38 years of marriage

My parents celebrated 38 years of marriage yesterday. Not exactly an easy accomplishment, but one they should dif. be proud of. After all, in this day and age any one would be lucky, myself included to see 38 years of marriage.

Sometimes I would like to know their secret. What makes them different from the rest. What makes a marriage last. From talking to her, I know they had their moments, I know they came close to walking away from it all. From time to time they wondered if it would be easier. It may have been. But what made them decide it was worth it?

The fight.
The drive.

What made it all worth while? Because sometimes, as much as I love my husband I have my doubts, my fears that we won't have what it takes in the end of it all to last to see 38 years.

I would like to ask how they keep the passion, the fire the desire for one another alive. I am not talking about just in between the sheets because love, passion and the desire needs to go beyond this. But what makes this all work? What is the secret?


And how does it change, or when it does how do you handle that?

But I want to know simply how to keep the love for one another last.
So mom and dad this one is for you.
Happy Anniversary.

Well it could be worse.

Allow me a moment to bitch.

I am an American with a Disability. Cerebral Palsy to the right side. Thankfully for me, its only a very minor case and the majority of the damage is to my right hand. Every day I wake up to this, every day I get up knowing that somewhere along the day I will have to face a challenge. Whether it be from a stare I receive, or a water fountain only geared to right handed folks.

I do this on a daily basis. Nine times out of ten, I have no issue with my set back, because really I'd like to think I adapt pretty well to anything thrown at me.

Still I can't deny there are days that I wake up and think, this sucks. Just plan out, no words to describe it other than sucks. Really really sucks. Usually it comes when I am struggling to change my son's diaper with one hand. Or when he was younger and still was in the infant car seats and I couldn't work the handle with one hand. So I would be stuck at home until my husband got home. Groceries would wait, the formula would have to wait.

It was when I was in HS and couldn't try out for any sports because they told me I was to much of a liability. So I managed. Or sat on the sidelines and watched as my sister was cheerleader.

It was the dates I never got, the guys that wouldn't except me for being me. It was the teachers that never thought I could do much of anything.

It comes when I am trying to open a bag of something, or a door when my hand is filled and no one seems to offer so I struggle and have to work things under my chin. I really think I could use another hand then. Its standing in the pouring rain trying to work that damn umbrella.Or standing on the metro, with nothing to hold on to and having my hands filled with things and not being tall enough to hold on to the top so I struggle with this to. And those around me, who don't even realize I am disabled don't bother to help .

Or having trouble shaving my underarm because I can't use it so I have to ask for help..yeah that one sort of sucks.

But I will say struggling with my son ranks right up there with all the suckiness. Because I see all the other moms and dads, and think why can't I just do that. Why do I have to struggle with holding him, putting in a key to the door. I can't even open the damn door without a struggle sometimes.

It's moments like these that I admit I sit and wish for just a moment to be different. To know what its like to be able to use that right hand. To not have to worry about things like figuring out how to drive with one hand, or cut my own food. I would be satisfied with 24 hours with the ability to use both hands. 24 hours that's all I ask for.

Unfortunately, that's one wish, no matter how hard I may try, that will never be granted.

You think its easy? I beg to differ with you. And I raise a challenge to go home and try everything with the opposite hand. And only that hand. It doesn't have to be for 24 hours, even just for the night....

Believe me I have several why me moments. Sometimes I feel I am worthy of it. It is not often I get down, or pissed off or anything. But every now and then.

You better believe it.

And then there are moments like today. On metro. When I boarded and the guy beside me sways back and forth. He talks to himself. And all around him people are making fun of him. Even if they don't say it they are laughing. He speaks slowly and asks how many stops are there til Federal Center, its a question he asks out loud on a daily basis. Everyone ignores him like they do most days he rides. There are a few of us that know, that recognize and help, but its not many. He still wears velcro shoes.

No one bothers to give him a seat either.

But this doesn't seem to bother him. He smiles around and laughs. Like its sunny and 80 instead of damp and cool.

Suddenly, my disability, no matter how small seems that much more smaller. And I feel ridiculous for being upset as much as I am because it takes me a few seconds longer to change my sons diaper. Or that I struggle with a key in the door.

When it comes down to it all,
I could be a lot worse off than I am.

I'm not a Princess, this ain't my fairytale.-The end of my dream 2011

In the past week I have blogged about two things, being bullied and the start of my traditional Friday dance.

What I haven't blogged about, what I have been avoiding for the past several days is. Disney. Specifically regarding the Moms Panel.

If you are anyone who has been following the MP's process, by now you know that notices went out last Tuesday to those that made it through to round 2. And like all that applied and considered themselves hopefuls I held on to my newly bought smart phone, staring at the email alert. Willing it to ring. As if staring at it would make it suddenly do so. I sat there at the dinner table, trying to concentrate on my son, my husband my in-laws. Thinking any minute now it was going to be me that was notified.

No email came.

I hit the refresh button three more times before finally calling it a night. And when I climbed into bed, I sat staring at the ceiling feeling three things. Numb, heartbroken and disappointed. There was no feeling of being angry that I didn't make it. Just a general overwhelming sense of sadness.

Of course I tried to hide this, from my husband, from my mother who called the next day hoping for good news. I said everything was fine, I would be fine and life was great. Next year would be different.

Next year will be my year.

Still that didn't stop me from going back, questioning my answers. Thinking that perhaps they weren't good enough. That I wasn't good enough.

Perhaps this seems a little extreme after all not making it to the Moms Panel isn't the end of the World. Life will go on, my child will still grow and I will still continue to visit my favorite place on Earth.

But to me, making it on the Moms Panel isn't just about a free trip, or even the pay I won't receive-it is after all a non paid position.-but its the chance to help someone find the happiness, the joy in Disney that I myself have found. Its the chance to make someone else's dreams come true for once. Its the thought that maybe, just maybe this is what I was born to do. Help. Plan. Know that I was apart of making those dreams possible.

It has been almost a week since I found out I wasn't one of the chosen ones. I can't say it doesn't hurt any less for I would be lying if I told you this. But I am trying to look on the bright side, because really that is all I can do at this point. The search will be on again in less than a year, September will be here before I know it. I have a gorgeous son, a husband who finally gets my nutty Disney sense and another year to perfect my Disney love, knowledge and passion for Disney.

