Black Friday

I am not the kind of person who gets excited over black Friday. I don't get up at the crack of dawn just to save a couple of dollars. I would much rather spend those hours in bed. The stores will be there tomorrow and the deals aren't all that cracked up. And surely not worth me losing sleep over.

Of course now that I have a kid that seems to have changed. Maybe. We spent Thanksgiving with my family this year. The last before my aunt sells here house, in the spring. The plan was for my sister to watch Logan, my nearly two year old son on black Friday so that my best friend and I could go to our annual Thanksgiving hockey game. A tradition we started nearly six years ago. Since my sister actually was planning on doing black Friday, she volunteered to watch lil man over night so to avoid the predawn wakeup call.

Now I don't know about ant other couples with kids but true alone time, without the kid(s) doesn't happen to often. And when it does I like to enjoy the adult time. You know like seeing a movie-which hasn't happened in a good while- but it being 9:30 pm on Thanksgiving night the theatres would be packed. I should I know I worked them many ions ago and promised myself never again.

So what are two adults to do? Open a bottle of wine and enjoy the evening? Nope. We decide to head to ToysRUs which opened at 10 with all the other nutty shoppers.

I don't know what my husband expected but I'm pretty sure it wasn't the half mile line just to get into the store. And yet like two fools we joined them and waited talking with fellow shoppers to pass the time. Nor did we expect for it yo take a half hour just to get in the store.

Thankfully when it was our turn there was no pushing, trampeling or any other barbaric acts one sees on the TV,in fact I was pleasantly surprised at just how calm and organized it all was.

Until we got in that was. The shelves which had been stocked well before now stood bare and empty, and the store had only been opened for a half hour. I thanked the lord Logan is only two and didn't want that Mega Buzz everyone was grabbing up. Instead we headed for the trains and preschool/toddler toys which remained on the shelves a lot longer than the Buzz. We flew through the store grabbing what we could before realizing that our bag was full, plenty for lil man this year.

But if we were shocked by the half hour wait, we had a bigger surprise coming in the two hour wait to checkout. Yes that's right two hours. I think we fit to know the people around us rather well in those two hours.

When we finally checked out somewhere around one We realized two things. One being we had a tuqlly finished our son in the span of one shopping trip. The other?

That this was quite possibly the stupidest thing we had ever done.

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With tomorrow being Thanksgiving and the holidays right around the corner, I think many of us forget the real reason for the holiday. That being said, I figured I would go ahead and list just a few things I am thankful for. So without further ado.

I am thankful for:

-Logan for without him I am lost. He will never know how happy he has made his mommy.
-My husband, for being there no matter what.
-My job which isn't the greatest and sure I may bitch about it but I know how lucky I am to still have a job.
-My supportive and loving family-inlaws included.
-Being alive-after the massive car accident this past summer I realize how precious life really is.
-My drive-the strength to continue to pressure my education.
-Friends-who allow me time to be myself, yet are their when I need a hand, an ear and two arms.
-Music, silly but without it I am lost.
-Shelter, my house may not be the newest, or the most organized but its a home and its filled with love.
-A nice long hot bath for allowing me some time to be on my own.
-My education, because without a book in my hand, I am at a total lose of anything.
-My money sense and the ability to save. Its come in handy from time to time.
-Summer just because its my favorite season.

There a thousand more things I can think of and the list could always grow but these are just a few of the small things that make me grateful.

Taylor Time.

Dear Taylor Swift-

This past weekend while my husband was at work I sat in the midst of the living room engaged in a heated game of hockey with my almost two year old son Logan. I say heated because despite the fact that he is nearly half my size and quite the number of years younger, he has quite the slap-shot developing.

Lucky me.

So there I was getting the crap beaten out of me by a happy go lucky toddler who could care less about anything other than the sport when halfway through his 'gooooaallll' he stops mid sentence and freezes in place. He begins to babble something that I am sure makes perfect sense in his precious mind but takes anyone over the age of two a little longer to figure out.

'Pretty. Pretty Pretty.'

I begin to blush, I mean who wouldn't fall for this line? Especially with those blue/green eyes of his? I began thanking my son when he shook his head and continued to mumble. And then thats when I saw it. A commercial on the screen and it was, you. Promoting your Speak Now album. And suddenly I knew it wasn't me that he was so in love with. But a gorgeous blonde who had somehow captured his attention.

