dear junior

Dear junior,

You recently celebrated your third birthday. And, as I can't possible believe that you are already 3, it has caused me to feel somewhat-sentimental.

As my son, you know that feeling sentimental is a rarity for me. I spend most of my time worrying about the future instead of reflecting on the past. Worrying about you: your happiness, your health, what little-miss-things {so help me} you're going to bring home to meet Mom and Dad, what the world will be like for you, your salvation, your friends, and of course, your behavior.

Your favorite movie is Finding Nemo {I can reenact the entire blasted film}. Sometimes, I can't watch this movie without wanting to tear up {again, a rarity for me}. The part where Marlin finds one last egg after he thought he lost all his children. The part where Marlin chases the boat in sheer terror. The part where Nemo learns all that Dad has done and been through in order to find him.

You see, what you can't understand {until you have children of your own}, is that you are my heart. That sounds so incredibly cheesy, but is so incredibly true. Every time you say, "I love you mommy", my heart smiles. Every time you cry or are disappointed, my heart breaks. Every time you are naughty, my heart beats really fast. And Mommy's blood pressure goes through the roof.

Faith has a whole new meaning for me. Trusting God with your life {and your new sister's} is incredibly challenging. But, I guess he knows what he's doing. After all, he created you. Perfectly. He made you who you are. And I hope you grow up thanking Him for that.

Here are 10 of my favorite things about you...

• Your laugh. 
• Your vocabulary. It's pretty impressive. 
• Your excitement over the smallest things. Like a broom. Or loading the dishwasher.
• The fact that you discipline yourself when you're in time-out by giving yourself the lecture I apparently have given you a few too many times. Now if you could just obey yourself.
• Your eyes. They are killer.
• Your expressions. You have one for everything. And they're quite entertaining.
• Your love of animals.
• Your intelligence. I know every parent thinks they're kid is smart, but I'm pretty sure I'm right. 
• Listening to you pray and list all the things you're thankful for. Mickey usually tops the list.
• Your sociability. Seriously, you talk to anyone. 

You have forever changed me... for the better {I think}. We don't always see eye-to-eye {a.k.a potty training}. You have watched me look like a fool and have endured all my parenting mistakes thus far {a miraculous feat}. And yet, you still love me. You forgive me. And I hope that never changes.

The most I can offer you is my love.

And that will never be in short supply.

the girl

It's been awhile. A looooong while.

Last time I blogged I was a miserable//whiny//let's-get-this-over-with prego. Now, I am a somewhat-normal//whiny//I-never-shower mom of two.

2 kids.

I am responsible for 2 human lives.

Frightening.

If you read any of my blog posts, you know that pregnancy and I did not go hand-in-hand. Not even foot-in-foot. As Kelly Clarkson said on The Ellen Show last week, "it's horrible." A woman after my own heart...

However, do not fret pregnant or future-pregnant people. As it was the first time, it was all worth it in the end {a much easier end this time, I might add}.

This time, hubster and I chose not to find out the gender of our little one. It was killing me by the end, but I must say, definitely gave me something positive to think about during labor. After having a boy first, I was pretty geared up for another boy, but couldn't shake the feeling that this baby was a girl. After all, she had been a diva already: nausea until 20 weeks, movement felt at 17 weeks, gestational diabetes, and false labor for months.

And, my gut was right.

It's a girl.

My mother and the doctor both yelled it at the same time and hubster just looked at me and laughed. A laugh that said, "I know I'm in for a hormonal adventure. And you're going to have to be the bad cop."

Frightening.

In 10 years, this sweet little cuddle bug will start changing into a teenager. Help me now.

But I wouldn't trade this little, snugly, blond-haired beauty {apparently it's unusual for babies to have a full head of blond hair, or so every nurse in the hospital informed me} for anything. I know every mom says it, but she's pretty stinkin' adorable.

And she sleeps! And eats well!

I can't believe my luck. A beautiful, healthy baby {who, unlike junior, actually seems to resemble her mother} who is pretty much content most of the time.

This holiday season, I am definitely counting my blessings. And there are a lot of them.

iTunes: New Radicals, You Get What You Give

you're welcome world #2

This one's gonna get ugly.

Disgustingly ugly. You were warned.

It is very clear to me that lately, the world needs my advice. Hubster will attest to the fact that I give it willingly, frequently, and bluntly.

You're welcome world.

I am going to begin with a little advice for some politicians {a.k.a creeps}.