So watch out Moms Panel search 2012, here I come.

All She Wants to do is Dance

It all began the fall of 1998.

I came back to my dorm at Longwood (then college, now university) to an empty room. All of my roomates and suitemates had class up until after 5:30. Mine were all done by 11:30. Leaving me the entire afternoon to myself. Believe me, they may have laughed that I got up for those extra early classes. After all, we were no longer required to get up at a certain time so why should we? But I had my reasons.. And two weeks into freshman year they weren't laughing anymore.

When it came to Fridays down in Farmville, there wasn't much to do. So for good reason most got the hell out of there as fast as they could Thursday evenings. Those that did stick around partied until they were drunk, or ended up in other peoples rooms. I was neither a hard core party goer-amazing since I am a huge fan of dancing, nor had I made that many friends yet-Leaving me not just an empty dorm room, but empty hallways as well.

I got the idea one Friday afternoon shortly after arriving to school that I would do a Friday celebration. A kick off the weekend, relieve stress, smile and be happy. That sort of thing and since no one was around, I didn't really care that I made a fool of myself. It started in my room, I would crank up a song, half the time it was whatever we had on Napster or in my CD player at the time-yes Itunes, there was life before you. Cranking it up to volumes unimaginable before standing in the middle of my room and just rock it. When I realized that no one was around it gradually grew from my room to the hallway, for five minutes I would grove up and down the halls.

Of course this would not go unnoticed forever, because while I thought the halls were empty, on occasion I would get caught and found out. I did however not let this stop me, and soon it became known that at noon every Friday I would do my Friday dance around the dorm. Several girls would open their own door and dance along with me in their own way.

What started out as something to celebrate and simple, turned into something elaborate and enjoyable. I am sure if you ask the few that I am still friends with, I had a few memorable dances as well. Everclears Santa Baby comes to mind, along with a nice little ballroom cha cha to Gloria Estefan's Conga.


This tradition would carry on when I returned home, and started a full time job. On Fridays, every Friday I would dance down the halls, usually after most everyone, with the exception of one or two-was gone for the week. Sometimes the dances were simple more like cheers other times it was pure out get down and dance my ass off sort of dance.

And it is now a tradition I have in my current cube, I find a jam, throw on my ipod and for five minutes dance. I shake my hips, do the running man, and lip sync at the top of my lungs.I have yet to be caught doing this in my current group. Not that its going to stop me, embarrass me maybe but stop me, nope.

But I imagine its only a matter of time before I turn around and a crowd is gathered at the entrance to my cube.
Until then.
I will continue to dance, every Friday.
At noon.

A bullied kids life-Part 3

I entered freshman year as most teenagers do.

Moody.

We had just moved to a different school zone, meaning I would not be attending the high school my older sister and all of the few friends I had made would be going to. Believe me at fourteen this was everything. Still I walked into Centreville High School the day after labor day, my combat boots and baby doll dress looking forward to the fresh start. A new school meant, a new opportunity to make friends, to fit in. To not be the girl that got picked on.In order to do so I joined theater, the speech team and because I really wanted a cool jacket, somehow managed to score a spot on the girl's softball team as the manager. And for awhile there I was generally happy with school. Maybe I wasn't popular or that skinny (I was after all a size 12) but at the same time, I had made friends and popularity wasn't all that. And I was known. For whatever you want to label me as I was known.

So one would think, great end of story. A happy one even.
But lets not get carried away. The point of the past few posts have been to bring awareness about bullying. I could sit here and tell you how bullying stopped at the students but I would be lying.

Besides my physical minor disability, I have also been blessed with a learning disability. Mainly in the areas of Math and Science. Therefore as part of the agreement to bring me into mainstream classes, I was to be in self-contained/and mainstreamed classrooms were a LD teacher would be able to assist me. I would also spend a period in resources, where the teacher would be the same as my math teacher. Giving me even more help in the subjects.

Freshman year the school had put me in with a Math teacher/resource teacher named Ms. A.(I will leave her official name out). From the beginning, I didn't mesh well with this woman. I often felt i was being talked down to. And her favorite word was stupid. I can't tell you how many times I sat there trying to figure out a problem, get it wrong as was told how stupid I was.

Yes, you heard. Stupid. It became so frequent that she would ask me, Aleisha do you know what you are?' She would make me say stupid until she was satisfied that she heard correctly. Yes she called me stupid. On a daily basis.

One afternoon as the bell rang, I overheard her and another teacher discuss learning disabled students to one another. It just so happened they were in the ajoining room, and the door was cracked open. I sat in horror as she went on to say

'LD students are dumb and stupid, I don't know why I even bother with them. Someone should just put them in a corner and forget them. They will never amount to anything in the end anyway. Forget about college, most of them won't even finish high school.'

And what I did next, would be the undoing of Aleisha. I decided to confront her. Because no, I was not that stupid, no I was going to amount to something and no she should not be talking about us like that. So I went to her. I should have known it was wrong when she opened the door to the door and in a loud voice verbally bashed me for everything. Telling me how stupid and dumb I was to even think she would care. That I was in the wrong, and that she was right, we weren't. She was yelling so loud that the kids across the way looked at me through their classrooms but like myself, could do nothing but let her give it to me. I left that day thinking I was exactly what she said I was.

Stupid.

After that, and for the next four years she would make my life a living hell. When I was getting a C in math or science she encouraged me to drop out of the after school activities to focus on math and science. She would pull me out of class just to yell at me, and call me stupid and dumb. If I didn't know the answer, she would pull me up in front of the class and announced it to the class that I was. Stupid.

Aleisha you can't do this because you are stupid. You can't do math because you are stupid. And you will amount to nothing in the end. May as well give up now.

When I finally confronted the principal after having enough of it, Ms. A informed the principal that she was only doing this for my well being. And that no harm was coming of this. The principal agreed. She actually freaking agreed!. As soon as the principal was out of ear shot, Ms. A's sent me to dentition after school because I turned her in. And when I went crying off to the theater teachers office-where I spent the rest of the afternoon on his couch in his office-she told me how much of a wimp I was.