He quickly abandons the hockey game, and I assume he is satisfied that he has won as he quickly finds the remote-which is sort of scary to even know that he knows exactly what this is-and turned to me.

'Pretty watch pretty.' He then tapped the television, to make his point clear.

I do what any mom would do and begin searching through VH1, MTV and CMT hoping that I would get lucky enough that one of them may be playing something of yours.

They weren't.

But lucky for me, our local cable network offers a thousand of your videos on demand for free and I spent the next hour watching 'Love Story.' And 'You Belong with me.' Though his personal favorite seems to be 'Mine.'

Now while watching your videos with my son I discovered a few things about him. First my boy likes blondes, second he can dance. And third, he has already come to terms that he is going to marry you.

Seriously.

During the video for 'Love Story.' we watched and my little Logan got this huge beam across his face. He seemed to be enjoying it very much. That is until the Prince came across. And then he turned to me and clinched his teeth to say... 'GRRR..GRRR GRR.' He looked confused and began to mumble and babble again, happy to see you solo once more. This seemed to be a common them throughout all of your videos and your love interests.

It was his first experience with jealousy. I am afraid it won't be his last.

Still I figured I would ask, and so with my own heart breaking, after all I am no longer number one in his eyes-I asked if he loved you. He smiled and shook his head. Yes. I then decided to ask if he was going to marry you. Again he smiled and shook his head. He then pointed to the blonde haired boy in the 'You belong with me.' And said...'No...Pretty, Mine....Pretty mine.'

So dearest Taylor, you see my son has every hopes of marrying you. Please don't break his heart.

Love-
Me.

PS. I look forward to welcoming you into our family.

I've got the music in me.

See the image to your right over there.

Yea, I will confess I can not live without it. Literally I am one of those people you see on the subway, the kind that sleeps on the way home, their earbuds plugged in. I am the kind that listens to it at the mall while walking it. The kind that is constantly having to get a new one-like every two years-because I abuse the shit out of it.

Yes I listen to it that much.

In fact I view my Ipod like my husband views his phone. He is never without it, and gets quite lost without it. So this morning when I got in the car only to realize my Ipod wasn't with me. I sort of freaked out. Sort of. But I figured it was somewhere, it had to be. I checked my coat, my bag and even my car, nothing. My husband ran back into the house to do a quick search, he came back empty handed. Which at the point I began to freak a little more. Or ok a lot more. I mean really where could it be? It hadn't gone to far. It couldn't have. I ran my agenda from the night before in my head. Suddenly I think I remember never even bringing my Ipod into the house. Did I? No I am pretty sure I didn't. I had my hand full. Even with the handless device that my keys offer, it is still hard to do. So then I tried to recall if I locked my car and couldn't. A fact that got me even more irate than anything.

We ended up driving off, without my Ipod, which I have convinced myself is stolen at this point. Chalking it up to being pissed off at myself since if my car was unlocked then it was an open invite to anyone to take it really.

My Friday was ruined.

My husband, who always tends to look at things as a half full view went on about how its at home he just overlooked him. And I sat there trying to tell him that he is wrong. That I knew it was gone. We sat there as the lights flew by us, screaming at the top of our lungs trying to prove that we were the ones in the right.

He was mad because I was dramatically overreacting to the simple thought that my Ipod was stolen, without proof that it actually was stolen. And I was pissed because he just wanted me a happy little smily person and didn't want me to be at all upset what so ever.

All over a freaking Ipod.

We rode all the way to my parents house in silence still fuming over everything.
As we departed, him to his office, me to the metro I was still fuming, though maybe not so much, and as my van picked us up and brought me to the office I was at least calm when I heard about a woman who watched as a guy in a wheelchair was hit by a car in the morning, she watched the entire thing go down.

And it hit me then, just how stupid being so concerned with the possibility of an Ipod theft really was. We still had our health, my marriage and my son would still be singing to T.O Cruz's Dynamite on our way home. But to say that my Friday was ruined because of a missing Ipod? I'm pretty sure that one shouldn't be classified at an end all to be all, and I am prety sure if you were to ask the dude that got hit, the one in a wheelchair.

Well I am sure he would be willing to trade a missing Ipod, with me any day.

Kiwibox. My old friend.

Maybe you are just discovering my blog, or maybe you have followed me on her for awhile. But what most don't know is this. While I have only recently picked up blogging on blogger, I have been blogging for well over a decade now.

