Brothers

I have a brother and a sister.  Me, Nathan, then Carolyn.  Nathan and I have never been very close.  We are very different people.  I love him, he loves me, but we lead very different lives.  I remember playing together as children, but the older we got, the less we had in common.

Carolyn is my best friend.  We are very close.  I've had lots of friends, still do, but I've never felt like I had a "best friend."  Someone that I could call no matter what, someone who could lean on me, someone I felt comfortable to bare my soul to, someone to do anything and everything with.  Funny, because she's been right there since I was 5.  But see, it wasn't always like that.  We weren't very close growing up.  There are 5 years between us.  That's a big deal when you're a kid.  One's learning to walk while the other plays dress up.  One's learning to drive while the other is playing Barbies.  The older we get, the more we seem to have in common, the more we relate to one another.

I always wondered how it would have been if Nathan had been the youngest, and Carolyn and I were less than 3 years apart.  If we would have "found" each other sooner.  But that was not the plan the universe had.

When I had Ainsley she became my whole world.  When the thought of having another baby entered my mind, I always pictured another girl.  A sister for my sweet baby.  Then came Freddie.  And when I again decided it was time for another baby, I still thought girl.  How can you go through life without a sister?  And there was Cohen.  Seems the universe has other plans for Ainsley, ones that don't involve a sister.

Brothers...something I don't know a lot about.  I remember a pesky little brother that defied my every word.  I remember rolling around on the floor punching each other in the nose.  I remember screaming matches and curses and throwing things.  There was a lot of fighting between me and my brother.  So I also wonder, what if Nathan had had a brother?  Since every girl deserves a sister, doesn't every boy deserve a brother?

My set of brothers are new.  They've only been brothers for 8 months, but already I see this crazy bond between them.  All Freddie has to do is walk through Cohen's line of sight and Cohen is on cloud nine.  Freddie is Cohen's favorite person, hands down.

Freddie sees Cohen and his whole demeanor can change in the blink of an eye.  He can be crying and throwing a fit when Cohen laughs and the whole world is right again for Freddie.

It's hard to imagine them fighting or picking at each other.  I'm not stupid, I know it will happen...but right now, they are just so in awe of one another.  Cohen pulls Freddie's hair and Freddie just laughs.  Freddie bonks Cohen in the head and makes him cry, Freddie cries with him.

This connection between them has surprised me.  If you had asked me last spring how I envisioned things, I would have told you that Ainsley would be the little mom and Cohen would cling to her because she would want to help with him all the time.  I would have said, Freddie's going to be jealous.  He's mommy's baby and I think he's going to be upset when my attention is split.

I could not have been more wrong.  Ainsley loves Cohen and she loves to help with him, but she is also very involved in her own play time and school and friends.  I haven't seen one ounce of jealousy from Freddie.  None.  It has shocked me.

Not that long ago, I watched as my rough and tumble 3.5 year old gently held and kissed his baby brother.  He stroked his hand and snuggled him close.  He stared at his face and said "Cohen?  Cohen?  I love you Cohen."   And I watched this little baby mesmerized as he pulled on Freddie's locks and giggled every time he heard his name come out of that little mouth.

I said to Clif, "Freddie just loves him so much.  He's so gentle.  I can't believe it sometimes."  And Clif said, "That's his baby brother.  That's a special thing."

And Clif would know.  He is a big brother, with a baby brother.

Over. IT.

I started a post this week called "Brothers."  I haven't finished it, because this week?  Was not my most stellar.  So today, instead of finishing that very sweet post I was writing, I'm writing a rant post because I feel like if it doesn't come out in a healthy way I'm going to explode and take people with me.

What am I over exactly?  Name it!

Snow days? Over it.
Too cold for school days? Over it.
2 hour delays? Over it.
Taking away already scheduled days off because of previously mentioned issues? Over it.
Runny noses? Over it.
Coughs? Over it.
3 hours of sleep at night? Over it.
Sinus headaches? Over it.
Stomach bugs? Over it.
Middle of the night vomiting? Over it.
Working from home with kids that are too sick for school but too healthy to be miserable on the couch? OVER IT.

I think I could go on, and on, and on...

I am in a serious funk.  January has been rough.  I've been off of work or working from home way more than I've been in the office.  I'm feeling overwhelmed.