Funny, I ended my freshman year with a 3.95 grade average. Apparently not so stupid after all.

My sophomore year was no better, Ms. A had personal made sure I was in her class. And so once again the torment continued. After going to the principal the year before and no results, I couldn't do much except take the abuse Ms. A spat out.

And with each passing day, I felt like crawling more and more to that hole somewhere far away. I must say, if not for softball and speech team. I know I would have turned out a lot differently than I did. And to this day, I credit them in getting me through the Ms. A years.

But when Ms A let the boys get in my face, a staple gun in hand I said no more. I suppose staring at a stapler as the staples shoot out will do that to one. Thankfully I had a different resource teacher and so one afternoon I ended up going to her. Finally someone began to listen. Ms. J began pulling me out of the math classes, testing me. And loo and behold, I actually knew what I was doing. Or with a little help and a different teaching style I did. Of course when Ms. A caught wind of this, it became a war between Ms. J. and Ms. A. Ms. A would pull me out even more of classes, would talk to my other teachers to ensure that she was in control of everything. Often they would send me to her.

But by late spring Ms. J convinced the LD department to remove me from Ms. A's guidance and classes. This of course only after I had complained, and refused to see her anymore. My tears, which I hate to admit I shed on a regular basis when it came to even the mention of Math, and Ms. A seemed to have finally been noticed.

Finally the LD department decided to step in to the matter.

Ms. A, would not get in trouble for her actions because apparently I was the only one who would come forward in the abuse. And while it was recommended that she was to have no contact with me what so ever, truth is, up until the day I graduated she still came to 'see' me.

So bullying, does not just contain students anymore. And its an unfortunate tale to tell, that the very adults who are supposed to be looking out for students, can sometimes be the very ones that encourage and act on it themselves. I am now just over ten years after graduating, but even still Ms. A has had a profound impact in my life. I wish I could say it was for the better but again I would be lying. For her words, continue to plague me to this day.

But I am working on it.

A Bullied Kids life-Part 2

Looking back I don't think I realized I was being bullied, or know when it actually began. Probably because before then, I had never been exposed to such a thing. After all in my previous school/classes I got along with everyone. While they were a lot worse off than I was, when it came down to it all they were all like me. Outcast, misfits and a little slower. But somewhere between the first day of school and Thanksgiving break of my fourth grade I would figure it out. Along with the pain and the inner torture that came with it.

I may not know when it began, but I am pretty sure I know the name of the main contributor. His name was 'Doug'. Doug was your typical elementary kid. He was well liked by most everyone, the teachers included. Boys wanted to be friends with him and girls even in the fourth grade had crushes on him. He was smart enough to get by but athletic enough to know in the long run, his grades wouldn't matter.

He was also the school's counselors son. A fact I soon would not be able to forget.

It started out innocent enough, on the playground. During dodge-ball, when I was always picked last. Then as the game began, I became the target of his aggression. And that red rubber ball the reason for many of my bruises. While it may have been Doug who originally started it all, it soon would catch on and before I knew it half of the class was making fun of me. If it wasn't the name calling it was knocking my clothes, making inappropriate hand signals. It was making fun of my speech, my slight limp. It was picking my last, or first just to make sure I was the joke of the game.

Making friends in elementary school is tough, making friends when they think your name is retard, crippled, dumb girl, ugly, MMR girl damn near impossible. And the few friends I did make, seemed to disappear shortly after they realized being friends with someone who didn't fit the mold everyone else did wasn't exactly popular.

And in elementary school, being popular was everything.

I would like to think I took it all well. For the most part I did what my mom, my therapist suggested and smiled through the pain. Because if you smile, they don't know how much they hurt you. And one should never let them see how they got to you. Which is a lot easier said than actually done. I was thankful for the friends that I did make, no matter how long they decided to stick around.

I also managed to deal with the pain. The names continued, the attacks on the playground during dodge-ball so apparent and so hard that I ended up sitting by myself in the corner in hiding making friendship bracelets until they called us back in.It was better than a thousand bruises anyway.

And in those precious years when everything is key, when making friends is important and feeling wanted is something the only thing I felt was isolated. Small, not worth while to anyone. Its a hard lesson in life, that feeling of not being good enough for anyone. How often did I come home and cry because I just wanted someone, anyone to like me? How often did I just wish for this stupid disability to go away. Even for a day. If I didn't have the disability, then maybe people would like me, kids would stop making fun of me and maybe I would have friends.

I can't remember telling anyone just how lonely I felt during those years. Bringing it to my parents who had two other perfect and normal daughters was hard, I being the middle child didn't want the attention that it was bringing. And yet at the same time in my family I found the only normalcy I would probably ever know.They couldn't offer much, besides love and hope that someday things would get better.

But sometimes that's enough.

I sat there and put up with the name calling and the teasing for the two years of elementary. Admittedly there were some days that were better than others. But isn't that always the way. These days helped me get through the bad. For awhile anyway.

And then came the sixth grade. When I was put back in the same class as 'Doug'. Which wouldn't have been so bad because lets face it, not everyone in the same class your going to like. But did I really have to be seated next to him? Shortly after a school break, we were back in the desks preparing for our lunch, when our teacher announced that we would be leaving we all packed our stuff, and me and all my clumsiness dropped my stuff on the ground. As quickly as I could, I got down and started picking it up, delaying us from our lunch. I suppose every minute we were late meant another minute away from dodge-ball. But I wasn't moving fast enough for Doug who shoved everything in my desk and then exclaimed the words that still to this day haunt me.

'Your such fucking asshole. Could you move any slower retard'

That was all it took, I could no longer hold the tears I had been fighting back for the past three years in. My teacher oblivious to what had transpired asked the group that was seated in my seating group what was going on, and not one of them said a thing. And when I was sent down to the counselors office, I knew that there was no way 'Doug' would be in trouble. Still I sat there explaining my side, they called in the classmates, all of whom denied he said anything and sided with Doug that it was all my imagination taking over again. When I insisted that it wasn't, they called my parents who sat there in the office as Doug's father explained the 'misunderstanding.' and informed them if I was prettier, if I didn't wear braces on my teeth and if my parents could afford name brand clothes, and if I didn't have the disability-as if I chose to have this- none of this would happen.'

