Friday Forum: Chip In-Tip In

Once upon a time...
Long before there were children to appease, my friend Jeni and I (with our husbands in tow) went out for dinner. It was late and we were hungry so we stopped at this Mexican place on Bluebonnet to give it a try.

 We waited at the front a while and when no one came to seat us we just sat down at a table. After a long period of time, a server came up and asked us if we wanted anything to drink. Everyone went around the table and said what they wanted; Jeni asked for a Diet Coke, Troy and Aaron for a glass of water and I asked for a Virgin Strawberry Daiquiri.

Well this guy was absolutely perplexed as to why I would want a drink without alcohol. He would not give it up. "Are you sure you don't want the alchohol in it?" he asked looking at me askance like 'what are you smoking?' He seriously asked me this several times and finally got it that I. Did. Not. Want. Liquor. In. It. Thankyouverymuch.

He disappeared after that for a good long while only to reappear and give us menus briefly and then he took off to the back to hide some more. When he came back, we ordered our food. Jeni wasn't all that hungry so she just wanted a few things al a carte. After ordering, we sat and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Until we were seriously close to just paying for our drinks (now empty and waiting to be refilled) and getting the heck out of there.

FINALLY... the man brought our food out to us, only he made Jeni's a la carte items a full meal. So what should have only costed a few dollars for a late night snack suddenly turned into a $20 fiasco. Now that may not seem like a lot of money but at the time Troy and Aaron and Jeni were all students and we were living in Married Student Housing alongside the cockroaches and just three streets away from the hairy scary side of town. We sat there stunned at the horrible service we had just been rendered and now here was the check and we were expected to pay for this doofus's mistake.

 "Don't tip him." I implored Troy in a soft whisper. "He didn't earn it."

Aaron and Jeni were pouring over their portion of the bill and trying to decide what (if any) to tip too. Everyone left miniscule offerings on the table and we all shuffled out without a backward glance. I think that the server tried to call out, "Thanks, come again!" but the door slammed behind us mid sentence.

Sometime in January, I read a book called, 'Waiter Rant' by someone who works in the service industry and who tells tales of horrible customers and true stories about what the kitchen does to the food of these crappy patrons. He also outlines a few do's and don'ts when eating out.

For instance, he says that if the service was good, you should tip at least 30%.

30%!

Troy and I just laughed over that one.

He also says that if you don't have the money to properly tip, then you don't have the money to eat out.

Excuse me?!

When did tipping become a given? Why is automatically expected?

When my Mom and I went to France with some students and my teacher from French Class my freshman year in High School, the people who brought up room service would wait at the door (rather smuggly)  for a tip. It would irritate me to no end! There were times that they were downright rude and huffy but you can be sure that they would take up the whole doorway and just stand there staring you down until you pressed some money into the palm of their hand.

And it's not only in the restaurant or hotel business either!

Whenever I go and get my hair done, I tip 15% because I always feel like they are going to mess up my hair or chop it into strings the next time I come if I don't tip accordingly. Troy says it's too much. I feel like it's too much too but I go into a panic everytime they are hovering over me while I'm calculating on my fingertips or on my cell phone calculator.

But there are also times that I am perfectly ok with NOT tipping. Like that time at the Mexican place with Aaron and Jeni (luckily, Troy took care of the check and gave him a tip; even if it was subpar). I know that servers don't make much and it is the tips that help them boost their paychecks, but then I feel like they need to work for it and give good service in order to earn it!

So what do you think about tipping?

How much is too much?

Do you tip a certain amount each time regardless of the service?

Have you ever not tipped? Why? 

Friday Forum: The Blue Footed Booby

It was the 6th grade, and all of us girls had been seperated into classrooms away from the boys so we could watch videos about our inner workings (as if we were fine tuned clocks). We shifted in our seats as the the lights were turned off and the video commenced.

We girls all pretended that we knew everything about everything but really our ears were perked like hunting dogs trying to take it all in. Thank goodness the lights were down because we could blush in private without some of the cattier girls catching on. Then for weeks after that day, we would check each other out in the hallway and in the locker room and silently compare notes as to who had gotten their period, who was wearing a bra (or needed to!) and to discuss the vending machine in the bathroom that held all of those womanly thing-a-ma-bobs.

We were all verging on womanhood but we were all still children too. In Mr. D's science class a few weeks later, we watched a video tape on the blue footed booby. There were giggles from the girls AND the boys over that one and in the halls you'd hear people taunt 'You're a blue footed BOOBY!' and the hall would erupt into laughter. It was all about the boobies in those days.