Working at home is nice...when my kids are in school.  When I'm working from home out of necessity - you know so I don't use all my days in a 3 week span in the middle of this SH**TY season - and 1, 2, or ALL of my kids are home with me.  That freaking sucks!

I spend all day in a gut wrenching, stress filled, ADD tailspin...

While I work, I'm thinking "I really need to strip the beds.  I'm pretty sure Ainsley threw up in her bed last night. Didn't she ask me for crackers an hour ago?"

While I clean, I'm thinking "I really need to give Ainsley a bath.  Seriously doubt the 4 AM, half-assed, hair wash in the sink is cutting it."

While I attend to the children, I'm thinking "I really need to get back to my email.  I know that report is due in an hour and SHIT, I'm missing a conference call."

And so it goes, round and round, and round again.  It's a vicious cycle.

I actually looked at our budget this week to see if I could afford to quit my job.  Because even though, I know we can't afford it and I seriously doubt I could deal with winters as a stay at home mom...it's got to be better than this feeling of being split in half.  Not giving my full attention to anything, being half a mom, half an employee.  It's got to take this weight off my shoulders that is dragging me through the mud.

I know I'm not the only one.  I know all working moms feel this way.  But when you're stuck in your house for the 3rd day with slightly sick, almost healthy children, and you've missed a deadline, and the kids are fighting over who gets to have the pirate cup, and your house is a wreck, and laundry has to be reproducing - has to be because no chance you own that many clothes, and you only got a few hours of sleep last night...it sure does feel lonely.

Then last night as I'm putting Cohen to bed, I read this article called "Are you wishing away what others are missing?"  And it's a very sweet article about different places in the parenting spectrum, told from a woman in my shoes with little ones and a woman with grown children.  And how the woman with little ones wishes it was easier to get them in the car, but the other misses their car rides together because those were the best conversations.  And the woman with little ones wishes the baby would walk so she didn't have to carry her everywhere, but the other misses the way she looked with a baby on her hip.  And you get the picture.

Well didn't that just make me feel like the biggest jerk ever after yelling at my kids all day because they are bouncing off walls and I am stressed and they are fighting and I need to get things done.  I do get it.  Look at the positive.  Find the good side.  I try...really I do.  I gotta say, there's not much good about a kid slipping in her own puke at 4 AM.  I'm not sure I can find the good side of that. 

Alright rant over...I'm back at work today.  Kids are back in school today.  Hopefully the nastiness has left our house and we can get back to normal.  And on the bright side, winter is half over.  I'm always less over things when the air is warmer and the ground thaws out.  So for now, I will just keep my sights set on Spring and the thought of walks to the park and sidewalk chalk and bike rides and children who actually get to use all this pent up energy that God "blessed" them with.

The Middle

I love all of my children.  However, if someone tells you they love their children equally, that's not true.  I mean, I love them all...a lot.  And I could never pick one over the other, so in that way, I do love them equally.  But each child requires a different kind of love. 

I treat them differently.  Not in a Cinderella/Evil Stepmother/Bitchy Stepsisters kind of way, but you have to treat them differently.  All children are not going to respond the same to all forms of love, discipline, praise, etc.

I know this and it makes sense.  I have three different personalities, I should treat them three different ways.  The problem is, this all causes me massive anxiety.  Though I can't love and treat them the same, I worry that one day one of them will feel slighted.

Like for instance, I suck at baby books.  But I do have baby books for Ainsley and Freddie.  I don't have one picture in them and they are about half complete, but I have them.  Do not have one for Cohen.  Then there's all the knick knacky items.  When you have your first baby, people send you a ton of stuff.  So Ainsley has framed pictures with her name engraved in them.  She has hand prints and foot molds.  Ainsley has more Christmas ornaments than I do and I have been given 1 every year since the year I was born.  I believe I counted this year and she has 8 "Baby's First Christmas" ornaments.  Freddie and Cohen have none of that.  I did an announcement for Freddie, but not Cohen or Ainsley. 

And sometimes I think about this blog and realize I have been writing a lot about Cohen, but not the others.