Doug never got in trouble and I for the rest of the year continued to get tortured by him...including getting pushed down three flights of stairs at the end of the school day.

Again no one saw, heard or did anything. Including the teachers.

I will admit I was not sad to these years gone...
My teenage years could only get better.
Or would they?

A Bullied kids life-A survivor's story. Part 1

I was nine when I first discovered I wasn't normal. Up until then I had been put into classrooms with kids in wheelchairs operated by their mouths and kids who wore helmets. Kids who acted like they were six rather than their real age of 12. Most of whom drooled and couldn’t pronounce let alone spell their own names. The type of kids that others would make fun of, and adults didn’t know how to handle. So instead, they were separated made to eat their lunches hidden in their classroom. Tucked away from the rest of the bunch. Because they felt it was better to be safe than sorry. Up until then, theses kids weren’t any different than I. Rather they were classmates, and friends. Fellow students.

But at nine, everything changed.

That was the year when the local school county actually began to listen to my parents. Who for years insisted that I didn’t belong in such a group. That I in fact was to advanced for the self contained disability focused classes. My Cerebral Palsy-caused when my mom was bitten by a dog in the stomach while carrying me, causing me to have a prenatal stroke-was only minor. I had full range of everything except my right hand. It had little effect on my mental ability, which was at this point far outshining most of everyone's expectations. While most of the students could barely read and write, I was forming sentences, and paragraphs. I was understanding math and science. And while I was wearing a brace on my leg, the doctors assured my parents it soon would be coming off, now that my walking had caught up to the rest of me.

Finally, during the spring of third grade they began to deliberate. They began to observe. They had meeting after meeting. With teachers, with psychologists, with therapists. All of whom seem to acknowledge that I was farther advanced than most of the children in the classroom. In fact, they were having a hard time keeping up with my learning. As much as they loved having me in the program, I was no longer disabled enough to be in the program. Their resources for me were already quickly evaporating. When all was said and done, it was agreed that in the fall of the following year, I would be transferred from the classroom and the walls I had known for years, and start the fourth grade among the 'normal children.'

I remember it all. Sometimes so vividly still it scares me. Those wonderful feelings I had those days leading up to the first day. How excited I was to step on to the long bus, instead of the short bus I was so used to. To stand with my baby sister, who was a newly first grader and hold her hand at the bus stop. I was, like every other elementary school kid. How I loved walking her to her class room before I made my way into that classroom that had no adaptations to fit certain needs. How I looked at my desk, with my name on it and thought, finally. I am just like everyone else. I would have friends, and slumber parties. And recess without worrying if I was going to hurt 'Cory' who I loved but his helmet made it hard for him to do much of anything at times. Yes I remember it all. How I sat down, pulled out my Rainbow Brite lunch box, and then quickly hiding it under my desk once I realized in the fourth grade everyone switched to paper bags. And as my teacher started his yearly speech I breathed and thought See I am just like everyone else.
Normal.

But like many things, what we think is often very far from what actually is.
And how quickly my joy would soon turn to tears.
And I would learn just how different I really was…

The Waiting Game.

They say its the waiting that's the hard part. And three weeks after I applied for the Moms Panel this year, waiting is exactly what I am doing. Waiting for word, confirmation, or worse a rejection letter. Hoping its the better of the two. But yes, waiting is exactly the name of the game thus far.

I can't say I am being patient. Because every morning, no matter how much I try to not think about it. I wake up thinking, is today going to be the day. Are we going to hear something? I roam message boards, facebook fan pages anything searching for someone that may have the slightest clue to when we will be informed. I relive last years message. Which was sent out mid October. Which means if they stick to the same schedule, we will be hearing next week at some point.

By now I am sure my husband is completely sick of me analyzing, questioning and going over the questions again and again. Even though I know there is nothing more I can. I can't go back and change my answers. I can't second guess myself. And I can't wish I answered them any differently. I am sure he is tired of me hearing about how cool it would be if I made it, it I went to training in December and trying to guess what all entails during the training. I have sent him thousands of links, but none seem to be exactly what I was thinking about.

I am sure he is tired of hearing how ready I am.

And then I sit there and think, I can't and won't set myself up for disappointment. Because lets face it, as much as I want it, I am not guaranteed to get through to the next round. I am up against a lot of good applicants, who feel the same way I do/ Who every day do exactly the same as I do. And I try hard not to think about the rejection yet. Reminding myself that I still have a great chance, and by golly this could just be my year.

But the waiting is killing me. I fill my days with other things in order not to think about it. And I try to avoid looking at my emails in hopes that something magical pops up in that inbox.

Because the moment that I stop. Something will pop in.

And until then, I will just sit here and wait.
Some more.

Single Mom weekend.

I have to give it to the single mothers out there. For there are times when I don't know how you do it.

With my husband busy with the Caps, it was my weekend to play super mom to my son. I got lucky enough to have my sister watch Logan while I went to the game on Friday night, my only oppurtunity to get out this weekend. Turned out I would need it. For bright and early Saturday morning Andy went off back to DC were he would spend the rest of the weekend.

Everything was great up until after nap, when I swear he woke up on the wrong side of the crib. And somehow he went from my sweet baby boy, to the full fledged two year old he is soon to become. Cranky, pitching a fit, not eating everything is mine. He screamed at the top of his lungs for his daddy, who obviously seemed to be able to do so much better at this than I could. And he would not take no for an answer.

When I finally managed to get him calmed down enough, we went off playing, being goofy, reading, watching Mickey Mouse Club house. We colored, we had lunch. Changed another diaper..and when all was said and done, it was time for a nap.

Or so his mommy would think. Logan on the other hand, was not about to miss a moment of the precious day and decided to fight it all the way.

Thankfully, driving him around in my husband's protege seemed to help and while I had to do it, it also seemed a bit ridiculous to do so. Now usually, my husband has been around to help. If I need a moment I am able to step out and take it, the same goes for him. But this solo parenting thing isn't as easy as one would like to think it is.

The nap, short lived as it was seemed to help just a bit and he was home if not a happy camper entirely, at least a little bit in a better mood. And we danced around the living room until daddy would return.

By Saturday night when my husband came in I was ready for the well deserved bath I had waiting for me, knowing that Sunday would be round 2. I would need my rest.

