ah, the piece de resistance. My lovely, pretending to be organized space saver. Nice, huh? Oh yes, we live like that.

Well, LIVED. I was off work today and I completed four huge organizational tasks. I cleaned out my craft corner in the basement. That would have been a shocking before/after photo post. Holy cow, was that a mess. I am very grateful to the kind stranger at Hobby Lobby who gave me a 40% off coupon, enabling me to buy an organization system. My husband told me he got all tingly when he saw it. The man is a sucker for organization.

I also cleaned out and reorganized our hall closet, as well as my top nightstand drawer, which each deserve their own posts.

And before you start thinking I'm knocked up again, just don't. I know for sure that I'm not. I am here to tell you that having three weeks to get your house on the market will send you into an even more powerful nesting mode than when you have a giant belly. Trust me.

But the biggest organization I did today? Remember that nasty space saver that I cannot believe I posted? Check it out now.

Voila!

If this didn't make you feel good enough about your own home, just wait till next week when I plan to blog my classroom/desk/workspace. Messy doesn't begin to describe it.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have more organizing to do.

Namaste.

I Met Gerard. Yes, that one. And it didn't go well.

2012-01-15T19:56:00.001-08:00

I am the most starstruck person I know.

You know those people who see a celebrity and jump up and down and cry? That's me. There's a couple things about myself that embarrass me, and this is one of them. It's ridiculous how starstruck I am.

Want to know a secret? It's because I swear I could have been an actress. I seriously think I narrowly missed being discovered and my acting skills are equal to that of some of those Hollywood starlets.

And it's quite possibly because my 8th grade speech team skills were stellar. Because clearly, that's a logical link between speech meet trophy winner and movie star.

Like I said, it's ridiculous.

Have I ever blogged about the year my neighbor was a local newscaster? That I went out to meet him in a BIKINI to get his attention because he was ON TV?

Oh, you read that right. While the weatherman isn't going to make me pee my pants like, say, Ellen DeGeneres would, I still have a bit of starstruckness for him.

Pathetic. Right here.

This starstruckness started early. Once, as a kid, I saw John Goodnman at a church picnic. I stared at him for hours. He waved to me, and lots of people were approaching him, having casual conversations with him. I just stared.

Another time, I met Keanu Reeves. I blogged about what an idiot I was a while back (if you didn't read my post about that, my eloquent one-liner was "Can I hug you?").

I also met Gerard Butler. And that is more embarrassing than my other two encounters put together. He was an extra in my movie. My movie is The Game of Their Lives, which unfortunately went straight to DVD. When I found out a movie was coming to my town when I was 24, looking for ethnic-looking Italian girls and was being filmed in the summer when I had absolutely no responsibilities (I had just gotten divorced), I was first in line.

Literally. I rounded up two of my friends and we got to the casting call that began at 8 am at 5 am. You better believe we were first in line, armed with snacks and bottled water and magazines and snapshots of ourselves and lots of coffee.

After waiting impatiently all day and wondering aloud if there would be a celebrity surprise appearance (a girl can dream), I made my way to the front of the auditorium. I filled out the sheet with my basic information, enthusiastically noting I'd cut or dye my hair if requested.

A couple weeks later, I got a phone call. Although my friends weren't going to be joining me, I! Was! Going! To! Be! A! MOVIE STAR!!!

The first night we filmed a wedding scene. I got hair and makeup done, and in the dress that I had previously scored in the wardrobe department. I thanked my lucky stars that this was set in 1950 and the hair, makeup, and bright red lipstick was beyond adorable. And the strapless, red-flowered a-line dress? I may have asked if I could keep it.

As I type this, I shed a tear over the fact that I only have two photos from that day. At one point, I had a whole album and I would pay to know where it is. Even more sadly, I didn't get a picture of the one person I should have. Sigh. I'm skipping ahead.

