Breathe In, Breathe Out

:Breathe In: :Breathe Out:

I have been telling myself this all week. Every minute of every day this week. I haven't been blogging or writing or on twitter this week. I haven't really been responding to email unless forced to for work. I haven't pinned anything on my pinterest page. (Have you joined by the way? Amazing...) Breathing has been my focus.

:Breathe In: :Breathe Out:

My mind is exhausted. All week we were dodging bullets from the daily battles from every direction of our lives. I wondered if we would come out of this war we call life alive or if somewhere along the way we would be wounded.

:Breathe In: :Breathe Out:

With each breath I took, I wondered if the newest battle of "life" would be my last for the week. I wondered if the wound of the most recent battle would cut so deep that I would surrender the white flag and just tell the world it won this week and next week I would be better. We are alive. We are wounded but out of the war and the small victories of the week become the flags I choose to wave.

:Breathe In: :Breathe Out:

Our nanny gave her notice Monday. I love her. Brady loves her. She loves my kid like he is her own. She has a nickname for him. She has become my friend. She is a teacher. It is who she is at her core. I have known this since we hired her. She has the opportunity to teach again and I want to celebrate that with her but I am so sad that she is leaving us. The victory flag I am waving is that she has made our lives easier, better, and sturdier for 8 months and for that I am eternally grateful.

:Breathe In: :Breathe Out:

Our dryer has not been drying our clothes. I thought we would be replacing a dryer this week. Finally the home renovations are finished and our first appliance goes on the fritz. I have a toddler so obviously I need to wash clothes. Monday, Glenn came home and informed me the vent was clogged and the dryer not broken. Like any FRUSTRATED human, cleaning that vent out in the rain was just what I needed Monday night. The victory is that we did not have to replace a dryer...small victories right?

:Breathe In: :Breathe Out:

Brady has his 18 month check up in couple of days and part of it is a required routine blood draw prior to the visit to check for lead and other things. Trying to hold a 35 pound 18 month old in a Quest Diagnostics lab while they stick, prick and draw vial after vial of blood 22 weeks pregnant was about as bad as it gets. The victory in this day is that while the tears he flowed, he waved on the way out.

:Breathe In: :Breathe Out:

I went to my OB on Monday for my anatomy scan of Fischer Baby #2. Routine, nothing to worry about was my thought process. So, much so I told Glenn not to come. The tech was a soft spoken mom of three who gabbed with me like a friend sharing her parenting fears and hopes like we had known each other for years. She said everything looked great. No worries. And the gender was sealed in an envelope for us to celebrate together... as a family when I got home. Home. The phone rang during dinner. A number I did not recognize. It was the ultrasound tech. All I heard was sub-optimal images, maternal fetal medicine, more images. Tears, fears, anger and confusion washed over me.

:Breathe In: :Breathe Out:

My house is filthy. Dust bunnies creep around each piece of furniture. Our laundry is overflowing. The yard needs plants, flowers and some attention. But yet we found the time today, to buy my little guy a bike seat for the back of Glenn's bike so he can ride with us, exercise with us and explore the city with us. Monday night I laid on the couch, licking my wounds. My mind was racing with "what ifs". Glenn laid next to me. Calming telling me that we were okay, this baby would be okay, Brady was okay, and our life was okay. He wanted to open the envelope. I didn't. I wanted it to sit. I needed to wallow in my own pity. At least until we knew what life had in store for us.

:Breathe In: :Breathe Out:

I went to bed that night knowing I wouldn't sleep. I laid in bed thinking about how much my husband has an ability to calm me. How he knows the right thing to say. He knows, because he is a glass half full kind of guy, that we are strong, rock solid and capable of a lot when he and I work together. I woke up the next day knowing I was doing something good. I went to my high school's Habitat for Humanity house with my advisory. We painted, we caulked and we talked. It was therapeutic. A reality check and it kept my mind busy. I called my OB and made the next appointment.

:Breathe In: :Breathe Out:

Wednesday I went back to my OB. I got to see our second baby again. I got pictures and got the good news that everything looks great. Wednesday we made a plan for the rest of this school year and celebrated that we will soon be a family of four.