And once again on Sunday, my little boy was not a happy camper. Though not as much as on Saturday but still quite exhausting none the less, we ran, we colored we changed diapers and outfits. We had lunch with my mom, watched some football-yes I know how amazing its football!-we changed another diaper, gave him some snacks.

It was all really exhausting.

Don't get me wrong I love doing this. Its the greatest thing in the world, and dif. the most rewarding. But this was the first time since May that I had been on my own for an entire weekend. No tag team help. No second hand to help with the diapers and the meltdowns.Even Logan seemed to notice that daddy wasn't around. Making him scream for him that much more. I tried to explain daddy was at work, but to a one and a half year old, the whole working on weekends thing, doesn't quite fly over with him. I guess its going to take for all of us to get used to the hockey schedule again. The long weekends when he isn't around. This time though I was more than happy to see he went down without so much as having to put him in the car for a nap.

No one was happier to see my husband that I was when he walked in the door last night. And as he walked over to give our son a hug, and I walked up to the bath once more. I tried to remind myself that several thousands of women, and men do this on a regular basis.

So I had no room to talk.
But I still don't know how they do it.

Fall in Love

So welcome to October. Or rather one of my favorite months of the year. That's right, I said it. And because to many, they will sit back and think, but you hate the cold. And they would be right, because I detest the cold. But lets not forget that October, isn't all that cold. Yet. And while it means the days get shorter, it does present us with some great positives as well.

Which means I know present ten reasons why I love this time of the year. None of which are in any specific order.


1. The gorgeous colors
2. Sweaters and toe socks
3. Hot Chocolate nights
4. The holidays are that much closer.
5. Hockey-its the beginning of another season people. Need I say more.
6. The first fire wood smells.
7. The amazing photo opportunities it calls for.
8. Apple Cider.
9. Finding those perfect boots again.
10. Chilly mornings that make you want to stay in bed.

So while yes I may be in mourning for my long summer days that I so eagerly look forward to. As I put away my shorts, and flip flops, my heart breaks. I know it will be a good long while til I can once again wear them comfortably. Still I can't deny how much I look forward to the wonderful month of October. To the gorgeous season we call autumn, and to the next few months of sweater wearing.

Happy Fall to one and all!

Its the most wonderful time of the year.

Last night was the first home game. Well as far as preseason goes that is, the regular season home opener is still just over a week away. I watched as my husband dressed in his suit, shaved and got ready for the beginning of this season, all the while thinking here we go again.

I sat there wondering what the year would bring. A lot of joy I hope. Minus all the heartbreak. A lot of fun, and some challenges. Sure. As mentioned before, nights when I won't even want to see my husband, and then others when I want to celebrate with him and share in the wins. I always wonder if I am truly ready for it all again. It is after all a long season, sometimes running til June. Which means a lot more nights and mornings that I will be watching my husband do the same routine as that morning.

Though its always different in the beginning of the season. Unlike the end of the season, when he is tired and worn out. At the beginning, its all happy and LETS GO CAPS and possibilities. He will say how wonderful this year is going to be. How they have done this and that over the summer to improve. This year, he is just saying the first half of the year doesn't matter. Its the playoffs that do in the long run. In a lot of ways he is already saying he just wants to fast forward to then. Get the regular season over with. He is that excited for the future.

As for myself, being the fan that I am, I can't help but think of it as a fresh start, a I love this game, love this team and this year will be the year sort of feeling. Its the itch that I have been dying to go to a game, to chant until my voice goes. To root, to holler, to make fun of the drunk guy that sits behind us. Or worse the annoying guy who flaps his arms up and down as though he is going to fly away. I suppose they don't call it the Eagle's nest for nothing now do they?

Its the amazing guys on the ice and the talent they bring. And no, I am not just talking about who is cuter than the other. Because while granted some of them are quite easy on the eyes-I am not about to lie here-the fact is, I actually know a thing or two regarding the players other than if they prefer boxers or briefs. Its the fact that when they get out there, right about the time when the announcer finishes the whole, 'Your Washington Capitals' that you realize just how pumped up they are. How much they work as a team, and while their may be one or two that are individually great players. When it comes down to it, they are that much better as part of a team. I have been watching the game for years now and while there has been talented teams in the past, I say this has got to be the most talented yet. I can feel it.

And just as I have foolishly believe this to be the year in the past. This year, is our year.

Truth is this year I actually believe it.

Just remember, none of this matters.

Until April.

A total me day.

The final weekend of September means, its the final weekend before I become a widow. The final weekend before I have to work my schedule out with a hockey schedule, which requires just a little bit more of creative planning. That being said, because of it being the last weekend my husband let me have an entire day to myself.

Sort of like a mother's day in September.

So how did I spend my not so official mothers day?

Well to begin with, getting a much needed haircut and color. I always seem to put it off way to long, for two reasons. One being I am just lazy, but the main reason is financially. Which makes me wait as long as I can before it drives me crazy and I can no longer stand it. Of course, I always leave there saying I should have done this a lot sooner. And a lot more often. Its always amazing just how much a haircut can do for one's spirits. I decided after seeing a photo of Kaite Holmes to go ahead and get it chopped off in the exact same fashion. So for the past two weeks I have been anticipating, and yes worrying a bit that it wouldn't look exactly the way I thought it was going to look. I even thought about scrapping the idea and backing out of it entirely. But as I sat there in the chair I thought what the hell, it's hair. It will grow back. I handed the picture over to my stylist, the same I have had for the past three years and waited for her to tell me it wasn't a great idea. Instead however she stood there and beamed, claiming that this would look absolutely fabulous, including the hair color. She also promised it would be easy to maintain and that I would love it.

There was however no money back guarantee.

I guess its a good thing I absolutely loved it.

Afterward I met up with one of my best friends to do a little retail therapy and dinner. Spending way more than I probably should have, on things I am not so sure I even needed. OK I take that back because I actually did need those shoes for an upcoming wedding, so maybe I did need some of it. But after a few hours and an incredible feeling I realized there are times. When its just needed and accepted. This being one of them. I mean its not often anymore that I get the time to spend with a good friend, complain about men and just enjoy the day. Don't get me wrong, I love and adore my son. I love my husband. But with a hockey schedule, a full time job, a two hour commute one way, and school, I tend to forget to take the time to enjoy friends. To enjoy life at times.