Back in 2000 I came across this site that was created for the main attraction of teenagers. And I, entering the last few months of teen decided to go ahead and give it a shot. I signed up and began journaling. Looking back on most of my entries, they seem childish and all together rather silly. Most consisted of boys I liked, the occasional piece of poetry and bitching about my family. Yes there was plenty of that. But then again I was a nineteen year old kid, living under my parents roof and while she may not admit it or not, my sister was in the midst of her teenage angst as well.

I didn't really set out to make it to any milestone, or to be there for years. And yet, that is exactly what happened. It turned out to be the one thing I looked forward to on a daily basis. And yes, I said daily. The years grew, as did I. I fell in love on that journal, got engaged on that journal. Got married and had a baby. All while 'blogging' about day to day life. There was no formal structure nor was there any really topics. More or less just a bunch of Hodge Podge that became my life.

I made friends on that site, I read others insightful-and sometimes not so-and felt like I knew them. Several people came and went on the site, due in part because lets not forget, the site was after all for teenagers. But that was not the reason I had remained. I didn't care about the articles, the advice columns or anything else the site supposedly had to offer, I was there for the blog. And the blog alone.

I realize now, that this was the beginning of the blogging sensation. While everyone is claiming they had just discovered it I sat back and smiled for I had known it all alone, it was a well treasured event, a part of my life as much as my job was.

But as all good things often do, Kiwibox decided to change a year ago. A major overhaul and everything about the site would change with it. And after ten years of keeping up with the site, with the journal and with several others. I decided to leave my beloved journal.

And move on to if not bigger-cus I know the audience really isn't-at least newer greener pastures. It was time to grow up, and join the site where more adults blogged and what not.

Hence the reason I know blog on this current site.

Still, I decided to hit up my old stopping ground yesterday. And for reasons that I can't explain I began to miss it.

Whether it was the actual site or the time is still up in the air.
But for whatever reason I missed it.

And for a moment, I wanted it all back.

A future hockey mom.

I admit in a million years I never thought I would even consider that someday I would be a hockey mom. And yet, I am pretty sure that is where I am heading. Even if my son is not even two years.

This of course I assume is to be expected. Given the fact that daddy has so much influence in the sport. I mean after all, its a pretty much sleep, eat and breath event around the house. So what else would expect? Really? However what I didn't expect was that my not even two year old son would pick up a hockey stick, no matter where we are at and continuously say 'hockey. goal, hit, drop.' until everyone around him knows where he stands. He plays the sport around the house and even if I am not the most expert person when it comes to what classifies someone as a good player or bad I will not be blind to recognize that at the age my son is, he does hold the stick rather well and has an amazing shot. Keep in mind, he is only 21 months. Even the kids coordination is quite impressive.

I always thought that my kid(s) would be involved in something. Even in my head dreamt of a little ballerina girl since I love dancing so much. Or maybe soccer sure. What little kid doesn't start their sports day with this? Or maybe football. Yes for sure football. But hockey? Never. Then again, before I met my husband I watched the sport but knew nothing much of it, didn't understand the rules or what was really going on. So why should I expect or even consider to be the next hockey mom?

Soccer mom yes. But not a hockey mom.

And yet, it looks like I could very well be heading down that path. My mornings will be filled sitting on a cold hard benches clutching my morning caffeine in my hands. The smell of that musty old hockey equipment forever burned in my car..If you ask my husband there could be worse things to be and I suppose he is right there. Because you can bet, even if I hate the cold, if I can't stand it what so ever. You better bet, I will be there screaming my head off, cheering on my son at every practice, every game. And at every goal he scores.

I just need to invest in some really great gloves in the meantime.

Death of my Teen Idol

I have a confession, yes another one. They seem to come frequent these days. But here it is.

Nick Carter was not my first love.

That title belongs to the man on the right. Johnathan Brandis. I would not consider this my first crush-that goes to a boy named Josh, he lived two blocks away from me. At ten I thought he was super cute. But once I got my first sights on Johnathan, it was all over. I am also pretty certain this was the beginning of my fascination and love with the blonde haired blue eyed pretty boys. But that's for another blog entry.

So yes Johnathan Brandis was my first love.

