I’ve been writing all my life – be it poetry, songs, news articles, ad copy, brochures, press releases, newletters, corporate magazine features or web content. You name it. Writing has always been a passion, a compulsion even.

So blogging was a very natural step. There were essays, naval grazings, rants, product reviews and stories shared. It has been a thrilling and incredible experience being a part of the mom blogging community.  In fact, this month marks my fifth anniversary even.

But alas, I’ve outgrown this domain, my tiny piece of the the blogosphere. I suspected as much a year ago. But I hate to quit things. However, if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the last few years, is that if you hold on to something too tightly, especially with eyes shut, you aren’t available to grasp at what may come your way.

So that’s what I’m doing. (Here I am universe. My eyes and hands are open.) I will continue to blog at STLFamilyLife. And I’m in the process of writing a novel.

It has been incredibly rewarding to meet fellow bloggers and read their stories. Here’s seeing you on the flipside.

At the age of two he couldn’t say anything more than “ma-ee” and “no.” Now if Seth is in a room? There’s a rarely a silent moment.

He used to have a difficult time coordinating his upper and lower body while running. His arms and shoulders would droop while his little legs moved. Now he’s one of the fastest kids on his soccer team and in his second grade class.

He used to be terrified of the water. Now he swims like a fish.

He used to be scared of riding his bike, even with training wheels. Now he can easily maneuver on the tricky, wooded bike paths by our house.

He used to rarely sleep through the night. He’d often awaken and scream. Calming him down was very difficult. Now he sleeps peacefully and soundly every night.

He used to have problems writing, drawing, and picking up small objects. His fine motor skills were very weak. Now he connects the tiniest Lego pieces together to create his own masterpieces.

He used to only eat about four different foods. (He even hated pizza.) Now he eats broccoli, green peppers, green beans, potstickers, tempura and various Mexican food.

He used to require almost constant interaction. Now he’ll lose himself in his Lego creations for almost an hour at a time.

He used to need special help with reading. Now he reads effortlessly and is ahead of where he should be.

He was diagnosed with Sensory Integration Dysfunction (or Sensory Processing Disorder) and Verbal Apraxia five years ago. He was diagnosed with ADHD not quite two years ago. Thanks to some wonderful people who have helped him throughout the years (speech therapist, occupational therapist, teachers, counselors, neurologist, etc,.) he’s persevered and flourished. (It truly does take a village.) He still has a few issues but overall, he’s working hard. He’s a fighter. And a sweet, snuggly, silly, vivacious one at that.

If you’re a parent who’s child has been diagnosed with any of these issues, please know that while there is alot of work in store for you, watching your child progress is one of the sweetest experiences there is. There is hope. And there is help.

By the end of the summer of 1991, at the tender age of 18, I had my life all mapped out.

I was going to marry the man who ended up becoming my college sweetheart. We’d get married in ‘95, after I graduated with a degree in Journalism. We’d live in the same small town in which I was raised. I’d either work for my town’s newspaper or a neighboring one. The planned husband would have a job where he’d be home by 6 p.m. each night. We’d have three children spaced two, maybe years apart. All girls. Life would be hectic but I would be that strict, yet loving mom. I would always be well dressed and my house, (probably a modest brick ranch) would be immaculate. And sure, while the girls would eventually want a pet, we’d probably get a cat when they were old enough to take care of it.

What’s that phrase? We plan. God laughs.

Time marched on. I realized I wouldn’t be able to move out of my parents house on a small town reporter’s salary. I kept my major but switched to an emphasis in public relations and secured a prestigious internship in St. Louis which lead to a really cool gig.

Then I took a long look at the relationship and realized neither one of us were very happy. So I broke it off. And then I decided to move to St. Louis, which was easily, an hour’s drive from my hometown where everything felt familiar and safe.

Fast forward to 2009. I am married to a man very different who rarely gets home before 6 p.m. He travels quite a bit too. I live in the suburbs. My house is not bricked, nor single-storied, nor immaculate. I don’t write for a newspaper. I don’t work in an office. I spend most of my time in track pants and t-shirts. And I don’t have three girls. I have one child - a son. There’s no way we could ever get a cat (I’m allergic). We have a dog. And as for the strict part of that whole mothering style? Well that’s open for debate.

I didn’t anticipate many of the trials of “real life” like miscarriages and migraines.  But then again I didn’t anticipate the excitement or joy of watching this little boy uncover his talents, grow, and make friends. 

Even though this life isn’t what I’d planned way back when, some of the more important points of the life I dreamed of did come to fruition. I fell in love. I became a mom. I write. My family and I have built a valuable support system here. This suburb of St. Louis is our HOME. And this life I hadn’t planned for? Is richer and far sweeter than the one that young woman could have ever imagined.