And just like my haircut, I left my friend, thinking I should do this more often. Maybe not spend so much, but get out, hang out leave my son and Andy at home for awhile.

And just be me.

Let the Memories Begin!

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One week till widowhood.

We are now a week away from the Caps first home preseason game. That's a week away from becoming an official hockey widow from now till the end of the season. A week away until my husband will be spending more time in men's locker rooms, with barely clad players-ok I realize this sounds horrible. But I assure you its only to interview. Or so I am told. A week away until names like Bret, Vogs, Ovi and Laich are once again staples at the not so frequent dinning room table of ours. Names, that are so familiar to me they are practically family.

Now I could for selfish reasons say, the season is way to long as it is and I want my husband back sooner rather than later. As much as people turn to us and say 'how awesome' that job is, how amazing it must be to work for them. At the same time, they don't see the long hours he often puts in, away from home. Away from me, and my son. Granted the reward and all is pretty sweet but coming from a wife married into the organizations during hockey season, weekends aren't weekends anymore. Evenings aren't either for that matter. Planning takes a hell of a lot more effort than it does during the off season. Our lives revolve around the hockey schedule during these months. The good, the bad, or the ugly. We live it all. And time together turns into minutes together.

However the Caps fan in me is saying, its a small sacrifice to make and by all means you can have him for as long as it takes, preferably until June. Because after last season's heartache, I expect nothing less. Nor do I for myself, the organization or the fans want anything less. I don't want to deal with the mood swings it brought on from one very unhappy husband. I don't want to deal with the ache, the void that it left me ever again. And I expect, neither does the team.

No I don't expect every game to be won, or every battle to be easy. After all, there are 82 games, the odds of winning them all are about as likely as my chance of having a private conversation with the President himself. Not to mention we have 29 other teams who I am pretty sure want it just as much as we do. And as we learned last year, the regular season does not mean. Much. When all is said in done, as long as you come home with a shiny silver cup, then that's good enough for me.

So by all means, do whatever it takes to play till June, even if that means I won't exactly speak more than a sentence to my husband for the next several months.

In the end, it will all be worth it.

4 unexpected things to do at Disney.

So you want to take a Disney Vacation. Great! The thing is, you aren't much of a ride, or even a theme park kind of person. Well there is good news. Disney, isn't all about theme parks and rides. In fact there is much more to there than one might think. So without further ado, here are my favorite things to do beyond the parks.


Horseback Riding

As someone who happens to love horses and horseback riding herself I admit this has been one of my favorite activities to do outside of the parks. Located at Fort Wilderness Campground Tri-Circle-D Ranch is home to the horses seen on parades and special events around the parks.
Guests are taken on a 45 minute trail ride throughout the grounds on the very horses you see on Main Street every day. Accompanied by two guided cast members, who are there not only to act and lead the way through the trail, but were quite helpful in answering any questions one may have. Guests take a leisurely trip where they could encounter magical critters and some amazing scenery. Horses are well trained and capable of holding up to 250 lbs. Riders should be over the age of nine, no experience needed. Reservations are strongly recommended and should arrive thirty minutes before the scheduled time.

Cost-$42
For reservations please call 407-WDW-PLAY.


Cirque du Soleil-La Nouba

Looking for a Broadway type of show in the heart of Disney? First run in 1998 this high energy showstopper aims to please. This 90 minute show treats guests to a visual delight featuring acrobatic, circus like performances from some of the best and brightest athlete, performers and dancers. Bring the family, sit back and be prepared for one of the most exciting and most imaginative 90 minutes you will ever experience. The show runs most days, except for Sundays and Mondays. Please note there is no intermission.

There are four ways to order tickets, and ticket pricing varies from seating area to seating area.

To order tickets, call (407) 939-7600.
In person at the Box Office next to the Cirque du Soleil store at the West Side.
Through your travel agent
Online up to six months in advance at: www.cirquedusoleil.com

(information thanks to allears.net)

Paint your own Pottery and Make your own Jewelry

While my family and myself was down at the World this past July we took my mother who recently was involved in an accident and was injured. Not being much of a park person anyway, we were on the search for something other than hopping from park to park we looked at the activities guide provided to us when we first signed in to the hotel. What we found was two classes/sessions. One, a jewelry session and the second, a pottery session. We decided to make our way down just to check it out not expecting much of anything. Let alone a variety. We were pleasantly surprised. Offered at most Deluxe hotels, (we were guests at Animal Kingdom Lodge) this relaxing event shows the unlikely side of Disney Magic most would never know about unless looking for. Pieces are fairly priced and vary depending on size of the piece and length of the jewelry made.

Pottery is welcomed and open to anyone while the jewelry making is only open to those over the age of 13.


For those that are interested please see guest services early for schedules and resort offerings.


Spas and Salons

Going to Disney, isn't exactly the kind of relaxing getaway you thought about? Think again! With three deluxe resorts offering full spa's and several others with spa services you are bound to find some time for a relaxing day fit for any princess in waiting. With world class accommodations and spa services, they offer massages, manicure and pedicure's. Most are for adults, but several are now offering such things as Mommy and me services and my first manicure for the younger guests.
Please see guest services to schedule an appointment.


4 things most would never think about while visiting Disney, but all offer guests a chance to experience a different kind of magic.

How low can you go?

What do you do when you suddenly realize your baby isn't a baby anymore?

For the past 19 months we have taken him up to bed, placed him in his crib where he has somehow magical stayed until the wee hours of the morning. Thankfully we were one of the lucky few whose kid actually slept through the night. Actually lately we have had to wake him up more often than not to get him off to my mothers house where he spends most the day.

But this past Sunday that all changed. It being the weekend, and neither of us having to work we decided to play it a bit lazier than usual, staying in bed for as long as we can, or rather as long as Logan would allow us to. But somewhere around seven thirty I am am woken by my son, who is bawling his eyes out. Waking up I take a moment to adjust to the rising sun when I notice the sound is not only getting louder but a lot closer. I must be imagining I think because I know we put Logan down, and my husband was still fast asleep by my side.