So the other day I decided to write about Freddie, but I got behind and never made it happen.  But last night, he gave me an awesome story.  So here is a post about the middle child, my Freddie.  Who, I only have one picture of, by himself, on my phone and it's from Christmas morning - I will say, that this is not all my fault.  He is a monster and won't let me take pictures of him these days, unless of course I'm taking Cohen's 7 month pictures then he wants in on it so he cries and then you get sad face Freddie pics with Cohen.  But those are on the real camera and I haven't downloaded the pictures yet...for another day :)

*******************************************************************************

Normally, I pick up Cohen or Ainsley first.  It depends on how quickly I leave work, how miserable traffic is, if I feel like having 10 minutes to myself in the car while I play Candy Crush.  Picking Freddie up first is nearly impossible.  He's 10 minutes from the house and I just get nervous that I won't be able to get him out of his classroom, into the car, and to the bus stop before Ainsley's bus arrives.

But yesterday was Monday.  On Monday's Ainsley gets out of school early.  My aunt picked her up and she didn't need me home right away, so I decided to pick up Freddie first.  He rarely gets one on one time, and really that is when he is at his most manageable.

I casually talk to his teacher, walk him to the car, and strap him in.  No rush today.  We can chit chat while we drive to Cohen's daycare.

Freddie: Mommy, did you stay home today?
Me: Nope, I went to work.
Freddie: Ohhhhhh, I want you to stay home.
Me: What would I do at home all day while you're at school (am I kidding!!! what couldn't I do at home all day while my kids are in school?!?!?!?)
Freddie: Ummmm, I'm sinking (thinking).  You could watch a kid show.
Me: Well, I only watch kid shows with you and I have to go to work.
Freddie: But Westin's mom stays home.  Pease can you stay home.
Me: I can't Freddie, I have to work so we can pay for our house and cars and food and toys.
Freddie: But Westin's mom stays home, I want you to stay home.

He holds his hands together begging.

Freddie: Pease, pease, can you stay home.
Me: I can't Freddie, I have to go to work.  Anyway, if you're in school, you won't even see me.
Freddie: No, sometimes I will stay home with you.
Me: Oh, well, sometimes we do stay home together, just not every day.
Freddie: But I want you to stay home every day.
Me: How would I get money for food and toys and stuff?
Freddie: Hmmm (he folds his arms across his chest and thinks some more), I KNOW!!!!!
Me: Yeah? (please give me an awesome idea for earning money while sitting my lazy rear on the couch all day)
Freddie: I will aks one of you friends to work for you.
Me: Oh one of my friends will work for me?  Who would do that?
Freddie: You know, one of you friends at work. Dey will work for you.
Me: But how would I get the money?
Freddie: Mommy!  I jut told you, I will aks one of you friends to work FOR you.
Me: And then they'll give me the money?
Freddie: Yes.
Me: Wow, I have some nice friends.  I don't think that will work buddy.  Plus, wouldn't you be sad not to see Miss Tiffany or your friends anymore.
Freddie:  Weill, dey will miss me.  Miss Tiffany will miss me so much.  But I will see them on Fridays.
Me: So you'll go to school on Fridays.
Freddie: No, I will stay home and watch kid shows with you, but you will take me to school on Fridays for cookie day and then I will say hi.

That's my Freddie, always has a plan for goodies and TV!

Swirling

So much I want to write about.  So many words and stories and pictures swirling in this brain of mine.  So many posts started and interrupted by phone calls and emails and dirty diapers and "mommy watch this...no mommy let me see your eyes."

Someday I'll get it all under wraps and I'll post on a weekly schedule and all will be right in the world...but for now...

My baby. 

He's seven months old today.  He sits up.  He says muma.  He says dada.  He babbles on and on.  He eats three meals a day.  He nurses a lot.  He laughs.  He screams.  He grunts.  He constantly moves his hands and feet.  He hates his crib.  He loves his toys.  He's rotten.  He's sweet.  He's the most gorgeous baby ever.  I can't believe it's already been 7 months.  I can't believe it's only been 7 months. 

He has filled this spot in my heart that I didn't know was missing, that I thought was always there until he arrived.  Then I realized how empty and broken I would be without him.

He has thrown our life into a tailspin but fits perfectly.  He was always meant to be and has always been a piece of our family, yet one year ago I didn't even know he was a he.

He has made all of our hearts smile.  He is more loved than any baby ever with a mom and a dad and a big brother and sister to dote and dance and entertain.  We all fall over each other to make him laugh.

He is absolutely not easy.  The whole, third baby - easy peasy...um no.  He is so far from easy...but he is perfect in his little dictator-like attitude.  He screams, we all jump.  He will be spoiled beyond compare.

