Author: Doser3

Get Out The Vote

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“Thinking isn’t agreeing or disagreeing. That’s voting.” – Robert Frost

I’ve never held a right so high as the right to vote. Fortunately for me, women’s suffrage afforded me the ability to not just vote, but also run for elected office should I desire. I don’t desire, not ever, but I am grateful that I have the opportunity to vote especially as so many women across the globe are not held to the same standard.

Today is a midterm election and I will not use my blog to highlight the attributes, be they positive or negative, of any person or measure on the ballot. Instead I would just prefer for this to serve as a reminder that being able to vote is such a huge right. Don’t take it for granted.

There are a lot of things a young child looks forward to when she gets older. Getting a driver’s license, being able to wear make up and high heels, a bit shallow but I did look forward to it. I suppose; however, that the one thing I looked forward to the most was the fact that once I turned 18, I could register to vote. And that’s exactly what I did on my birthday, a sort of birthday present to myself. I drove down to the election commission office in Anderson, SC, completed the paperwork, and became a registered voter.

Thankfully, my 18th birthday fell in 1993. If I had turned 18 in 1992, I would have been able to vote in that presidential election and being young, naïve, and eager to follow the “cool” crowd, I would have possibly made one of my biggest voting mistakes of all time…voting for Bill Clinton! Yep, that’s who my choice was back then. Like I said, I wasn’t too terribly bright back then. I’m sorry! That wasn’t meant to be a jab at all you, Clinton lovers. Relax! It’s all in good fun. You got your boy in the oval office, womanizing and everything. Alright, I’m stopping now!

Back to the purpose at hand with the blog. So many people feel like their vote doesn’t count so here’s the analogy I like to use: If you have a broken arm, but don’t go to the doctor to try to fix it, then SHUT UP! You have no right to complain if you’re not going to do something for yourself, even if it is choosing an oncologist for a broken arm. Even if you make a bad choice, you’re still putting forth the effort to try to fix it. Voting is the same way. If you feel our government is broken, then VOTE! Try to fix it, get involved, but don’t whine about it.

Franklin Roosevelt, easily one of my least favorite presidents, said it best:
“Nobody will ever deprive the American people of the right to vote except the American people themselves and the only way they could do this is by not voting.”

So, get out and vote today people! Polls are open from 7am – 7 pm. If you’re unsure about where to vote or any rules that may have changed, then go to this website:
http://www.canivote.org/

Facebook Page

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I have a lot of followers out there and I’m truly grateful for all of you. In my effort to become more than just a blog about what I do daily with my boys, I’ve created a Facebook page that not only goes into our daily routines, but also includes pictures and articles with any tips and ideas I find helpful.

Please go to my Facebook Page, entitled Dreaming of Mommyhood, and “like” it.

Stand by for a Twitter feed and Instagram link in the coming future.

Thank you again to all of you who follow my posts. It humbles me to know that 150 people, many of whom I’ve never met, are following my blog.

May The Force Be With You

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I’ve waited for this day. I hoped it would come, but I didn’t want to push it.

I’m a HUGE Star Wars fan. As a matter of fact, I made a video of myself acting and actually submitted it to Lucasfilm back in the 90s when they were seeking to cast the prequels to the original Star Wars movies. My younger brother operated our old JVC video recorder, interchanging it from tripod to his shoulder to make sure he got my best angles.

Saturday night, Davey wore a new pair of pajamas. They were fleece with Darth Vader on the shirt. As my husband was putting him to bed, he told Davey that we had the movies and if he was nice we could watch them one day. So, on Sunday morning when Davey awoke, he ran downstairs and asked, “Mommy, can I watch Star Wars?”

Now, there have only been two times in my life thus far as a mother in which something my child said brought a tear of joy to my eyes. The first was last year at the age of 2 when he exclaimed that he wanted to play football for the Clemson Tigers and run down the hill. And then there was yesterday, when he asked if he could watch only my all time favorite movies.