It started years ago…

I’d have my back turned to make dinner while my son was on the floor playing. Abbeydog would walk past him. I’d turn around and say something like, “Leave puppy alone.”  He was too young to talk. He’d look at me with a surprised expression as if to say, “How did you KNOW I was thinking of grabbing at the dog?”

As he grew older, he’d often ask, “How did you know?”. I told him all moms have eyes in the back of their heads so we can see even when we’re turned around. He believed me. (Because you know, why would moms ever lie?)

When he got to kindergarten, he started to question this. “So-and-so’s told me his mom doesn’t have eyes in the back of her head.”

I’d reply. “She might not but I do.”

Around first grade, he became a bit savvier. “If you have eyes in the back of your head then what am I doing right now?” He’d always make a funny face or do something goofy, so I’d say, ‘You’re goofing off.”  This worked. The boy was still “sold” on my special powers.

But this past summer, when my back would be turned, he’d ask,  “How many fingers am I holding up?” So I started guessing. Sometimes I’d get it right. When I didn’t, I’d say, “That’s cause one of my eyes are bothering me today. My hair keeps falling in it.”
 
Just a few days ago Seth asked, “If you have eyes in the back of your head, how many fingers am I holding up?” I finally came clean. He’s seven. I don’t want other kids to make fun of him for having this belief. So I told him that I don’t have eyes in the back of my head. I can often tell what he’s thinking just by watching him.  His response? He widely smiled and exclaimed, “I knew it!”

Another mystery of a seven-year-old’s universe is explained.

Have you checked out STLFamilyLife lately? If not, please do!

Sarah discovered she had Ovarian Cancer after a routine gynecological check up. She was shocked. She was an active woman in her early 30’s.  Fortunately, her cancer was at such an early stage, she required little more than surgery. She’s been fine ever since.

Amanada was diagnosed with Ovarian Cancer after grappling with some stomach issues for more than a year. (She didn’t have insurance.) She was shocked when she received her diagnosis. She too was an active woman in her early 30’s. She soon learned the cancer had spread to other parts of her body. She fought a long, hard battle but eventually, her body succumbed.  

Two women at about the same age of diagnosis. Two completely different outcomes.

Now you can help support the Ovarian Cancer Research Fund (OCRF). All it takes is a few seconds of your time. The Electrolux and Kelly Ripa are kicking off a unique “Text-a-Thon for a Cause”. Youcan donate $5 to the cause by texting “KELLY” to 85944 from their mobile phones (standard text messaging rates apply) – or by logging on to www.kelly-confidential.com. (Each day you log onto thissite, you are entered for a chance to win a luxury frontload washer and dryer from Electrolux in Turquoise Sky, the color of ovarian cancer awareness.) 

During September, visitors to Kelly Confidential can also help spread awareness for this important cause by sending a virtual T-shirt to a friend.  For every virtual T-shirt sent, Electrolux will donate $1 to the OCRF. You can also purchase a limited edition T-shirt designed by Ripa; 100% of the proceeds from the sale of the T-shirts will go to OCRF. 

(If you’re like me, and try to avoid anything Kelly Ripa-related because you find yourself wanting to slap the “perky” right out of her, please overlook this urge. Because dude, ITS FOR A GOOD CAUSE.)

And if you want a second chance at winning the same washer and dryer, go to Moms Central’s site too!

I wrote this review while participating in a blog tour campaign by Mom Central on behalf of Electrolux and received a gift certificate to thank me for taking the time to participate.

I often take my son back to my little hometown of Breese in Illinois–  or rather the outskirts, to the home my parents have lived in for 30 years.

I live in the suburbs of St. Louis now. The trip to my parents’ house last a little more than an hour. And while the first 50 minutes of the drive usually drag on, I do love the last 20 minutes. As I see rows of corn and soybean fields, I often find myself taking a deep, relaxing breath. The expanse of green, especially paired with a beautiful blue sky or contrasted with the darkness of the damp tree bark after a rain, is calming, yet uplifting  And the amber wheat fields are especially striking when a wind whips through the land, causing a waving sensation.

In the spring, a pungent aroma sometimes wafts throughout the countryside. When my 7-year-old son complains of the smell? I can’t help but laugh.

“What is that disgusting smell, mom? YUCK.”

“Just cow poop. They fertilize the fields with it,” I say. “Take a big whiff. Its the smell your past.” I say this last part semi-joking. I remember as a kid complaining about the smell too.

Both sides of my family tree are filled with generations of German Catholic farmers who married and made babies with other German Catholic farmers. And at times it is difficult to know which of the qualities I posess have been bred into me and which ones are entirely my own. I love to garden, take care of animals and be outdoors. But so have many generations before me.  