It started back in 1992. I was a twelve year old nerdy girl with freezy hair and an expander in my mouth. He a young actor getting his BIG break in the movie Ladybugs. He spoke, I think I cried. He laughed I sighed. It was your typical pre-teen fascination that soon turned into buying every magazine he was plastered on, spending hours rereading articles he was in until I had memorized every little detail, from his birthday to his favorite drink. I doodled his name surrounded by hearts and swore that someday, I was destined to meet him, and marry him. The room I shared with my sister turned into a JB shrine...

I was in love, ok maybe even a little of the obsessed kind but I was now thirteen, and so I think its only fitting that every female go through this with at least one celebrity.

By the time I was in high school Brandis was a known name. He had already done several movies, and was now on a TV show called SEAQUEST DSV. I'm probably not the only one to admit their main reason for being into the show was him. In fact I think the creators knew exactly what they were doing.And just as I had with the movies, I watched every Sunday night just so I could get a glimpse of the young actor...back then there was no DVR or TIVO and so I scheduled my activities around it, which wasn't all that hard to do since I didn't have that much of a social life. I would tape the show, and re-watched it over and over until the tapes were worn out. I bought the t-shirts, the character figurines. Anything I could get my hands on. Once again, can we say obsessed. Umm yeah.

The show lasted three years breaking my heart along with it.

After, he seemed to fade into the woodwork. Showing up here and there, but nothing major came out of it. He seemed to be just another one of those child actors that you hear about. You know the kind that make it big as a kid and then you never hear or see them again. That kind. Which was a shame, because back then I didn't think he was all that bad of an actor.I always hoped for a comeback of some sort. Who doesn't.

And I never stopped wondering when he would.

But seven years ago. On this very day. My questions were answered. I logged on to the internet to find that my teen idol, the very first guy I ever loved. Had killed himself. Hung himself more like it. Feeling the pressure of a failing career and never really making it to the kind of success that he wanted.

He was 27.

Once again my heart broke. No one wants to think that any one they loved, even if it was a never going to happen sort of thing would be that desperate enough that they felt they had no other way out. But most of time no one thinks that the famous are among the several who fight with the feelings of loneliness, of failure of being so down and out that they would even dream or imagine such an act. And yet it seems that behind the scenes of the rich and the famous, lies the underground secret. Life isn't easy. For anyone. Even to this day, I read about another young Hollywood star being admitted into another rehab center, or that their attempt in suicide had failed and think that nothing has changed much since that November day seven years ago. Even with all the attempts at making it more known, and more publicized it seems it has done little to address the issue of it.

And it makes me question everything about Hollywood. About the pressures that we as a society puts on these kids, and what really is considered a failure. Because I am pretty sure a successful stint on a popular TV show, and a couple of big movies does not mean you failed. Especially not at such a young age. Not when you have your whole life ahead of you.

But how do we get that out to them before its to late?

Before they become another falling star who left us far to soon.

When??

When I first announced I was expecting back in the summer of 08' everyone was ecstatic, I mean who wouldn't be? Not only that but it finally solved and answered the great question-when are you going to have children-and for nine long glorious months no one asked about it. Instead they focused on questions like names, and colors and if it was a boy or a girl.

And then we had him. And the moment I got out of the hospital, the question about a second child came into play. Being a new exhausted mom, I didn't care for the questions because hello, we were bringing home our son for the first time, shouldn't you give us at least a week to enjoy it before the questions arise again? One would think anyway.

My husband and I had talked extensively about kids before we even had our first. We had a plan probably even before we got married. And while it may not be to what every one else is doing, the plan seemed to fit us just fine. Unlike most, we want a little bit of an age gap between the kids. And for the most part, people at least in the family are well aware of our situation, my disability, his job. And they know what we are thinking, and agree with us. For the most part they have actually been relatively good in asking about the 'When' question.

Until this week, when I happen to mention something about another one in the future-meaning at least another year and a half more like two-little did I know this little statement would cause such a big controversy. When someone decided to inform me that it would be extremely hard with two kids and that my husband would have to quit his job of course. They didn't know what or how I would do it with two kids. Or how we could afford it. They then informed me maybe I should just have one kid, and that would be ok as well. In fact that may be the better option. They continues, adding up the math of my age and all.

I nodded my head because I didn't know what else to say, or think really. Because when it comes to matters of another child, it should not be up to anyone else but the couple. My husband and myself. And no one else. If we decide that our son is to be an only child than so be it, as of right now we would like another in a couple of years. But I fully understand things change, circumstances change and should we decide this, then so be it. But I will not, and do not enjoy being told that we should only have one because it is the better option.