We ladies still stress about those lumps of tissue and flesh today- whether they are too big, too small, or too disproportionate! Some of us let those mounds define us as though we can't possibly be a woman without them partly because society teaches us that we are (ahem) sexual beings from an early age.

Breast cancer runs in my family. Big time. As in, it's probably just a matter of time when I'll get nailed with cancer. So I have to ask myself sometimes if when it really came down to the wire whether I would lop off those tissue-y forms and reconstruct anew or if I would part with them forever as the mark of a survivor. They've been with me for so long that an empty void there might seem strange and out of place but they've also (almost) served their purpose. Once Chloe is done with them, do I REALLY need them? This is where Troy would be emphatically saying, 'Yes!'

So here's today's forum: Would you? Could you?

Would you get a double masectomy BEFORE cancer became an issue or would you ride it out and see what happens?

Could you live without breasts or would you reconstruct?

And lastly, have you done anything special for Breast Cancer Awareness Month?

More Fun Than A Barrel of Monkeys

Yes, there are tantrums, teething, diaper blow-outs, spit-up, constant laundry and stop-and-go schedules to Motherhood, but there is also a silver lining to it as well. Here are some perks of being the Head Honcho:

When Halloween rolls around, you can claim dibs on all your favorite goodies.

You get to play with some pretty cool toys and no one looks at you weird for it (or at least not in front of you).

You can take that very same toy and rock out and sing with it (this only works until your kids are about seven years old; then they'll tell you to shut it).

You can dance around and be a total goon and your kids will be your biggest fans.

 You no longer have to pretend to buy books for "other people's kids" so that you can read what's all the craze.

You get to watch all of the kids movies your heart desires and it's perfectly ok to sing along, recite entire parts from memory and generally laugh like a girl (oh wait, I AM a girl! :-0 )

And at the end of the day, you can have messy hair, wrinkled clothes and no make up on and your kids will STILL love you.

The Well of Souls

I'm the first person to show up for Bunco last night. I tread slowly up the walkway and note the Halloween decorations in the yard, one hanging on the door and others lining the stoop. I pause and ring the doorbell. Not a moment later, I am ushered inside by the hostess as she wraps up last minute dinner preparations for the Bunco gals. I look around some more while I am helping set up chairs. As she bustles about the kitchen, I spot other fun, festive Halloween decorations on the mantle as well as in the entryway. There is a pumpkin candle softly glowing, and candy dishes set out on the kitchen ledge to tempt any sweet tooth. I am thinking to myself that she would make a great Mom... only she isn't; yet. And for some reason, that makes me feel a twinge of that Mother guilt we all get from time to time.

Do you ever get that horrible sick feeling sometimes when someone tells you about the children they have wished for, dreamed of, and payed out the pocket for in infertility treatments? Here I have two children growing healthy and strong and I take it all for granted. Oh, how I take it for granted. There are times I tell Peyton, "Just go play. Find something to do. Only let Mommy have a moment in peace." And then there are these woman who would trade places with me in an instant just to snuggle a warm body of their own flesh and blood close to theirs and then I hate myself all the more for brushing Peyton away sometimes.

Today I turned on the radio in the truck as I drove Peyton to school. No tears today- he was playing with one of those Halloween flashlights that you can change the covers on to make cool sillouettes on the wall. I had the radio tuned into the classical station and they were playing scores from various movies like 'Gone with the Wind' and 'Star Wars'. After I drop him off, the score for 'Indiana Jones' comes on and I am taken back to August when my Mom and Dad came to visit us from Indonesia.



They were all a flutter with excitement because the next month they were embarking on a journey traveling down the Nile River in Egypt to photograph and explore the tombs of the Great Pyramids as well as other ancient wonders. So we all piled on the couch and pulled out 'Raiders of the Lost Ark' to watch Indie travel to Cairo and to relish his adventures across the desert so that we could perhaps spot some things that they might see while there.

And now here's a brief flash back to when I was a little girl:

My Mom and Dad and I were on vacation somewhere and I was begging for something to read. We had stopped off at a grocery store of sorts and the only thing that my eye could find to read in the place was an encyclopedia set. It was just a starter set of two books, plastic wrapped back to back but it was a gem to me. In the car, I cracked open the spine and read all about Acid Rain when Aardvarks were less than captivating. It wasn't until I got to Ancient Egypt that I was hooked. Forget everything- the car ride, the waiting, the needing to use the bathroom- it all could wait- because before me was a doorway to another world and it was fascinating and intriguing. After I read the whole section about pyramids, mummies, ancient cities, pharohs and the Nile River, I knew that I had to see this place in person some day.