In contemplating this, I often think about how spoiled my son and I are in comparison. Whether you were out in the fields or inside taking care of the home and a gaggle of kids, the work was back breaking. The summer heat was miserable, the hours were long, medical care was reserved only for emergencies, vacations were non-existant and the financial difficulties were overwhelming - especially without an education. Neither of my grandfathers made it past sixth grade. And I doubt the generations before them made it any further.  

I look in my rearview window, watching Seth stare out amongst the fields, listening to one of his favorite songs on my iPod. We live in a completely different world. Thanks to my hard-working hubbby, we live in a nice house and in a great neighborhood. We live in a world filled with playdates, disposable income, air-conditioning, satellite tv, wonderful schools, cell phones and opportunity. That boy has no idea how much better the quality of his life is compared to those who came before him. But I take him out here in hopes that someday he too will learn to appreciate the beauty as well as this piece of his heritage.

And I often wonder what my ancestors would think of mine and my son’s life in contrast to theirs. Hopefully, they’d feel I haven’t lost sight of what’s most important in this world. Hopefully they’d be happy. And proud.

“Mom. I can’t sleep”, my seven-year-old says. It is way past his bedtime. And we have a big day tomorrow. 

“Will you lay by me? He pleads.

How can I look into those sweet little eyes and say “no?”

Afterall, it is about the only time he wants to cuddle these days. So I take the opportunity. Besides, I know exactly how to put him to sleep in a matter of minutes - three minutes tops.

I take one of his hands, which ever is free, into both of mine. I tell him to concentrate on the warmth and the softness enveloping his hand.

It doesn’t take long. He starts snoring a light, little boy snore. And my job is done. What can I say? I’m really good at putting people to sleep.

This post is dedicated to two super awesome chicks Cindy and Ashley who are inspiring me to continue to write this blog. LOVE you both! And thank you for that gift.

Dear Seth,

You turn seven tomorrow. And every time I think about it I tear up. So much has changed over the years. And while you’re excited about growing older and all it entails, it is a bittersweet experience for your mama.

We used to snuggle up in a rocking chair to read a book. Now you only want to snuggle before your bedtime in an effort to stay up later. You used to lovingly call me ”Ma-eee”. Now you call me “Moooommm.” You usually say it in your most exaspirated voice. You used to love listening to “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star”. Now you love to listen to Jason Mraz and air guitar to Muse.

Remember how you used to wish you could marry me. Now you make big plans to marry one of your best buds named Chloe. You used to rely on my body to provide you nutrients. Now you rely on my body to cook you nutritious meals.

We used to take walks together. You’d happily sit in your stroller, watching the world go by. We’d stop here or there so I could show you a flower, blade of grass or an insect. You’d sit there in awe, your eager eyes soaking up the experience. We still take our walks together but now you race ahead of me on your bike. These days it is you who points out the tiny frog hoping across the rocks or you who tries to tickle me with a blade of grass.

Some things haven’t changed all that much. Only I can still can comfort you when you have a bad dream, bad day or get hurt. And when you sleep, you still look a bit like the baby we brought home. You still love giving your mama hugs, although those hugs are much stronger now.

As you get older, I find we have lots in common. (Like we both drive your poor daddy crazy.) And you’re alot of fun to hang out with. I’m proud of you. I admire your spunk. You make you daddy’s and my life richer as well as fill the house with laughter and liveliness. We love you so much.

Happy Birthday Seth. I don’t care how big or old you get, you will always be my little bunny.

Kristie and I just launched (as in a few days ago) an online magazine devoting to parenting within the St. Louis area! StLFamilyLife.com touches base on childcare, products, friendships, romantic relationships, sex, education, fun stuff for you to do and a myriad of other topics. You don’t have to be a St. Louis area resident to read or enter giveaways. We hope you’ll poke around the site then stick around to see what we’ve got in store for you! Here’s a few links, so give us a try!

And don’t forget to check out the St. Louis/marriage section of the Examiner.com.

From now on, my product reviews will be posted to StLFamilyLife.com. The old reviews will remain at MotherOfBun Reviews… 

Energetic little boys are tough to wear out. But I’ve been trying my best to tucker out the one I have. Hence, posting has been light lately.

Recently we did a “Seth’s Nirvana Day”. The day started with me cursing while trying to fit two bicycles into the back of my vehicle. That part wasn’t exactly fun but once situated we were on our way, as Seth played air guitar to a few while heading to McDonald’s. We took our lunch out to a park with a bike trail he’d yet to try.

BS (Before Seth), the hubs and I loved to go biking in various parks throughout the St. Louis area.  The bumpier the trail, the more fun we had. So when Seth started to get good at bike riding, the hubby introduced him to a few local trails. Seth loved the feeling of wind in his face and pedals beneath his feet.

