Saturday, April 17, 2010


I complain a ton. I complain that I'm tired, that I don't get to sleep enough, that I forget to eat, that the bathroom is dirty, that I have to do laundry daily. I complain that my kitchen floor is dirty. I get crabby because there is construction down the street and I have to drive down the bumpy old road with Leah bobbling in her car seat. Rewinding back to pre-Leah. I've known children who are needy. Not the whiny needy kind. The special kind of needs, kind. My cousin's son, was born with a congenital muscular disorder. Overall functioning, but always needed some sort of corrective braces on his legs or elsewhere. For a boy who loves sports, it is probably the worst having to sit out a game every time, to watch his friends while he is benched because he risks breaking his legs. Sad, right? It was/still is as he's the sweetest boy. Another baby I know, born with a cleft lip preventing him from nursing, born at 7 pounds, and was down to just a little over 4 pounds in a matter of days after corrective surgery and was fed through tubes for weeks. My co-worker's son, born with an incurable skin disease that prevents him from being in the sun, cannot be bathed because he cannot be submerged in water, his muscles are weak and needs to be bandaged up like a mummy at all times to avoid infections on his skin and am told is one of the most painful chilrens' diseases. Again, sad story. That was really all it was to me. A story. Yes, however sad, it never really affected me much. Once I heard it, it wasn't thought of very often, if at all. Fast forward to current day. Those things can bring me to tears just thinking about it. Stories of babies born with down syndrome, incurable diseases, painful treatments, corrective surgeries, lifetime of therapy and it takes a hold of me now much different from the past. There is a family that live on the other end of our little cul de sac area who have a daughter. I pegged her to be about 16. She does not speak, is bound in a wheelchair, has a machine hanging behind her to breathe for her should she stop all of a sudden and if you look at her, she stares back blankly. Despite their "situation" (I don't know what else to call it - sorry) they are the friendliest people who are very quick to smile and wish us a great day whenever we're out for a walk. So while I sit around complaining about the things in my life like being a little tired, or having to clean the floor again, there are people who live everyday wondering how their child is going to make it in this world tomorrow, or the next day, and the day after that. Every so often, as horrible as it is, I pass that house and it reminds me to count my blessings as I look over to check on my little one sleeping soundly in her seat perfectly content. I read stories on the news, hear of personal stories of friends/relatives/acquaintances, and even random people in our area living lives so completely different from mine and it rocks me out of my "my day sucked" attitude. What makes my day suck is that I break a glass cup and have to vacuum the floor. In all reality, my real life is pretty damn near wonderful. It's too bad that I need reminders to remind me of it. It's other peoples' misfortunes that remind many of us to count our own blessings.... Sooooooo, on a happy note:

We, obviously, are not quite fully awake yet. Papa's scruffy and disheveled, and baby is, well, she just looks a little confused:

Squirmy: "Hmmmm, what are these things?" ......

"Slurp Slurp Chomp Slurp" .....

Auntie Liana is quite psychotic. Yep, almost as much as I am over my Squirmy. There's a reason why she's
Leah's Godmommy. Now the poor kid has two crazy mommies instead of just one: 

That's Auntie Michelle with my favoritest baby (next to mine!). She's just too darn cute:

I am blessed to have such wonderful people in my life. I should remember this the next time hub forgets to take out the trash, or the next time my great friend tells me "you're sooo annoying"... ha.ha.ha?

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