So here were my Mom and Dad, about to go on the trip of a lifetime that I had dreamed about. I wasn't mad at them, I was excited for them; but I wanted to be there too. They got back last week and regaled me with stories of where they went and what they saw. And all along as they were telling me about their adventures they would say how they both thought of me while there and wished I could be there too. And this is where my heart sinks a bit because a trip of that magnatude is just impossible with two children under the age of five.

This is where I think of all of the what if's. What would it have been like IF I could have gone? This is a dangerous game to play because it just leaves you wanting and empty. Instead of thinking of the blessings you do have, it opens you up to all of the things you don't have. Yet it is something I think about all the time- when do I get to do those things that I dreamed about all those years ago? And really the answer is that the grass is always greener on the other side. When I didn't have children, I had all the time in the world to read and do the things I wanted to do, but I would find the endless time dull and boring. Now I'm lucky to begin and finish one chapter out of a book before someone finds me and needs something and sleeping in is one of those luxuries that I haven't had in so long that I couldn't tell you what it feels like.

People say, "It goes by in the blink of an eye!" but I swear Peyton has been two for the last ten years. Others say, ""It only gets harder when they get older." and I'm not sure if that's supposed to make me feel better or what when I have two in diapers- one throwing tantrums and the other teething.

And then there are those childless Mother-Souls who are just waiting to delve right in while I'm waiting to sit things out for a bit. The most perplexing part of this whole Motherhood thing is the loss of yourself. It's worth it but it's hard. And tiring. And exasperating. It's all those things but in the next instant it's toothless baby grins, cherub cheeks, dainty toes and belly laughs.

So Egypt will have to wait. As will England, Scotland, Italy and Ireland.

I'll still have to continue putting off being fashionable while spit-up is in season at our house.

And the alarm clock (whether dictated by a blaring chunk of plastic or the internal alarm of a hungry baby) will continue to be a fixture here too.

That can be good too, right? Right?!

Last night as the evening is winding down and we're done with our games, the hostess notices my empty water bottle and doesn't hesitate to fill it. Even in that small simple gesture, she is every bit a Mom as I am and just a little bit better. My heart aches for her and I am hoping she gets to realize her wish.

What are the dreams you have on hold for right now?

What are you yearning for?

I Got It Bad (And That Ain't Good)

It's 7:38 p.m. and Peyton is screaming his head off. Nothing works to calm him down.

Sippy Cup?

Next.

Blanket?

Nope.

Cookie?

Guess again.

I've had it already and he's only been home from school for three and a half hours.

I ask Troy, "Do you think his ears are still bothering him?"

Troy shrugs. He's at a loss himself.

Finally at 8:00 p.m., the tears stop and Peyton is settled and in bed.

I drag my tired self to the couch and wonder why I can't seem to find the magic touch like other Moms do.

I am always hearing how bedtimes are bonding times, how bath time can be joyous and how reading to your child is the right thing to do.

Unfortunately, bed time at our house consists of a diaper change, wrestling to get a tooth brush swirled around the mouth a few times and that's about it.

At least it's that way for me.

Troy is another story. He'll go into Peyton's room to tuck him in and I'll hear the room erupt into giggles, hear the singing of ABC's and the reciting of 123's.

I've bought books, CD's, DVD's, coloring books, play-doh, blocks, and multiple other materials to try to bond with my boy, but nothing gives.

By 9:45, I am in my own bed tucked in with a book and by 10:15, I am out like a light.

It is morning once again and Peyton is being his usual testy self.

Troy goes to pick up Chloe to change her diaper and Peyton gets very upset.

"No! Chloe here! Chloe go here!" He screams in protest pointing at the bouncer that Chloe was just nestled in.

Once Chloe is cleaned up, Troy turns to Peyton to change his diaper as well.

More screaming.

More crying.

More wailing and gnashing of teeth.

Troy goes to buckle Peyton in the truck.

Hysterical screams.

I sigh and put the truck in reverse and shut the garage door.

As I'm backing up, I notice Peyton has his blanket and sippy cup.

'What in the world!' I think to myself- just a smidgeon annoyed.

I whip out my cell phone and ring Troy.

"Did you miss me already?" His friendly voice teasingly asks.

"You really just did not send your son to school with his blanket and sippy cup did you?!"