I met Louis Mandylor as he was exiting his trailer and I got a picture with him. I hadn't even seen My Big Fat Greek Wedding but the excitement regarding him from the women who were exras was palpable and contagious. He had that movie star way about him, and he told me I was beautiful, so obviously I fell instantly in love with him.

He also blew me kisses during filming. Sigh.

(Yes. I am serious. Like I said. Embarrassing.)

Filming the movie was fun. There was a lot of dancing in heels. I don't wear heels and I can't dance to save my life but I danced my ass off to stay in that scene. And it worked.

During one of the many, many breaks during filming, a man walked up to me. Although he was a good 30 years older than me, it wasn't weird that he just wanted to chat. Hanging out with that group of extras was like an Italian family's wedding reception. Everyone is loud and funny and affectionate. It makes for easy conversations with anyone, regardless of gender or age.

So this man approached me and said, "You havin' fun?"

And I started jabbering on about how amazing this was, and that this was my dream!come!true! And that I was just so, so happy that I got this opportunity.

The Man Who Could Have Been My Uncle chuckled and told me to follow him, where we'd go meet the casting director, who was his good friend. As we walked her way, he explained that they were looking for Sicilian-looking girls for another day of filming and he thought I might fit the bill.

As we walked toward the tall, blonde, sharp-looking director, she was already sizing me up. The man introduced her to me, she looked me up and down, and then said, "What're you doing Wednesday night?" Nothing would have been important enough to even pretend my schedule wasn't open. She invited me back and I giddily accepted.

Wednesday evening, filming was scheduled to be in a local grade school cafe-gym-atorium. I entered, this time, was dressed in a much more plain, albeit cute, gray cotton dress. Still ecstatic, I got my makeup done, begging for gossip from the makeup artists. Conspiratorially, they whispered that Gerard Butler was going to make an appearance tonight.

"Who?" I asked. At the time, his biggest films were Tomb Raider and Phantom of the Opera, neither of which I'd seen, so I hadn't heard of him.

Sure enough, when he walked in the door, I had to ask what all the buzz was about. When he approached MY table, I wasn't in danger of crying, fainting, or wetting myself since I wasn't familiar with him. Yet when he sat down and started a conversation with me, I still managed to make an ass out of myself even though I didn't realize it until years later.

He asked about me, and I asked about Angelina Jolie. (In my defense, this was in the pre-Jennifer era.)

He asked what I did for a living, and I answered that I was a speech-language pathologist, but that he should really tell me about Hollywood. And Angelina.

He insisted that my life was more interesting; that my job was rewarding and his was not; that he wanted to know about me.

And? I BLEW HIM OFF. AGAIN.

And then it was time for the extras to take our sets and I walked away from that beautiful man who now makes my heart beat a little faster, who B refers to as my "boyfriend." I walked away from him, accent and all.

And then? And then??

Months after we got one of the few sneak previews of the movie in the theater, and I waited and waited for it to come to the theaters (it never did), B had a special surprise one night when I came over to his apartment to hang out.

The Miracle Match. Oh, it was the same movie but with a different title. That should have been my first hint that it had some major changes.

You know, like completely cutting out both scenes that I saw myself in in the theater.

Womp, womp, womp.

I think I deserve a second chance at being an extra. I only have room for improvement.

Food Allergy Fridays: A story from one of my besties

2012-01-13T06:47:00.000-08:00

When my friend Laura told me awhile back that she was choosing to go gluten-free for herself and her daughter (even without a technical "allergy," I thought it was a great idea.

Not only because I had a partner in this lifestyle (although that was nice, I admit).

But also because I was very curious as to how taking gluten out of her diet would affect her little girl. She was hoping to see changes in her behavior, her emotional health, and her overall quality of life.

When I saw Laura and the munchkin on New Year's Eve, I was blown away. Honestly, if I hadn't seen it for myself, I would never have believed it. Her little girl was a completely different kid. I just kept saying to Laura, "She's so much...calmer!" "Oh my gosh, she is so different." "Laura, she's quieter." "Her eye contact is better!" And on and on and on.