I didn’t hesitate. Star Wars is easily one of the best movies for Davey to watch. It’s not that gory. The worst foul language we have is “hell”, and there’s no nudity. It has everything a young boy could want…action, adventure, strange animals and creatures, light sabres and blasters, space ships and Ewoks.

Davey enjoying a morning snack and the movie Star Wars.
Davey enjoying a morning snack and the movie Star Wars.

As we sat down to watch Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope (the very first Star Wars for you oblivious wookies out there), I had an old excitement about me. The only problem I encountered was the fact that my son is none too happy about the fact that I provide my own voice-overs for all the parts.

“Governor Tarkin. I should have expected to find you holding Vader’s leash. I recognized your foul stench when I was brought on board,” I said in my best Princess Leia impersonation as she was to witness the destruction of her home planet Alderaan.

My husband gave me the same glaring look and exclaimed, “we all know how big of a fan you are. No need to ruin this for your son.”

Humpf! No one appreciates my true acting capabilities.

After we finished with Star Wars: A New Hope, I brought Davey into the office where I pulled down a pile of books for him. I explained to him how I’ve read practically every Star Wars book written. I told him how wonderful I feel the Timothy Zahn trilogy is and how excited I am to one day pass these books onto him and let him read them. He smiled and said, “ok, mama,” before walking off and leaving me with a vision of my son out in his clubhouse in the woods, a pile of Star Wars books alongside him. After he reads them, he’ll take to the woods like his Luke Skywalker himself. Then I thought to how these books could inspire him to want to be a writer, after all they are what interested me into writing.

My partial collection of books.
My partial collection of books.

Until then, I’m just super excited that I can re-watch all of these movies with him and patiently await the production of the next three installments. Perhaps I can get Davey casted as an extra in one of them. A young jedi in training at one of the schools Luke Skywalker is a master? A mother can always dream.

Today we’re going to enjoy my favorite of the movies…The Empire Strikes Back.

EXCITEMENT!!!!!!

Happy Halloween

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Last year was easily my most stressful Halloween. I spent weeks (should have spent months) planning what Davey would be. I read blogs, watched lifestyle programs, and saw Facebook posts about all of the original ideas so many parents had. Many were making costumes. Some were choosing themes for their families, and I was frantic to make Davey into a Minion from Despicable Me. It didn’t happen, especially after I couldn’t locate a yellow hooded sweatshirt, and the overalls I was going to put him in no longer fit. My goal was to come out cheap and be as homemade as possible. I couldn’t even find yellow paint for his face. Add to it that I was 10 & 1/2 months pregnant, and I was easily the most emotional mom around. I took Davey to my parents house and cried about how horrible of a mother I was for not having a creative costume for him and for putting him in a store bought costume. Gasp! My parents looked at me like I was a nutcase.

I’m not exactly sure why last year was so special or why I felt the need to be different. Maybe it was because I’m a stay at home mom, so I SHOULD be creative and able to make costumes and be original. Really, I just attributed it to the sheer panic of being a mom for the second time, the added hormones, and the fact I was so fat and miserable. Nothing else was perfect in my life. Everything felt so out of control and I needed to exert control somewhere. Of course, it was a catastrophic failure with Davey’s costume, which meant in my eyes, I was a catastrophic failure as a mom.

This year I had to come up with costumes for not one boy, but two, and I didn’t fret about it once. I considered going with a theme especially since I already knew Henry was going to be wearing his brother’s hand-me-down and be a tiger. I thought about making Davey a safari hunter, or a ringmaster at a circus. When I told Davey this, he looked at me as if I were speaking a foreign language.

