there IS good stuff on tv news

I'm on a rampage so excuse the rant.

But I just sat and listened to the priest at my new church tell the congregation that "the news" reports only on smut and glitz.

I don't think he'd appreciate if I had stood up and told the hundreds of people there that "all priests" are pedophiles.

So what makes him think he can generalize the news that way?

Most of you know that I work in a newsroom. I've been in television since high school.

Am I glued to the tv when I see a chase through an in-car dashcam video from a police cruiser? Do I like celebrity gossip?

Of course I do.

And does my station have to report on violence?

Yes. We have a responsibility to let residents know what's happening on their streets.

But did the priest not see the story a friend of mine did about a photographer who provides her services to parents grieving the loss of a newborn? (Sorry, I couldn't find a link to the story so you'll just have to take my word on it. The piece was so powerful, it brought tears to my eyes.)

And he must have ignored this story my station a few weeks ago.

Father Whomever-You-Are, do yourself a favor. Next time you want to generalize any group of people, do your homework.

Because it's just as easy for me to turn the tables around. Trust me, I know first hand about some horrible people in the Catholic Church. But I know they are not representative of the Church as a whole.

A bit of courtsey, Father, would be appreciated. Please think before you speak.

the room's spinning and it won't stop

Is it seriously Monday already?

I know, I know. I sound like a broken record. Or an old man who walked uphill to school...both ways. But honestly. Where does the time go?

Saturday was a whirlwind day.

After a second visit to the cabinet store (I finally chose the granite for our kitchen. And I changed some things in our master bath.), we rushed to see my girlfriend's band play.

Amara idolizes my girlfriend. And you know what, I do too. So it was a treat for Amara to see her idol take the stage.

Oh and did I mention that I walked crawled at a snail's pace attempted to run a 5K Saturday morning?

I really do love running. And I love running by myself. I was up to 2 miles on my normal route. A nice flat surface, shaded by lots of trees. At a nice leisurely 12 minute mile pace.

So imagine my surprise when I started huffing and puffing at three-quarters of a mile.

I had left my inhaler in the car because I was feeling good that morning. Big mistake.

My running partner (AKA Amara's idol...I saw her lots this past weekend) runs faster than me. And I think I was trying to keep up with her while she tried to slow down to my pace. And she talks while she runs. I'm not used to that. And there was not a tree in sight along our route.

So I resorted to run a bit, walk a bit. I was disappointed I didn't run more. But I had a great time.

Sunday was filled with four trips to our new apartment. The movers come Wednesday. But I wanted to get a head start on some of things I just can't trust to them. (Want a glimpse of the new place? Check out Amara's House blog.)

I'm so tired. But there's still so much to do.

The room's spinning. And I can't get it to stop.

Maybe I need another drink. Or maybe I need to get a good run in.

Whatever it is, I need another 8 hours in the day to complete it.

Thanks to everyone's kind thoughts and prayers regarding Lola2Amara. She was discharged from the hospital on Sunday. The doctor's say things look good right now. But they've warned us that she will need yet another surgery in four to six months. But for right now, she's doing ok. And that's good news for us.

it's in the bag box

Some moms enjoy their daily cup of joe.

Others like lavish dinners.

While even more have shoe fetishes that put Imelda to shame.

But me? I like purses. And while I wish I could buy bigger and better, I do admit I have a nice collection going.

Yet I've spent the summer rotating the same three handbags to match my outfits.

Why? Because I seemed to have thought packing up all of my purses would be a great idea.

Filling boxes in preparation of our move out of the Yellow House has brought on such an intense high that I must have not realized that not only did I pack away nearly every purse I own. I now cannot find the boxes in which they are hiding.

So I'm spending the summer virtually purse-less. And I'm kinda upset about it.

Purses allow me to infuse some of my personality into my daily routine. My bag goes with me everywhere. And I feel it shows people just what my style is.

So the basic black purse I have feels blah.

And my Adrienne Vittadini is being overused like a good pair of shoes. And I don't want to wear down its sole soul.

I'm trying to hold myself back from splurging on another purse since we'll be in tight quarters at the apartment.

But it is summer. And there's bound to be a good sale at the mall soon...

not playing mom

After three days without seeing Amara, my little one will finally be home tonight.