:Breathe In: :Breathe Out:

This kid below is going to be a big brother to a little sister. This is the biggest victory from the battles we fought this week. This is what I am going to celebrate. I give this kid everything I can, a sibling, the greatest gift. A sister. And he will be a brother. He is why I fight the battles. Do you blame me?

18 Months

You've gone from this...


To This...

Here's the thing... I want to halt time. I want to put it in stop mode. I want time to standstill. Just for a bit. So I can soak it in. Breathe in the moments that I miss, the moments that matter, and the minutes when nothing else matters except for he, I and my husband.

This age is magical. One of my best friends, Angela, kept telling me that 18 months is the best age and I kept not believing her until we got here. The curiosity, the personality, the loyalty, the independence, and the ability to love has proved to me that once again that being a parent just gets better with time.

To you, everything's funny

You got nothing to regret
I'd give all I have, honey
If you could stay like that
~Taylor Swift "Never Grow Up"

And We're Back... Florida 2011

And…We’re Back

We returned on Saturday from one glorious, sunny, relaxing week on the beach. I have to tell you that prior to leaving I was so consumed with the logistics that I really didn’t have time to worry about big things like airport security, the actual plane ride, the trip from the airport to Longboat Key or anything else. As we were driving to the airport, Glenn told me I was awfully quiet, which is not normal behavior for me, and that is when it sunk in that I was flying with a toddler alone.

Were there mishaps? Yep. Were there moments that I wondered if maybe traveling with a toddler alone was a bad idea? Yep. but there even more moments where I was grateful . For simple things like the sun, my parents, the sunsets, the morning run to Starbucks each day, the fresh seafood and the fact that my husband got to see his son running in to the ocean and giggle as he dumped buckets of water on himself? This week was about being a mama, a wife and a daughter and I drank every minute of it up.

Let me start with the lowlights:

Saturday, March 26^th- After getting the airport with ease, I was the RANDOM security check. Yes, with my toddler in tow, I was scanned, finger whatever, and frisked. As was my toddler’s sippy, his stroller that had to be folded up to go through the scanner as the diaper bag was being destroyed.

Sunday, March 27^th and Monday March 28^th- A good thunderstorm always makes me relax. Not this one. The lightning, the thunder and the rain were so violent that Brady was awakened and I am not sure that any of us slept more than one hour at a time. He refused to go back in his crib and nothing settled him down. So, my ma and I slept with him and it was a ROUGH night.

Saturday, April 3^rd- The flight down was so great that I wasn’t worried about the flight home. I was wrong to get too confident. We sat on the runway for quite some time since the navigation system was not working. Between the heat on the airplane, the bottle Brady drank going up, and the sippy he drank no, demanded as he snacked with our seat mate his diaper was quickly filling up. I went to the bathroom and realized there was no changing table. I asked a flight attendant and she told me that my seat was the only option or the floor. So, I begged his diaper to hold. It didn’t. It was a geyser shooting straight out of his diaper when he peed twenty minutes before we landed. My legs were soaked. My shorts were dripping in his pee. His shorts were so wet that you couldn’t tell they were wet because there was no part of them that were dry. I begged our seat mate not to notice. Off the plane and after waiting and obtaining our stroller I quickly hustled into a bathroom where I changed his diaper to only realize I did not have a change of clothes. So, I pushed him through O’Hare in his diaper. Mom fail.

Now, let me give you the highlights:

Saturday, March 26^th- Brady traveled like a rock star. Sure he took a #2 right when we got the airport but he slept most of the flight, watched Sesame and sat happily in his car seat from the airport to the condo. Then I watched as his eyes lit up with excitement when he realized the pool was one big bathtub.

Sunday, March 27^th- We woke to brilliant sunshine, we walked the beach, scoured it for shells, built castles, and jumped in the waves. All in all it was a day that was perfect that I etched in my mind.

Friday, April 1^st- I watched as my boys played in the sand and dumped water on each other. It is magical to be a mama and a wife and to watch the two most important people in my life enjoy the small things, the simple things- sunshine and each other.

Other Things That I Will Always Remember from Florida 2011

Brady learned to track planes in the sky.

Brady pointed trucks out on the street.

Brady learned to say HI and WOW! (That’s a lot for 17 month old that says very little!)

Brady ate real fish sticks.