And the determination that anyone over the age of thirty is to old to have a child is beyond annoying. With technology and woman living longer, it is not beyond anyone to see a woman pregnant in her thirties. And again, this too should be something that I should decide for myself. Not someone else. Father in law, friend or a stranger.

So next time you decide to ask someone when they are going to have another child, I strongly suggest you think before you say anything.

Number 21

Meet Brooks Laich. He is a 27 year old center for the Washington Capitals. He also happens to be my favorite player. And yes I will admit, not only do I happen to think he is an incredible hockey player. I also happen to have a bit of a crush on him. Meaning, yes I think he is quite fine looking. Admittedly I am not the only female in the DC area that thinks so. But for purpose of this blog, lets just pretend shall we?

So this past weekend, my husband, my son and myself made our way out to a local mall. For no reason what so ever than the fact we just needed to get out for a bit. Dressed in my Boston Red Sox hoodie and a pair of jeans and my husband in his usual Cap attire we made our way through the stores. And like usual, we had to walk past the memorabilia store just to take a peak. Though this time, it would not be my husband that would go in there drooling but rather myself.

For right there, to the side, doing a meet and greet was none other than Brooks Laich.

I stood there looking until the lady informed us that we were crowding the front of the store, which apparently is not allowed. And unless we were going to look, buy or get an autograph-at the tune of $40, we needed to move on. Needless to say, my husband couldn't get in the line fast enough.

You may be thinking, wait a minute doesn't your husband work for the team? Shouldn't that mean you have connections? Well your right Andy does work for them. However because he does, we aren't allowed to go up to the rink and meet them like everyone else does. I mean I am pretty sure if it was just myself and my son. But Andy isn't really supposed to. So we grabbed a Brooks Laich shirt, quickly paid and stood in line. I wondered if he would even recognize Andy, since he has been helping him on a couple of projects, the logo for his brand for one thing-note he didn't do the design just merely advised him on things-When it was our time, Brooks looked up and immediately gave me shit for my hoodie, all in good fun. As soon as Andy said hello they two quickly began chatting about logos and what not, and my hoodie quickly forgotten.

And while they stood talking about logos, and my son, I stood like a fifteen year old high schooler barely able to get my words out of my mouth. I had asked Andy to make sure I got a pic with him. But as he said goodbye and we walked out of the store I really wasn't thinking of that picture.

That is until halfway down the mall....
Still I had his autograph and his t-shirt.

And for some reason that was good enough for me.

The Dream Team

Who is ready to throw all their savings for a pair of concert tickets to watch a blast from the past? (Raises her hands and looks around). That's right. The announcement many of us females who were teenagers in the 90's had been waiting for came out yesterday. New Kids on the Block, and the Backstreet Boys, on one stage together, coming to a city near you in the summer of 2011.

I can already hear my bank account saying Cha-ching.

You may be thinking, ok this woman here is 30, isn't she well past the stage of girly crushes and drooling over men who are now into their forties-well some of them anyway. Well hear me out.

I was raised in a house with three girls. I am the middle of us. My older sister is just about six years older than I. While I won't disclose her age, I will just say that she was a teen during the reign of NKOTB. I being the kid sister that I was followed her every move. Including dancing along to the same tunes she loved. And the band of her choice was, you guessed it NKOTB. I can't tell you how many times I sat there learning the dances, which I will not be ashamed to admit I still remember to this day. She lived for those boys right up til their demise-thanks to the grunge era-which ironically happened right about the time she went to college, and liking boy bands was not about to win you any friends.

Five years later, I found myself heading into the last years of my own teenage years when five boys from Florida would become my 'world' And if anyone thought that my sister was bad, I could pretty much say, I topped her when it came to devotion and love of the boys. My walls were lined, my locker was filled with images of BSB, Nick Carter more specifically. I was in love with him. To this day, I would probably say there is a part of me that misses those days. I learned the dances, I went to their concerts. Spent endlesss amount of time and money on anything that revolved around them. From lunchboxes to albums to magazines. Most of which I still have to this day hidden in a box somewhere where my husband may or may not know about.

But unlike my sister, who stopped following her boys. I to this day continue to follow, buying up albums they still put out. Attending concerts they put on. While I would love to say I go there simply to remember my past, part of it is also because I still love them. I still pull out their records thinking they are amazing. Maybe a part of me will never quite grow up. Even my own mother, will contribute to my 'love' Just yesterday she taped Oprah for me since they happened to be on. I wanted to hug her that much more.