He is our baby.

Mommy Notes

I have so many things I want to write about.  Every single day I think of 5-10 blog posts.  Then I can't get to the computer or I'm at the computer but have a million things to do for work.  But today is the day after Christmas and I'm one of the only people in Washington DC at work.  I may be one of the only 5 people in my building today.  So screw work right now, I'm going to write this instead.


Often times, I forget that my family is not a silo.  Clif came from parents who love him.  I came from parents who love me.  We get so wrapped up in our family, that sometimes we forget that there are these extensions.  We forget that our kids won't always be this little, that someday they'll be grown with their own families and we'll be the extensions.  I want that for my kids, because the family that Clif and I have built makes me more happy than anything else in the world.  But the thought makes me sad.  I don't want to think about a day when Ainsley and Freddie and Cohen aren't hanging out on the couch in their PJs on Christmas morning.  And all I have to do to make them smile is buy an American Girl Doll, a big tractor, and a box for Cohen. 

On Monday, I brought Ainsley to work with me.  She was off of school, it was a half day right before the holiday for me, it was just easier than working something else out.

She wrote me this note...

And today I'm sitting here looking at it and feeling sad because I think, how much longer will she write me little notes like this?  How much longer will she call  me mommy?  How long before she wishes someone else were her mother?  She's growing up so fast, I can't believe we just spent our 7th Christmas with her.  That's more Christmases than Clif and I spent together, without her.

So today, I  have a letter.  Not for my kids, but for my mommy.  Because as a mommy, I know my kids will always be my babies...I can only imagine she feels the same way.  And I'd like to think that 30 years from now, I can still get a note from my "dotr" that will warm my heart.

 Dear Mom,

Sometimes, when I'm having a difficult time with one of my children, I think about you.  I wonder how you did it.  You were SOOO much younger than me.  I think, here I am at 36 feeling like I'm going to just sit in the corner and throw a screaming, crying fit because my 3 year old will not stop jumping on the couch and the baby won't sleep and the 6 year old insists on sounding out every single word in the book for the last 30 minutes.  I'm 36 and I want to act like a 4 year old in these moments.  How did you do it at 19 or 21 or 25?  Proof that maturity is not always linked to age.  You have told me more times than I can count, you do what you need to do.

And you hear all these stories about women who just can't step up.  Who are young and not ready to be mom's and they just abandon or neglect their kid.  You've told me that you once hoped to grow up and raise St. Bernards, not children.  But there you were, with 3 kids and if you hadn't told me that story, I'd have never known you never imagined yourself as a mother.

I don't know how much advice you got from your mom.  I know you weren't reading parenting books, or googling "how do I get my damn kid to freaking sleep."  You just did.  I don't for one second think it was easy, but as a kid, I never felt like it was hard.

So I want to thank you, mom.  Thank you for making barbie clothes, thank you for teaching me to count the seconds between thunder and lightning, thank you for screaming and cheering at my softball games, thank you for my microscope, thank you for telling me the truth, thank you for being an awesome grandma, thank you for bad hair cuts, thank you for not allowing me to wear make up, thank you for fake cabbage patch dolls until you could afford a real one, thank you for grounding me for bad grades, thank you for loving my husband, thank you for teaching me to ride a bike without training wheels, thank you for being a strong woman, thank you for going back and finishing your education, thank you for making me get a job early, thank you for giving me chores, thank you for taking me to church, thank you for letting me make my own mistakes, thank you for asking my permission on anything concerning the kids...thank you for being my mommy.  I've always felt loved and wanted.  You have been the perfect mom for me and I'm so thankful for you.

Love your dotr,
Jaime

Number Three

I always knew I'd have at least three kids.  Clif and I are both the oldest of three, so it always seemed to be a given.

I'm sure there are those out there who think we're crazy.  I can't even tell you how many times someone would comment on how perfect we were with one boy and one girl.  That started when I found out Freddie was a boy.

"Oh perfect, one of each."

"You're so lucky to have on of each."

"Well now you can be done."

I would always nod and be polite but what I was thinking was "Who cares if I have one of each?  And I plan on having more."

Until you've felt it, it's hard to explain the need to have another child.  You just know there's another little soul out there that you're meant to be with.  It's not really a decision or a conscious thought...at least it wasn't for me.  It just was.