Mr. Anthony Weiner,
       Your last name is so incredibly unfortunate. We all make mistakes. However, some of us do them in a less public//entirely inappropriate manner. I would like to welcome you to the world of the rest of us who have jobs. When you plaster your nastiness all over social media, you get fired. Period. Therefore, I find it odd that you are still 'campaigning' {although losing terribly} for mayor. Nobody is perfect, but if you do not have enough self-control to limit your photography sessions to appropriate subject matter and to not give yourself ridiculous names like 'Carlos Danger' on social sites, I have a hard time believing you will be an effective mayor. Call me old-fashioned, but tweeting selfies of your unmentionables does not say, 'vote for me'. Also, just in case you need me to spell it out even further, getting mad at people//media questioning you for such behavior is not a good idea when you are trying to get back in their good graces. Your sarcastic//rude jabs at other politicians, media members, and members of the general public, do not have an apologetic feel. I'm pretty sure these people have a right to question you. Since your communications director has the same self-righteous attitude you do, might I suggest that you try a more apologetic, forgiveness-seeking, humble approach in conversations. And seriously, I mean seriously, stop making your name the biggest flippin' joke known to man.

Sincerely,

amanda kate

You're welcome world.
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Moving on to an equally, if not more, disgusting man of office.

Mr. Filner,
      You make my skin crawl. You are apparently incredibly delusional. And you have an incredible amount of guts {or stupidity}. Just looking at your creepiness makes me want to vomit. Literally.

via

You are fortunate that none of the women you allegedly chose to distribute your saliva onto were violent women. Not only is your behavior beyond appalling//disgusting//can't-even-joke-about-it, you apparently find it appropriate to ask the taxpayer to pay for your legal bills. Say what? That is one heck of a request. Do not punish the hard-working citizen for your severe lack of judgement and self-control. Especially when they are investigating you for using city funding for personal {most likely inappropriate} use. Unbelievable. Like Mr. Weiner, you apparently do not realize that the majority of working Americans would have been fired for far less than what you allegedly did. Dude, know when to quit. On behalf of all women, go get yourself some serious help {and don't leave a week early this time} and retire. And please, never work with a woman again.

Sincerely,

amanda kate

You're welcome world.
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I'm typing as fast as I can so I don't have to look at that picture on my screen anymore.

Dear Physicians of the World,
       Let me start by saying that I acknowledge your superior intellect, years of hard work//schooling, and continued research to solve health problems. I would like to add something to your to-do list in medical research. Yesterday, I had the pleasure of experience my second 3-hour glucose tolerance test of this pregnancy {not to mention those from my first pregnancy}. I have conquered nausea. I have conquered contractions. I have conquered pushing a human being out of my body. Yet, I cannot seem to conquer this test without severe sickness. More sickness, in fact, than what I get from reading about the previously mentioned politicians' behaviors. I will not subject my blog readers to the gory details of my experiences {okay maybe some}, but yesterday's incident involved the words 'projectile', 'taco bell', 'bladder control', and 'nostril vomit'. Yep. I just went there. If I have to deal with it in person, you can certainly handle reading about it. Making someone who has sugar sensitivity, and possibly gestational diabetes, eat 150 carbs for 3 days prior to the test, then fast for 15 hours total, and drink the nastiest 10 ounces of throat-burning//sugary fruit punch does not seem like the healthiest idea. Could we not come up with a different way of testing this? I also do not enjoy having my blood drawn four times during that time. When I test my sugar with my meter, it merely involves a slight finger prick. So why can't the test for this be as painless? Just a helpful suggestion.

Sincerely,

amanda kate

You're welcome world.
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Later friends. Remember, watch out for those saddle sores.

saddle sores

Today was our annual first day of school for staff.

Yeeeeeeee-haw!

You may remember the result of last year's staff day: creepy little monkey.

This year, we were asked to participate in a western theme. Call me a party pooper, but I do not own any western wear, particularly maternity western wear, so naturally, I enjoyed staring at//pondering//commenting on everyone's outfits. Fun.

Western phrases of the day:

• saddle sores {I hope I don't get any of these from my new mini-van.}
• the bear is gonna get ya {If by 'bear' you mean the politicans making educational decisions, then yes, I agree.}
• get the weapon loaded {teachers and guns... a great combo}

Never a dull moment.

