The first year I participated was in 2006, and I successfully completed all 30 days.  Last year I made it to Day 23 or something like that.  I’ll have to go back and look when I’m not so tired from posting every day for 30 freakin’ days.

Actually, I’m tired because my crazy little boy kept me up until 10:30 last night.  He had a late nap (totally by accident) and then woke up at 8 p.m. and refused to go back to bed.

I’m groggy.  I need coffee.  If I drank coffee, I mean.  A tall glass of Mountain Dew might wake me up.  And rot my teeth.  Ick.

Okay, I’m babbling.

I must take a bloggy break for a day or two.  I’ll be back with content soon.  I promise!

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Wife.  Mother.  Daughter.  Sister.  Friend.  As a mother I wear many hats.  Too often, I must fulfill many roles and expectations in any given day.

I’m the one who primarily takes care of the child.

I’m the one who does the grocery shopping and bill paying.  I’m the one who sorts the mail and files the important papers.

I’m the one who kisses boo-boos and makes the macaroni and cheese.

I’m the one who works all day and still feels like nothing is ever accomplished.

I’m the one who loses her mind more than once a day.

I’m the one who takes the child to preschool and picks him up each day.

I’m the one who makes frequent trips to the public library for children’s books and to allow said child some playtime.

I’m the one who plans fieldtrips to the Children’s Museum, YMCA and various parks to keep life with a child interesting.

I’m the one who wishes she could have just one day — one entire day — all to herself.

I’m the one who yearns to do things she enjoys instead of sacrificing her wants and needs to those of a 4-year-old.

I’m the one who longs for her husband to say just how much he appreciates everything she does for him and their child.

I’m the one ensures her child spends quality time with his grandparents, aunts and uncles and cousins.

I’m the one who tries to take care of everything because it is expected of her.

I’m the one who sometimes cries at night because those expectations are too high.

I’m the one who feels she must be in control ALL THE TIME, because losing control would mean failure in her mind.

I’m the one who feels that motherhood has stolen her identity.

I’m the one who wants ME back.

It might sound like I’m complaining.  It might sound like I don’t like being a wife and mother, but that’s not at all true.  I love my husband.  I love being a wife.  I love my son.  I love being a mom.  I just didn’t realize it would be this hard sometimes.

How do I balance it all?

After more than four years of mothering, and more than seven years of marriage, I still don’t know what the hell I’m doing.

And maybe I’m not supposed to “know.”  Maybe it’s just something you “do.”  Maybe I’m just supposed to go with the flow and hopefully learn the ropes along the way.  Like on-the-job training or whatever.

I started thinking about all of this over the last few weeks.  I don’t know if it’s the fact that I’m becoming physically fit that is making me want to be spiritually, emotionally and mentally “fit” as well?

How do I do that?  How do I achieve that balance?

I’m the one who strives for balance.

Instead of enduring the pushing and shoving, I stayed home and watched a few episodes of Beverly Hills, 90210.  I have the first six seasons on DVD (no, I didn’t buy them all at once, too expensive) and currently I’m viewing Season 5.

It’s hilarious to watch my former favorite show, now, as an adult.  Not only do I reminisce the crazy 90s fashions, but I get to laugh at the fact that I swore I would marry Luke Perry when I grew up.  Oh, yes I did!  I’m not afraid to admit it.

After I got bored with the show I went over to Amazon.com to check out the sales.  I found a few things to add to the Christmas wish list, but nothing that I really needed.  With the economy as it is, I’m afraid to spend even one dollar on anything that isn’t an absolute must.

Even though I’m not worried about mine or my husband’s job, because we’re finally (somewhat) financially stable, I do realize the future can change in the blink of an eye.  Losing my old job last February has taught me a valuable lesson in frugality, and I’ve learned to appreciate things I once took for granted.  Also, I don’t feel content about spending money compulsively.

Yesterday, when my parents came to get Dawson for the day, my father told me about the Walmart employee who was trampled to death in Long Island, NY.  I’m appalled.  Has our society become so greedy, and so focused on consumerism?

It makes me sick to my stomach.  Someone died because people no longer give a shit about anyone but themselves.  People no longer care about the lives of others.  Instead, they worry about getting the newest digital camera, iPod, laptop or what-the-fack-ever at the best prices.  Who cares if they kill someone, so long as that present is purchased, gift-wrapped, and placed under the tree!

Is this what it has come to?  (Heavenly Father, I hope not, because this is a depressing thought.)

Have we forgotten what Christmas is about?  Christmas isn’t about gadgets, toys and electronics.  It’s about celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ.  If we’re not celebrating the birth of the Son of God, then what on Earth are we doing?