"Do you want me to come and get it?"

"Yes! You know this kid will have a melt down if I get all the way to school and I have to pry it out of his hands."

"Ok. Are you still out back?"

"No. I'm in the front."

Troy comes out the front door and opens Peyton's door. "Here give me the blanket and your cup, Peyton. All done now."

Troy has to pull the blanket out of Peyton's hands and pry the cup out of his teeth.

As you can guess, more screaming and crying.

This continues until we are about 10 minutes from his school. Then he hops out of the truck, right into one of  the assistant teachers' arms and he is all smiles.

For her.

Not me.

Then Chloe decides that she would like to pipe up so she cries all the way home.

We get home and Chloe is settled in her crib and I am cleaning the house like a mad woman. Kitchen counters are scrubbed, floors swept, stainless appliances polished, furniture dusted, bathroom scoured.

Then Chloe is up again and I'm sitting and trying to be in the moment; I have classical music in her room on, I'm holding her close to me and rocking her while she eats.

I set her down to heat up leftovers and she starts to whimper so I'm holding her in one arm and twirling linguine onto a fork with the other.

The hours fly by.

It's time to get Peyton from school again.

So we all pile into the truck and head down the country road past the cows and the sheep, past the fields and wild apple trees and zoom up the highway until we're at the front entry of his school.

Out comes Peyton, skipping along side one of the staff and he jumps up into his seat like he wasn't a screaming banshee just a few hours before.

I head back home and this truck waits until the last possible second to pull out in front of me then slows down. I almost hit the back end of it and I lay on the horn shouting, "What the heck, dude?!"

Road rage.

I've got it.

I got it bad (and that ain't good).



I feel that burning ember of fury in my chest and the adrenaline is pumping through my veins.

I've read before that road rage is a symptom of  a fight or flight instinct. When we feel like our life is put in danger, some of us will want to fight, others will want to get away.

I'm a fighter. All the way.

I am glaring at the truck as it decides to find its gas peddle a few miles down the road and speeds away.

If I could shoot firey laser beams out my eyes at it like the Grand High Witch in Rauld Dahl's 'The Witches', I would.

The thought of this makes me laugh. I envision two beams of light zapping that truck and blowing it to smithereens. The thought of this keeps me entertained the rest of the way home.

Home again.

There is a CD I ordered in the mailbox from Amazon of some of Raffi's greatest songs for children and a Roly Poly Ollie Halloween DVD for Peyton.

I mull it over- CD or DVD?

The DVD would be the easy choice but Peyton and I hadn't had the greatest night or morning together so I figure I should try the music to see if he likes it and will play with me a while.

In goes the CD.

Chloe and I are bouncing around the kitchen and she's giggling. Really giggling.

Peyton dances around for a bit then edges up the stairs, and he's done.

So much for that.

Now Peyton is whining at me to pick him, "UuuUUuuuuuPPP!" and Chloe is snoozing in her crib.

I'm off to take a shower and get ready for Bunco tonight.

I can't wait.

No crying.

No babies.

Just the mindless rolling of dice and adult conversation.

Except that Peyton just leaned over and gave me a hug, patted my back and said in his little boy voice, "I wuv you!"

I think my heart just defrosted and melted a little bit.

Open Forum: The Good, The Bad, The Ugly

Last Thursday evening while Troy was out of town taking care of some CLE credits, I was talking to my good friend Courtney on Skype. She and I were having a good discussion about how it seems that lately people are guarding themselves to the point of coming off fake.

I know you've met these kind of women before- you'll never see them without a lick of makeup on, they look meticulously put together, they are always ready with a smile and if you ask them how they're doing, you won't get much more than, 'I'm good, how are you?''

Their houses are immaculate (you wouldn't be allowed to touch the inside of their doorknob if not) and they will tell you how everything is fantastic. They often apologize for their children's actions as if they had done the act themselves and you might often see them defer to their husband instead of having a thought of their own. Even when you see their kids being holy terrors, they will smile and say that everything is just peachy.

What is this?!

Really! I feel like this is a whole new modern version of 'The Stepford Wives' all over again only in real life this time.

Courtney said something spot on that night,

"I just want to know you're a real person. I want to see you without makeup on, without your hair all done up and your legs unshaved. I want to know that I can trust you and tell you things about my life. And I want you to tell me the good and bad things about your life too."

Amen.