Other captivating learning experiences for the day:

• The annual discussion of blood//vomit//feces//bodily fluids and how to handle them. Pardon me, but I do not 'handle' them. I call the nurse and then my father-in-law, who just happens to be a custodian in my building.
• Learning to love the copy machine {versus beating the tar out of it} that kept bending and jamming a single transparency that I was trying to copy. You're right copy machine, I have all the time in the world to waste on making one transparency. Nothing else to do.
• When discussing what we learned over the summer, it was shared that one person 'learned how to make a baby'. I was just glad that comment was not made about me.
• Small children cafeteria seats are not made for pregnant women. At all.
• I can fall asleep at any time while pregnant. It's a special talent. Today was a struggle.

Today was full of many meaningful quotes//characteristics//buzz words about teaching. It's nice to be reminded of these things once in a while.

via

As opposed to what we usually hear...

via

But don't forget...

via

Yup.
Later my peeps. Watch out for those saddle sores.

looking forward

Today marks the end of summer for myself. Tomorrow it's back to school {and western wear... explanation to come} and back to routine.

Hallelujah.

You may be thinking this lady is cray cray {my urban slang for the day}. Either I'm cray cray or a nerd. You decide.

I'm excited to go back to work. Excited to start a new school year in a new grade level with the same flippin' fantastic bunch of kids.

I love routine. Having things to do {other than domestic responsibilities} and a much more normal schedule always brings out the better side of me.

The hard part... getting up early. We'll see how that goes.

Some mothers are probably judging the crap out of me at the moment. I am not dreading the drive to the baby-sitter's house tomorrow. I am not anxious about leaving my son again. I am not fighting the urge to be a stay-at-home mom {although I have great respect for those who can do what I absolutely could not}.

I love my son. I love the time we got to spend together this summer. But I also love my job. I love the purpose and satisfaction it gives me. I love that my classroom is my own space. Those kids are mine. Each decision is mine {some good, some bad}. Their learning is mine. Teaching is my thing. And now I'm sounding really cheesy.

I do not thrive when I stay at home. Believe me, I wish I did. I love being a mom and would love to be one of those 'super-moms' that can do it all. But, that's not me. I have a strong dislike for domestic chores {in case you haven't noticed}. I don't like the lack of routine in the summer. I am not my best at home everyday.

Please do not misunderstand me. My struggles with being at home have nothing to do with my love of being a mom. I still do my best for junior every day. I play with him, feed him, change him, talk to him, read with him, take him fun places, discipline him, sing to him, and most importantly, love him. But I find myself yearning for my own space. My own time. Some women may consider this selfish, but it seems normal to me.

Therefore, I am the weirdo that is secretly glad summer is coming to an end. I am okay with the fact that junior absolutely loves going to his baby-sitter's every day. I can't wait to pick him up at the end of the day, and give him a chance to miss me. We had fun this summer, but I think both he and I are ready for tomorrow. He is ready to spend time with other people he loves {his baby-sitter's family and his grandmas} and experience things he can't at home {barns, horses, constant trips to the carousel, etc...}. And I am ready to see my co-workers {most of them}, my kids, and my classroom.

I will still get to hear him chatter non-stop. I will still get to wake him up in the morning and sing him to sleep at night. I will still get to eat supper with him every night. I will still get to play with him. I will still be mommy. 

Looking forward to this week.

you're welcome world #1

Look out everyone. It's time to unleash amanda's brain upon the universe. Or the five of you that will read this.

You're welcome world.

Who doesn't love to give their unqualified advice to a world who doesn't want it?
Sign me up!

For this series, I will attempt to solve all the world's {most likely unimportant} issues, one letter at a time.

You're welcome world.

Let's begin with this week's top story, and the one I will embarrassingly admit I check CNN every 5 minutes for updates on, the royal baby.

Dearest Royal Baby,

I realize that you are having a great time in mummy's belly, but please, oh please, make your appearance. You are killing the media and those of us who have no life and are ready to stalk your every move for the rest of your life. Seriously, people are losing their minds. Are you a boy? A girl? Just how adorable will you be? After all, we know you are pretty much genetic gold. So please, dear baby, make an appearance so the rest of us can pretend like we know you and pinch your cute little cheeks through the TV screen.