Laura just smiled and agreed with me.

She's been a believer in limiting gluten for a while now, so she knew that it was possibly going to be a powerful change. And powerful it was. In fact, you can read the story from her perspective HERE.

Namaste.

Just another life lesson learned on the job.

2012-01-12T06:22:00.000-08:00

I still remember the first time I worked with people with disabilities. I remember every last detail of the Halloween party that my mom pushed me to serve. I remember the butterflies in my stomach and my sweaty palms on the way there, riding in the backseat of my mom's minivan. I remember the building in which it was housed, the darkened windows looking intimidatingly at me as I walked up the sidewalk. I remember feeling sorry for some of the people there, and trying to imagine how hard life was for them and their family members.

And I remember falling in love with a man with Down Syndrome who told me I was beautiful, and getting the white icing on the corner of his mouth that he kept missing with his jack-o-lantern napkin.

Ever since then, I haven't felt a lick of pity for people with disabilities. They've taught me more than I've taught them. When people tell me they think my job must be depressing, I get a bit offended. It's anything but.

Last week, I had an interaction with two people who are married and have a little girl who is mentally retarded. I had the opportunity to see how proud they are of her; how their eyes light up when they talk about her; how they asked for more homework for her because they want to give her extra practice each night.

They also happen to be mentally retarded as well.

As I sat and listened to them talk to me about their daughter, I started thinking about God's role in creating them. It occurred to me that while they live an extremely different life than I live, similar themes are interlaced in our lives. Pride. Struggle. Frustration. Joy.

A friend of mine thinks that God created people with disabilities to teach us lessons about life, namely what's important. And while I don't doubt that there is some truth in that, I also believe that God didn't make a mistake when creating them. I believe that they aren't broken. No more broken than me, anyway. For they have strengths that I don't. Good health. Lack of anxiety. Confidence. Perseverance.

If we were all created perfectly, we'd be a society of robots. We wouldn't learn a thing from each other. We wouldn't get to practice grace; forgiveness; gratefulness for what we have.

I'm pretty confident in saying He knew what He was doing when he created each of my students. If I can see them the way He does, and learn from them the way He intended, I'll be pretty fortunate to feel so fulfilled.

Today, my signature feels pretty apropos, and I'm trying hard to remember to do just that, even when it's tricky.

"The light in me salutes the light in you."

Namaste.

Wordless Wednesday: This was NOT staged. Commence heart melting.

2012-01-11T06:26:00.000-08:00

Come on down!

2012-01-10T09:55:00.000-08:00

Okay, perhaps winning my Scentsy giveaway isn't quite as exciting as being chosen on The Price is Right.

But a winner has been chosen (thank you, random.org).

Drumroll please.................

Congratulations to JANET!

Janet, shoot me an e-mail at namastebyday@gmail.com and I'll hook you up with Cheryl.

Namaste!

Pooltime and Pedis...yes, please!

2012-01-08T17:25:00.000-08:00

Apparently, you could all care less about the fact that I'm back on that workout train that ran right over me and all you want is the deets on my trip.

Yeah, I don't blame you.

Because I won an all-expense-paid trip! Little ole me!!

Oh. Wait. My hubs actually won it. Considering only a few hundred people out of hundreds of thousands of people get to go on this trip, which happens once every five years, I should really give him the credit.

His boss' boss nominated him, based solely on the fact that he is a freakin' rock star at his job. Seriously. He just got promoted to a position in which he had no experience and therefore HR was balking at interviewing him. He had managers galore go to bat for him and ended up with the job. Never in my life have I met someone with the work ethic like my husband.

Luckily, I get to reap the benefits.

When I first found out we'd be leaving the boys for three nights, I freaked out a bit. G is such a mama's boy and their allergies alone sent waves of panic through me. Not to mention, I hate, hate, hate to fly. Honestly, I was hesitant to even go.