This all being said, you can imagine my excitement when they announced that both bands will be coming together to tour next summer. Could this be? Yes....and while the 30 year old in me tried to hide the excitement of seeing both bands-I have never seen NKOTB. The sixteen year old teen girl in me jumped up and down already staking out her spot in line....

and exclaiming that she is sooo there!!! Backstreets Back alright!

When you try your best, but you get nowhere.

I have a confession. I am a horrible test taker. I have been for years now. I would like to blame it on that famous teacher I had back in high school, but feel the roots stem probably deeper than that. So I will just simply say it again.

I am a horrible test taker.

I am also one of those kind of test takers you see from time to time and laugh at. Like a junkie needing a hit, my palms begin to sweat even at the mere mention of a test. I sit there for hours reading, and going over my notes, to the point of obsession. Knowing that no matter what, or how much I study, the results will more in likely never equal the amount of effort I put into it. In fact often, I wonder why I bother studying at all.

So last night was another wonderful mid-term. I had been studying for two days straight, so much so I began wondering if I perhaps over-studied-is there even such a thing?-still I felt confident as I entered that classroom. I knew what I was talking about. I was handed my exam and sat there looking it over.

In all honesty it didn't take that much time to do. No, I wasn't the first one done but it didn't take me nearly the three hours that was allotted for it either. I handed it in, thanked the professor and walked out feeling like for once my efforts were going to pay off. I was going to pass the exam there was no doubt about it.

Until this morning, when I checked my school account to find that she had posted the grades. Still feeling confident I hit the see grades button and watched as my scores came up. My results?

Well I didn't pass with flying colors thats for sure. In fact I barely passed it if you want the truth. I sat there staring at the screen in pure disbelief. How in the world could this be? I studied. I reviewed. I took my time....none of which seemed to have mattered in the long run.

Needless to say I was feeling disappointed in my grade, in the class. In knowing that I have a week to sit and dwell on the grade before I see the professor again. In myself for being so damn confident....

and for once again feeling that I was too stupid to do something.
As I closed the browser I tried to remind myself it was just a grade. It is just a midterm and this to shall pass. Still several grades to be handed out before the final grade is posted.

Still all this telling to my sole, didn't make that barely D any better.
And next time, can't get here fast enough.

Welcome November

Now that Halloween has come and gone, lets welcome what probably is one of my favorite times of the year. The leaves have fully changed, my fall semester is halfway over and both Thanksgiving and Christmas are right around the corner. I have always struggled to figure out which exactly I love more and since I have never come to a solid decision lets just make it an equal tie and say, bring on turkey, pumpkin pie and family.

This morning I got up, got in my freezing cold car and found my way to a local radio station that begins playing Christmas music in July-no not really but they may as well-just to see if they had switched over yet to their 24/7 Christmas music up until Christmas night. They haven't yet. I don't know if this bummed me out to much since it still seems a little to early to be singing Jingle Bell rock and Oh Holy Night. And yet, I find the music contagious, and infectious and for the most part it puts me in a good mood. Even the sight of the holiday decorations up at the mall yesterday seemed to put a smile on my face. Even if I thought it was just a wee bit early.

Then there was another thought that flashed through my mind as I was thinking of the holidays. And it is this, maybe its not so early. Maybe its just coming faster and faster than it did as a kid. I know, I was warned of this growing up. But come on, how many of us actually believed that what our parents were saying, would actually end up to be the truth? How many of us sat there thinking the holidays would never get here, never come. We would sit there with our advent calenders just waiting as the days go by slower and slower. We would count the days until winter break with anticipation. All the while our parents would sit there and tell us not to waste our days. Or wish them away because one day we will be adults. And the days will fly by and you wish you would have the days like this back.

I miss those days.

My mom was right. Absolutely without a doubt. A 100% right about the fact that it comes faster and faster each year. I look at my son, who will be two in February finding it hard to believe that he will be in his terrible two's before long. And I wish for him never to grow up, want him to cherish these days as my mom had done so long ago. Knowing there is nothing i can do stop them either.

And since I can't. I will head into this new month just as excited as ever. I will do my shopping, celebrate with the family and be thankful for the moment. Because this year the holidays,just like all the ones in the recent past, will come and go in the blink of an eye all to quickly.