I looked on Facebook and saw pictures of my friends’ kids and their costumes, some kids having multiple costumes, which I find ridiculous. I oohed and aahed over the handmade costumes, the original ones, and the downright adorable. And then I looked at Davey and asked him what he wanted to be. He said he didn’t know. So, what did I do? I took him to a store. That’s right, my kid wore a store bought costume! For the first time in my career as a mom, I didn’t judge myself, degrade myself, or stress myself about Halloween. I took the easy way out and let Davey pick out his costume. And what did he decide on? Bumblebee from Transformers.

Davey had so much fun. This was the first year he really understood Halloween and I let him go with the flow, just like I did. He trick or treated to about 10 houses before deciding he wanted to come home and pass out candy to the other kids. I think he enjoyed seeing all of their costumes more than he did trick or treating, which was a bit disappointing for me and my husband as we were looking forward to the huge candy stash.

Henry kept his costume on long enough for pictures and then he ran around with the dog. I didn’t take him trick or treating since he really didn’t understand it and didn’t want the costume either. Why take a screaming or unpleasant kid.

For the first time, I’ve taken a step back. It’s not about me or my husband or our friends. It’s not about how we’re perceived by others. It’s not about anything other than our boys and what makes them happy. It was nice to just take a step back this year and truly enjoy Halloween.

Happy Halloween from Henry and Davey
Happy Halloween from Henry and Davey

Sew Interesting

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If you follow me on Pinterest, you’ll see I have a board entitled, “Sew Interesting”. It’s little pins with helpful hints and tips, along with patterns for the beginning to intermediate to advanced sewer or seamstress. Last Christmas, at the age of 38, I got my very first sewing machine. You would think I’d have won the lottery. It was my greatest gift. Here’s the problem…while I’ve practiced on it some, I have yet to really use it until last night.

First off, let me preface this by saying that I purposely NEVER took Home Economics in high school. I didn’t want to learn how to cook or sew or be a good parent. When I saw my future, it was corporate America with business suits and high heels, board meetings and Starbucks lunches, last minute flights overseas and big deals being closed. I was to be nothing more than a career woman, and I hung true to that until my mid thirties when something happened and that dreaded maternal clock started ticking.

I became a first time parent at 36, as many of you know, and that completely changed my outlook and priorities in life. No longer was it important to be that more likable version of Hillary Clinton (better dressed as well), but it was important for me to be a mother, to raise the next generation of brilliant people. With all of that also came a desire to learn so many domesticated things that I had run screaming from for practically my entire life.

My mother made my clothes growing up. She made curtains and pillows, cushions and blankets. I’d love going with her to pick out a new pattern for a dress and shopping for the fabric from which it would be made. That was some of the greatest times of my life. And the things I once saw as great accomplishments…being the number one sales rep, having three degrees, and making tons of money, are no longer as cool as being able to sew.

Last night, I decided to sit down with my sewing machine after the boys went to bed. I took an old t-shirt of my husband’s, an XXL, and decided to do some alterations to make it into a shirt I could wear. I actually have a stack of old long sleeve and short sleeve t-shirts from my husband, along with dress shirts, he no longer wears, items originally to be donated. Why shouldn’t I just repurpose them into something I can wear?

It took me no time at all. I took a t-shirt of mine, did the measurements, cut the sides of my husband’s old shirt, measured and pinned it and then did a few quick stitches all the way up to the arm. I was shocked at how surprisingly easy this was. Here’s the finished product:

My new t-shirt for game days.
My new t-shirt for game days.

And like with most new things, this has become an addiction. I’ve even found ways to alter jeans to fit my “mommy” curves that I can’t seem to get rid of.