But prior to a week ago, I hadn’t been on my bike in many, many years — as in before I was pregnant with Seth. I was a little worried but knew our little “date” would make for a happy boy.

So we tried out the new trail and explored some areas off the sandy path. Seth loved it. And I was suprised at how easy it was to get back on the bike and ride out the bumps. I’d forgotten how much fun it is to ride a bike.

I did remember how my big ole’ butt would get a bit sore from being perched atop that teeny, tiny bicycle seat. And, yup. Same issue this time. Only I don’t remember my butt STAYING sore for a whole week. But I’ve got a plan for next time. 

After a few hours of riding, we went to Dairy Queen for a Blizzard. We ate that outside as well. There was also more jamming. It was a great day for a wild little man on the cusps of seven.

We’ll be going out again soon to explore a few more trails. If you see us, say “hi”. We’ll be easy to spot. Seth is the blonde kid who’s ”squirrelling out” nonstop (and I mean non. stop.) on a blue bike. I’ll be the blonde with a big, cushy pillow strapped to my butt. 

Check out the feature on Raquita at the St. Louis Bloggers Guild site.

And if you were thinking about a PUR pitcher? Here’s a revew at MotherOfBun Reviews… Oh and a review of some pretty tastey peanut butter too as well as a Father’s Day gift idea.

… Oh yeah and here’s an article about a St. Louis couple who launched a fitness biz, how ADHD kids affect marriage and a cool website marrieds in the ‘lou can use. Oh and when you or your honey travels? Here’s how to keep that lovin’ feeling strong.

A great friend and I also have another project in the works. We’re not ready to debut just yet. But in a few days we will be. And when that happens, I’ll let ya’ll know!

She's got Bette Davis eyes...

Abbey dog is 10 1/2 years old. In human years? She’s in her mid to late 60’s. She’s 15 pounds heavier than she was 9 years ago. (Ok. I lied, she’s 17 pounds heavier.) She has lots of gray hairs growing around her face. And she’s got a few of these strange (but benign!) growths on her leg. Her coat isn’t as shiny as it used to be. She’s not as sleek and muscular either.

But she still walks around thinking she’s one hot bitch — just like she did when she was a young pup.

I think that’s cool. As I get older, I realize that one’s “hotness” factor is more so about attitude than a great wardrobe, fabulous hair or perfect body. Attitude can go a long way in projecting intelligence, power, health and vitality.

The next time you feel self-conscious, channel your inner Abbeydog. (Except for the parts where you’d fart so loud you wake yourself up or scoot your butt across the floor. Oh and if you find yourself with a few long, grey whiskers? You probably want to get out the tweezers.) But still… Get out there and do your “I’m hot” prance.  I promise I’ll be too impressed by your attitude to yell at you if you wind up darting across the street to chase that squirrel.

Hey, there’s a chance to win free Pepsi and Mountain Dew throwback stuff. Just click HERE. And I started a new gig a few weeks ago where I talk about marriage in St. Louis. For some of the latest posts click HERE, HERE, and HERE.

The door bell rings. I look toward the front door and see a pair of brown eyes staring back at me. It’s the little neighbor girl who’s Seth’s age. I smile and motion for her to come in. She stops by sometimes 4-5 times a day. She’s familiar with my gesture and so she opens the door and walks into the kitchen.

“Um. Can Seth play?,”  she stoically asks.

“Sure Sweets. Come on in. Hey Bunny! Natalie’s here,” I yell.

She’s used to seeing us on a Saturday morning lounging in pajamas. She used to eating breakfast, lunches, dinners with us. She’s seen our house immaculate and downright scarey. She’s seen us in good  moods and in bad, sick and well. She can quickly assimilate the tone of the household. She’s been coming around almost every day for almost three years now.

She and Seth are like peanut butter and jelly. One is rarely without the other. And if Seth has friends over, she’s often in on the activity too. Most of the time she’s happy to play Star Wars (if she can pretend she’s Hannah Montana with a light saber.)  Like Seth, she has lots of energy. They amuse each other. Well, until one gets tired and cranky and stomps off in a huff. But 20 minutes later, she’ll be right back on our front porch peering into our doors and asking if Seth can play.

I used to joke that she spends so much time at our house that we should be able to list her as a deduction on our taxes. But I’m very grateful to her and his other friends like Jack, Chloe (he swears he will marry Chloe someday), Nick P, RJ, his best bud Josh and the rest of the crew. Many of these kids have spent countless hours playing with Seth in his clubhouse, in his room or riding bikes in the front. Many of them, like Natalie, are about as familiar with our house as they are with their own.

Throughout the years, we’ve gotten to know a lot of his friends pretty well. We consider them part of our family. We talk with them, learn from them, laugh with them, feed them and fall in love with them. And while they are in our lives, our family is that much happier, that much noisier, and that much richer.