Now, lest you think I am speaking about someone in particular, let me say plainly that I am not, 'cause my Momma raised me better than that! However, there are certain aspects of behaviour here that I am seeing more and more not only in person but also in this blog-o-sphere as well. I realized when my friend Heather wrote the other day to say that Peyton is always smiling and happy on our blog that in some regards I'm doing it too.

Yikes!

Have you ever noticed that we are painting these picture postcards for people and not letting them in to see the nitty gritty? So the only version of life that we're allowing others to see are the smiling, happy snapshots- not the screaming and the temper tantrums, the ketchup fingers on the walls, the spit-up on clean clothes after bathtime, the snarkiness when one or more of us didn't get a good nights sleep... etc, etc.

You know what I mean; the REAL, true, honest-to-goodness story of our day-to-day life.

When I ask you how you're doing, I don't want to hear a pat answer. I want to know how you really are; even if you're having a horrible, no good, very bad day! And when I tell you how Peyton is being a terrible-two-eyed monster or that Chloe is teething and driving me mad, I don't want to see an expression of flabbergast like, 'I can't believe she just said that about her kids!'

I don't mean that our blogs should evolve into some complaint hall forum, but when things are going bad, it's ok to get by with a little help from our friends. So here's what I'm going to do- for the next few weeks, I'm going to give you the good, the bad and the ugly of life in the Majoue house. What I'd like you to do is leave a comment about the REAL stuff going on in your house. No fronts, no fakes, just raw and gritty life!

Do you feel pressure to act a certain way around others?

Do you find yourself editing your life to make it seem happier and more pleasant?

Who do you turn to when life hits a rough patch (besides your honey?)

Ruff Day

Peyton came down with a severe ear infection yesterday and felt almost as sick as a dog. However, by the time we got some numbing drops into his ear and some antibiodics into his system, he was feeling marginally better. Here he is playing 'dog' with Dad later in the evening once his ear wasn't in so much pain. The sound quality isn't the best, but they are saying, "Ruff, ruff!" and then panting like a dog. Pretty funny!

*Press pause on the music player to the right to listen.

Welcome Fall!

It's pumpkin carving, pie baking, cider drinking, sweater wearing, blanket snuggling, crisp leaves, cool breeze, fire crackling season!

And here are my two favorite friendly little skeletons enjoying a brief respite from all of the wet weather we've been having.

True to his shirt, this one has discovered the joy of all things candy. He will often ask for "Emm Emm's" which are M&M's of course! We have the fun size packs of plain M&M's and he will request a bag for himself and another for his Mom (I hear she doesn't mind that at all!)

Mr. Cheese Mr. Skeleton sure loves to be outside. I sure hope he doesn't scare the neighbors!

This little skeleton has a big heart (both on her outfit and in all actuality). We've been loving her baby giggles and toothless smiles that she gives us.

Don't you just want to squeeze her and kiss those fat little cheeks?!

Sheer excitement here. I'm not sure about what though! Maybe he's practicing for Trick-or-Treating!

This little guy isn't a baby anymore. Now that Chloe is here, he looks MONSTEROUS compared to her!

The best part about these skeletons? I could never lose them! They glow in the dark after all!

Happy Halloween!

Nani o tabemasu ka? (What will you eat?)

Troy's brother Jason and his wife Naoko visited us this past week from Japan. I had barely enough time to straighten and tidy the house before they arrived at the front door, suitcases in hand.

What this meant was that the house inside and out was spick and span but our refrigerator and pantry were paltry and down to the bare bones.

There wasn't even milk.

Or bananas.

And we're out of flour.

You know we're in need of some grocery shopping when there isn't even an apple to eat in the house!

So I couldn't wow them with anything homemade and tasty and to be at all honest, I was a little relieved. After all of the cleaning and straightening (and nursing and diaper changing and etc., etc.) I was tired.

So I did what any housewife in dire straights does: take your house guests out to dinner.


We went to the Kyoto Japanese Steak House out in Rockwall which sits just on the crest overlooking Lake Ray Hubbard. It was near dusk when we arrived with hungry bellies and a thirsty palate.

Our chef wasted no time in stir frying vegetables, rice, noodles, seafood and meat before our eyes. We also ordered a sushi roll called the Fuji San Roll which was made up of snow crab leg, shrimp tempura with avocado inside then topped with crab meat, tempura flakes, and the chefs' special sauce.

It was really, really good. You can try one when you come to visit. I'll probably be too tired to cook then too!