Run, Mama, Run

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I completed my second ever half marathon this past Saturday. My first was 8 years ago in San Francisco. I did it with Team in Training from the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. My time was pretty abysmal…2 hours and 56 minutes which equates to a 13:46 pace. A less than stellar performance. Of course, at that point in my life I had just started running. Now, with 8 years under my belt I decided to tackle another one of these half marathons before turning 40. Here are a few things I’ve discovered:

My race bib
My race bib

1. I completed this half marathon in 2 hours and 36 minutes, a 12:00 pace. I am better conditioned than I was 8 years ago; however, my clothes from 8 years ago still don’t fit me. It’s those darn kids! Having them will do it to ya!
2. Running without an iPod is way more enjoyable especially when you’re surrounded by chatty cathy women. I heard conversations ranging from, “do you know if shingles are contagious?” to “I’m very gassy this morning. I hope that doesn’t affect my time.” Yes, folks, that is correct, and this conversation was between two ladies.
3. I will NEVER be able to run a 5 minute pace for a half marathon and I’m completely ASTOUNDED that the winner of the race did that! Heck, I can’t even do a 5 minute pace for a 5k.
4. Starting at the back of the pack is the best thing.
5. It really is exhilarating to have mere strangers cheering you on at various mile markers. This one group of ladies seemed to be following me! Maybe it was the pack of women I was running with, but they called out my name and rang their cowbells.
6. Mile 10 is when I really start getting hungry.

The only downside to this race, was that I didn’t have anyone to greet me at the finish line. Davey didn’t get to cross it with me. He was at his last soccer game, a rescheduled game for one that was cancelled due to bad weather at the start of the season. That saddened me especially as I hobbled back to my car and climbed in to drive home. I’ve always had someone, even if it was only my husband, who greeted me at the finish line. It’s always been nice to finish with a high five and a hug from the person you love.

My medal
My medal

I did receive a medal for completing this race, something I’ve never received before. Nothing flashy or gawdy, just a medal. I put it around my neck and grabbed my complimentary breakfast of banana and yogurt. When I got home, all three of my boys greeted me. Davey said, “good job, mama, good job.” And as I showered, my husband finished up my true medal. It’s made from a seashell he and Davey found at the beach this summer. The shell is in the shape of a heart and on the shell, he put finger prints of the boys in orange and purple (Clemson colors). It’s way better than the medal given to me at the completion of the race.

My way cooler medal
My way cooler medal

So, will I do another one of these? Probably not. I think I’ll stick to my 5k and 10k races. They’re much less brutal on my legs.

There’s Something in These Hills…Welcome Home

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Thomas Green Clemson said it best when he said, “there’s something in these hills.” “These hills” being at the base of the Blue Ridge Mountains, in Northwestern South Carolina, where lakes meet rivers and hills meet mountains. It’s an absolutely gorgeous place to be anytime of the year, but it doesn’t get much better than being in Clemson, SC for Homecoming weekend.

Tillman Hall tower
Tillman Hall tower

Friday I took the boys back to my old stomping grounds, my second home, and one of my most favorite places on this earth. My blood runneth orange. Always has and always will. I have a huge sense of pride in my alma mater, the place that not only allowed me to attain an education, but also a place dug deep with memories. I had some of the best years of my life at Clemson University and I’m so grateful to have the opportunity to spend a day in Clemson with my boys.

Davey at the reflecting pond.
Davey at the reflecting pond.

A lot of the pomp and circumstance is lost in the eyes of my boys. They don’t understand how when I hear the bells of Tillman Hall ring the hour, my heart skips a beat and my mind takes me back to my days of sitting on Bowman Field in the sun, increasing my tan while increasing my knowledge. They don’t know what it means to see Daniel Hall, Brackett Hall, Hardin Hall, and Strode Tower. The only thing these boys appreciate is the abundance of floats, the beautiful gardens, the reflecting pond and the tiger statue at Death Valley.

The tiger statue at Death Valley.
The tiger statue at Death Valley.

As we walked the campus, stopping periodically to allow Henry to vacate the stroller and stretch his legs, I told stories of my life on God’s Country. I spoke of the nights of staying up late in Cooper Library, studying hard, while tucked away on the first floor, in a far back corner that gave me privacy, but also had the wonderful aroma of old books, books from decades past, brimming with stories. I explained that I had to get a few Frisbees out of the reflecting pond on nights of playing Frisbee golf. Davey looked into the pond, with it’s splashing fountains, and tossed a few acorns in while also looking for my Frisbee from nearly 15 years ago.