Brady pushing the elevator door and giggling as it started to move.

Brady locking and unlocking the car for us every time we drove somewhere.

Brady sitting with my mom at the Beachhouse listening to the live entertainment.

Brady sipping a Starbucks cup with a straw.

Brady playing with the water spicket where you wash off when you come off the beach.

Brady getting a bath from my dad.

Brady swimming with my dad and trying soooo hard to say 2 when we counted to three before he jumped.

Brady turning the fan on each morning.

Brady looking at the bird in the entry way of the condo making a "woof" noise insisting it was a dog.

Brady walking St. Armand's Square.

Brady eating his first ice cream cone at Kilwin’s.

I am sure I missing plenty more but more importantly, it's only Tuesday and I am missing the sun, my parents, the undivided attention and time I had with my boys and the ability to stop and just enjoy it all.

Legacy

I haven't written much lately or maybe I should say, I haven't posted much lately. I had written plenty but the friendly people over on twitter made me realize some things are better left not posted on a public blog, especially if it is about your job. So, this week I have been consumed with my thoughts ending with the same question, what's your legacy?

Last week the anticipation of going on a plane with my toddler alone, frolicking in the sand and waves and watching him eat his first ice cream cone from Kilwin's consumed my mind. I was racing with everything that needed to be done. All the last minute items that needed to be bought, the laundry that needed to be done and snacks that had to be packed for the plane. I was thinking of the fun to be had and the week of school left. I was glowing as I purchased a last minute ticket for my husband to join us. And then it all came to all halt on Saturday night.

"Grandpa isn't doing very well. He stopped eating and drinking and doesn't have much time left" says his mom as we are driving to a restaurant for our dinner date.

"Grandpa passed away tonight" says his mom as the rain hits our windows with a fierceness that scares even the strongest soul the next night.

Grandpa Fischer was my husband's grandpa. One of his two remaining grandparents. A Chicago Policeman, WWII veteran, and a Merchant Marine. A proud man, not overly emotional, but the kind of person you knew would help family in a heartbeat and knew the meaning of earning a living. He was quirky and set in his ways as an older man something I appreciated and deeply respected. Some laughed at the things he did, I smiled because it was him. He was himself.

But, cancer it got the best of him. He fought and he won this battle in the past, but this time it beat him and that sucks. Cancer Sucks.

As we stood in our kitchen on Sunday night, listening to the pounding rain, I watched as sadness crept into my husband's eyes. I know he was thinking about his own dad, his son, the memories, how much it hurts to lose someone you love and what this means for his family. The patriarch of his dad's side gone. And yet, all I could think was the present. Live in the now. Soak up the small things and never take for granted one minute of any day. Make sure when you leave this earth you leave with no regrets, no missed opportunities and leave a legacy. This jolt, death, though all too common lately in my life, reminds me that life is about living. My legacy.

And that is when I realized that work, its not worth talking about. Relationships, crappy so-called friends and nasty situations, they are not worth writing about. Life is about living and creating my legacy and this jolt reminded me of that.

It's not fair that cancer took him from us. We will live. We will celebrate him and we'll remember what he left us: seven kids , nineteen grandchildren and eight great-grandchildren. His legacy. His family. Trust me it's what he would want us to do.

Four generation of Fischer men. They met. That's special. That's what life is about. The little guy below he is our legacy. He's what I am most proud of and today, nothing else really matters. Not work, not crappy so-called friends, not people who check their values at the door, or anything else. My legacy. My son. My life. My family.

Window to Our World

He told me he found it.

He said it wouldn’t last.

He said it was a deal.

He said it had everything we wanted.

He said it was right for us.

We turned off Belmont Avenue on to a one-way street headed south. The street was foreign to me and I wouldn’t have known it was there if I was the one driving. Nestled against the train tracks it was a narrow street and cars lined the left side of it. One stop sign. Then a second stop sign. And then we turned right on another one-way street headed west. Not exactly convenient but quiet. Cars lined both sides of the street. Were we still in the city? Where was the noise? Then we heard it. The Metra train whizzing by carrying commuters home to the suburbs heading north reminding me that yes, we were still in the city.

The street was lined with beautiful houses. Most of them were new, all brick, two stories with new windows, beautiful fences, and manicured city lawns.