I have to say, that if you're having that feeling, go for it.  Three is awesome.  Everything is just so natural and easy at this point.

Now, let me be clear.  Life is not always easy.  Life is hectic and chaotic and crazy most days.  But that is not because of the third child, it is just part of having three kids.

Cohen is pure joy.  He is everything good about having a baby with none of the bad.  I'm no longer a nervous, worried, always questioning mom.  I feel like I can just enjoy every moment.  I'm completely confident in my abilities and decisions. 

I still worry about Ainsley.  I worry that she's not reading at the right level.  That she's not making enough friends.  That she's not involved in enough, or involved in too much.  When she was a baby I worried if she was eating enough, or too much.  Was I producing enough milk?  Why was she spitting up?  Did we do tummy time long enough?  Is she rolling over on time?  Would she be able to wear this outfit long enough?  Is she smiling, laughing, responding...blah, blah, blah. 

Freddie was so different from Ainsley, that he humbled me.  I thought I knew what I was doing, but he just never responded the same.  So I worried that I wasn't bonding with him enough.  That I wasn't meeting his needs.

Not with Cohen.  He's 5 months old.  He barely rolls over because I never put him on the floor.  He smiles and laughs more than he cries.  He eats when he wants and stops when he's done.  And I know that he's just fine.
 

It's not that I didn't enjoy my other kids as infants.  I did.  But now, I feel like that's all I do is enjoy him.  I don't let any worry or questions cloud that enjoyment.  I've managed to keep two other kids thriving past 5 months, so how could I go wrong here?

Your first baby rocks your world.
Your second baby builds your character.
And your third baby solidifies your confidence that you are totally cut out for this whole motherhood thing.

If only we could have that third baby, first - imagine how awesome we'd be.

Nag, Nag, Nag

So I have this little voice in my head nagging me...

"Write a blog post.  Write a blog post.  Write a blog post."

It won't shut up!!!

The problem is that all the other noise - good noise, but lots of it - that fills my life is totally drowning out that little voice.  I hate not writing.  I love writing and I feel so complete when I'm doing it regularly.  It's been way too long since I did it regularly.  But so often it happens that you do what you have to and what you love has to take a backseat for awhile.

So enough people have nagged me that I'm just doing it.  Yes, Tara Pratt, you are the straw that broke the camel's back.  And having people "like" the post helped push me over as well.

It's not a burden.  I love this blog.  The problem is time.  So here we go.  Let me give you some updates and then I'm really going to try to put up a post once a week...at least.

Let's start with me, because that's who you care about right?  Riiiiiight.  I'm just the most boring.  The reason I'm so busy?  Other than the 3 little people clamoring at my feet every waking moment?  Well, I got a promotion at work.  A whole new and different job.  Same department, same coworkers, but more responsibility and learning a whole new job.  Good right?  Right.  Bad part...they have not filled my old position.  So guess who's pulling double duty at work?  This girl!

So I get in at 7.  I bury myself in budgets and spreadsheets and schedules and marketing strategies and conference calls and PUMPING and then BAM, it's 3 o'clock, or sometimes 3:15, and it's time to run out the door and pick up Ainsley.

And then it's 66 and traffic and bus stops and daycare pick ups and dinner and laundry and baths and bedtime and then I'm DONE.  Even if our computer at home was worth the table it sits on, I don't think I'd have the energy to carry myself down the steps and pound out a post.  I know it wouldn't be my best.  So I save it for another day.

As for Clif, he's equally boring as me.  His job is going pretty well.  He gets the kids off in the morning so I can go in early.  Then once he's home we eat dinner and get the kids ready for bed.  We do sneak in "The Walking Dead" every week.

So that's us.  Now on to the good stuff.

Let's start with Ainsley.  Notice anything different about our buggy? 

Yeppo, she got a hair cut.  She's been begging me to cut it off for months and months.  I finally caved.  It's shorter than I wanted, but she gets lots of compliments on it.  It's growing on me and I know before I know it she'll need it cut again.

I've already filled you in on the attitude that is required of first graders, so we'll skip that.  Ainsley is great.  She's tall, with loooooong legs.  Reminds me of my sister.

Ohhh, speaking of my sister....look what she got...

This is Brooks Patrick.  He is a precious doll.  Mommy, Daddy, and little Brooks are all adjusting well and doing great.