Henry playing in the Carillion Gardens, with the Cooper Library in the background.
Henry playing in the Carillion Gardens, with the Cooper Library in the background.

I talked about the walks to class, the rushing to class in my pajamas, and the excitement of Friday night before home games and the luster of the Saturday games. I didn’t miss a game, not one, even if I had to work, I still made it to a game. As we looked through the gates of Frank Howard field, I thought about the one and only snowfall I experienced while at Clemson and how we had come to the stadium to slide down the “hill”.

Davey amidst one of the floats.
Davey amidst one of the floats.

I watched as the new crop of coeds shuffled back and forth to class, many of them smiling at me and my boys, some even taking the time to talk to Davey as he introduced himself to the “old people”, a phrase for anyone over the age of 10. My boys spent a good portion of their day running along the same Bowman Field that I walked across to get to class. They studied the floats, touched all the tigers, and Davey even broke into the Clemson Cadence, shouting at the top of his lungs, “1,2,3,4. 1,2,3,4. C-L-E-M-S-O-N T-I-G-E-R-S. Fight tigers, fight tigers, fight fight fight.” And before we left he even told me that one day he’s going to run down that hill in Death Valley as a football player. I had a lump in my throat and a tear in my eye.

Standing in front of the many floats with my boys.
Standing in front of the many floats with my boys.

Yes, indeed, there is something in these hills.

Another Chapter

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Let’s be honest here…I knew there would be sadness, but I didn’t know to this level. Does this sadness change my mind about my decision? Absolutely not. I’m just shocked.

The past few weeks I’ve begun the cleaning up and cleaning out process of baby toys and clothing. Since my husband and I made the decision to have a tubal ligation, I see no need in keeping my house cluttered with baby paraphernalia. I’ve separated out the stained from the pristine, the broken from the fully functional, the slightly used to the completely demolished. I’ve offloaded some of said product at consignment stores, sales, craigslist, and even the Salvation Army.

The first batch was a set of newborn to 3 month old clothing. Truly, this didn’t sadden me as I saw how quickly people were snatching the items up at the consignment sale and my check was growing larger. It was nice to see some money coming from the items, especially since we operate off of one income. The next thing to go was the Mamaroo, which was by far one of our greatest purchases if not for Davey then definitely for Henry. It’s like the Bentley of swings and retails for $200. Davey didn’t use it quite so much, but for the first month of Henry’s life, this was literally the only thing he would sleep in. It became my saving grace, my little piece of sanity in an otherwise crazy world.

I posted the item on craigslist and sold it promptly. As I drove downtown to meet the mother who was to purchase the swing, I had an intense level of excitement. We were getting $100 for this bad boy, something that didn’t cost us a single penny thanks to baby showers and gift cards. We were literally profiting off of this and I was excited to have the cumbersome thing out of my house, but something happened when I put it into the back of the mother’s van. I stroked the seat and walked her through the mechanics of the swing. I touched the spot I had dutifully cleaned where Henry’s diaper had leaked out and I thought back to those days of him whimpering while he slept, the little stretches and yawns, while the swing rocked him off to dreamland. I thought about the nights I was wide awake with him, sitting downstairs in the recliner with the television on, while he rocked away sleepily in the swing. I thought about how he slept through Christmas in that swing…his first Christmas, just 12 days old. And for a brief moment, as the van drove away, I had a lump in my throat. That one little swing had so many memories.

Today, I hauled off a few other items to the Salvation Army. More clothing, accessories, and even Davey and Henry’s tummy time mat. I watched as the gentleman working the garage haphazardly took the contraption from my hands and tossed it into a bin. My mind starting thinking about those poor toys from the movie Toy Story and then it drifted off to what memories were stored up in that little mat. Davey had his roll over on that mat. I was still working at that point. My house was a disaster, I was a disaster, but nothing else mattered except for life around Davey and watching him as he rocked himself a few times before finally flipping from his back to his tummy. What a proud moment that was. And then there’s Henry and his first roll over at just about the same age as his big brother. Now the mat is off to hopefully create new memories with other families.