But B's dad and stepmom agreed to watch them, promised they'd only feed them the food we send, and the fact that their grandma is a retired nurse put me a lot more at ease. Plus, they said that if G is uncomfortable at their house, they'd just come stay at our house for those days.

Then, B got home from work and told me where we were going and I almost died. It's a resort in Arizona with spa treatments I have only dreamed of. The place has won many awards in travel magazines. There are yoga classes and sunset hikes and a gorgeous pool. B and I haven't been on a trip alone since our honeymoon six years ago.

And just when I thought it couldn't get better...I received proof that although B won it, this trip was made for me. Their website has a "going green" section, boasting locally grown/organic food, vegan products used in the spa, recycled materials used throughout the resort, donation of food scraps to the Phoenix Herpetological Society, energy-saving procedures implemented whenever possible, etc., etc., etc.

We leave in about two months. Is it too early to pack my bags?

Namaste.

My name is Gina, and I'm a Resolutioner.

2012-01-06T16:44:00.000-08:00

I'm wearing a hat these days that I never thought I'd wear.

But the Resolutioner cap is squarely on my head.

You don't know what a Resolutioner is? It's the people who join the gym in early January. The ones who come in and fight for a bench in Body Pump even though they don't know the routine, who squeeze themselves into that last spot in spinning class even though they don't even have spin shoes, who take the good spots in the parking lot even though they weren't even going there last week.

The last few years, I cursed the Resolutioners. I cried that they shouldn't be allowed to take "my" spin bike. I had worked hard to move up to the hardest class and I felt entitled to my spot, thankyouverymuch. I rolled my eyes when my class instructors had to slow down to reteach the form in Body Pump.

And now, after two months of a nonstop cold, exacerbated by sleep deprivation, sick boys, a hurt knee, and a decreased motivation in general, I've been away from the gym. B won a phenomenal all-expense-paid vacation this week (which deserves its own post), and knowing that I have two months to get bikini-ready, that further kicked my arse into realizing it was time to re-enter the gym. Last week, I marched back into classes, for the first time in years as a newbie of sorts.

Walking into the gym as a Resolutioner makes me look at everything differently. I realize that we Resolutioners have the same rights as every other gym patron. That an encouraging smile is much more kind than an eye roll. That that rockstar spin spot is no one's and everyone's. That walking a few more steps from my faraway parking spot just gets me that much closer to my goal.

I'm a Resolutioner. And I'm proud of it, yo.

The end of a journey.

2012-01-06T12:31:00.001-08:00

If you would have asked me a week ago how long I thought I'd nurse G, I would have chuckled. I would have said that it was good that we were hoping that he'd come to my school for kindergarten because when his class had snack, he could come to my room for a quick nursing sesh. I kid. I do. But the child was seemingly obsessed.

Every night, without fail, he'd sign "milk" to request to nurse. If he was overtired on the weekends, he'd ask to nurse. Often, he still asked during the day, if he was hungry. Upset. Overstimulated. Boyfriend loved him some nursing.

And then, about a week ago, I noticed that he was no longer nursing to sleep. He'd nurse for two minutes, tops, on one side, say, "aw-duh" (all done), sign "more," nurse on the other side for a minute or so, then announce again that he was "aw-duh." And he'd toddle off.

His sleep was getting even worse, too, which I didn't think was even possible.

So I followed his signs, as well as my readiness to be done, and one night this week, as I was rocking him before bed, he halfheartedly signed "milk." I noticed it was different...he almost seemed like he didn't mean it. It was one-handed and just seemed blase. So I didn't say no, but I ignored it, cuddled him up tighter, kept singing and rocking, and he didn't ask again.

I was shocked. In the past, he would ask repeatedly to nurse, even smacking me if I would deny him. But this night, he just went to sleep.