Sincerely,

amanda kate

You're welcome world.
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Dearest Politicians,

via

In the midst of all the wonderful, positive changes you have never made in the last decade, I have a solution for you. We all know immigration reform is a much needed item on your agenda, right behind ending TV blackouts for the NFL and taking vacations you haven't earned. Want to end illegal immigration? Broadcast Toddlers & Tiaras as well as Honey Boo Boo {scratch and sniff edition of course} in all foreign countries. Believe me people, this will pretty much guarantee that no one in their right mind will want to live in the good ol' USA. Only in America does a family with bear nicknames and the need for subtitles, even though they are speaking English, get their own TV show. And the pageant circuit... Well if that's not appealing to families, I don't know what is. Screaming, crying, spray-tanning, rage, and tantrums.... Great advertisement for the U.S. Trust me on this one Washington.

Sincerely,

amanda kate

You're welcome world.
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Dearest Clothing Designers,

Maternity pants//shorts//capris//skirts are, in a word, glorious. They have this lovely, magical stretchy band that goes up over the belly and are generally free of zippers and buttons. How about adding these to normal women's clothing? I gotta say, the idea of not having to lay on the bed and simultaneously attempt to pull up my pants, button them, and zip them sounds quite appealing. And the band is like free shape wear. It keeps everything in place. Why do I have to be pregnant to enjoy such pleasures?

Sincerely,

amanda kate

You're welcome world.

AZ recap #3: teenagers

Traveling for a week with 16 teenagers. To some, that may seem daunting or sanity-testing, but I was excited. It would be a nice change of pace from a toddler.

I was quickly given a label of love and admiration from the youth, CPL. Apparently, CPL stands for crazy pregnant lady. I would try to deny that, but yea. It's pretty accurate at this point. So before we even left for the airport, the kids were terrified of me. Or they just thought I was insane. I prefer the first one.

I had a lot of fun with the kids, and I must say that our group of 16 teenagers was ridiculously easy to chaperone for a week. However, I quickly realized that I should have another name, COL. This one I bestow upon myself: cranky old lady.

I used to be one of these high-energy people. These people who scream and jump and laugh at stupidity made me feel like an 80 year old woman whose panty hose was too tight. Let me give you a few examples...

• Worship: Our worship services had approximately 3,000 youth involved. That's a lot of hormones, sugar, and energy. During such worship services, teenagers found it fun to hit beach balls and other {appropriate} inflatables all over the ballroom. However, COL found it quite annoying as she was trying to worship when she had to watch out for beach balls in every direction {except for the one time I peed my pants laughing at a guy who got beamed in the face by a beach ball hit hard from 2 feet away}. Therefore, I withstood the shocked//evil glares and put any ball I caught under the chairs. So cruel. It was either that or I was gonna stand there with a pair of scissors in my hands.
• 'Dancing': Mennonites dancing is pretty much an oxymoron. However, I witnessed mosh pits, jump fests, and conga lines. Apparently, this is fun for young people. The anal teacher in me prefers to stay at my seat.
• Vandalism: Kids get overly excited. I get that. It's funny until you start damaging the convention center that is hosting {or perhaps caging} these young folks. One night, the floor beneath us began to snap and make strange noises thanks to 3,000 kids jumping uncontrollably. I could see the headline the next day in the national newspaper. Another day, some genius teenagers decided to break the doors leading into the ballroom by opening them {shoving them} farther than they were supposed to go. Here's a video right after the floor scared the crap out of me:

• Point of view: I believe that men and women are equal. I do not believe in the 1950's 'domestic bliss' set aside for women. I work. Hubster works. We share the money, the childcare, and the household chores. One poor, unsuspecting, young man made a remark on the bus ride home that he doesn't want to get married because he does not want to have to give a woman a bunch of his money to go buy useless items. Whoops. Hubster's reaction was best... "Oh dear. Here we go." He was right. Never ever say that to a pregnant woman. That young man got a nice life lesson in what marriage should be and was introduced to the fact many women make enough money to support themselves, if needed. He also learned that he would have very little of 'his' money left if he paid his wife for all the work he expected her to do around the house.

Teenagers. Gotta love 'em.

There were many times where CPL and COL were silenced in full force. There were moments that I wish our entire congregation could have witnessed. The kids I was privileged to spend a week with are future church leaders, and I would trust them 100 percent. I have never seen a group of youth so willing to openly share with each other, cry with each other, pray with each other, no matter when or where. Let me tell you, it was not like that when I was a teenager {oh so long ago}. So anyone who says our country will go to pot when this generation grows up did not see these teens. Any church who says teenagers do not know God or who refuse to make an attempt to incorporate this generation into their services and community did not see these teens.

I know we are not supposed to be 'prideful' in our church, but I was so incredibly proud//impressed//inspired by these teenagers. They made the trip so incredibly worthwhile.