All of these thoughts have begun to swirl through my head lately and it saddens me. My boys are growing. Chapters have been written, memories made, and new chapters are in progress. I can always unfold those previous chapters in my brain, to read through them at any point, but they are done. There are no more like those, which has its up and downs. It saddens me that I won’t have this opportunity with another child. Does it sadden me to the point of regretting my decision? Absolutely not. I’m blessed and fortunate with the two healthy, happy, smart little boys I have. I’m sure I could handle a third, but at almost the age of 40, I don’t think I really want to.

There are still items left in the house…baby toys, the jumparoo, and even ride on cars for which Davey is much too big, but Henry is just getting to the age to enjoy. There are more memories to be made and I look forward to each waking morning when I get the opportunity to make those memories. Still, I never really knew how much purging my house of never to be used again baby items would affect me.

Corporate America Welcoming Me Back

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I rose much later this morning than I originally intended. My plan was to rise at 5, go to the Y, come home, shower, get dressed, feed my boys (including my husband), and then make my way back into the corporate world. There are always flaws in the best laid plans. I actually rose at 6:30, sleepily stumbled into the shower, cranked it to hot and rubbed the last little remnants of my restless night from my eyes. Why is it that television makes this look so easy? Oh! That’s right, they live in a bubble with Gwyneth Paltrow as their Queen.

Henry’s fighting a nasty cold, one that has him crying any time he coughs. He’s been running an off and on fever for the past 24 hours and really only wants to sleep cuddled in my arms. While I would love that, I desperately need some sleep as well in order to function. Last night he woke me at 1:30 and I ended up attempting to catch some sleep on his floor with his hand gripped tightly to my finger through the bars of his bed. When I finally made it back to my bed around 3, I had already scratched the early rising to get to the Y off of my list. I just needed sleep so I could make it through my day.

After two cups of coffee, I dusted off the old black business suit. I held it up in front of me and took in a deep breath. Time to see if all of this exercising was going to pay off. It’s been three years since I last wore this suit. Would it fit again? Thankfully, there was no sucking in or holding of the breath. I didn’t need to lie down on the bed with a set of pliers hooked to the zipper as I tried to compress all of that baby fat from the past three years. It fit me just like the good ole days.

So, I waited for my aunt to arrive to watch the boys before hopping in my car and checking my hair and make up in the rearview mirror. I stopped at Starbucks along the way and got my old staple of a Venti non fat no whip mocha and I was off. Man, did it feel like the old days of being a working mom or even just a career gal. With my briefcase in hand, I sashayed into Michelin’s headquarters and set up my booth for the employee health fair, all the while unsure if I was going to be able to do this. The only thing crossing my mind was Henry and whether he was alright.

Thankfully I made it through my first day back into the corporate world. These days will be few and far between as the majority of my work can be done comfortably within my home. Truthfully I was torn. I enjoyed having the excuse to not wear yoga pants and t-shirts. I was all giddy about putting on make up and fixing my hair. For the first time in a long while, I actually felt pretty, attractive, and even intelligent. It was nice to converse with adults and not talk about Handy Manny or Dusty Crophopper. It was even better to go use a bathroom and not have incessant knocking on the door, but in the end I really missed my boys.

As I drove home, I was gratefully to have the opportunity to dip my toes back into the corporate waters, but I’m glad I don’t have to do it every day. It’s a lot harder to focus when you feel torn in so many directions. Corporate America can survive without me and I’m ok with that. My boys can’t, and with that I’m not okay. So, I’ve had my fill for now, enough to quench my thirst for a little while longer. See you in another year or so, Corporate America.