Okay, back to Ainsley.  It's amazing how quickly a child can change and grow.  Just about every week she's reading more, writing more clearly.  Crazy stuff watching that transformation.  She's also taking Spanish at school and she's doing awesome.  Last night we got her report card and her best scores were in Spanish.  So I asked her if she could speak it at all and she rattled off a bunch of words and songs.  I couldn't believe it.  I guess I'm so focused on her homework and reading that I don't even ask her about Spanish...which she LOVES.  So I need to be better about that.

She's riding her bike like a pro.  I have a whole post planned about her finally learning to ride it this past summer, but it has not come out of my fingers yet.  I still want to write about our summer, so I will, eventually.

She has also learned to tie her shoes and blow bubbles.  Not at the same time.

She's dancing again this year...ballet, tap, and jazz.  But, I will say, she's not as into it as she once was.  She's asking to do other things, like play soccer and take ice skating lessons.  So we may take a break from dance soon.  Let her try some other things.

She's still doing cheerleading at school and loving that.

Also, Girl Scouts.  Yes, I know!  I had this totally bad view of girl scouts.  No chance, I thought.  But here I am, learning the Girl Scout law and all.  Like so many things, I had it judged all wrong.  It's all about bringing up women and treating everyone like a sister and friendship and giving back to your world.  All right up my alley.  I'm glad we're doing it.  So now you all know where you can get your thin mint fix come Spring!

Alright, who's next?  We'll go with Freddie.  

This kid "Cracks me out" as Ainsley would say.  He is so funny and so sweet and just incredible.  Rotten...rotten to the core, but a good rotten.  He's loving preschool.  Loves his friends, loves his teachers, loves the school, and gives me the biggest hug every night when I pick him up.

He is obsessed with the Power Rangers.  Oh yeah, they're still on.  Jason and Kimberly (a big thank you to Chris and Eddie for making sure I know those names) are long gone, but they have been on for the last 100 years or something ridiculous like that.  Ainsley and Freddie were both Power Rangers for Halloween.

Freddie just finished his first season of soccer.  It was just a developmental league, no games, but he seemed to like it.

He's at that age where his vocabulary is expanding rapidly but he hasn't mastered all of our grammar quirks.  So instead of saying "I hate the couch" he'll say "The couch hates me."

He loves potty talk.  Oh and he's potty trained...finally.  I worked on it all summer with little success, he went back to preschool and was potty trained within 2 weeks.  Sure does make you feel like a big success as a parent!

Anyway, we are trying to curb him of his potty talk, but he's a boy.  It's like what they live for.

My favorite thing he says is "Dat's weally cule!" (That's really cool).  Can't get enough of it.  Then of course at dinner, after he has fought tooth and nail not to eat a thing on his plate, he finally takes a bite and says "Mmmmm, yummo!"  I swear, I could make him the exact same thing every night and he'd cry when he got to the table every night and eventually try it and say "MMMMMM, YUMMO!" every night!

So that leaves us with this guy.

Cohen.  He's the reason I feel the worst about not blogging.  My blog is my baby book and I'm missing all these milestones because I can't get it done.

He's rolling over now.  Barely.  Apparently he does it at daycare, but not much at home.  He also started baby food last month.  We're just about through all the fruits and veggies.  Sometimes he eats it up, other times he wants nothing to do with it.

He is grabby grabby these days.  He loves our water bottles.  And wooden spoons.

He thinks Freddie and Ainsley are hysterical.

He's huge.  Last time I checked, over 17 pounds.  He just turned 5 months on Saturday.

He has no hair, so he's very jealous of cousin Brooks.  We try not to bring it up.

My favorite thing about Cohen right now is when he's excited to see me he tries to kiss me.  Like when I pick him up from daycare or when he's been fussing and I've been busy and he's been waiting for me to hold him, he flashes a huge grin, grabs my face and pulls it towards his mouth like he's going to kiss me.  Really, he probably just thinks my nose or chin are nice chew toys, but it reminds me of someone grabbing you and kissing you excitedly.

So there you have it.  Life is good, it's really good.  It's busy and hectic and sometimes I want to jump on a plane to a deserted island for a few days, but it's really awesome.  I am often reminded how lucky I am.  I have bad days, but I wouldn't trade my life for anything.  Clif and I are truly blessed and we know it.