Here's Jason, Naoko and myself. Can you guess which one Naoko is? She's the pretty petite one with the exotic eyes (in other words- NOT me!) :-0

Troy enjoying his fried rice. Is he not the cutest man ever? (Ok, don't really answer that. He's mine! All mine! :-0)

And here's Peyton eating the scraps from both my plate and Troy's. This little turkey was all over the place at dinner.

It didn't help that his baby sister was having a time and wanted her own bed at home. She's been going to bed at 7:30 in the evenings now and not waking up until 7:10 to 7:30 the next morning!

The reason for this visit is that Jason has been applying for a position with Apple here in the States. He is currently living and working in Japan but is looking to transfer over so he can advance in the company.

One position he interviewed with was out in Fort Worth and the other in Plano (which is about 20 minutes away!) He should hear soon whether he has the go ahead to move over. For now, they are flying back home to tie up loose ends, get Naoko's Green Card and to spend some time with Naoko's family before they make the big move. Looks like we'll have family close by within the next 3 months or so!

Maybe by then I'll have food in my pantry again.

I won't hold my breath.

It's going by all too fast!

"How has Chloe been since the last time I saw her?" Dr Smart asked while wrapping her stethoscope back around her neck like an errant winter scarf.

"She's been great although she did have her first cold about two weeks ago." I answer as I shift Chloe to my other arm. She is naked except for her diaper and she feels like a warm dough ball against my forearm.

"Any fevers with the cold?" Dr. Smart queried.

"Nope, she did fine. Just some red watery eyes, sneezing and a runny nose. Not too bad." I reply. Chloe meanwhile is beaming at Dr. Smart and her little white hair bow bounces with every movement of her head.

Dr. Smart then went about her routine; checking Chloe's ears, feeling her skull and how it's forming, testing her miniature legs and observing her new found head control. At every stage of the examination, Chloe is giggling and smiling as happy as can be.

"She's looking great." Dr. Smart mused. "She's gained two pounds since the last time I saw her. She's now 13.2 lbs so she's still around the 50th percentile for weight. It looks like she had a growth spurt as well because she is now 25 1/2 inches which puts her in the 90th percentile for height. Everything else is looking good too. You're going to want to start working with her now to help her sit up. Just practice a little every day by helping her into a sitting position. Are you still breastfeeding her?" She pauses to ask me.

"Yes I am." I say but hesitate. Here's is the crux of what has been bothering me the last few weeks...

I breastfed Peyton until he was 6 months old (actually it was technically 5 1/2 months) and I had stopped only because he grew teeth and decided to bite me. With my pregnancy with Peyton and then with breastfeeding him after, he was leaching off all of my calcium and destroying my teeth.

I have soft enamel which leads to frequent cavities despite using an electric toothbrush and rinsing with mouthwash twice a day and flossing once a day. I actually had some teeth break while I was pregnant with Peyton- fortunately I haven't had that happen this go around with Chloe.

Now I'm back to worrying about my teeth; one tooth is broken and has been this way before my pregnancy with Chloe and now the gums around the ragged-jagged tooth are driving me crazy. I've been taking calcium supplements but that isn't enough when you aren't drinking milk or intaking enough dairy each day.

Before I could voice my worries about continuing, Dr. Smart exclaims, "Perfect! I'm telling all of my breastfeeding Moms to keep breastfeeding their babies to help boost their immune systems through this whole Swine Flu epidemic. That will really help her stay healthy. I would especially urge you to continue through the winter at the very least."

Oy Vey!

Looks like I'll be continuing on for now. What would you do in this same situation?

After Dr. Smart looked her over, it was time for the assistant to come in and give Chloe her immunizations. As the lady came in with a small tray containing one oral vaccine and two needles, my heart fluttered and Chloe began to wimper. She didn't even know what was going on but I guess she could feel the tension in my body and was reacting to it as well.

Two minutes later, I'm trying to grab Chloe's car seat and diaper bag while juggling her hysterical body in my arms (since she doesn't want to be buckled in yet) and I'm making my way up to the front counter to make another appointment while clutching at the examination sheet for our insurance company. Finally after getting an appointment card for December, we make our way home and she falls blissfully asleep from the lulling motions of the truck just three minutes from our house.

I am amazed at how fast this little girl is growing. It seems like only last month she was bundled up in a blanket and placed into my arms- her sweet cherub cheek resting against my shoulder and her mouth an open 'O' of contentment. Now she's rolling over, grabbing and batting at her toys, and cooing and conversing with us. I just need her to be my baby for a little longer...


Check out that hair and those sweet smiles!