And that's when I notice it. The small figure standing in my doorway frame, his tiny hands clinching and un-clinching. My son, somehow miraculously over night has learned the art of climbing out of the crib.

I rush and bring him to our bed knowing that to some this is highly frowned upon. And I listen as he rattles on his sad woe is me act. My husband stirs beside us, finally realizing we aren't alone.


So what does one do when they realize their baby isn't a baby anymore?

They learn to lower cribs.

Followed quickly by locking the bedroom door.

Application Day

And so all begins the most magical time of year again.

That is however, if you are a Disney vacation planning fool who has a knack of helping others plan their own dream Disney vacation. While the panel is called, the Disney Moms Panel, you don't have to be a mom to actually be a part of it. A dad, a grandmother or just someone who has that passion for all things Disney works as well.

I woke up this morning feeling very much like a kid on Christmas morning. I knew this was the day. The day when applications would start being accepted, when twitter would go nuts with things like #2011disneymomspanel and well wishes from every walk of life. I made sure to get to work, start up my computer and get everything situated just so I could sit and stare at the computer's clock as it read that it was just barely 8 in the morning.

I had an hour. It was all so very reminiscent to my childhood, sitting there waiting for my mom's coffee to finally get done so she could come out only to watch us tear through the presents within five minutes. But I would wait, and I would be patient until 9 in the morning. But you better believe as soon as 9 rolls around I would be hitting that link and....

And I have a meeting at 9, its Monday. I forgot. I would have to wait that much longer to apply. Making it that much more agonizing. I would sit through the meeting and think about what the questions be, and the meeting would be a total waste of time I could just see it.

Which is why I was more than thankful that the meeting was canceled.

At 8:45 I decide to park myself in front of my computer, and promise not to so much as breathe before I finish the application.

And still I wait. Twitter as predicted starts blowing up with the good lucks and pixie dust and all the warm fussy's. By now I have five minutes to go, and I admit I start getting a little nervous. I made it through to round 2 last year. Would I be able to live up to the same sort of answers I had in the previous year? Does it even matter if its not exactly the same? Last year was the first time that I had applied so.

By 9 I am excited, nervous and thrilled. Here is my chance to do something I love. I generally love seeing the smiling faces when I help them plan their dream vacation. Whether it was paid or not does not concern me, because its something I want. I finally log on to the site, and begin answering the questions.

Now I don't recall all the questions from last year. But from what I remember they were rather generic. At least the ones from round 1 were. And they were rather easy for me. This year however, yeah its a little harder and I take the time to really think what I want to say. Because lets face it, 100 words isn't exactly the easiest to explain everything you want to.

But after two hours of thinking, proofreading and rereading once again I came out with the best answers that represented me and hit submit. Knowing that once I did the only thing I could do from then on out, is wait until the day when we all hear a yea or a nay.

November 8th seems like an eternity from now.

Please come to Boston

Labor Day weekend was spent in my favorite city; Boston. It has been six years since my last visit and honestly not much has changed since then. But that didn’t stop me from enjoying the long weekend with some of my favorite people, in my favorite city.

After a short and gorgeous plane ride we landed at Logan early Saturday morning. Earl had passed the night before, bringing in gorgeous skies, and a pleasant breeze. Did I mention the perfect temps to do a little exploring?

Speaking of exploring, lets do some shall we?

Boston Harbor

The site of the Boston Tea Party is where we spent most of the morning. Watching boats come in and out, couples hold relax on the barriers and tourists snap pictures. Today its not the tea party that you see, but cruises and day excursions-including whale watching-that come in and out of it's ports. In the background, the Boston city skyline with its mixture of old and new captures the true beauty of the city.

Born and raised in the DC metro area I am ashamed to say, DC does not hold a candle to restoring and keeping their city the way it was. Yes, its a gorgeous city in its own right. But most of the buildings that had been here long before any of us were are no longer around. Torn down, they are quickly replaced with new more appealing buildings that do little to remind us of where we have been. And the history we need to preserve. Thankfully what DC lacks, Boston makes up for.

Faneuil Hall and Quincy Market

Looking to do a little shopping? One of the oldest open market places in the country still operates much like it did when it first opened in 1742. Along with Quincy Market and North Market, it hosts a variety of shops and restaurants featuring anything from ladies major league sports wear to the famous Cheers. No, unfortunately, no one there knew my name. Along the cobbled sidewalk, vendors, street performers and natives mix and mingle. Proving that while some things change over time, very little does as well.

Now on top of Faneuil Hall lies a weather predictor. Typical for the time and era, however be warned this is not your typical N, E, S, W. But rather a grasshopper. There have been many theories to why this is, but if asked its a grasshopper.


Of course, it also is home to several Bars, most of which have at least a bit of it outside. A perfect combination for those that love the gorgeous cool temps and enjoy a good drink at the same time. I give credit to the bar pictured here or having the most unique name and sign ever.


Paul Revere's House

Ah yes, the man famous for the midnight ride. Or was he? You see for those non history buffs-Mr. Revere never fully completed his midnight run, but was captured before. Leaving someone else to complete the ride for him. What Boston trip would be complete without a trip into the very place he called home, along with two wives and their 16 children (5 whom died in infancy) As I had mentioned earlier one thing I love about the city is how they mix the old with the new. How you can have a house built in 1680-note here he was not the original owner-next to a building built centuries later.

If you chose to take a tour-which will cost you $3.50 per adult, you will step back in time to when things were simpler, kids were quieter and people were a lot shorter.

The house has been restored over the years but many of it's pieces were of the Revere's themselves or gifts and replicas from the time frame. In today's standards the house is small, with no hallways-the concept of a hallway took a hundred years or so to develop. The attic to where the children would have called home inaccessible to guests but it doesn't take away of the beauty and the amazement from things. The wood is gorgeous, the tables still standing. In fact standing in the house made me realize that you don't exactly need a 5 bedroom mansion to be happy. It's nice but all you need is the necessities.And other than the fact my husband had to duck to get into most of the rooms, could still be used to this day.