I was instantly relieved, and then felt guilt for said relief. Shouldn't I be crying over the end of this journey? That this 16 and 1/2 month journey had come to a possible end? I figured that he'd ask the next night anyway, and went to sleep. (Side note: later that night, he woke up crying, and B and I did some tandem modified sleep training for 45 minutes. Afterwards, he slept through the night. If you follow my blog, you know that is nothing short of miraculous.)

The last two nights he didn't even ask to nurse. I even tempted him one night by wearing a nursing tank when I rocked him. Sure enough, his hand went down my top and I thought surely he'd ask, but he just snuggled up and went to sleep.

It was like he didn't realize that it was an option not to nurse. And once he did, he found that he preferred the choice to snuggle and rock and sing.

And? He has slept through the night every night since. It could be a coincidence, or solely related to the sleep training, but I'm not convinced.

Regardless, we've reached the end of our proverbial journey. And I'm happy to say that it's such a peaceful ending. It's like coming home after a fantastic vacation...I wouldn't have given up my time on the journey for anything, but it's always nice to come home to your own bed.

Namaste.

Scentsy Giveaway!

2012-01-03T05:25:00.000-08:00

I live in a house with three boys. One is in diapers. One misses the toilet about half the time. And then there's L.

I kid.
Kinda.

Moving on.

Needless to say, things get a little stinky around here. What? Boys stink. It's a fact of life.

I've tried it all and we've found, loved, and stuck with Scentsy. In case you aren't familiar with them, they are wax burners. No flame. No mess. Really. I have two very busy little boys, and I juse the plug-ins in the bathroom and have not had one incident to date.

My favorite scent is French Kiss, but we burn a lot of Satin Sheets around here too. Just a few weeks ago, I ordered Embers and Baked Apple Pie, and I LOVE those too.

The fantastic news is that my friend Cheryl wants you to love Scentsy as much as I do, so she's giving away a gorgeous mid-sized warmer to one of you.

Pretty, right?

Here's the scoop. First and foremost, you need to go to Cheryl's site at www.cherylnitz.scentsy.us and browse around, then come back and tell me what your favorite Scentsy product is.

For your entry to count, your email must be attached to your comment in some way...if you don't have it set up on blogger, include it in your comment. But seriously. Set that shizz up on blogger. Nothing is more annoying than going to respond to a comment and not being able to do so.

And if you buy something from Cheryl, I'll throw in an extra three entries.

Easy peasy, no?

I'll choose the winner a week on Tuesday, January 9. Namaste.

Celebrating their differences

2012-01-02T13:00:00.001-08:00

I always wanted two boys. When I tell people that, they look at me disbelievingly. But it's true. I told myself, though, that if my dream came true, I wouldn't compare them, no matter how similar or different they may be.

Yeah, that went out the window with the promise that they wouldn't watch tv or misbehave in public.

My boys are so, so different.

When L was 16 months, he looked more like a little boy. See?

He loved watching Diego and regularly put two to three words together. He had a huge vocabulary. Both his receptive and expressive language were strong, but his fine motor was and still is his weakness.

He threw major temper tantrums...screaming, hitting, kicking, often caused by his fierce independence and intense emotions. He wanted to do everything himself, but he did it carefully, and often in the most difficult way possible.

He was a big boy...wearing 2T clothes and he never ever walked... he ran, although he had really just started walking 3 and 1/2 months prior.

He didn't know a stranger...he would try to charm any woman he'd see, although he'd save the most flirtatious facial expressions for the prettiest girls. (Really.)

And oh, how he slept. He slept all night, every night. Basically, he was just like he is now.

And then, there's G. My sweet, sweet little baby. It's amazing to me how he seems to be so much younger than L at 16 months. First of all, he just looks younger.

He's tiny...most of the time, he's in 12 month clothes. He's shorter and weighs much less than L did at this age.