And I have gotten nothing accomplished.

I thought the only benefit to having Amara spend a few nights at Grandma2Amara's over the summer (aside of course the savings in childcare and gasoline) would be the fact that I'd have a ton of free time.

I wouldn't have to play mom on those days.

No dashing off to dance class. No rushing to make dinner. No bedtime baths and no bedtime stories.

So how is it that I still have plenty of packing to do? And I have yet to mop my floors. And my inbox is still overflowing with emails.

What good is downtime if I can't even check up on blogs?

When I'm not playing mom, I hope to get a workout or two in (I did). And I hope to catch up on all the stuff I can't do when Amara's around.

Just shows that you can never not be mom. We're on call around the clock. Even when your kid is 20 miles away.

bad news surrounds me

I’ve been kinda down today. I can’t shake it.

I told you about my friend who’s father is dying of cancer. It’s do difficult to watch a friend go through the heartache of parent’s death.

And yesterday Lola2Amara had her chemotherapy cancelled. The doctors found something in her MRI. They’re not sure what it is, but they say it’s something. The day before she found out that her eyesight is going. This tumor is slowly taking her life away.

Now today, another friend has mentioned that his benign brain tumor has grown. He will ultimately lose his hearing.

I can’t take the cancer that’s around me.

just a typical Wednesday

These days, I feel as though life is passing me by.

I enjoy my work. But the hours are long.

And long hours means less time with Amara. And with our current childcare situation, I see my daughter very little.

Last night, I found myself packing up boxes. I knew I should workout. I knew I should catch up on some emails. But I was getting ready for our semi-big move. (The big move will be when we get to the new house.)

But I got to thinking. What would a normal day be for Mom2Amara?

5:00 - Alarm goes off.
6:00 - After hitting snooze eight times, I finally crawl
out of bed and dress for work. This can take awhile, depending on whether I'm
having a fat day and can fit into my first outfit choice.
6:35 - I'm in the car, listening to SIRIUS or to news radio
as I drive to work.
6:45 - I'm on the phone with
Dad2Amara, making sure he's awake since the alarm going off a gazillion times
never seems to faze him.
7:15 - I get situated at
work after brewing a pot of coffee.
8:15 -
Finally pouring myself that said cup of coffee.
9:30 to
5:30 - Hit first meeting of the day. Then do conference call. Sprinkle
some work in.
5:30 - Proclaim I'm leaving for
home.
6:20 - Actually walk out of the office
after said proclamation.
6:25 - I'm in the car,
listening to SIRIUS or to news radio as I drive to home.
7:00 - Hug Amara. Tell her I've missed her. Tell God that
I'm grateful Dad2Amara has started dinner.
8:00 -
Check email. Tell Amara it's bedtime.
9:00 -
Actually get Amara into the bath and ready for bed.
9:30 - Read Amara bedtime story. Fall asleep next to her.
11:00 - Dad2Amara wakes me just in time to watch
the evening news.

Then I sit and wish I had more time to do this. Or that. Or the other.

Then I realize that the day I'm looking at is mine and no one else's. And I fall in love with life all over again.

how did I spend my weekend?

I spent hours agonizing over the new house.

I cheered on - and live blogged for - my friend Susan as she ran her first marathon.

And I was reminded how much I don't like dance moms.

How was your weekend?

$250 prescription fix

I'm blessed to have a solid career.

So when diaster strikes - a la bronchitis and sinun infection - I'm covered with decent health insurance.

The doc prescribed me an antibiotic, something for my horrendous cough, and an Albuterol inhaler.

Dad2Amara swung by the pharmacy. Three prescriptions and two bottles of ginger ale later, the pharmacist asked for $3.00.

$3.00?

After leaving the store, Dad2Amara realized I had hit my insurance deductible after my surgery. So my $250 precription bill was virtually erased.

I was charged nothing.

So that's all I needed to do to be able to afford my medications. Have major surgery.

Sad.

gas tank milestone

Are you kidding me?

I know gas is more expensive in other parts of the country. But I reached a milestone that I thought I never would.

It took me $50 to fill up the mom-mobile today.

Driving is a necessity for me.