The Freedom Trail


Like the Revere house, one should not leave Boston without taking a stroll along the freedom trail. You can either hike the two mile plus trail yourself, stopping along the way at Kings Church, Bunker Hill and various graveyards or you could chose as we did on this weekend to take a tour. Having done both, I found both positive and negatives with both, while the tour guide was fabulous and had a lot of information, we weren't able to go at our own pace and often skipped several attractions we had hoped to go into. We found when we went on our own we were a little more free with such things as touring the King's Chapel and the Old State House. Though I do admit, I had to snap a picture of me standing right where the massacre-which was only five gentlemen-a massacre back then. If you were to drive through the city you would never notice it was there, nestled in between a heavy trafficked intersection its unnoticable to most, including myself who had no idea it was there the last time I visited.


Again, Boston is a great tourist city. Bring your walking shoes for this trail and be ready to snap some incredible shots. I had way to much fun doing so while our tour guide explained people fighting for independence from the British. Some key things to look out for while walking this trail are the following: the Old State House, and Granary Burying Ground for which the grave sites of Sam Adams, John Hancock, Paul Revere and the Franklin Family are located. The Old North Church is the site where the phrase 'One if by Land, two if by Sea' is best known for


Ghosts and Graveyard Tours

After all the walking and site seeing your probably ready to have a little fun. Why not try a lighter side of the Boston tourism in the form of a fun and exciting Ghost and graveyard tour? After all, Boston is one of the most haunted cities in America. Go back in time as this 90 minute tour takes you through some of the most haunted stories. From the Boston Strangler to the Omni Park Hotel haunting's-which includes the owner and a female ghost- you are taken on a journey not for the faint of heart. If your looking for a good time one evening and don't mind getting a little spooked I highly recommend this. I have taken the tour twice now, and it only seems to get better with each tour. Though be aware that they don't allow anyone under the age of 10 and its highly recommend that they be 13 or older.



So next time your looking for a vacation, a long weekend getaway or a beautiful drive up the East Coast, try Boston on for size. You just may find yourself falling in love with America once again.

Disney Planning for others

By now everyone knows of my love for Disneyworld. They know how much I enjoy every minute of planning every detail. From the flights, to the meals. To figuring out which resort we will be calling home. But what you may not know, is just how much I enjoy helping others who have yet to get hit with the Disney bug plan their own Disney vacations.

I was contacted last night by a friend who plans on taking her almost four year old daughter to my magical place. Neither have ever been, which means as a newbie she was looking for anything. She began looking at things but didn't even know where to begin, and that's when she said she knew exactly who she would go to. That person just happened to be, yours truly. I must say, I was touched that out of everyone she came to me. As she stated there is a lot of information out there, some more helpful than others. But as someone who has never even ventured the idea of Disney prior to this, she became overwhelmed and lost. She figured I would know and be able to pick apart things even further. Or rather as she said, she felt like she would be getting an inside track of everything.

Lets face it, vacation planning can be hard enough. To quote my friend 'its just so overwhelming' to most. After all how do you make sure you know what your doing, four parks, two water parks. An interactive indoor park? Not to mention a downtown shopping center area and all those food choices. Even myself, a veteran of the whole planning process looks back now at the days when I didn't know half of what I know now and still admits to needing help and researching things from time to time. I can only imagine what it must be like to someone who has never been to Disney.

We sat there as I explained the dining plan, the ticketing options. Fastpasses. Which resort may be best to fit her needs.

And what I find in return is pure enjoyment. Watching them get all excited about it. Seeing their eyes light up when I talk about the electric water parade or the fact that no they don't just have to do parks all day. Something inside of me bursts with a little more pride seeing them put things together. And ok so I admit, knowing I had a hand in getting them to this point dif doesn't hurt. In fact its even a sense of accomplishment. I have helped yet another person out. While they may be the ones that are heading down to the world. It is I, who gets excited for them.

As my friends conversation moved on to other things, she asked if she had any other questions could she come to me?
Naturally I smiled and said absolutely. She knew where I was.
And then in true Disney fashion I told her to have a magical day!

How I spent my weekend

A couple of months ago I wrote expressing me getting the ‘new car itch.’ After driving my 2003 Mazda Protégé for nearly eight years I figured it was about time to update my wheels to a family car, considering well I do have a family now.

So I did my research and I fell absolutely in love with the 2011 Hyundai Sonata. Maybe as I stated it was the sleek design, the fact it looked a hell of a lot fancier than it should. But do not let this fool you. I was also quite impressed and interested in the fact that it had amazing reviews when it came to safety. Before I knew it, I had to have this car. It was my destiny. It was my passion. I was in love with this car as much as I could be. I hadn’t even test driven it when it was made. And once I did, my fate was sealed. I was going to have this car one way or another. Of course it took some convincing but my husband who wasn’t exactly sure that A) we needed a new car. And B) a Hyundai really? But finally I got him to agree that it was time. Just after my 30th birthday I drove home in my brand new silver Sonata, ‘a very happy women’ to quote my own words.

Now something about this car made me feel great. The way it drove, the way it looked. I loved the fact that people were talking about it when I drove in. It may sound extremely weird but it’s the truth. And it was beyond a doubt the smoothest ride I have ever driven.

But little did I know that this car, would not only be one of the greatest cars I had ever looked into. But would also save my life, along with my family. This past weekend, my husband and I along with my 19 month old son was off to meet my parents for dinner. The light turned green, pausing I waited and then made my way. The next thing I knew, I was surrounded by a sea of white, the smell and sight of smoke scaring my half out of my mind. I had been hit. From somewhere.Later we were told the other car ran the red light, hit us, and then ran into two other stopped cars on the other side of the median. He did not have insurance. I got out of the car, amazed that I was able to still walk. My husband, who had been in the passenger’s seat ran around to get our son out of the seat we had just bought the weekend before. We walked away, and looked at the tangled mess that was now my Sonata. Other than a few scrapes and bruises, we walked away unharmed.

The car on the other hand, did its job and sacrificed its own in order to save us.


Thankfully our local rescue squad was right around the corner.








Once they moved out I got a look at what my car was now. I will not lie, I think I cried just a bit.








I just couldn't believe we walked away from this all unharmed. I truly believe this car saved our lives.








And while I know its just a piece of metal, and can be replaced, our lives can't. Which is the important thing out of all this.










So thank you Hyundai, for our lives. When this all clears up, should I need a new car you know I will be right back.