He's a man of few words, although his vocabulary has grown significantly lately and he now says mama, dada, Lo-Lo, Nana, PawPaw, eat, please, thank you, hot dog, up, down, all done, uh-oh, bye-bye, night-night, sock, hat, jacket, shoes, diaper, no, ball, apple, Batman, hi, bubble, dog, milk, banana, and signs many of them as well. He can point to his head, eyes, nose, ears, mouth, belly, and feet. He knows what a variety of animals say, including dog, frog, cow, bear, tiger, monkey, and elephant.

But he chooses to be quiet, usually. When we go out in public, he clings to me. He'll make eye contact with people, but he typically gives them a pouty, bashful face and takes a l-o-n-g time to warm up to anyone. When we go to a new place, he tends to get overstimulated easily.

He doesn't particularly like tv. He'll watch Bubble Guppies for a few minutes her and there, but he prefers to climb. That little monkey will climb on anything, even things that we don't think he has a chance of getting onto. His motor skills, both fine and gross, are clearly his strength. The kid is strong.

L was affectionate, but G makes him look downright standoffish. Everyone who knows G says that he is the most snuggly, cuddly baby. And part of me thinks that part of his sleep issues is due to his need for hugs and cuddles 24-7. For when I go in to his room and pick him up, he hugs me, hard, and falls right back asleep when I rock him.

I feel like I have the best of both worlds, and I am doubly blessed. It occurred to me today that not comparing isn't what the best momma would do. By understanding their differences, I understand them as individuals. So I'll compare my heart out, just like I swore I wouldn't. Then, I'll cut myself a little slack when they watch another episode of "Bubble" or throw a traffic-stopping tantrum at the grocery store.

To all of you mommas who compare your kids, or admit to doing all of those things you swore you never would...namaste.

Kicking off the New Year with a BANG(S)!

2012-01-01T13:56:00.000-08:00

I don't drink much.

So last night, after I had nursed G , I should have thought twice about having another Captain and Sierra Mist. Or at least about drinking it as fast as I did.

Because not too long afterwards, the following conversation between my girl Laura and I occurred:

Me: I really like your bangs.

Laura: Oh, thanks! I just cut them myself.

Me: Nuh-uh. Really?

Laura: Yeah, I just snip away until they look right. It's not hard.

Me: You should cut mine!

Laura: Oh, I don't know...

Me: C'mon. It's just hair. It'll grow. Let's cut them.

Laura: You sure?

Me: Yeah. Let's do it.

Within five minutes, I was sitting on her kitchen chair. Her hubby had gotten out his haircutting scissors (which Laura didn't even know existed! She uses kitchen scissors!) and our husbands and both my boys were standing behind Laura, watching her. We discussed the length I wanted and she went to town.

And then her husband said the three words you don't want to hear when your friend is cutting your hair: "Ohhhh, that's short."

And then the response you really don't want to hear: "Yeah, I didn't mean to go that short."

Crap.

I jumped up and looked in the mirror, as Laura followed on my heels, telling me not to look, because she wasn't finished.

My vision of eyebrow-length, side-swept bangs had not exactly come to fruition. I was sporting blunt, choppy, way-uneven above-the-eyebrows bangs.

I was laughing (thank you Captain Morgan) and told Laura to put down the scissors. She was hysterically giggling...so much so that she may have wet her pants a little. (Give her a break...she's pregnant and had just had two sodas. You read that right...she was completely sober.)

She ended up attempting to fix them again, which did help, and our husbands were very sweet. Her husband said that I looked like a hot Russian spy. B said I was kind of sporting the Uma Thurman look in Pulp Fiction.

L, however, pouted, and said, "I don't wike your hair, Mommy." Brutally honest, that one.

Luckily, today, I found some perfect bobby pins and some pomade to hold the very short bangs in place. I'm actually quite happy that she cut them, because as Laura so wisely pointed out, I'd never have the cajones to cut the bangs that I've been considering for years. With any luck, they'll grow quickly, and I can actually pull off the Uma look once they are long enough for a stylist to even them out.