We pulled up. I took in a deep breath and took another deep breath out. It was damp and rainy. I shivered as I got out of the car. The sky was gray, dark charcoal gray and the wind blew and the cool wind reminded me that spring was still not here. My brain kept saying, the gray of the sky matches the gray of the siding.

Not brick, no new windows, a rickety wrought iron fence that didn’t shut, and lawn full of water from gutters neglected all winter and that refused to drain.

We walked up the steps, my stomach ever so slightly showing the bump I that had hid for 20 weeks, and he pushed open the front door. There was wood, dark, ornate wood. Crown molding thick with detail and baseboards aged so deeply that you knew it had never been replaced. There were hardwood floors and the sunlight streamed through the dirty blinds. There was dust on every surface; so thick you could see the particles floating in the light.

We approached the bathroom. It was maroon. Completely maroon. From the sink to the toilet to the tub the only color I saw was maroon. As we moved past it, he reminded me to keep an open mind and that we will renovate.

I shuffled in to the kitchen where the white ceramic tile overwhelmed the space. Grease so thick only a razor we get it off where it had settled on every maple cabinet. The appliances were old, white and looked worn out and tired from years of use and clear neglect.

Out the back window, I saw a structure. Gray peeling paint with a hint of wood underneath. Three hanging flower pots all uneven on their stands, all ready to fall to the ground and shatter underneath the two old windows that once were opened daily in the carriage house.

The tree consumed the back yard. Large, overgrown branches towered over the cable lines and hung into the neighbor’s yard on both sides of the lot.

He asks me what I think. Without hesitating I say it is not perfect but this it.

It’s our home.

Home.

Where babies were born, demolition was done and love is the constant emotion. It’s our home. Ugly to the original eye yet now beautifully understated amongst the towering homes on our street but loved and ours. Home.

I Needed Last Night...

Being a working mama is tough. I wear my working mama cape proudly. I wear it daily because there really isn't a day,even Saturday and Sunday, as a teacher that I don't work. People always tell me that being a teacher, I have the best of both worlds. Maybe. But it sure does not feel like it this week. I work my tail off. Work isn't from 8-3. Work is grading papers at night, coaching softball on Saturday, facilitating fundraisers on Friday night, and having department meetings after school. It's committees, teachers, administrators, organization and plain hard work. I am on. All day. From the minute I get in my car my brain goes in work mode. Helping kids with make up work, planning for next week lessons, writing observation reports...you name it I do it in a day. I am not asking for sympathy purely trying to show you what my days are like.

In order to be a working mama, I have to rely A LOT on my husband. Do I take it for granted? Not one day. Do I try to do anything I can to make sure the ship sails smoothly when I am working late or have to work on the weekends? Yes. Do I thank him enough? Probably not. But trust me when I say this he is a heck of a dad and I know that much so this takes a big burden off of me.

So, that gets me to this guy.


You see this summer he was OBSESSED with me since I was home with him all day. Now, not so much. And it kills me.
He doesn't want to be held by me.
He doesn't think I am funny.
He does not want me to sit on the couch and watch Sesame Street with him.
He really doesn't want much to do with me.

And although I laugh when talking about it or when it happens, a little piece of my heart breaks each time. This week, probably the worse. I have not been home at night. And so, his daddy, is his #1. (I don't blame him... I think he is pretty great too!)

So, last night I was home. We both were. And because of the MESS of a kitchen that we don't have right now, we spend a good amount of time trying to get Brady's bottle ready. We have no microwave currently. Glenn was downstairs "working" on the bottle which left me with Brady and the bath. The bath, no problems. Frankly, it doesn't matter who gives it, the kid is a "fisch" so he willing hops in.
After the bath and brushing our teeth we went in to his room to play, put on lotion and get him dressed BUT something else happened. We started playing with a baseball hat. It was silly. He would put it on my head and I would tilt my head just enough that it would fall to the floor. And then he would laugh. Not just chuckle. He would laugh a deep belly laugh that was infectious and brought an honest smile to my own face and tears to my eyes. Why? Because in those two minutes we got to laugh together. I was the only thing that mattered. I was the only thing he cared about. And last night, that was enough for me to put on my working mama's cape and go to work today.