Now before you get all goofy on me for voicing my opinion, please hear me out.  I know that not everyone who goes shopping the day after Thanksgiving is crazy.  Many of you are very kind and considerate and would never harm another person over a Black Friday sale.

I’m just sad because it’s become clear to me that the true meaning of Christmas has been lost.  It’s time to for us to find it again.

I’m Bringing Christmas Back.  Stay Tuned.

It is so quiet here.  No annoying Spongebob and Squidward voices emanating from the television.  No shrieking.  No jumping.  No crashing or banging.

Only the sound of the fish tank aerator. It’s rather tranquil.

Murphy is sitting peacefully on the sofa, enjoying the solace.  Dawson is not pulling on his ears.  My dog is in Heaven.

As am I.  I can complete an entire thought process without being interrupted by the demands of a 4-year-old.

Serenity.  Sweet, sweet serenity.

First on the list?  Getting our family photo taken for our Christmas cards.  Every year I stress over this task.  I want the picture to be perfect.  Can I just say how difficult it is to get all of us to smile at the right time?  Do you have any idea how hard it is to get the kid and the dog to look at the camera at the exact same moment?

We tried to get this done last night before we had Thanksgiving dinner.  One hundred takes later and we are no closer to snapping the perfect pose.  This is the best shot we got and I don’t really care for it:

Here is the color version:

It looks as though Murphy’s ears are connected to Doug’s goatee.  He claims he was just trying to hide his second and third chins. Such a funny guy, that one.

I ordered a sample of this photo from Walgreens, just to see how it will turn out.  I’m positive we’ll have to take a new picture.  I might kill myself.  I have no patience when it comes to using the self-timer and remote.

What do you think?  Use one of those photos or try, try again?

In eleven hours, my mother will be scrambling around the kitchen, checking the turkey, mashing the potatoes and refusing all offers of help from everyone. “Go sit down,” she’ll say. “Have a drink! It’s Thanksgiving!”

My father will lock himself in the basement with my brothers, my husband and my uncles, never to be seen until the Green Bay Packers kick the tar out of the Detroit Lions. Not a moment of this football game can be missed! The consequences for speaking while the Almighty Brett Favre is working his offensive magic are not to be taken lightly.

My sister and I will adorn the dining table with Mom’s best holiday tablecloth. The vibrant hues of red, orange, gold and brown coordinate with the beautiful autumn centerpiece at the center of the table, the one we put out every year; and the cornucopia will make it’s home on the antique hutch my mother inherited when Grandma Alice passed away.

This holiday will be nothing like the traditional celebrations I remember from my childhood. We would gather at Great Aunt Hannah’s house each year because she always cooked the biggest bird, her refrigerator never ran out of Point beer, and she had the longest dining table, suitable for many rounds of pinochle and poker, as well as feasting on turkey with the trimmings.

While Aunt Hannah and Grandma were commandeering the kitchen and fretting over the turkey, the men of the house were seated at the table playing pinochle and arguing about politics and religion. One would think that family feuds were plenty given the topic of conversation, but surprisingly everyone was amicable. Fighting only occurred if Uncle Eddie swept away the pot after a game of Seven-card stud, or if cousin Shawn had too many whiskey-sours and belted out the chorus to every Abba song she knew.

I can still hear their voices, husky from smoking cigars and Marlboro Reds, discussing President Ronald Reagan and the failing 1980s economy, President Richard Nixon and Watergate, and of course, the tragic assassination of President John F. Kennedy.

I couldn’t have been more than five years old, but oh, how I remember! My father’s powerful voice filled the room as he spoke of the alleged conspiracy hatched by Lyndon B. Johnson and Gerald Ford. The theories thrown across the table were endless, and thinking about it today reminds me of “the telephone game”. The story changed with each passing around the Thanksgiving table.

But Grandma Alice spoke of JFK so brilliantly. She reminisced about the day the first Catholic president was elected into office. She loved President Kennedy as if he were akin to her. She often referred to him as her president and felt that no one had more charm and charisma, or more power, than JFK. Her gray eyes lit up with pride as she exclaimed, “If anyone can, Kennedy can!” She said the words as though she was hearing that slogan for the first time.

Soon Grandma’s eyes reflected sadness and grief as she relived the feelings of terror while listening to Walter Cronkite’s newscast. “Three shots were fired at President Kennedy’s motorcade in downtown Dallas.” She remembered that she was watching one of her programs, the soap opera “As the World Turns”, as she heard the fateful words. She remembered feeling sick to her stomach, sobbing for hours, and praying the rosary.