And when that happens, then I'll post a pic. And only then. So don't even ask.

***Edited to add: You all are persistent. So many picture requests via email and Twitter within a few minutes of hitting "Publish". I will take one now and you can look forward to a before and after post. And that's as good as you'll get.

My New Year's resolution: never drink and make big hair decisions without a stylist present ever again.

Love you, Laura, and namaste.

Sweet Dreams in 2012

2011-12-31T07:28:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year's Eve! The goal for 2012 is to finally relax. If you've followed my blog for long, you know that 2011 has brought a bit of a sleep drought around these parts. Relaxation in general has been hard to come by.

Luckily, I have a great role model in L. When in doubt, I'll go to him for advice...

Namaste.

A Bloggy Review

2011-12-29T06:00:00.000-08:00

One of Mama Kat's Writing Prompts for today was to pick a favorite post from each month of 2011. WAIT...before you skip this post, hang on one second. I have lots of new followers and there are some posts that I love, that really tell a lot about me. If you started following this year, keep reading. I included synopses so you can see if any of them pique your interest. Do me a big favor and let me know if you read any of them?

In January, I wrote about one of my favorite speech therapy moments that reminds me why I do what I do. Go here to read "Three Little Sounds, One Huge Difference."

In February, I wrote a post that, looking back on it, makes me a little guilty, seeing how far I've fallen off the workout wagon. But remembering the most psycho trainer ever makes me laugh. Go here to read "Miss Nelson, The Bodybuilder."

In March, I wrote my very favorite post about my all-time favorite interaction between two kids at school. Go here to read "The Seven Sweetest Words."

In April, I talked about my least favorite part of my job. And although I hate the topic of standardized testing, I'm determined to get the word out there again and possibly shock you all with the ridiculousness of it. Go here to read "It's Time Again for My Annual Academically-Based Rant."

In May, I discussed a lesson I taught L with a little help from a popular children's board game. Go here to read "Thank You, Milton Bradley."

In June, I wrote a tribute to the child who inspires me most. I write a lot about L, but this is my favorite because I think I finally articulated my feelings about him as they really are. Go here to read "A Tribute to L."

In July, I got to show off some awesome nursing pics that my bestie Laura took for me. They totally deserve a spot in this post. Go here to read "Blessed to be Free."

I can't choose between my two favorite August posts so feel free to choose for me. Go here to read about why I love my students who are the biggest troublemakers in "I Heart Hellions." And here to read my letter to G on his first birthday.

In September, I wrote a post about one of those big life-changing moments, that included friendship, meanness, death, and a big life lesson. Go here to read "A Life Lesson Remembered."

In October, I wrote about extended breastfeeding. Nuff said. Here is "My Lactation Proclamation."

In November, I talked a lot about my faith. I have two posts that I'm proud of. The first is explaining just how a friend who didn't give up on me got me started on my faith journey in the first place. Go here to read "Five Hundred and Twenty Six Days." And the second post was about a bump in the road of that journey, and how a four-year-old got me back on track. Go here to read "Detours."

And in December, I wrote a post that got me lots of comments and e-mails. Apparently it struck a few nerves in my readers. Go here to read "Notice Without Judging."

Major props to you if you even read the summaries. Namaste.

Food Allergy Fridays: All About Snacking

2011-12-28T19:26:00.000-08:00

Once I got over the initial shocks of L's allergy, it hit me that our snacking would have to change drastically. No more goldfish, bunny crackers, Ritz crackers. The more I learned, the less comfortable I was with fruit snacks. And trust me...fruit snacks were a staple in our house. As were cheez-its. Cookies. Pretzels.

So what do we snack on these days? Well, not everything is healthy. (I say this as I eat my Haribo gummy bears as I type.) And we do eat things with oils that aren't the best option, as well as corn. But we are doing our best to get by, and hey, it's better than the way we used to eat.