Public transportation is not readily available to me due to where I live and what times I work.

And the bus can't drop me off at the nearby Target.

So I take the mom-mobile everywhere.

But can you imagine what else I could have bought with $50?

Manicure and maybe a pedicure.

A pair of shoes perhaps.

Drinks with the girls at another wine bar.

The list could go on and on.

Have you hit the $50 mark yet?

San Diego sun

I actually got sunburn on my shoulders. And it's the middle of April.

I love it.

It's always difficult for me to visit sun and surf when it's still kinda crummy back in Ohio. I hate when the trip is over and I must return to sub-zero temps.

But a glutton for punishment, I asked my aunt and uncle to pick me up from the resort to sightsee. And they did not disappoint.

I saw beautiful La Jolla Shores, a beach Amara would just love.



And while there, I insisted on seeing where the La Jolla seals had set up camp. After all, it's pupping season.



And I saw all of this while soaking up some sun on my already naturally tanned skin.

Yes, I know. I shouldn't be greedy. Grabbing a tan when I'm nowhere near Dad2Amara's pale complexion.

But how can I not smile?

The sunlight seems to turn a girl's mood.

Well, it's either that or the fact that I'm relaxed. Rested. And well fed.

Jealous yet?

when paradise isn't quite so

I'm finally in San Diego!

And while I am thrilled to be away from home (Sorry, Amara. I miss you. But I'm kinda enjoying the child-free time.), I'm dying here!

Why, you ask?

Because of this


and this


and this


They call this place Paradise Point.

And trust me, it's beautiful.

The grounds are gorgeous. Hotel rooms are a bit older. Could use some updates and upgrades. And the food is delish.

But apparently my allergies have decided that the native plants are a bit too much. My eyes sting. My sinuses are in an uproar. Something's swishing in my right ear. And my arms broke out in hives.

Fabulous.

Guess paradise life just isn't for me.

how fast does that mom-mobile go?

I was sitting at work, trying to finish up some odds and ends, when it happened.

It's the call every parent dreads.

Dad2Amara was on the line. I could hear Amara in the background...wailing. Her right ear was throbbing.

Amara's never had an ear infection before.

And I've never heard her cry in pain the way she was.

So I raced to the urgent care in my mom-mobile. The 20 minute drive to my hometown felt like an eternity.

Or so I thought. I wasn't prepared to sit for an hour in an empty urgent care, waiting for a physician's assistant to see us. That felt like an eternity. Not to mention I was annoyed that the doctor couldn't even give us the courtesy of seeing Amara when no other patients were in the building.

But I digress.

After finally arriving back home, I started to pack.

Have I mentioned I'm headed for San Diego today?

Leave it to me to procrastinate. So I had to get all my clothes together. Then I wrote out my presentation outline (I'm on a panel at a conference). Yeah, I still don't have my video presentation done and my plane leaves in five hours.

I have tremendous guilt leaving town -- selling the house (by the way, have you checked out our house blog yet?), Amara being sick, work obligations, blah blah blah. There's just a lot going on.

But that makes me want to take the mom-mobile and go far, far away as fast as I can.

I'm burned out.

So how fast can my mom-mobile go?

Not fast enough.

I can't wait to hop a plan and head for sunny California!

stuff I hate

A few weeks ago, the Manic Mommies did their take on Oprah's Favorite Things.

But that's not what caught my attention.

It was the start of a conversation filled with stuff they hate.

Then Taawd talked about one of his pet peeves.

Yeah, I could fill a book with the things I loathe.

Start with tonight...tornadoes. I hate severe weather. But I absolutely despise tornadoes. I think it has to do with my profession. Finding a spot to send a camera to capture a spectacular lightning show is easy. When a blizzard hits, you can't miss. But tornadoes? It's always a crap shoot. Not to mention, with a tornado, I have guilt sending any person - photographer or reporter - out in those conditions.

And how about skinny girls? I know it's wrong to hate people. But I feel this is one I can. You know the ones I'm talking about. I've battled my weight forever. Roller coaster up and down. And I'm ok with it. Most of the time. But then there are the women who complain about being a size 6. Or that they can't have a piece of chocolate because they're full from their salad at lunch. Yeah you know what I'm talking about.