Those same beautiful gray eyes filled with tears, and her voice faltered, as she recalled Jacqueline Kennedy’s later appearance on television, her clothing stained with her husband’s blood, as she walked slowly to a car to be taken away from Parkland Hospital.

This Thanksgiving, I find myself thinking about JFK and imagining what the remaining term of his presidency would have been like, had he lived to fulfill it. If the events of November 22, 1963 never occurred, would our country be in a better position today? Would it be worse?

Today, I must pause to remember the 35th President of the United States, John F. Kennedy. A man who said, “So, let us not be blind to our differences – but let us also direct attention to our common interests and to the means by which those differences can be resolved.”

And I will pause to remember his words because later today, my family will be discussing politics and religion, “the left” and “the right”, Nixon, Ford and Reagan, and giving thanks for the blessings in our lives.

I guess it will be a traditional Thanksgiving after all.

———-

That’s one of my favorite posts I’ve ever written.  Each time I go back and read it, I remember to be thankful.  Thankful to be alive.  Thankful that I live in America.  Thankful for so many wonderful things in my life.

I remembered that post last night, as I watched Barbara Walters interview President-elect Barack Obama, and his wife Michelle.  I sat in my living room, eyes glued to the television as Walters asked questions about Obama’s plan to fix our broken economy and how they are handling the transition to becoming First Family.

It’s difficult for me to describe the emotions I felt as I listened to Michelle and Barack talk about their family and their hopes for the future of our country.  At one point my eyes filled with tears because I realized how much I like them.  I really like Barack and Michelle Obama.

I know.  I’m a Catholic Republican.  I’m not supposed to care for Barack Obama because he’s a Democrat.  I’m not supposed to like him because a liberal. According to the Conservative Doctrine, it would be wrong for me to agree with anything that President-elect Obama says.  I’m breaking every rule of the right wing.

Okay, yes, I’m being sarcastic.  I’m sure you know this.

It’s just that I’m tired of living in a divided country.  I’m tired of the bickering between the left and the right. Or is it the right and the left?  I’m sick to death of reading blogs in which one side slams the other, or makes offensive jokes about the opposing political party.

Enough is enough.

I believe in my heart that I can be true to myself and my political values and still embrace our next president whole-heartedly.  Barack Obama needs the support of the American people.  Whether we are Democrat or Republican, Liberal or Conservative, we need to work together to fix the problems we have created.

I’m ready to make the first step.  But I need to ask a favor from a few of you.  You know who you are.  Stop bashing the Conservatives.  Stop slamming the Republicans.  It’s getting old.  It’s offensive.  I read your words, begging Americans to put aside their differences, to meet on common ground –and then you go and verbally attack us, bitch-slap us, and expect us to sit back and take it.

Enough is enough.

JFK said it best: “So, let us not be blind to our differences – but let us also direct attention to our common interests and to the means by which those differences can be resolved.”

I’m ready.  Are you?

Twenty-one pounds gone.  Several inches lost.  I feel good.  Confident.  Energized.  Happy in my own skin (for the first time in a very long time).

I look in the mirror and I see how the changes I’ve made (and continue to make) are paying off.  My legs are stronger, my abs feel more fit.  Granted, I’ve still got a ways to go, but the goal I’ve set for myself isn’t out of reach.

I can do this.  I will do this.  I am doing this.

It just keeps getting better.

Shameless, I know.

My friend and I kept making babies with celebrities (ha ha, that sounds so funny) and e-mailing the photos to each other.  Honestly, this little tool is nifty and addicting.  Here’s a few baby pictures for your amusement:

Baby Tuszke (Of course, I had to make a baby with my husband, first!)

Clive Owen, Jr.

My baby with Gabriel Macht looks a little devilish.

Looks just like Blair, don’t you think?

My son with Chris Noth.  Looks nothing like Mr. Big.

Little Aaron Rodgers.

Little Joey-Joe.

Donnie Wahlberg‘s Mini-Me.

I know.  Too much fun.  Now I have to think of cool celebrity baby names.  Any suggestions?  What will your babies look like?

———–

Speaking of fun, check out what we thought of the video game Littlest Pet Shop (Jungle) for Nintendo DS!

From the website:

Join social media insiders, industry leaders and influential bloggers in sharing best practices. Discuss ways to create smarter web-based marketing, and discover social media tools that engage your audience and build relationships.

I learned of this great conference via Kirtsy Alertsy and I have to say I’m intrigued.  I’d really like to attend, but frankly with the holidays approaching, finances are tight.  I don’t think I can afford the registration, plane ticket and hotel expenses.

However, I’m wondering if you are going, and if so, promise to take lots of notes for me, okay?