Here is a list of our favorites:

Glutino pretzels. These bad boys are pricey but worth every penny. They are easy to bag up for a snack and they seriously taste just like regular pretzels.

Squeezable applesauce. Trader Joe's has ones called Crushers that are our favorite (and yes, we've tried a few varieties). We buy three boxes a week and invariably tear through them.

Trader Joe's also carries the best dairy-free chocolate chips that work well for when my sweet tooth takes over. I love mixing them with raspberries or strawberries.

We also throw the chocolate chips in with Chex/nuts/raisins/dried fruit to make our own trail mix.

B and I both eat a lot of chips and salsa, especially peach salsa from TJ's. L is allergic to tomatoes, too, so he can't indulge. More for me! I kid. Well, I don't. But, yeah. Moving on.

Fruit leathers are possibly our favorite snack in our house. TJ's brand are only fruit and vitamin C, nothing else added in. In our opinion, the best flavors are boysenberry and apricot.

We do eat several different kinds of chips in our house. Lay's potato chips are safe for the boys and have very few ingredients. However, I know they aren't the healthiest choice, so I keep veggie chips and sweet potato chips on hand too. My boys have a weakness for chips and sometimes I need something to bind them up, ahem, so we do eat them.

I love me some hummus and if G is in the mood, he'll share with me. Pair it with peppers, sugar snap peas, or carrot sticks...mmmm.

Popcorn was my favorite food prior to going dairy/gluten free. Now I make my own in my air-popper and add my dairy/soy-free butter and a little salt and it's better than any other popcorn out there.

Thanks to my girl Saf for the FAF - All about Snacking suggestion. Let me know if you have any other ideas for upcoming FAF posts.

Namaste.

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday: L's Letter to Santa

2011-12-28T05:07:00.000-08:00

He dictated. I scribed. Verbatim.

Because we made it.

2011-12-27T10:01:00.000-08:00

It happened. It really, really happened.

For the first time in four years, we made it to our family celebrations on Christmas day. Every other year, Logan had some nasty bug, leaving us at home, trying to convince ourselves that it was better that we could just stay home and relax.

We made a few changes in the week before Christmas to try to keep the germs at bay, and for the most part, it worked. Granted, G was up with a bad cold and fever half the night last night, but I'll take it on December 26th.

Because we made it, and therefore we had so many memories I don't want to forget.

It made me laugh until my cheeks hurt, watching L going up to the stage at church and completely blanking out when the pastor asked him what his favorite story was, then blurting out, "CURIOUS GEORGE'S DREAM!" and interrupting another little girl's answer, delighting the congregation to no end.

It made me remember my own childhood as I watched L's contagious enthusiasm over opening every.single.gift....screaming over everything from the superhero socks to the Skechers Luminators he's been asking for for two years.

It made me smile fondly at G's delight over opening his gifts, but nothing beating out the excitement over his favorite stocking stuffer...a banana.

It made me realize the true definition of bittersweet as we watched previous Christmas mornings on our video camera, marveling at how much L used to look like G, and how much healthier he looks and sounds since we've diagnosed his food allergies. Hearing myself ask him if he thought he needed his inhaler simultaneously hurt my heart and gave me a sense of pride that I helped give my child's health back to him.

It made me proud that instead of buying each other gifts, B and I gave extra money at church to help solve the world water crisis. And it made me shake my head when they reminded us once again that $20 billion would solve the problem completely, and $450 billion is spent on Christmas gifts each year.

It made me realize how time slips through my fingers when I went downstairs at B's aunt and uncle's house to check on L as he played pool (or as he calls it, "billiards") with the big boys. He placed his hand on my shoulder and gently said, "Mommy, walk away from me please." Of course, I obeyed.

It made my heart warm when G asked me to nurse him by signing "milk," and adding "please," so I quietly took him into the master bedroom and sang him Christmas carols as we nursed for what will be the last Christmas nursing session.

Merry Christmas, indeed.