You know what else I hate? Denim. I'm just never comfortable in it. Never have. I wear jeans. And denim jackets and skirts. But I end up running home at the end of the day so I can change clothes.

I could go on and on. But I won't.

I think I need a drink.

because one blog wasn't enough

I can now also be found here. Follow Amara's family as we pray someone buys the Yellow House!

And of course I have a "secret" blog...but that talks about my big rear end and how I'm praying that it shrinks!

reasons why the week could be better

1. There's not one chocolate bunny I've met that I haven't liked.


2. Even with five alarms set, I still can't wake up to workout in the mornings.


3. Ramiele Malubay got booted off American Idol.


4. I went shopping for a yellow shirt. I couldn't find one that I liked and could afford.


5. Amara told Dad2Amara and I that she loves Grandma2Amara more than us. Fab.


6. Lola2Amara's surgery is tomorrow.

How's your week going?

what's that? up in the sky?

It's a bird.

It's a plane.

No, it's the sun!


And after a day like yesterday, I was tickled that the sun would come out. On my birthday! (Oh, and thanks Taawd for keeping good record of the storm!)

Waking up at the Wyndham by myself was sad. Working on my birthday was worse. But to see what mother nature left in my backyard still surprised the heck out of me.



I finally got home to Amara. And she was all smiles. We went out for a low key lunch. Then I crashed on the sofa. Without enjoying the sunlight. Damn.

Here's a picture of Amara from today. Just for good measure.

they say 'spring' forward?

Tonight we turn our clocks forward, losing one valuable hour of sleep. But it's supposed to mean spring is near.

Tell that to my achy, exhausted body that simply wants to collapse.

I started work at 6am because of the near blizzard conditions in the area.

Yeah, it's almost midnight and I'm nowhere near home.

I'm stranded downtown. Damn snow is everywhere.

I worked until after 9pm. Fortunately work put us up at the Wyndham...now all I need is a good massage. That 530 wake up call is going to be a biotch.

That's right. I'm going back to work. Again.

My birthday week better end a heck of a lot better than it's starting!

my birthday manifesto

I never considered writing a manifesto until I read about it on BlogHer.

Manifesto.

It all sounds so intimidating. I mean seriously -- making a public declaration for the entire world to read? Laying it all out there? It's completely overwhelming.

But my birthday is this weekend.

And with an impending blizzard on our doorstep, I found myself already complaining that my birthday would be a bust. We had plans to go out of town. And now not only is it likely that we'll be buried in snow. But I will likely be trekking in the mom-mobile to work to help with our news coverage.

Joy.

And that's why I want to write my birthday manifesto. I don't want to start my birthday week off with doom and gloom. Because I have so much to look forward to this year.

So I intend to do the following in the next twelve months:

• Run a half marathon.


• Pick up Amara from school more.


• Talk more with Dad2Amara about expanding our family.


• Volunteer more.


• Knit more.


• Blog more.

Open ended declarations, yes. But imagine just how much fun it will be to read about it.

I'm even looking forward to living it out.

drowning in hearts

One of the things I'll truly miss being back to work is all the time I got to explore my crafty side.

Bet you didn't know I had one, did ya?

I've been known to scrapbook.

I knit a scarf.

And now, I've completed homemade Valentines for Amara's classmates.

Last week, our dining room table was filled with pink hearts, all cut and pasted with care.


And after painstakingly instructing Amara on how to assemble her cards (I didn't want to take the project away from her), this is what we came up with.


She's so excited to pass out her pencils to all her school friends.

And I'm thrilled that this year, I'm not the mom who is at the drug store the night before Valentine's Day, hoping to find a box of cards that don't have ninja turtles on them.

Happy Valentine's Day everyone!

owww...that hurts

I'm having a hard that deciding what hurts me more.

I am now at home after what seems like a very long day at work. In reality, I worked eight and half hours. That's less than my typical work day. Ouch.

And now I'm beat. I ache all over.

Ouch.

But compare that to what Amara said to me yesterday. I asked her to put away her socks that I just folded. They were so fresh out of the dryer they were warm.

Her response?

"Yes your majesty."

Hey little princess! Owww, that hurts.